Death Star (A song I made up while watching a movie)

The Death Star is coming!

Your world is going to die.

Your world is dead. Your world is dead.

Dead! Dead! DEAD!

What is this?

Here comes...

Luke!

Leia!

Chewie!

(Those Rebel scum!)

ATTENTION!

Death Star: Beams engage.

Death Star: guidance on lock!

Those Rebel scum! 

Attack!

Attack! ATTACK!

What is this?

Here comes...

Luke!

Leia!

Chewie!

(Those Rebel scum!)

Saving the Universe from evil Sith.

Luke is determined.

Leia is a leader.

Chewie is an Honorary Jedi.

ATTENTION!

Death Star: Malfunctioning.

Death Star: Corrupted core.

Death Star: Exploding!

Corrupting

The chatter on the internet waves,
Bickering over angry emotions.
Memes that are more funny than they should be,
A sense of loss among ourselves.
And all it takes is self-control to see and observe,
That the whole system is flawed.

I don't care,
Who hears this.
I don't care who knows this.
But I hope it's everyone.
If I'm the survivor and not the savior,
I can finally lay down my sword.

As long as they put theirs down first.

Let's face it:
Politics is for comfortable ones right now.
We, the true people,
The ones who have been misunderstood,
Or oppressed,
Or not being taken as first-class citizens,
We need to change it by actually running.

Not running from anything.
I'm talking about winning office.
AND then not corrupting.

Like the higher authorities who do very little,
Except make an appearance on TV,
They continue to play the game.
Instead of destroying it.
From the foundation up.

Because greed is villainous.
I know who I'd trust with power,
And it's not them.

There are a few good ones out there,
These are the local politicians, mostly.
But they have little power to give.
The TRUE antagonists,
Have big power to take,
As they won't surrender willingly.
They'd rather we all be in home prisons,
And few.

I wonder why the poorest don't rob the richest every single night?
Until equilibrium.

That only seems fair.

My gripe is the job of holding office is too prestigious.
The ones that run for high office have stars in their eyes,
And trust me,
I know a lot by the entertainment industry who actually loves what they do,
And who forgot what brought them into it in the first place.

So I ask you to ask yourself:
What are you doing that is actually making a difference?
Or
Is it really stepping into the shoes of those that make a difference,
For a spotlight moment or two?

I know what I do is barely anything.
At least it feels that way.
I can study and ace political science, history.
I can realize the power in myself.
How the few take care of the many.
How I'm taken care of,
How you're taken care of.
How I'm number 2 and you're number 2,
Or I'm number 3 and you're number 4.
Or I'm zero and you're number 1.
How neither of us is given personal care.
How nobody is special and everyone is similar.
How afraid we've been told,
To be of taking care of ourselves,
And not to be personal with everyone.
To stop talking politics, religion, and sex.

Without further adieu,
I'm independent of any representative system.
I'm independent of any belief except my own.
I think about sex a lot.

Wants

I want more time.

I want to keep making art.

I want to get better at it.

I want to not have to think about eating because I'm hungry.

I want relationships to be easier.

I want to have more energy as I age.

I want to let little things slide more.

I want to be more honest.

I want to be unapologetic about how I am.

I don't want to have anxiety in groups.

I want to have the option of not seeing advertising.

I want to stay a cityboy but still hold onto old-world values.

I want to spend more time creating.

I want to be a professional wrestler for a day.

I want less politics in the news.

I want less tribes and more unity.

I want writing to be read.

I want more people to work less hours.

I want more people to be able to spend time with the ones they love.

I want to go to space sooner than later.

I want to explore the universe.

I want to make friends with every species there is.

I want the dead to hear me.

I want to bring back the extinct.

I want a Utopia.

I want others to be okay with that.

Stand-In

Stand in line,
For the newest upgraded phone.
Or the hottest chicken waffle restaurant.
We are told to follow these orders.

The line is where we must stay.
We have become numbers,
That wait in line patiently to be called.

