Time, space and Silvia

The immaculate stream of wonder
Of a bewildered nagging rage-infected soul
Evaporate in the flames of fear
Flames lie in the thought
And live above the earth
Yellow, red and orange with a dark blue mystery
They bring comfort, but burn the soul
The infected soul
The nagging soul
And the infinite wild brushes of the color of dreams
Cannot, do not and will not avenge the thirst for revenge
revenge "The passing of time"

The lilies die
The mosquito die
As time lives and rejuvenates
And life’s shriveling time-space calls for passing passion
For momentary senseless joy

Silvia calls from the other room
She was just reborn from the ashes of a cricket
A cricket that lived on the Taliqan glacier
And one day she jumped over a tent sat on the mountain
Where two lovers were making love
And the cricket caught fire
The fire of the lover’s passion
The fire of a heated moment
A fire
Yellow, red and orange with a dark blue mystery

Silvia calls, I must go.

Building a Nation

It takes a thousand years to build
And a thousand years to ruin
But do thousand years make a guild
Of unwavering prosperous boon?

It takes courageous will to build
And despotic ill to ruin
In which thousand years we are living in
and with whom are we in tune?

tigers or baboons?

Payman Abdali

Storm

Crushed by news, and the constant blues

relentless abuse in this eternal cruise

looking for a higher grounds

as the Noah’s storm gathers strength

oh thou youngsters plow the soil

bring the hatred seeds to plant

pray for rain in this endless heat

crush the skulls, don’t retreat

looking for higher grounds

squandering nemesis sounds so sweet

oh thy martyrs are all just dead

and death

is our perpetual untiring foe

plant the seeds

plant the seeds

no more victory signs

no more flowers

no more jokes

eat the bullet you daunting priest

Crushed by news, changing views

Demeaning treatment of intelligent souls

dangling and dancing on the noose

looking for higher grounds

as the fuming bikers wave their clubs

in the stench of the sea of blood

as the storm clouds only bring in dust

oh for heaven’s sake, -----just get lost------

just leave this forsaken land in peace

and I tell my children what one needs

plant the seeds

plant the seeds

Payman Abdali

The Golden Girl is Coming to Our Mad Tea Party

The Golden Girl is Coming to Our Mad Tea Party is a song based on 13/8th rythm. The concept is a bit complicated and is a mixture of the "Tea Party" story at White House and my own imagintion regarding the current events in the world.

Freedom is torture, Freedom is chaos

Where have all our votes gone?
Where have all the hopes gone?
Where have all the dreams gone?
Where have all the plans gone?

As a morning dew evaporates by the summer heat,
or the silence disappears by the rush hour traffic
of mosquitoes from hell
oh my dear, they ring the bells
the bells of hell
You are left with a dried state of mind
a numbness in your bones
a tormented soul
and a sickening feeling churning in your gut

Freedom is chaos
as order is a prison
Freedom is torture
as tomorrow never comes

Order in chaos or a misguided trust?
when logic is defected,
and the smell of fear rushes over the remains of the burnt garbage
from last night’s riots in the street

How can an order in chaos manifest?
Manifest?
Into an open field of thought?

Breakout, seek out a brand new day
Breakout, seek out a different way

Freedom is torture
Freedom is chaos.

Damned Us

To know is to hurt
to feel is to hurt
and may the sunrise never come
it only leans to yearning,
meeting the sun down
cause it verifies the existence of darkness

May the happiness cease to exist
cause it leads to the thoughts of lost
the loss of dearest, loss of joy
cause it verifies the existence of sadness

To be able to read
to be able to understand
is to degrade into the emptiness
cause it leads to comprehending
of having nothing at all

Shall we do nothing at all?
write the anger on the wall
whisper the contemplating words of hope
in a hopeless rhythm of war
in a senseless time of emptiness
shall we submit to the darkness?
Shall we commit to an act of despair?
when suicide is hidden in every cell of our bones
when numbness is the perfect shield
when nothing matters at all

We are the damned population
we are the damned institution
we are the damned contemplation
we are the damned resolution
And we are damned even if we don’t.

Smell like heaven

Fair of the fairest,
as the sunlight in the morning
at the break of a summer day
O' What fairest say?

Angel voice of angels
with a heart piercing delight
of nightingales' memorizing soul-trip
O' What angels say?

And she smells like heaven
and she's sent from heaven
and how on earth a mortal
can reflect the heavens?

Can a heavenly burn a sinner's soul?
can the fairest yearn a sinner's kiss?
can an angel reign in a sinner's dream?

O' what say you morning breeze?
O' what pray you tortured mind?
O' what hope you earthly soul?
O' what whisper you frail heart?

Brave of the bravest
as I sing this song
as the march goes on
at the gates of the rivers of Babylon

O' what thy bravest say?
Shall I burn the temptation walls?
free the merciless demons of need and lust?
O' what heart would say?

Her lips are summer
as she floats like a feather
and her eyes an ocean
of an untold story
She smells like heaven
She tastes like glory.