Eyes and Cycle of Memories

Farasha Euker

Folks should do their own fuckin’, then they wouldn’t want to listen to a lot of clatfart about another man’s.

D.H. Lawrence, “Lady Chatterley’s Lover”

Eyes

A beautiful eye is
like the sun.
A momentary glance
into the right eyes
is akin in feeling to the liberation of
the prisoner from
the Platonic cave,
but don’t look too
long or the
ensuing
ecstatic orgy
of human symbiosis
caused by eyes,
the most powerful
and most subtle
of human sex organs
will burn one
alive like a butterfly
who ventured too close
to the flame
and then
…
nothingness
but nothingness
is the fundamental
principle of
reality
it is all there
is
so let us join
our eyes
together and
see how
luminously
ethereal
beautiful
nothingness may be

Cycle of Memories

A good book
brings back memories
of late meetings
please, thank you, you are welcome
orange juice,
awkward moments,
followed by beautiful moments:
love making,
Palestine,
Black Panthers,
and cute cats.
But with the good
comes the bad
and with the bad
comes the good.
Sometimes—
perhaps inevitably—
long walks and kung-pao
give way to blood-suckers,
ghosts from the past,
and mirrors,
that most powerful
of all enemies
who tell you that you
are not the fairest one
of all
and who
poison your mind
and soul
with images of uncertainty
and doubt
until it all implodes;
the soul becoming a black hole
that sucks in all that once was good,
and when the darkness is over
love making and orange juice
can begin again, and again,
and the cycle of lightness
and darkness
continues
until one day while reading
a good book
a memory surfaces
about fun times
in the rain
and awkward moments,
and this cycle of light
and dark
and memory
continues until one
becomes food for the worms,
unless they live fearing the dark.
But without the dark,
there is no light
and
a life lived this way
makes one worm food
while breathing;
makes one
one of the living dead,
so in this short life
one should
enjoy the rainy days
and German heroines,
learning to fight
the angry mirrors
and resentful ghosts,
for soon the worms will
be full of foul flesh
and someone else
will be having memories
of late meetings,
book inscriptions,
cute cats,
and rainy days.