Mystify

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Michael Hutchence of INXS

Mystify
All veils and misty
Streets of blue
Almond looks
That chill divine
Some silken moment
Goes on forever
And we’re leaving broken hearts behind

Mystify
Mystify me
Mystify
Mystify me

I need perfection
Some twisted selection
That tangles me
To keep me alive

In all that exists
None have your beauty
I see your face
I will survive

Eternally wild with the power
To make every moment come alive
All those stars that shine upon you
Will kiss you every night

All veils and misty
Streets of blue
Almond looks
That chill divine
Some silken moment
Goes on forever
And we’re leaving
Yeah we’re leaving broken hearts behind

You’re eternally wild with the power
To make every moment come alive
All those stars that shine upon you
And they’ll kiss you every night

Words by Michael Hutchence
1987

The Wings of Shahwah

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Sirens

The Wings of Shahwah
I fell
into the abysmal hell
where angels doth fly
with wings of feather,
gliding high
into the nether
of angelic decadence.
Rhyme doth come with ease
when betwixt by lust,
for it blows a breeze
of formidable thrust,
Rendering the prey powerless
and thus,
stricken by the whims
of a lady’s prowess.

Wherefore art the dwellings
of the sirens
who call upon brazen youth,
feeble in mind and deft of might?
In green pastures frolic a coterie
of maidens,
fair in complexion
and fine in proportion –
well endowed in their rears
with shapely cushions
and graced with a loft of resilient bosoms.

By God,
who hath created this gem,
free me from the trials
of endless desire
and a hunger that may
never be quenched.
A toil I bear to death,
I am left out of tune
and bereft;
My senses weakened,
T’is a knackered beacon
of fortune’s plight,
burning the eyes from sight.

Yet as I continue to fall,
the ship of a thousand
dreams shall overbear
and ne’er haul.
Upon thy rosé cheek,
O goddess of flesh!
Do I attest to thy
sublimity!
Damnéd I may be,
be it an eternity,
I am forever enslaved
to your heavenly affinity.

By Mensur Gjonbalaj
July 10, 2015

Sari Gelin – Azeri Folk Song

Sari Gelin

Sari Gelin

Sarı is a Azerbaijani adjective meaning “yellow”. However, it can also mean “fair-skinned” or “blonde”. The word gelin means someone who comes to the family (i.e. a bride), with its root in the Azerbaijani word gel (meaning “come”).

Sari Gelin is written in the literary genre known as bayati, which is one of the most popular forms of poetry in Azerbaijan. Bayati poetry is known for its reflective and introspective prose. Generally, Bayati poetry consists of lines of seven syllables written in a simple rhythm.

In Azerbaijan, “Sari Gelin” is known to be a legend in which “Blond Maiden” symbolizes the love between a Muslim Azerbaijani and a Christian Kipchak girl.

The poem Sari Gelin is a love story involving two young people separated by social, religious, and political conflicts. In the Azerbaijani language the title of Sari Gelin conveys the theme of the poem. In the Azerbaijani Language, the word “Sari” refers to a person’s soul or to the color yellow, which is associated with positive qualities. The word “gelin” means someone who joins a family, like a bride, with its root in the Azerbaijani verb “gel,” which means “to come.”

The Sari Gelin story has been retold by the prominent early 20th Century Azerbaijani poet and playwright Huseyn Javid in his play Sheikh Sanan (1914). Javid’s version features a Muslim boy and a Christian girl. The story has also been adapted into a film directed by Yaver Rzayev called Sari Gelin (1999).

