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“Atish Fishon” – (“Volcano”)
by Qais Arsala
Jan.-March 1999
Lemar-Aftaab
the winds of reason and logic have
disturbed the volcanic thoughts of the artist,
he shall not dance with that spicy
pizzaz that once defined him
to stare endlessly into the infinite sea
as the brow ridges of the skull
creates a portrait of intense proportions…
those were the days of yesteryear
as he lay weeping at his fathers
grave:
“ma chee guna kardaim baba jaan,
tu mera bogo…ma cheee guna kardaim?”
silent screams to no avail,
close the eyes to imagine those days of
pouring rains where the
aroma of the Pacific cafes accented
the deep disturbance inside…
to plant a seed in the garden of affection,
only to be wounded so badly
by the same delicate flower..
gazing in devotion into her deep drowsy
eyes puts me in a trance beyond
any realm of imagination…
drowning in an absolute eternal consciousness
like the crazed laughter of the madmen waving
their canes at the setting sun…
let us shield ourselves with our digital
cell phone umbrellas from the monsoons of
the neon fortune cookies…
once a glass is broken
we cannot even begin to resurrect what it was,
we can only attempt to replicate a memory of it…
her smile,
photosynthesis to the weakened heart…
her wink,
a potent magical spell upon the rivers of humanity…
her kiss,
a venom of ecstasy injected to the
malnourished naive spirit of the poet…
i would much rather be a fool drowning in the
seas of affection, than a wise man
who is always left to wander…
strawberry flavored pencil caps
as the rat race against the hourglass
filters through the naked sun…
nourishment of the afflicted soul with a dash
of supremely enhanced DNA…
i cannot justify the insanity within…
i loved her,
i adored her,
yet i had to set her free from the cage of
infinite abundance…