Smile

L J LSmile J L J

I wanna see you smile from beer to beer.

Smile like you didn’t even hear the bad news, as if it were

In n Out the other ear.

Smile like your first Double-Double burger.

Smile like your first Butterscotch Original.

Smile cuz its Worth her.

Smile Baby

Let me see them Pearly whites.

I’ll Smile even if its just a yellow-lite.

Cigarette stained, or maybe from the Coca-Cola.

This talk of cancer plagues her like Ebola, but

Baby, Smile as you cope, and

I promise to smile as I hold ya.

Smile.

Say cheese.

Never say when, only more, and Smile as you

Say Please, and

Don’t forget thank you.

She’s red in the face,

How much more can she breakout, before she breaks through?

But, if you ask me, I think each pimple has a story to tell.

We can go to and fro, but by the looks of it

Things didn’t go so well.

So go on and smile like they just took off your braces.

Smile like a kid again and you just learned to tie your new shoes’ laces.

Smile like your earliest memory of Christmas,

Even if he wasn’t there and missed it.

Smile,

Even if you were Muslim to begin with,

Open up your first present, and

Hey!!! It’s a Smile, so smile

Like you were Christian and got everything on your wish list.

I mean we never got together and re-enacted the birth of Christ;

But Sufficent to say (with a smile)

It was nice.

It was good. Things were well…

Presents, pancakes, and bacon: The good life.

I can’t remember what I had for breakfast yesterday,

Much less the smell.

So Smile

Smile

Smile like a full-body cavity search.

Smile,

But know that every smile that goes up, must come down,

And Gravity Hurts...

I call him Oedipus,

He’s a Motherfucker…

No, not of his own, but

The man who caused the divide

Between my mom and her lover;

My Father,

Who gave love and life to me’n’his daughters,

My sisters…

Listening to Pink’s Family Portrait

While lookin at our Family Pictures,

But of course

Those that came before the fall of the house of trust…

Now it seems like we’re nothing but Dust and Shadows,

Seeds planted, lay Fallow,

But please don’t ask though I’m just trying to keep things going…

Ask me questions like I’m the all knowing,

I don’t have answers, I’m but a year past twenty three…

Plus I don’t even know if it happened

So this ignorance has turned to cancer that bleeds.

The seed that is my sister of ten years less,

I know I don’t have all the answers but for her

The answer’s always yes.

Some days seem like a painful pitiful test

That I chalk up to character building…

But she’s just hit puberty; I can’t fathom what she’s feeling.

Maybe reeling and wailing, I feel I’m failing to keep her afloat…

At times I feel homeless and hopeless,

Hopefully she’ll keep thing in scope, and realize that

This too shall pass.

Sange Khodatra Sangeen Negahdar*, Reza

Keep your stone heavy, Don’t compromise your class……………….

Sange Khodatra Sangeen Negahdar, Reza

Keep, Your, Stone, Heavy…

But it starts to feel more like glass, and

In my meantime she asks if things’ll get better,

I feel that they won’t, but I say that they will….

And in doing so I’ve betrayed her trust

Cuz she swallows my optimism like a pill.

If only there were a spoonful of sugar,

If only I were Mary Poppins…

If only I knew some families came with a shelf-life like milk,

Our time has come and we’ve gone rotten…

I know it sounds like I’m droppin the ball,

But, I swear, if anything I’ve picked it up…

They ask me questions of Half-full and Half-empty,

Its not that I don’t care,

Its just that I’m happy to still have a cup…………………

*Persian Idiom-Literally translated: Keep Your stone Heavy

My translation: Never compromise yourself and respect

Love those who love you, cuz you never know when your Persian rug may be pulled out from under you…

My First Blow-Job

My First Blow-Job

I was in fifth grade and hanging out with the cool kids, or rather in their vicinity. Most of them were white with blue eyes, wore nice clothes with logos and had more than one pair of shoes, while I was brown with B.O. and my mom only bought me plain T-shirts because that way a few shirts could be disguised as a full wardrobe with enough laundering and mixing and matching. Boo-fucking-hoo, but that’s beside the point.

So I was lingering around, lying to kick it and trying to be cool through association when they started talking about Travis James and Samantha Smith. Both had names cooler than I could ever hope to be in a million years and were the envy of everyone, especially me. I wanted my ears pierced and hair bleached like him and wanted to do her, even though I had no idea what doing it entailed.
“So they were at Mike Ching’s party scamming and then she gave him a blow-job,” someone said, and everyone was like “wow,” or “no way,” or “what a slut,” or “what a pimp.” And all I could think was, “why were they ripping each other off and couldn’t he just dry his own hair?”