Sari Gelin

Saçın ucun hörməzlər
Gülü sulu dərməzlər
Sarı gəlin
Saçın ucun hörməzlər
Gülü sulu dərməzlər
Sarı gəlin

Bu sevda nə sevdadır
Səni mənə verməzlər
Neynim aman, aman
Neynim aman, aman
Sarı gəlin
Bu sevda nə sevdadır
Səni mənə verməzlər
Neynim aman, aman
Neynim aman, aman
Sarı gəlin

Bu dərənin uzunu,
Çoban qaytar quzunu, quzunu
Bu dərənin uzunu,
Çoban qaytar quzunu, quzunu
Gün ola mən bir görəydim
Nazlı yarımın üzünü
Neynim aman, aman
Neynim aman, aman
Sarı gəlin
Gün ola mən bir görəydim
Nazlı yarımın üzünü
Neynim aman, aman
Neynim aman, aman
Sarı gəlin

Your hair is long, one doesn’t braid long hair,
One doesn’t pick a dewy flower.
Fair Bride
Your hair is long, one doesn’t braid long hair,
One doesn’t pick a dewy flower.
Fair Bride
What a love is this love!
They will not give you to me.
Oh, what can I do?
Oh, what can I do?
Fair Bride
The tallest of this valley,
Shepherd, return back the lamb.
The tallest of this valley,
Shepherd, return back the lamb.
I wish that one day I could see
The face of my playful love
Oh, what can I do?
Oh, what can I do?
Fair Bride
I wish that one day I could see
The face of my playful love
Oh, what can I do?
Oh, what can I do?
Fair Bride

Hubris

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One word:
Hubris.
Contained in a heart
so big
and impervious
to failure that it
refuses to acknowledge
anything but greatness.
A muster seed of it
voids the purity of the soul
it resides within;
perhaps a man could do without pride,
for it is vain and coarse
to a soul eager in the pursuit
of light.
But without faith in one’s manifest destiny destruction may lie afoot.
A hubris inviolable in its demeanor
is the only settlement
for a man smitten by
the drive to climb the heavens
and reach the apex of existential
sublimity.

By Mensur Gjonbalaj
June 27, 2015

Many A Song Were Written …

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Many A Song Were Written
The feel of her flesh’s steamy steel
wrap my breathe like a rolling film reel
Sliding and gliding, my soul rides through the wet slopes of her fire
She’s really got me going, got me going higher
I used to be a slave to life and its daily toils
Now I’m living free in this mortal coil
I’ve spent countless nights composing melodies, feeling oblique and sad
Thinking of all the crazy and finish ways she’s driven me mad

Many a song were written in the light of her wake
and still, many a year later, don’t do any good for my sake
Money lingers, scarce and hard to come along
Yet despite my soul’s equivoque poverty
I can’t help myself from carrying on
in the wrong of fantasy
and the heights of ecstasy

Not necessarily living lavishly, nor large
but such is fate when passion’s in charge

By Mensur Gjonbalaj
June 3, 2015

Home by Jack Johnson (A Dedication)

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Home

Over the past week I’ve been away from home, traveling out and about while doing a little bit of soul searching. I love traveling. It’s great for the body, mind, and soul, and can sometimes help you expand your outlook on life. But another thing my travels do is help me realize just how important my loved ones are to me.
Home is where the heart is and my heart is with those whom I love.

I dedicate this wonderful acoustic song by Jack Johnson to all those dear to my heart …

Home
I’ve gotta get home there’s a garden to tend
There’s fruit on the ground and the birds have all moved back into my attic,
Whistling static
And the young learn to fly
I will patch all the holes up again

Well, I can’t believe that my lime tree is dead
I thought it was sleeping, I guess it got fed up with not being fed
And I would be too, I keep food in my belly
And hope that my time isn’t soon.

And so I try to understand
What I can’t hold in my hand
And wherever we are home is there too
And if you could try to find it too
‘Cause this place is overgrown, needs some whacks and mow.
Home is wherever we are if there’s love here too

In the back of our house there’s a trail that won’t end
We went walking so far that it grew back again
There’s no trail at all
Only grass growing taller
Get out my machete and battle with time once again
But I’m bound to lose ’cause I’ll be down if time don’t win

I’ve gotta get home there’s a garden to tend
All the seeds from the fruits buried and begin
Their own family trees teach them, thank you and please
They spread their own roots, then watch their young fruit grow again
And this old trail will lead me right back to where it begins

And so I try to understand
What I can’t hold in my hand
And whatever I find I’ll find my way back to you
And if you could try to find it too
‘Cause this place is overgrown, needs some whacks and mow.
Home is wherever we are if there’s love here too