An Ode to Time: Poem numero uno

Time the Ex Lover

I feel scorned by the stain that you left on my soul
Torn by your ticking hands that never let go
Keeping the rhythm by which I was told
"Minute by minute, you grow old"

I needed you to stop and give me more breath
But you kept on ticking right to my death
Steadily, calmly, mercilessly you led
Even when I screamed, and I cried, and I pled

I needed more of you, so much more of you
But never to be bound or summit, you flew
"Time flies" they said, and I always knew
That this was your only trait that was true

You couldn't be still, not even for my sake
You couldn't go back to correct my mistakes
You can't undo the minutes that you make
You can't give back the minutes that you take

My dear Time, you who keeps ticking on
You who separates dusk from dawn
I needed you, but now you're gone

A lover who's already moved on

✨Side of the Road✨

.

.

Waiting by the side of the road

Watching the world pass ahead 

In search of an adventure to come

In search of stories I've read.

.

Have a thirst that goes beyond

Skin-deep love we've come to know. 

I've been called idealistic 

More times than I care to show.

.

But I chose to keep the fire alive 

For I've felt deep love on the side of the road. 

It's in the waiting, that all is revealed

The love and adventures which lie in our souls.

.

In the waiting, is where we see

That there is no need for us to wait 

The whole world is within us

The path, itself, is our fate.

.

No need for a destination

For the one with a lightened heart

No false expectations made

When you're content where you are.

.

So come, sit down and share with me 

This still view of cars to pass

We can wait together, side by side

For as long as the waiting lasts.

.

Let's fall in love with this moment

Let the love selflessly explode 

Because the universe, believe it or not,

Lies right here, by the side of the road 💛

A Little Bit of Love

I want love to be the filter through which I see everything. I want love to be the path I walk on.  I want love to be the after-taste of this life. Life, a cuisine so intricately delicious, but only when it is sprinkled with love as its main spice, for without it, there is no taste.

          This is an understanding I have gotten to only very recently because, before now, I struggled with what love truly meant to me. Sometimes, I still struggle with it. The meanings or associations typically given to love, at least from what I see, are never the associations that I could relate to. Look at Valentine's Day, for instance. A day dedicated to love, and all people can think about is whether they will receive chocolates and flowers *insert deep eye roll* Also, it's suppose to be a whole day dedicated to all things love, yet most people seem to boil it down to only romantic relationships when there are so many other things in this world, and so many people to love. I judge the day, not for its desired sentiment, but because I think it makes a mockery of what love is. Most people recognize that it's just a hallmark holiday, even the ones that celebrate it, but do they recognize how much the day, itself, shows us that love has come to be understood as some kind of transaction, something to be given only when something else is received in return?

          To view love as a transaction is to poison its very essence. There is strength in the ability to give love to the world and expect nothing in return. There's a part of you that disagrees, and I know this, because that part exists in me too. However, I have come to learn that that part of us, which disagrees, is the part that is fragile, is the part that's afraid to get hurt, afraid to be taken advantage of, and, therefore, it cannot be the part of us that possesses strength, although it very much tries to convey otherwise. Real strength comes from the ability to accept the flow of life and the flow of people, with all of their ups and downs and unpredictability, and to love them anyway. I believe that love, in its truest form, has no opposite. It's this type of love that I wish to feel, not only for a person, but for all people, for moments, for life. I wish to feel the type of love that connects me with everything and everyone. I may sound like a naive dreamer who is living up in the clouds, but I've had momentary experiences when I've had a taste of it. I know it's there, and I know it's possible, and I know that it's the best feeling that anyone can ever have because it feels like home.

