My life story as a poem:
Reply #55 - July 21, 2015, 06:29 PM
Since I was a little girl I was dressed up unwantedly
I was allowed to wear my short dresses at home, only
They wouldn’t let me play with my brother outdoor
They locked up my bike, so I could only ride it indoor
My nail polish was removed by a grumpy old woman
I was touched during ‘Playing Doctor’ by a sleezy little man
Slowly, I started going to school with a gunny all over my head and body
I got a smack in the face when I took it off because it was heating up my body
At school we were dictated to think their way
Otherwise, they would put a stick up our butts if we thought another way
Everyday they searched our bags as if we were prisoners
They tore apart my notebooks and stamped on my stickers
There was no talking of hygiene, sports, fun and free expressions
On the other hand, there was never enough talking of Imams and their nonsense!
Gradually, I reached an age that they said one week per month I was unclean
When they said I can’t touch the Quran I believed that I was not clean
Ouch, those compulsory ablutions and fake prayers!
Shame on them, we couldn’t skip those! No ways!
We couldn’t use that ‘one week’ trick as a daily excuse!
If we did, teachers and principle would punish us with no excuse
When there was time to talk about a top woman and mother’s day essay
‘Fatima Zahra was the best mother for her Illiteracy and uselessness’ that was what you had to say!
Shias make a big deal out of twelve illiterate ineffectual Imams, why? I have no idea!
I wonder if apart from womanizing and making babies, they had any other ideas!
Instead of encouraging us to work hard to get somewhere in life
They sent us to mourning ceremonies to cry our hearts out and ruined our lives!
And we kept crying out and prying in ArabicI wish there was a wise man who would have told us to stop that shit!
The prayers were filled with humility and slavery
We were scared of God’s flame that could burn down our dynasty
We just wanted to talk to friends on the phone and have a laugh
But, they said that lines were monitored so we didn’t get a chance to laugh!
There was NO talking of men!
Otherwise our parents would interrogate us like policemen!
If on the way to school some hair came out just a little bit,
The ‘crazy extremists’ would harass and humiliate us a lot not just a bit!
We were reaching last days of school and university was not far ahead
Poor boys were worried about military services and girls were about to be house-detained!
There were neither jobs nor freedom so we had to go to university
Good for those who buried their heads in sand, cause the rest went to jail after university!
Little by little some of us forgot about Duas and fake Arabic taboos
But what about these 30 years? I wish we could say that we’ve forgotten those too !
We got caught while jamming with friends or driving around
We got caught while writing and staying in, even ‘bastards’ caught us online when we didn’t mess around!
We thought instead of mourning in Arabic why not singing in Persian and be happy?
They broke in, took away, beat up and killed off then we regretted for being happy!
After all the books we read and home-works we did, at the end we didn’t get a thing!
Those superstitious uneducated Mullahs wear too many hats and we have nothing!
We figured out that there have never been an ‘Arab God’ with his prophet and twelve Imams thirty years after!
As we found out grandmas’ stories were lies too and people were never happily after!
You and I might be happy with no sorrow
But, we don’t know anything about an Evin prisoner’s pain though!
We are badly stuck in the middle, nowhere to go to
It seems like in our fairy tale story we have no nests to get back to!