Sunday, June 28


Corruption (1650)

Sure it was so. Man in those early days
Was not all stone and earth;
He shined a little, and by those weak rays
Had some glimpse of his birth.
He saw heaven o’er his head, and knew from whence
He came, condemned, hither;
And, as first love draws strongest, so from hence
His mind sure progressed thither.
Things here were strange unto him: sweat and till,
All was a thorn or weed:
Nor did those last, but (like himself) died still
As soon as they did seed.
They seemed to quarrel with him, for that act
He drew the curse upon the world, and cracked
The whole frame with his fall.
This made him long for home, as loath to stay
With murmurers and foes;
He sighed for Eden, and would often say,
“Ah! What bright days where those!”
Now was heaven cold unto him; for each day
They valley or the mountain
Afforded visits, and still Paradise lay
In some green shade or fountain.
Angles lay lieger here; each bush and cell,
Each oak and highway knew them;
Walk but the fields, or sit down at some well,
And he was sure to view them.
Almighty love! where art thou now? Mad man
Sits down and freezeth on;
He raves, and swears to stir nor fire, nor fan,
But bids the thread be spun.
I see, thy curtains are close-drawn; thy bow
Looks dim, too, in the cloud;
Sin triumphs still, and man is sunk below
The centre, and his shroud.
All’s in deep sleep and night: thick darkness lies
And hatcheth o’er thy people-
But hark! what trumpet’s that? what angel cries,
“Arise! thrust in thy sickle?”

Henry Vaughan (1621-1695)

Wednesday, June 24

Are you with Them?

Bloggists and twitterists alike, even the blessed stepchildren of the Newspaper Man, the Freelance-reporters and journalists have all been trying to draw the world’s attention to what is, at the very moment, the current state of the ongoing unrest in Iran. There are thousands of pictures in print or on the net, that have captured the belligerence of the Islamic regime in dealing with the people of Iran, “from amongst whom there rose the Revolutionary Man,” who beats, rapes, tortures and murders the herd of the common man! Hooray to the Revolutionary Man! Only, I am amazed that it had taken the whole world few-bloody-days to realize that the people of Iran have never had faith in the Islamic Republic from the very off set of its establishment!

Whether it was Mirhossein Mossavi’s call for protestation against the so called “coup d’├ętat” that triggered the unrest or it was Ahmadinejad’s persistence to remain true to the core of the Islamic Republic’s foundation, the blazing fire of the nation’s rage against the oppressors shall burn many bales of hay! However, the regime, as we know by now, would not budge out easily, and why should it? It took thirty-years for the regime to establish itself as one of the most brutal dictatorships in the Middle East, how can it be brought into total collapse by a crowd that is empty handed but alive? So, the Revolutionaries will use any means by which they could “put that fire out”. Alas, that cannot be done!

Now, the people of Iran extend their hands to you for support. Are you with them?

Thugs, theives and whatnot

The following is an excerpt from an email I received this morning from a friend who is in Iran. Of course, I know that there is nothing new in the email in terms of what it conveys, which is the obvious truth about the vile nature of the Islamic Republic, but having said that, due to the nature of the current unrest in Iran, it is absolutely necessary to listen to every voice that reaches us abroad.

I left work last week and ended up on PICH-E-SHEMIRAN located to the very southern tip of JAD-E-GHADIM (Shariati) and almost ended up losing my head. All of a sudden a bunch of idiot waco thugs showed-up with lashes, machetes, chains, and automatic assault rifles and tried to kill a lot of people. I was not demonstrating or anything, but they thought I was. I along with 4 strangers ended up on the roof of a building hiding for 5 hours. It is a good thing that you guys aren't here. Let me tell you, DO NOT EVER THINK OF COMING BACK HERE. Everyone I know is getting the hell out of here. I have been working on a project for a while now and, as soon as I reach my objective, I TOO WILL GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE


Saturday, June 20

Filths and Wisdom

Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile;
Filths savor but themselves
”(King Lear 4.3, William Shakespeare).

Thursday, June 18

Do I give a nickle!

Mir Hossein Mossavi, a prime minister with hope!

Today, my friend Mrs. Gosaleh had accused me of indifference and insensitivity to Iranian’s Plight, because of last Saturday, when I refused to participate in the gathering of the Iranian community at Mel Lastman Square in North York, Toronto. I refuse to chant what I do not enjoy.
Was I shocked at such rude remark? No, not at all. Nothing really shocks me, especially in the matter of making hasty remarks such as that one. In truth, it has been my experience that in times like this the emerging Iranian community in Toronto gets a bit touchy and unbearable. So much for our closeness!
The recent political brouhaha caused as a result of a surfacing internal power-shift, and such event does not shock me. I am not even shocked to hear and to see that the authorities, as usual, have assaulted, arrested and killed innocent people. The oppressor does not have any other purpose to fulfill, and will never go against its own nature. On the contrary, should such a shift of power bring about some positive changes in the attitude of the Iranians toward the Islamic State as the most vicious Enemy of the Iranians, I may go paralyzed!
I do not give a nickel to any Plight that does not include all Iranians. And not all Iranians had casted their votes for any of the candidates in the recent “election” in Iran. A great number of Iranians did not go to the polling stations, for they do not believe in the system and what a forced and forged constitution would legitimize as the “election”.
If a Plight has agenda, than I refuse to recognize it as a Plight. Whether Ahmadinejad is the “elect” president, or Mossavi should have been the “one,” I do not give a damn, because they both signify the existence of an oppressive regime in Iran. The Islamic Republic’s candidates for presidency, jelly-like or cement-wise are of one cloth, and whoever dares to deny that fact may go straight to Hell.


Saturday, June 13

A Lecture upon the Shadow

A Metaphysical Poet, John Donne, has a lot to offer. Even to those who neither understand language nor appreciate metaphysical poetry, poetry of this nature has an appeal that is undeniably of a unique kind. Perhaps the mystery of such appealing nature lies in the hand of the real poet, who has not only a rich imagination but a wit that equals it, who knows the language he uses and knows it well not to use it in vain.
Enjoy this week’s poem.

A Lecture upon the Shadow

STAND still, and I will read to thee
A lecture, Love, in Love's philosophy.
These three hours that we have spent,
Walking here, two shadows went
Along with us, which we ourselves produced.
But, now the sun is just above our head,
We do those shadows tread,
And to brave clearness all things are reduced.
So whilst our infant loves did grow,
Disguises did, and shadows, flow
From us and our cares ; but now 'tis not so.

That love hath not attain'd the highest degree,
Which is still diligent lest others see.

Except our loves at this noon stay,
We shall new shadows make the other way.
As the first were made to blind
Others, these which come behind
Will work upon ourselves, and blind our eyes.
If our loves faint, and westerwardly decline,
To me thou, falsely, thine
And I to thee mine actions shall disguise.
The morning shadows wear away,
But these grow longer all the day ;
But O ! love's day is short, if love decay.

Love is a growing, or full constant light,
And his short minute, after noon, is night.


Monday, June 8

A heart-to-heart

I was thinking about the subject of a new post when it dawned on me that I have never had a chance to have a heart-to-heart on this blog. Surely you know what I mean!
Well, let me be straight and present to you my grievance in a plain style. It’s a daunting task for me to write for this blog, when my audience is mute, non-responsive and its presence is a matter of mere statistic on this page. If you look at this grievance from a blogger’s point of view, you will find the attitude of a mute audience a disheartening behaviour. You may wonder why, but there is no plain answer to your inquiry, and that’s all.