"Number 400!",
We proceed with a smile on our face.
We're no longer with those waiting.


We've moved past them.


Few have had the courage,
Towards original thoughts or movies.
Maybe you, dear reader.

Maybe you.
At least, I hope it's you.

Autonomous.
A word that brick and mortar ignore. 

Retail brings things to your door.

To get good chicken waffles,
You must wait 30 minutes standing in line.

What am I?
An actor!
A stand-in!

Of course,
I must work for my bread.
Unlike those lucky ones,

Disillusioned paying for premium.
It's all made for pennies.
But what do they care?


The real winners are the profiteers.

Spiritual Nourishment lines? 

First In. First Out.

Doesn't matter who's hungrier.

Bribe them so we don't have to wait!

"But are we that powerful?"

At least standing in line makes us ready for a new Depression.

Waiting in lines.
For subpar clothing.
Mediocre food.
Pre-recorded events.
Mass-produced groceries.

A Stand-In needs a Stand-Up.
Time is valuable. 

Standing in line as status:

Go where everyone else goes.

But make it seem glamourous.

It makes better sense,
If we were to...

Stand in line for charity.
And not be unique by it.

Stand in line,
Side by side,
For equality.

Abandoned

The ones like you who believe you are not the same,
You face consistent disappointment.

You're a snowflake but you're also water,
It's nature.
Guess what?
We're electrical.
But it's all bio-mechanical.

When you've seen one you've seen them all.

During these times of horror,
You're worried about money.
And you're in your 40s.
Who cares?
You dress like you're punk rock.

It's middle-class suburbanite.
Looking for the limelight.
Closest you've gone to rebel,
Is sleeping in on weekends.

You're home alone,
Sick and tired - scared.
Do you think anyone really cares?

No one cares about you,
You care about being together.
So we use that against you.

We know you're home right now,
In these uncertain times, we say.
It's more important than ever,
To keep movement strong.
But the only way we can do that is we keep,
Destroying your foundation together.

Together we continue,
And we can continue,
Not being there for you.

Even when the biggest fail,
Companies or organizations that give up on you.

I won't.
Because I'm not afraid of getting hurt again.

Your society,
Abandoned you.
They don't want you.

So what are you gonna do?

Cry like a baby?
Go online and make a posting?
It does nothing!

I don't wanna see,
I don't wanna leave.
I don't wanna fear anything.

I don't wanna do what you did to me,
What I'll do to you is gonna hurt you,
Like it hurt me.

Rushing to the End

Isn't life funny?
We're told we don't have much time.
But we've made it this far,
So far.

And what a life it's been!

All of a sudden there's 4 hours to have.
It's been a super busy week before.

We got a lot done, didn't we?
Let's rest up in case it gets going again.

We're valued for our money saved.
But money can't buy back our time.

Time is not money.
Time is life.

Life well used,
Is time well spent.

Isn't life funny?
We can't buy time.

It costs almost nothing.
But is the most valuable necessity.

New Iranian Stereotype

No, I didn't fly here in my magic carpet.
My car is a Honda.
They have good resale value.
I am Iranian.
I like good value.

Technically, I'm Iranian-American.
I don't love any government's style.
Though the one in America is doing well for me.
My idea for a better world?
None of your business!

I am Iranian deep in my soul.
No, I am not a spy or terrorist.
I do not start revolts; I pay my bills on time, mostly.
I use computers and other devices.

Technically, I'm for freedom.
That most take for granted.
I'm for educating the masses - with a goal of 100%.
Whether by college or universities,
Or for the people like me who read everything possible.

I am Iranian.
A regular person with very little time to spare.
I don't enjoy seeing others treated unfairly.
A modern Iranian is who I am.
My love for people of all kinds to prosper is my dream.

My people are who I love most.
Whether they are rich or poor or middle of the road.
Whether they struggle everyday like I do.
It is my duty to be there to be their support system.

As I sit here drinking my mint-flavored doogh, I think.
Of my past, of my roots.
My upbringing and my traditions.
Of my present and my future.
And my new traditions coming.

