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Taymaz Valley

Fear Of 
(Dawn 8 February 2017) 


A murder of crows fly 
on the razorblade of horizon 
while the cold nails us 
in these murdering times. 


Bones shatter, and ashes scatter, 
blood pours down our faces, 
rivers joining this sea of lost 
shouting in vain: our lives matter. 


The rain fire down like barrel bombs 
the sky charred soot, 
all life lost for a mere profit, 
our leader a spineless poppet. 


They shall ask: why? 
Didn’t we learn anything from the past? 
And the answer that never came 
as the shadows were cast 
is that humanity was an ocean 
that was led to its end 
by a simple contagious, 
unintelligible fear of 
and death. 


(Dawn 8 March 2017)


They will laugh at you, 
they will mock you 
and call you names. 


They will throw dirt, 
label you a radical, insane, 
threaten you with chains. 


There will be derision, 
clubs and batons, 
pulled knives and guns; 


and you might bleed, 
imprisoned, maimed, 
beaten to the brink, 


but as long as you resist, 
your spirit, that soaring 
ideal you hang on to, 
that refusal to appease, 
that deeply embedded 
drive to persist, dear mother, 
sister, daughter, niece, 
my dear wife, love of my life, 
the fight in you 
will never cease. 


The Showman 
(Dawn 11 June 2017) 


The showman shouting, 
pointing, growling; 
spitting out lies. 


Deception and crimes. 

The ever destructive 
modern times. 

Quiet Screams 
(Dawn 24 May 2017) 


What you doing here? 
Don’t you see there are no sidewalks? 
We don’t want the likes of you 
walking by our yards. 


You don’t look the part 
so get a move on sonny. 
Hurry up before the cops show up, 
haven’t you read the headlines lately?


You’re lucky you’re not wearing a hoody, 
but we don’t care much for your haircut. 
Is that a tattoo on your arm? 
Better cover up before getting hit up.


You’re not a Muslim are you? On paper or else. 
I’m afraid I need to see some documents, 
we might have to call the feds, and then feed the system, 
another pissed off brown kid sure is a profitable prospect.


Soon you’ll be on your bike sonny jim, 
get with it and get going, 
around here we smother and choke 
your wretched quiet screams. 


Word To The Wise 
(Dawn 20 July 2017) 


Forget your politics 
and your rash opinion, 
help your fellow man 
and give up everything, 
for when you depart in the end 
you won't be coming back. 


(Dawn 16 August 2017) 


Hate is like a canker
on an open lesion 
eroding your heart
tearing you apart
until nothing but a 
decaying trace of a 
once human remains, 
and when all of that 
which is humane in you
gone, there will be
no hope to be found, 
not in you, not in your kind, 
not in tomorrow,
for today you have
surrendered to a persisting 
weakness that has injured
all that is good 
about this life. 


Look Into An Immigrant's Eyes 
(Dawn 12 July 2017) 


Look into an immigrant's eyes, 
what you see is not the colour, 
but uncertainty that comes 
with being thrown into 
the uncharted waters. 


You cannot judge books 
by their covers, 
and you cannot guess at her pain 
by the quality of her hair, 
or the complexion that you are 
so trained to belittle 
and harm 
with your snide remarks. 


Your privileged mind 
cannot fathom 
nor comprehend 
why a human being 
leaves her home behind 
just for the glimmer of a distant hope 
amidst the tornados 
knowing only torment 
and yet carrying on. 


So, the next time you meet an immigrant, 
try to make her smile, 
for blessed are those 
who ease the burden 
of a few fellow lost souls 
looking for a chance 
to belong. 

Taymaz Valley is an Iranian British Canadian living and working as a writer and artist from Ottawa, Ontario Canada. His art and photography has been featured in The Guardian, Huffington Post and Vice. His poetry has been included in a number of prominent publications including Jotters United in the past. He has a new collection out, titled "dawn", from which these poems have been selected, and will be available from all outlets shortly, so look out for it.   



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