       

Conversation With Myself

Looks like you want a bit of a shake

Someone to tell you your mistakes

But what if I told you that you already know

Exactly where you're meant to grow

Cuz no one's gonna come and save you

You gotta pick up the pieces and mend your own bruise

The way I see it is that people walk side by side

Trying to become better by lowering their pride

No one can do it for another cuz that's the game

And when shit gets tough, there's no one to blame

The answers to your problems are already there

Not hidden in a single person, but out and bare

You don't need to manipulate, just open your eyes

It's so much simpler than any of us realize

Love is the beauty in all of the chaos

And it lies in every single one of us

When you can find that love within yourself

You don't need it from anybody else

It no longer becomes a type of currency

To divide and exchange and share "fairly"

But an unconditional fountain of light

A never ending flow that shines out with might

Given to anyone who crosses your path

Whether their presence does or doesn't last

Because it will no longer be given to be returned

Love's all around, the choice is yours to be burned

So the question is: will you open your heart

And lower your pride

Let the light seep deep inside?

Anxiety, My Lover

Anxiety comes to me in shortness of breath, as I find myself gasping for air [that is polluted with lost dreams and hopes.]

He comes to me with a sudden rapid beating in my chest, and for a moment I lose myself [as I feel the walls caving in on my heart, squeezing it for every last bit of light it has left.]

He, the lover that has been with me for so long. 

He, who has gazed into my tired eyes and [selfishly] said “I will always be there.” 

He, who has caused my fingers to shake.

He, who has taught me the meaning of peace [only in his absence.]

He turns my excited butterflies into blind bats slamming against walls because they need to escape. 

And I invite him back every time because I can’t let go. I’m anxious without my lover, Anxiety. Who am I without him? 

He who comes to me when I’m at my loneliest, but at least he comes to me. 

By: Banafshé Eshragi

Sunless Sunny Days

I miss you in the sunniest of days

For your face is reflected in the light

And each time makes my heart sink

To think, to this view, you are blind

How cold your bed must be

And your company, the icy stones

Statues that have guarded the gates

To make sure that no one comes or goes..

I admit that at times I envy you

 So still, quiet and uninterrupted

Forever in your bed of soil

Decaying in body, but in mind not corrupted

And yet, I do wish we could both

Together, breathe in this breathtaking view

But with you breathless, and me, alone

Instead I am reminded of you

Forever in your stagnant condition

Stuck in the dead of winter's tear

Unable to share this warmth with me

Unable to see that spring is near

The earth is transformed once again

With splashes of colour hit by sun rays

But the beauty of it all passes me by

For I miss you the most in the sunniest of days

The Mind is a Tyrant (incomplete)

This mind of mine torments me, for what it finds to be of importance, my heart wants to forget. The heart longs to be set free, but it is weighed down by images that present themselves with no empathy, sounds that echo continuously, smells that present the images once more. Bombarded with a past that the heart longs to forget, for the heart cannot see, hear or smell. Nor can it touch, yet it can be touched. It does not store the past, but can only do so with the help of the tortuous mind.

Imagine a heart on its own. How free it would be, if it could be in the moment; if it could love and forget all the love it has lost? To have the memory of a goldfish in a tank. Everything would be something to explore once again. What do our experiences really teach us when they differ every time they occur, when the core of who we are remains the same? We learn to carry the emotional baggage but seldom really change ourselves. Yes the mind loves to play mind games and as it is masochistic, it is its own number one victim, and the heart, its second.

Untitled

How difficult it is to let go completely
When I still hear your laugh echoing in my head
And I long for a reply to a post I wrote
I long for the phone calls that would never end
I keep going over our last everythings
Angry that I thought there would be more to spare
Sorry that I acted like we had forever
Even selfish, at times, to not really care
And now...
And now time cannot erase
Though the mind begs it to
What was or wasn't said and done
So the only choice left to do
Is let go of you
But how difficult it is to let go completely
When your laughter still echoes..

Miley Cyrus: Yes I'm even talking about her.