Little did I know scamming was making out and a blow-job was fellatio, head, pole-smoking, going down, essing his d, etc. I naively thought that he washed his hair, and she dried it for him just like my mom always did for my older sister. So I said to myself “why is she a slut? That’s pretty nice if you ask me.” But no one was even talking to me and like a fool who thought he saw an opportunity to bridge the gap between mediocrity and cooldom, I chimed in with, “yeah, my mom gives my sister blow-jobs all the time.”

If we were in a movie the record would scratch, everyone would look at me and Nelson from the Simpson’s would laugh, “HAHA,” punch me and walk away while crickets cricked in the background. Instead this was real life and no one who was in that circle of conversation ever looked at me the same, or different, again, and probably went on to call me “Blowjob boy” which, truth be told, once I found out what a blow-job really was, couldn’t make me happier…

For Nick Lachey………………

Its 5 o’clock in the morning,

What the fuck am I doing up?

Everything in life but my words seem stuck.

Stagnant,

Slippin away sideways

Like what the fuck happened?

Where was I when it all commenced?

I’ll sure know where I am when it all rests….

Yes,

That’s sounds about right,

Regiments too rigid,
About-face, right.

Right?

Oh you mean left…

Tryin the Bitch with Doors Closed

Chronicles of Harming Ya

With no perception of depth…

Death?

I wonder what that's like?

No ink in my pen?

No double duracells for my mic?

It’s

Like,

I’ve never been an MC,

Plug it in DJ EDDIE ENTERTAINMENT,

And lets see……….

Me, he who is I....

Never had A’s in school,

Tank on E,

I-O-U and I’ll pay later

Just please don’t ask Y…

Please,

Don’t take on such endeavors,

I’m Far from Atreyu, and these stories end nevers…

Till now…

Here we go from whoa to wow,

Now and again,

Come...

Sit, drink some tea, My friend.

No need to get up I stretch Armstrong extend

I’m Persian and too hospitable………………………….

Timing is of the essence, and

My clock’s arms on a fulcrum yet far from pivotal…

Get her full,

No, Git her done,

Goodbye Moon,

Hello Sun,

Daughters, fathers, mothers, brothers, nephews and nieces,

Does anybody have glue?

I think these are Pieces of me.

Absolutely No homo………………………………………….

You've got to dip it, before you stick it, in your mouth...

Jack in a Box.

Two tacos…99 cents. ( $1.07 if you wanna break my balls)

Chicken Sandwich, add tomatoes…99c. (Yeah Yeah)

Coke, no ice…99c (I’m not even gonna bother)

20 minutes of elation…priceless.

Ketchup and acres of ranch and don’t bother me, I’m eating. It doesn’t get all over the place but in the whole on my face and it tastes like artificial angels swimming in my mouth. Its like I’m young again. Carerfee. I know its only temporary, but so is evrything worth having. Sure, after I eat it descends to the hells of my stomach and I sit in potential Pept-bismol purgatory to see if my yin will yang, or if I’ll just need a little fast food cat nap. I might have some uneasy dreams as my body deals with figuring out how to breakdown what I ate and where to put it, but I’ll live.  And sn’t that another reason on its own? You can’t be fuckin with Whopper Jrs when your fifty. I’ll live, and for the moment, it’ll be a slightly better existence.  

            Don’t judge.  Where do you get what you get? What is it? Is it good? I might want some. What condiment do you use, if any? If you use no condiment I strongly suggest one. How much does it cost? I usually only have but a dollar or two, but I’m a bargain shopper. A real frugal baller.

            But more importantly, how does it make you feel? Do angels swim in your mouth too?  Do you feel young again, also? When do you indulge? Just got a parking ticket? Bad midterms? Transmission gonna cost you $300 you don’t have? Oh no! Well you do have $3, don’t you? It’s Tuesday. Get some small fries and a 4-piece chicken nugget. Fuck it…this is America so get two. Oh yeah!

            But its not just for the little hiccups in life. I had McDonalds for breakfast and dinner on November 5^th 2004. I was thinking of bombing the drive through the second time around when I realized the golden arches were a big W when turned upside down but…I had already ordered. 

            So eat up and eat away life’s little sighs of disbelief. Have a moment of silence for the cow you're about to consume, and thank the French as you dip your last fry even though they're bastards, and if it tastes like angels or whatever fantastical being swimming, let the oceans flow with an ice-cold beverage of your choice.

Yeah…you might feel  shitty, but you’ll definitely feel great first. Me, Jack, Ronald, Wendy, the Colonel, the King and that little fuckin Chihuahua promise it.