The Job Of A Doorknob
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: October 16, 2001

The job of a Doorknob is to be rounded,
To be curved, to be firm, to be copper,
Silver, brass. The job of a doorknob is to be dormant,
To be content, to be simple.
The job of a doorknob is to be broken, and fixed,
To be unnoticed, taken for granted,
neglected.
The job of a doorknob is to shake hands,
To get infected, to pass the infection, be to replaced,
To be innocent, to act innocent, only to jam during
A large crisis.
The job of a doorknob is to lockup and trap humans,
To be unsuspecting, to be guilty. The job of a doorknob is
To be old, young, polished and tarnished. The job
Of a doorknob is packaged, shipped, and imported from a
Factory of underpaid metal workers in the South-East Asia.
The job of a doorknob is simply to just be. Dull. Uninteresting.
To dent when beaten with a bat. To be grasped by royalty. To
Change hands, to change hands, to change hands.
The job of an doorknob is to be an unconsidered, eighth wonder of the
Universe. The job of a doorknob is to be a mystery.

Ode To My Socks
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: October 9, 2001

Maru Mori brought me
a pair
of socks
which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder’s hands,
two socks as soft
as rabbits.
I slipped my feet
into them
as though into
two
cases
knitted
with threads of
twilight
and goatskin.
Violent socks,
my feet were
two fish made
of wool,
two long sharks
sea-blue, shot
through
by one golden thread,
two immense blackbirds,
two cannons,
my feet
were honored
in this way
by
these
heavenly
socks.
They were
so handsome
for the first time
my feet seemed to me
unacceptable
like two decrepit
fireman, fireman
unworthy
of that woven
fire,
of those glowing
socks.

Nevertheless
I resisted
the sharp temptation
to save them somewhere
as schoolboys
keep
fireflies,
as learned men,
collect
sacred texts,
I resisted
the mad impulse
to put them
in a golden
cage
and each day give them
birdseed
and pieces of pink melon.
Like explorers
in the jungle who hand
over the very rare
green deer
to the spit
and eat it
with remorse,
I stretched out
my feet
and pulled on
the magnificent
socks
and then my shoes.

The moral
of my ode is this:
beauty is twice
beauty
and what is good is doubly
good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool
in winter.

By: Pablo Neruda
Translated By: Robert Bly

By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: April 20, 2001

Reality leaks
Drips, bit by bit
It leaves me

Are soft, golden wheat
And my biology text book
My source of constant arousal
Becomes a brunette named Lisa

Wheat woven into a sea of golden grass

On the sidewalk
Inside our soapy bubble
Being kissed by a little girl
Now carried by the wind

A sea of number
Begins to drown
My life saver
Is my fantasy

Big Black Shoes
For Tiffany
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written:  February 16,  2001

Moving down long mysterious legs
We enter depth in the top of a shoe

Pitch black we lose ourselves in eternal darkness
Circling and trying to figure out the meaning

Inching toward the sole,
Soul is what is kept secret

The mystery of glorious perfection
The impeccable sense of style

Only one can achieve such credentials
Only one can understand the meaning

The meaning of Big Black Shoes

Jehangir Saleh

Cinnamon Hearts
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written:  February 7, 2001

I am bitter
Quite bitter in fact
Not like the skin of a grapefruit
A taste closer to those tiny cinnamon hearts
Curved satanic sweets
That stain your lips pink
And inflame your taste buds
Tiny manifestations of affection
That rape your oral receptors
And say
I Love you

I have been sucking
And sulking
My cheeks are stained
With roses
I’ve had one too many red tablets
From the opium jar of lust
My addiction
It ruins me
For love
Is the only cure

These given to “lovers”
On the Day of Valentines
Valentines Day was aroused from two sources. One being two legendary Christian martyrs whose feasts were formerly observed on February 14. Historians can only speculate to whether they were in actual exsistance or whether the two martyrs are really the same person recorded twice under two names.

The second being the Roman festival of Lupercalia believed to have been in honor of Faunus, the God of flocks and fertility. Celebrated on February 15, the festival was supposed to ensure fertitlity of it was intended to ensure the fertility of people, fields, and flocks for the new year. After sacrificing goats and a dog on the Palatine Hill, young men called Luperci raced around the borders of the hill striking those they met with whips made of the goatskins. Women who were struck were ensured of fertility and of easy delivery of children. The festival survived until the 5th century AD

By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: January 17, 2001

There is a frail homeless man at his deathbed lying in the center of the town. A gentle and learned scribe is writing in his journal unaware of the condition of the person beside him.
A greedy king is taking his usual stroll around town. The town’s peoples bow to him as he crosses their path.

Jehangir: Oh lord, a dirty street person, the filth of my marvelous city.

Jacky: Please your greatness, if you could just spare some food?

Jehangir: Refrain from speaking to me! You and your kind are a shame and disgrace to my city.

The young scribe who was writing a poem begins to read it out loud.

Haris: The shooting star sails across the sky,
It’s eternal beams every glowing,
It travels far within the night,
Never stopping nor slowing.

Jehangir: Pipe down scribe, if I wanted to hear rubbish I would summon my mule to speak.

Haris: Your highness, please do not speak of my work in that manner.

Jehangir: Who is going to stop me? You (laugh) you are no match for my guards.

Jacky: Please your royalness, I ask you again if you will spare some bread crumbs?
Jehangir: I will not tell you again, do not speak to me!
Haris: This poor homeless man, he is dying of starvation. You are the richest man in the country and yet you turn down his plea for a piece of bread? What causes you to be so cruel?

The scribe takes a piece of bread out of his pocket and hands it to the homeless man

Here you go my friend

Jacky: Thank you sir, you are most kind.

Jehangir: How dare you question me! How dare you defy me!

(He snatches the bread out of the homeless man’s hand and stuffs it in his pocket)

Haris: This man is dying of hunger, you are dying of wealth. Why don’t you two trade?

Jehangir: Are you trying to tell me what to do? I can have you hung!
Haris: The people of this town used to pray to God. Now the people of this town and God pray to you! You have lead us to live in poverty raising the taxes and giving all the money to yourself. Your highness may I ask you what you do with all the wealth?

Jehangir: A raving idiot certainly will not lecture me! You will receive the punishment of death!

As the king called to his guards the scribe began to speak.

Haris: I am afraid an innocent man has already received that punishment.

The two look down at their feet and there lays the homeless man that had stopped breathing.

Haris: (Bends down for a closer look)

He is dead. We have killed him.

Jehangir: What do you mean WE have killed him. You have killed him.

Haris: We both killed him. You took away his bread and I didn’t stop you.

Jehangir: I would choke the lies out of your dirty mouth. I banish you from this land forever! Leave now.

As the scribe leaves he recites a poem out loud.

Haris: The devil is bright in this land,
In the form of a king he does stand.
Lusturous gold, riches and wealth,
His cast iron heart refuses to melt.

The king carried on with his daily stroll. No one bowed before him.

The Trigger Effect
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: December 8, 2000

With one gun shot,
How many dreams can you kill?
How many people must you condemn?
How many hopes are you sure to crush?
All of them, when you show people their
Reality.

Chestnuts
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: December 8, 2000

Troubadour’s and illusionary’s wilt
Before bass bowls of mahogany stones
Nature’s testicles
Castrated off the tree in my neighbors yard
Like the eyes of their cat
Full of evil inspirations
The eyes of my cat

Receiving inspiration form a nut

Similar to the eyes of my neighbor’s cat

World upon world of meaning
Careful Eve! This might mean an allergic reaction to the world.