It won't be what you expect so give this article a chance! Miley Cyrus has been all over the news lately, with every self-important asshole (including me) weighing in on her actions and what it all means for future generations. However I, unlike most of the self-important assholes out there, think she's hitting the right nervous buttons, which is why everyone is talking about her. The truth is that we are still living in a society that doesn't view men and women to be sexually equal. It is amazing how many people I saw on Facebook post Sinead O'Conner's "Open Letter to Miley," which essentially calls her a prostitute and assumes that all executive decisions about Miley's career are made by older pedophiles. That's a bit unfair, isn't it?

Is it really hard for our society to think that perhaps a twenty year old girl chooses to openly show her sexuality and be unapologetic for it? Why must there always be an older predatory man behind it all. I'm not saying that the music business isn't jaded and that, unfortunately, this kind of thing doesn't happen where younger girls are abused and thrown away when they are no longer relevant. Of course it does. But the point is that people are so quick to assume that that must be the case in every situation, because girls are known as innocent beings who cannot possibly possess a need to be openly sexual unless forced into doing so. 

What is more amusing is that all of this talk about her sexuality came about from a performance that wasn't even all that sexual. She wore the most outrageous outfit with the silliest hair, and somehow that made her into a whore? I doubt she was going for "sexy."  Now imagine a naked guy with the same hair and silly bear outfit. Why is that funny, but Miley's rendition of it is sexual? It's incredibly sad that a woman gets so much scrutiny for her actions, especially when it has to do with her taking chances, and being a bit outrageous. Not all women have to be classy, nor do they have to be covered up completely or naked completely, they don't have to be apologetic, or humble, or submissive, or dominant, or or or...

The idea of equality isn't about making a mold of a woman that is ideal for one person. It's about allowing room for all of the different possibilities without looking down upon them. It's about letting people figure themselves out without forcing them into a category of "right" or "wrong", especially when it has to do with self-identity. 

A Dance With Nothing

The freedom to be nothing

To be with Nothing?

Print by Nilou Afshar
www.nilouafshar.com

We make eye contact

In an empty room
Back and forth and back

Nothing and I share this dance

And in this moment
I have Nothing, and Nothing has me

Nothing holds me as we move

Back and forth, on and on

Intoxicated by the beat of the drum

Oh what a lover Nothing is to me

For it knows our love is temporary

And yet, it also knows that one day I will return

For nothing burns the way Nothing burns

Holding me, scolding me

Tossing and turning me

Nothing, a silent lover 

Who gives me a chance

And we, together and alone

Share this dance

Real Talk and Self Pity

How do people know what they're good at? I look at some people and they just know what they want and how to get it. They're always active, always doing something, achieving some goal. Even the ones that don't necessarily know what they want still seem to have their heads on straighter than me. Is it this society's obsession with presenting an inflated image of themselves that's got me feeling less than capable? It's strange because I was at a friend's birthday party the other day, and another friend of mine confessed that he thought I was doing everything right and that he looked up to me. I found that so fucking odd because I wondered what he saw in me that I just don't see in myself. I feel like I haven't done anything right. I've lived twenty five years and I have nothing to show for it. Just a few words on a page that no one reads anyway.

Have I become unbearably lazy? I know a lot of people say that about me, and mostly it's to my face. There's definitely some truth to it, but I see the way I work when I have a vision that's clear, and honestly I can work at something all day long. I've been applying to "real jobs" lately. It doesn't help to look at an application, read the job description and feel like you aren't qualified for anything. Real talk man, real talk. Hell, I can't even get a serving job, and I have plenty of experience with serving and different customer service related work. Yeah I'm probably feeling a little too bad for myself. I've got a void that I don't know how to fill. Most days I accept it, but sometimes it makes me anxious and I need to get it out.

So that's that. C'est la vie.

I Can Feel You

I can feel you in the wind

You're the tear drop that drops down my chin

You're the sweet flower that blooms in the spring

I am bound to you by the joy you bring

You're every rain drop that drops on my head

Burried in my heart to the very end

For you are the colour in my life

You're the sharpness of a knife

You're the sweet touch that touches my soul

And you are the love I'll never let go

Disappointed, But Still Motivated!