Persian is my first language.
English is my second.
At this point,
I can barely keep up with conversations in native tongue.
I'm like a tourist in a foreign country with other Iranians.

But I am Iranian. No, doubt about it.
My English language skills are strongest.
And I must use these skills to tell my story.
My stories and my people's stories.

Of being Iranian.

Listen

Your mouth.
It says the most beautiful things.
You show me kindness and affection with it.
Thank you for it being so attractive.

I love your mouth.
It can say things that push my buttons.
Your voice is so loving though,
Even if we argue, I'm wishing in my mind,
Trying to get back to you.

That mouth is beautiful,
For telling me and everyone your dreams.
I adore your dreams,
I wish them to come true.
With me and with you.

Your eyes are my favorite color.
But it all comes down to kissing you.
Because your mouth is amazing to me.

Your mouth is beautiful.
It speaks and shows love,
In the words you choose,
In its compassion towards me and others,
And physically for me only.

We're lucky, definitely.
We're definitely not boring.
I need you.
To see your smile.
To hear you sing and laugh, and to tell me you love me.
I need your mouth.

Paper Bag

Sometimes,
I get so nervous when the female cashier looks at me.
She asks me if I want to buy a paper bag.
First off, I brought my own!

So I have to wonder to myself:
Is she flirting with me?
No, no, she does this a 100 times a day already.
She knows I have my own reusable cloth bag,
It's right there in front of her face.
She wants my number and a date, doesn't she?
I've noticed her good eye-makeup once before.
I'm no idiot.

What if she's a shill for the paper industry?
She's trying to get rid of these bags,
For dollars on the penny.
Entrepreneurs make America.
She's gotta be one of them.

"No thank you", I say.
I brought my own bag.
I'm awake about it.
Not like these other sheep.
I buy organic,
To keep the brainwash juices out of my mind.

She's obviously in love with me.
I mean - look at this that I am.
A gift from God to please a woman's desires.
I ask her out to Shakespeare in the Park.

She politely declines.
I hate when they play hard to get.
Next week, I'll ignore her.
That always gets them.

I wonder what the names of our children will be.
Probably something interesting,
Like Raven or Zelda.
I won't bring a reusable bag next time,
So she'll be right to ask me.

Lazy Bastard

I'm stumbling on debris on my floor.
Time to vaccuum again.

It's June again,
Which means I should clean the shower too.

I'm not lazy, I'm efficient.
How dare you judge me,
You filthy animal.

The Culmination of All Intelligence in the Universe

There has never been a better time,
To talk about this.

I have never thought it was a good idea,
To study to become a foot soldier.
I studied to take humankind farther,
To space and beyond the small life on Earth.

I am who I am,
And never be anything else.
I am not a Lion. I am not an Ant.

I dare not care for killing.
Or savagery.
I want everyone to live.
And with peace,
In their hearts, their souls.

I am the one,
The Eyes,
Ears,
Nose,
The mouth and tongue of the free world.
I am of Peace.

And I will stand behind my stance.
Until all of us know everything.

Everything Ends Anyways

It’s mine.

The destination.

The final curtain call,

My dream is ending,

And so am I.

I will die.

It won’t matter.

It never did.

The world goes on,

With or without me.

My choice.

My insanity.

I want it all to go away.

There is no other way,

For me to get help.

That I need.

I don’t want it anyway.

Not like it matters now,

Everything ends anyways.

Thanks, But No Thanks

Thanks.
I’ve had enough.
Why didn’t anyone care?
I thought someone would.



I wish life were fair.
No one knows where we go after this.
No one really knows where.



No thanks.
I tried to tell you.
Why didn’t anyone care?
Maybe I should instead.



There isn’t a need for me.
I’m sick of my apathy.
Every day is like this.
Everything is what it seems.



I wish life were fair.
No one knows where we go after this.
No one really knows where.



Thanks.
But no thanks.



I’ve had enough.

Other Side

This isn’t what I thought it would be.

