My Cup Of Coffee !

O' I needed a cup of coffee !
oh I had a cup of coffee...
someplace behind of me,
the place I couldn't see.
he brought me a cup of coffee,
and it was not a gift, it was just a cup of coffee,
it was coming from our friendship.
I needed that,
and I still need it.

the taste of this cup of coffee reminds me
of so many beautiful things,
so many stories, so many events,
so many people I had always desired to meet.
but all of them are gone
and I only feel those beautiful things
turned to the most betray things in my life.

we stand side by side and I look into our cups of coffee,
and I'm sure these two cups are the same with the same taste.
a good cup of coffee still makes me high !

I Always Lose My Best !

i thought that had been my last chance to see her,
and that happened again and i wasn't ready to taste that.
it happened and it will always happen.
i don't want to stay here anymore,
she will come with me and i will carry my best things,
before i lose them once again.

Thirteen.Eighty.Six

Do i need to post an entry in this space,
in the last hours of Thirteen Eighty Five ? do i ?
do i need some new words to say I Love You ? or something else ?
how do i feel this pain, this love, this life ?
how should i carry this body from here to there ?
and is there anybody to help me without any worry ?
i love these moments and i hate this passing time too.
still i have some problems with it,
will i solve this one ?...i don't know.
all my good things wait for me,
and all my bad memories hide behind someone,
or something that i can't recognize.
this is the way how i feel unluckiness.
Thirteen Eighty Five waits for my smile,
but i can't do that right now.
that was not good and still i can't forget.
i'm so proud of about what will happen in my life,
what i will gain and what i will be.
good or bad, this is the way how we live.
this is life, and it decides for us.

Thirteen Eighty Five wants to be part of my memories,
i'll never forget about what i gained or lost,
and i'll be the most important part of my life, ...if i could.

Thirteen Eighty Five left my room, and i'm waiting for the new year to come...

............................................................................
Special thanks to Fouad Amiri, for all of his supportings, specially through these last hours of 1385.

Be Happy If You Can

in the feast of friends, she looks straight into my eyes,
i drink and don't pay any attention to her.
this is not what i want.
my friends know who she is,
and this matter bothers me so much.
she wants to live with me, because she thinks i'm always happy,
and i just want to escape from the party,
because i finally know that she is a professional prostitute.

it's too late, she said yes.

Leaving Home And Every Bad Dreams I Had !

leaving home is an emotional event,
something very beautiful, unexplainable,
amazing & unforgettable.
all your family members want to hug you,
but you can't forget your damaged past
and you can't show what are your reasons to leave.
you just want to leave yourself, leave everything you did,
everything they did & every bad dreams you had,
in your place of birth.
yes my dearest, this is what i learn from a damaged,
& insane family.
i will not go, i stay here and try to forget,
all those sweetest moments i had...

F !

Floating on mercury,
...what the hell are you doing up there ?


words of : Fouad Amiri
artworks by : Arash Khosronejad

The Sweeper

the sweeper stands out there, with the infected bandaged eyes,
with the long besom in his hands, with black & dirty working overcoat.
he stands in the middle of the square, the square with tall bared trees and flaming grass.
from my window, i see him walks hobblely. he talks with those fairies, quietly.

he is not a worker, but he works, he is not a scavenger, but he scavenges, he is not a thinker, but he always thinks, he is not a sweeper, but he sweeps... ...he always sweeps, he always sweeps.

in the middle of nowhere, he stands with the long besom in his hands,
with black & dirty working overcoat. he is a sweeper and he sweeps the square,
the square that placed near our place of working.
he waits for someone, for his woman who will come to his way.
he always cries, and he hopes that his woman isn't a sweeper.

All the Cold Cups Of Tea !

that was my second time i saw her face,
the first time was when i stood at her doorway,
in the stairway,
some days ago.
she brought a cup of tea for me, when i was sitting on her sofa,
somewhere in her living room.
i wasn't thinking of anything, i was just thinking about why she was naked.
i'm staring to her face, and she still thinks i'm her man...
...but i'm not.
i'm just a postman.
my tea gets cold.

It Always Hurts

I remember my childhood's playmate, when we were so young, so pure, when we played on the backstreet park, on the dusty ground. all days long we were waiting for our daddies to come, to steal his money, to spent our time with gum & gun, all those days are gone. but this is not what we wanted, this is not what we desired to have, O' my sweet friend, i'm so sad, you aren't here and you'll never know, how much i feel loneliness.

the Dead-End Street Cries

in this long, right and bright street,
that short, silent and dark dead-end street is mine.
my heart was broken by the shadows, my life was infected by them. Every sadistic dreams I expected to come true, went alive.
every sweet emotions are gone.
i'm living like this, the story of a boy who always misses.
i'm so sad my dearest, i feel so down my greatest.

nobody remembers his birthday and nobody remembers the time of death, may be yesterday, and may be tomorrow.
may be we fall in love together, tomorrorw, once again.
or just like everyday we forget each other, we bury it in yesterday.
in this short dead-end street, the time is so long,
the breath is so much longer...and Life doesn't exist any longer.
i'm so sad my dearest, i feel so down my greatest.