As I was coming home today, I encountered a woman in her late sixties, and she had dyed her hair purple, a deep lilac, which I love. It was such a beautiful colour and it suited it her quite well. I found myself itching to tell her how beautiful it was, but we were on the subway and she was sitting so far away from me. By the time I had thought of wanting to do this, up to the point when I had to leave the train, I had already thought about it too much, making myself incredibly self-conscious. I had the usual worries of seeming creepy, even though I was going to give her a compliment, which I'm sure she would have appreciated. But the mind plays tricks on you, and unfortunately I let my mind win.

It got me thinking that sometimes we are all too self-conscious. I'm not this way all the time, and when I let myself be impulsive on some occasions, I end up feeling really good about it. Why not take a chance to connect to someone? To let them know that they caught your eye and that we aren't all just moving objects trying to get from location A to B. It made me want to make more of an effort with strangers. Conversations with strangers are sometimes the funnest to have because there are no expectations. Honestly, it can feel really good to leave your mark on someone you don't know and will probably never see again, even for a moment, and to let them leave their mark on you.

In this moment of sudden inspiration to be more connected, I thought to myself "from now on I'm going to smile at anyone who makes eye contact with me." Naturally, I came back to my senses and thought "fuck that." Obviously I'm not going to actually smile at everyone that makes eye contact with me, because I don't want to attract all the crazies (which I end up doing enough as is) but at least I thought about it. So I suppose lesson numero due would be: Everyone is a dickhead, but a lot of the times when you're nice to people they are nice back, unless they are super dickheads, in which case you can flip them the finger and tell them to go fuck a duck. Again, you are welcome.

Random thoughts

I haven't written a blog in a while, partly because I've experience many changes in the past few weeks, but mostly because I'm beginning to censor myself again. I'm not sure why this happens, but I get into a mood where I think that what I'm saying isn't worth mentioning. But the good news is that I end up getting over it and realize that I never had anything to say that was worth mentioning, but I said it anyway. So because I have nothing significant to say, I think I will do a little rant. Free flow that shit.

You know what I can't stand? Nothing. I stand everything. That's not true, I'm not that patient. I can't stand people who don't leave the door open for you when they clearly see you walking RIGHT behind them. They just open it enough for themselves and keep on walking. Fucking pricks. It's especially annoying when you're holding a bunch of heavy bags. I also can't stand it when people pass you on the sidewalk to walk in front of you, only to walk much slower than you were walking. What the fuck? Why??? It's funny because based on the shit that pisses me off, I feel like if I were a driver, I'd have really bad road rage. However, since I am not a driver, I only have sidewalk rage. Is that even a thing? It should be because I have it.

People are so strange. They always seem to get in each other's way, but that's only because we all tend to think that we are the center of the universe. I know some people like to think they're selfless like that, but they're just lying to themselves. Everyone always thinks that bad shit only happens to them, and when it does they calm their nerves by saying "karma's a bitch! That asshole will get what (s)he deserves." Whenever I hear such a phrase, it always fascinates me that people don't associate something bad that's happened to them with karma kicking them in the ass for being dickheads. Basically the conclusion of this rant is: everyone's a dickhead. Life lessons from Banafshé. You are welcome.

Cigarette Lingers

I wrote this poem many years ago, but it's one of my favourites.


The smell of cigarettes and sex lingers

In my head, bed sheets, sweat

Instantly I regret

Not saying what I should have said

But there was no need to speak

The room wreaked

Of unspoken words

Scars and hurts

And who did it first

Who entered who?

I entered you

Yes through your head and sweat

The stench of silence,

You cant forget

You entered me physically mentally

Fast but gently

you pushed and pulled

Too hot, too cold

All but a memory now

Yet I feel it somehow

The smell of cigarettes and sex lingers

Your sweat was on me

Clinging stinging seeping through my skin

Deeper and deeper in

So loud,

Profound

In the moment

Handed you my life to be left open

Serenaded by your kiss on my chest

Emptiness, you took the rest

And yet the cigarette lingers...

