Darvish Khan Writes

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Open the door, and let us in to embrace
Your reluctance to bestow your grace.

We have been banging with our tender fist,
And wonder why you our ardor still resist!

The Beloved, we have heard, is never so cruel,
As when she deigns to speak to a hapless fool.

We will take our chances with our audacity-
The worst we face is your cold, heartless pity.

The noose tightens and the neck constricts;
How much longer before the breath forfeits?

What a bright and cheery day to happily die,
To swing from an apple tree, and earth deny!

Hey, look Darvish- it’s not that bad. Someday
The door will open, and your Mind will sway!

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In America, the voice of the rich is loud and clear-
In this land of the almighty dollar, worship fear!

The gilded beast commands our lives with suavity:
We praise his brightness with cultured depravity.

That we would become devoted to naked greed
Is no wonder. We ate the apple that cursed our seed.

Now our shame is the three piece corporate suit.
It has robbed our integrity and labor’s honest fruit.

The serpent coiled in the tree whispers: “dividend”.
This is what rationalizes heinous crime without end.

The corporation is a wondrous tit full of lucre,
That the CEO sucks from the exiled worker.

Darvish longs for the return of “Small is Beautiful”.
The beast is wounded, and such a huge, ugly idol!
 

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The über rich have destroyed our middle class polity.
They are the king-makers in our guttered history.

The royals have returned with a refurbished crown:
Corporations now have the halo of personal charm.

America, it turns out, has exalted greed so much,
That a belching monster now has a princely touch!

How we love our bloated desires. We can’t wait
To cut the throat of our neighbor with tender hate!

We have socialized and speculated on our rage
With such finesse, we have gilded our own dotage.

The golden bull goes wild and gores us all. Darvish
Calls out to the Masters of heart: it is You we cherish!

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On this day, the New Life began to never end:
The God-Man lives this Life with His companions.

But not as God- only as Man and elder brother
Does he walk and beg incognito as the Friend.

“No Sheikh, no Brahmin, and no Guru, no disciple:
We have no caste, creed or religion to defend!”

“The companions must cheerfully accept everything
As the will of God, and drive desire from the mind.”

“We have become dead men and women walking
Who live in the Now, and on no one but God depend.”

“This helplessness and hopelessness is our joy-
We renounce all the confusion that fear commands.”

“Our only loyalty is to the oath that swears:
Never let go the Truth of the Friend’s daaman!”

By grace alone, Darvish walks the path of dust
To Manonash, to find the Love of that Pure-Land.

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When the righteous assassinate, it is fair play-
But when the enemy kills, it is God’s dismay.

When vast lands are invaded for “freedom’s” sake,
Innocents are killed and maimed every day.

We have no god greater than our own comfort:
We don’t care what the aggrieved have to say.

There is no pretension worse than “helping” others,
And then crush them to maintain it was naiveté.

We have no fucking idea what we are doing, and
We don’t care. All this war business is so passé.

Let us wave the flag and regale our vast stupidity:
Let us remember our very own Timothy McVeigh!

Darvish knows well that Nations have no honor.
He cries that The People all to easily love betray.

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