Blue and black,
Moaning and Screaming
Echoes of despair
Bruises dribbling
Crystal clear blood.
A petrified figure
Hung from the arch
Of the massive cathedral
In the Mosque.
Cramped but
Miraculously beautiful
Angelic frame as a Melek,
Though he shall cleanse
In the face of
The holy magical existence
The absolute authority
Allah.
Nonsense, ludicrous
Are two words in his mind.
Soothing chants mumbles
Are orders that he was to obey.
A mandate to purge his strang lustful sins.
His voice.
It was soulful, dark and heavenly.
The otherworldly voice from hell is
Promising to be forgiven and he will adore the holiness
Forever. Forever.
While his heart, beating viciously about him imploring
Purity, calling himself
Liar.
The liar was
Booed ‘Flower’ when he
Was ten.
‘Sissy’ when he was twelve.
He was then teased ‘twink’ by the boys,
When he was thirteen.
And now fifteen
He is being hung
For others as a lesson. But
No one ever knows his name.
Here is a poem
Whom I fantasize his life
Whom endures his fate
Who loves himself for his differences.
His name is Perilera.
I was born into
A family of five.
Five soon-to-be
Useful sons.
Before she left, she would say
Five promising eggs
Elegant pure heron’s egg.
The first big-headed brother
Is called Ahmed which means
Greatly praise
To his intelligence.
The second strong-willed brother
Is called Imran.
Implies the prosperity of the nation’s leader.
The third bright brother
Is called Vedad
for his outgoing and friendliness.
The fourth tenacious brother
Is called Kenan
For his possessive and defensive
Personality.
As for me
The fifth son,
I was named by my mom,
Perilera which was
Meant to praise my petite body
As faeries. But
My dad was bickering for days
About sin will take him from the skull, but
Nevertheless,
That was still my mom’s yearning
In her last moment
After giving birth.