Breathing Colours

Moments pass and I find myself staring off. I'm seeing but I'm not looking, for my eyes don't focus on anything. But they blur colours and shapes all into one. Memories race like the images in a window of a moving car, and suddenly I feel guilty for not giving each of them the time they deserve.

It is in these moments that I remind myself to be aware of my surroundings. I remind myself that I'm breathing and as I inhale, first my stomach, and then my chest begin to slowly rise. I close my eyes and I imagine myself sitting as I am. With each inhale, I imagine a stream of colours going through my nostrils, down my throat. As they fill up my lungs, I feel my heart pumping the colourful stream into every inch of my body. I am filled with colour. And so I exhale.

First my chest, and then my stomach begin to descend as the colour exits through my mouth, surrounding and embarrassing my skin. I open my eyes and I see that colours, and shapes are no longer blurred all into one, but each of them have their own place. I no longer think of memories for my mind is still. I am simply happy to be aware and to feel the love of a rhythm, energy, vibration, connection greater than my own. It is the rhythm, energy, vibration, and connection of everyone combined into one, and I know that I am lucky to be a part of it.

Choose or Lose

In the depths of my soul

I know I can't let go

Of the past that was

Because

I'm so wrapped up

And tangled up

You must know

How I feel

The need to peel

Away the weight

Of memories

That come too late

In the night

In the core of my being

I look but I'm not seeing

That I've trapped myself

In the deepest hell

I was told to let go

But I cling on

To nothing

Slowly rotting

And I'm growing restless

Can but then can't help this

Feeling of loss

But I must

Take it slow

I know you know

How hard it can be

You're the one who told me

To make a choice

That I have to chose

Or else I lose

Everything that's in the depths of my soul

I know the time's come for me to let go.

Stronger Girls, Sensitive Boys

I've been thinking a lot about the way people raise or want to raise their children. So often I've heard my own peers talk about the way their treatment of their child would differ if they had a girl versus a boy, and sometimes I find it breaking my heart. In their remarks, there lies a subtle double standard that I'm not sure they always realize is there. Or even more astonishing is that sometimes they do realize it but accept it as a part of life; it is what it is and it can't be helped. Girls are more difficult to have because they are fragile and so easily hurt and taken advantage of, and so must be protected. On the other hand, boys are simple because they are not emotionally as complex, and therefore are not hard to understand or deal with. Both of these opinions trouble me a great deal because I find myself asking: What kind of people do we want to raise? And are we aware that our thoughts about raising girls versus boys can impact the way they view themselves and their own limitations and abilities?

It's always been my thinking that girls shouldn't be treated as fragile creatures that are at risk of having their virginity stolen. A girl should grow up with the understanding that she needs to protect her own body, but that taking certain risks and sometimes getting hurt are also a part of growing up. Recently I read a blogger's letter to his daughter, and I loved the sentiment of the letter because it was about setting a girl free to discover her sexuality and to understand that, no, she is not a victim to other people's sexual desires simply because she has a vagina. The idea of constantly watching over girls, pampering them, setting stricter rules and curfews is ridiculous to me. If it's a tough world out there, then a girl deserves to experience it and learn from it just as much as a boy. This builds character, confidence, and a sense of control. It's also always bothered me that when two heterosexual teenagers engage in a sexual act, we view the girl as the one who is being taken advantage of. How are you so sure that she isn't also taking advantage of him? Why is it not viewed as a learning experience for the both of them? The boy is getting what he wants, and the girl is oblivious and too naive to understand what is going on. *rolling my eyes*

This is the solution: Just mix them all up
in a genderless pot.