It’s clean.

But it’s a fantasy.

I wish I had a family.

One day, maybe.




I wish for a change.

But it’s not enough.

I need to get out of here.




Far away.

A lake with calm waters.

For a change.

But it’s not enough.




Fascinating to be here.

Because it’s all a distant memory.

Now, I’m clean.




No scars.

No hurting.

The aches are gone.

The misery.




All apart of me.




But now I don’t need anything.

No Problem Solved

It never happened,

Immortality.

So close but not close enough.

A killing instead.










Of me.










I have no belongings,

Everything I have is this life.

Is me.










Now I have the upperhand,

Now, everyone else can’t have me.

I hope they all will understand.










I win the game.

I’ve won.

There was no problem.

I solved it.

I didn’t have to play the game of life.

Exit Here

Exit signs everywhere.

Exit here.

Exit there.

I’ve got to make my exit now.




I won’t be making it back to this highway again.

Because of this Cardinal sin.




My eternal suffering can exit my soul.

With just one simple choice to end it myself.




Display the emotions.

Formulaic factions.

I have nothing more to give.




No exit - no comfort.

No psychological urges.




I can finally be happy.

Dinner with a Friend (Grim Reaper)

My severed head I walk around with.




Look up to me.

While I admire death.

There’s only pain and suffering.

Every once in a while there’s joy.

An abstract beauty in a world of pain.

I adore.




Well, now it’s poetry to my ears.

To see the great beyond.

I’m here and I’m staying.

I’ve made it.




I guess a sunset is a painting.

There’s a palette of beauty.

In an early death.




Why am I not surprised it happened so fast?

It wasn’t meant to last.

It’s over.

No other.




In the dirt.

No one hurt.

A rebirth.




No.

Just another skull,




Materializing into earth.

I Wish For an End

Goddamn heart never stops.

I’ve tried everything to finish it.

Fried fatty foods, cigarettes, no exercise.

Everything except a gunshot or jumping off a building.

But maybe soon.




All I know is I wish for an end.

Is that so much to ask?

I don’t know and I don’t think so.

I’m weak.

There’s nothing left here for me anyway.

I’m trapped in a body I don’t want or deserve.




Goddamn brain never stops.

I’ve tried everything to finish it.

Terrible music, terrible movies, terrible books.

Terrible poetry.

Instead I get awarded for my contributions.

What takes me no effort to do and I get called an artist.




I wish I could.

Counterintuitive possibilities.

Suicidal Tendencies.

I’m still not flying.

So I drag my feet across your lawn.




Give me a medical review.

Judge my case.

I’ll appeal it to the end.




Until I’m dead.

Crushed Dreams

I just wanted to be somebody.

Now, I’m somebody else.

I never thought I’d be alone.

But here I am.




I wish I’d known my own thoughts.

Before I threw them all away.

My crushed dreams are me.

I’m one and alone with all of them.

There’s no more dreams.

I’d hate to have more.




The registration of my demolition.

My brains and my body.

Annihilated and immigrated into dirt.

I’m not worth it and neither is any of this.

All my dreams were just dreams.

I don’t deserve to get lucky.




It’s all fun and games until reality hits.

Then bills need paying and I’m broke.

What’s funny is I’m broke all the time anyway.

Why?

To be a fucking artist.

So some asshole can get lucky.

And here I am working a shit job to pay the bills.

Life’s not fair unless I’m pulling hairs.




I wish for dreams to never come true for me or for you.

It All Began

A superhero is a human being.

Nothing hurts, not even bullets.

What about a noose?

Self-inflicted means relief.

Now I’m a debt cleared by the banking institution.

It’s true.

It all began when life became valuable.

Suddenly, a price is put on it.

And one is prettier than the others.

So the pretty ones get sold.

And in this fantasy no one is a whore.

Except the living.




It all began with being property.

Having value.

Quality.




A human being is a superhero.

Nothing hurts, not even bullets.

What about a noose?




Self-inflicted means relief.