On the flip side, the double standard created between girls and boys isn't fair for boys either. It's insulting to think that a person is incapable of being emotionally complex simply because he has a penis. I understand that sometimes, due to hormonal changes, males and females have different reactions to situations, especially as teenagers. I simply mean to highlight that the way we view them to be that extremely different from birth also has an impact on how they will react and grow. "Oh a boy needs to be toughened up" Sometimes yes, as I have argued that this is equally necessary for girls, but sometimes no. A boy also needs to learn to be sensitive and to respect the importance of communication in a relationship. These are tools that are extremely important for his future when he decides to engage in a more intimate relationship with a partner(s). I don't think fathers and sons have enough heart to heart conversations. "Boys don't do that" But why? Communication and being in tune with your emotions is a part of being an adult because that's the only way that most problems can be solved in a mature and civilized way.

I suppose it all comes down to balance. I understand that it's easy to have an opinion about such things when you're not a parent, but these thoughts are important to me. If I do ever become a parent I want to have a girl who knows that she is strong, and whose strength I can see in the way that she stands and looks people in the eye. I want a boy who is able to be sensitive and nurturing when it's important, a boy who knows how to share his feelings at a time when his partner needs to hear it most. But most of all, I want to have children who know who they are, and do not feel limited by their physical appearances, understanding that a person's anatomy will never determine what they can and cannot accomplish.

One Moment

I have written so many drafts about different topics, but haven't published them because I've gotten it into my head again that I have nothing worth writing about. The truth is that none of us have anything new to contribute to the world. I think the answers are all out there, but it's the information we choose to take in, highlight in our lives, and arrange in combinations that make our need to create unique. So no I have nothing new to contribute to anybody's mind, and certainly not to my own, but writing makes me feel better and I have a way of expressing my thoughts that seems to be somewhat interesting for some people.

However, since I'm quite bored of my own opinion and haven't been reading enough to be motivated to write about anything, I will once again take the easy way out and share another poem. This is an old poem I wrote at least six or seven years ago. I wanted to make a tongue twister, or something like that. I wrote it at the place I used to work (Casa Loma represent!) Enjoy, or don't.

Patty ponders and wonders

How much longer her lover

Will linger onto her finger

Like a string or a bee's stinger?

Wickedly waiting for the delicate destiny

of her final fantasy.

His luscious, delicious and viciously gracious lips locked around

Patty's pouting and wounding and rounding mouth.

Together they are completely obscene and insane

In the most loving way.

Patty's puzzle fits exactly with his lips

And the kiss.. ever lasting, ever grasping, both reflecting

"Nothing's better than this"

Thank Your Body

Those who live in the past feel depressed, those who live in the future feel anxious, but those who can master the skill of living in the present feel peace. This is a skill I wish to master because I am constantly moving from the past to the future and in these thoughts I lose myself completely. I lose time, I lose a sense of self, I lose my mind eventually and I am left with nothing.

I was talking to my grandma the other day, and she mentioned an idea that I've thought about many times, and have actually also experienced. It's the idea of being aware and present. To remind yourself that when you are looking at a tree, it's not just an image, but it's right there in front you, moving, living, connecting with its environment. Or when your hand touches your face, it's not by accident, but it's something that you made it do, and it's your hand that touches your skin. There is so much enjoyment in thinking about these images and actions, that otherwise seem trivial, with full consciousness. In that moment, you don't think about anything but the fact that you're moving, and breathing, and you're here. That in itself is something to feel peaceful about. The next minute no longer matters, and everything that's happened in the past no longer matters.

I would recommend this to everyone. Take a bit of time in your day to make yourself aware again. It's an amazing accomplishment to simply be. Sometimes I think about the biological effort my body makes every fraction of a second to breath, to have my heart beat, to exist. These are all taken for granted, when they should be appreciated. It's important to take time to thank your body for working so hard. I don't do that enough, well hardly ever to be honest, but I have days when it hits me and I am thankful for those days the most.