A poem, by Ashk Ruhani

Shaman Untitled

… long ago
in the timeless now,
we traveled, when
came a shaman
giggling in the glee of bringing us chest-to-chest,
his eyes mirroring our
lustful wonder of nipple-kisses
in burnished darkness, a dawn
flooding our mouths in feverish melding, and
the wind opening, ravishing us to
find our roots in olive groves between the pillars of our thighs,
temple incense, earthy aroma and soil-pores
birthing obelisks taut and sweetly anguished for
the suckling moon-circle of our lips,
and the shaman sighing in sanctifying the curve
of my nether realm as
your mount of worship fed
on your furrowing seed, sung
by hissing, the sacred pleasure of
toes curled like
your hair washing the valley of my neck,
your fingers against mine counting, then crushing
the blasphemy of time spiraling giddily
into the flirtation of your eyes
challenging the irises in mine, asking,
begging for us to meet again and again
until the sun is finally watching,
for a temple of its own
and us inseparable
by even the sword of its rays
while the shaman smiles in sleep,
exhausted by our satiation -

… yet, come, there’s morning on
the far side of this orb, but
no more luminous than the furnace of our lips
embracing our ageless now…

… so, kiss me – kiss me, love, again, again and again…

[We post this poem, with thanks to one of our visitors.]

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  • Xyz

    Ashk, is that like ishq?

  • Ruhani Ashk

    ‘Ashk’ is an English spelling of ‘ask’, the Turkish word for love, wherein the Turkish ‘s’ is pronounced like ‘sh.’


  • Xyz

    It is all about love, is it not? Thanks for that short story installment, we put it into the short story section. Drop off the next section whenever you like.

  • Ashk Ruhani

    Whiskey Hymn
    for The Beloved
    (a blues night at Nedjima Bar, Ankara, Turkey)

    … hypnosis shattered by atomic jiggling, salivation of song on your brow,
    channeled chaos of body, spastic sound, tantrum of dark delight unbuttoned
    and flung over the up-ended chariot of the moon,
    vibration – stuttering – thunder of slap-happy bass thumping the roots of “sweet home chicago” and
    you and I beard to beard,
    pomegranate purple of your breath singeing my whiskers with
    notes insanely bent in the blush of your voodoo blood
    and throbbing with “go, johnny, go”,
    johnny be bad in prickly heat needling a conflagration consuming my pores,
    revival of beat-howling preacher on knees of confession in harmonica valley,
    drumsticks masturbating the crazy, crazed hymen of rhythm ravishing
    sin and redemption in our eyes testing the high-wire between us, fluttering
    fanning the flame, tongue-flailing the invocation:
    “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, do you have your dancing shoes,
    are you ready for some blues flames, some rock ‘n roll rantin’,
    Do you like dogs?
    You see, the boys in the band are going to let the dogs out,
    all the dogs, all the way out and it’s going to get scorching hot in here because
    hallelujah, amen and great balls of fire!”
    here is your raving medicine-man
    screaming joy through the microphone,
    alley-catwallering yowl uprooting our chakras
    along the silken storm of strings
    strutting, spitting, rattling snake-eyes of resonance along “route sixty-six” curving
    around our shoulders in the “t-bone shuffle” of your right shoe, my left one,
    black, red, “blue suede shoes” and “well, it’s one for the money, two for the show”
    neural earthquake, volcanic sermon shakin’, blessin’ and cursin’
    down on “mustang sally”
    “uh-huh, uh-huh
    guess you better slow your Mustang down ’cause you been runnin’ all over town”
    lawd, “guess I have to put your flat feet on the groun’,”
    uh-huh, uh-huh
    “mustang sally” docidoing with “caledonia” mocking yo’ momma, teasing yo’ daddy
    and tell ‘em I’m comin’ ’cause your name’s caledonia dripping with “sweet alabama”,
    sulphuric scripture, reprobate
    weeping of sugar,
    third eye of beer and limbo games under my scarf
    shouting, laughing, you at one end, me tracing the vale of “sad, so, sad”
    though “I’m the hoochie-coochie man”,
    and we have to get our feet off the ground
    along the path of the soaring, skin-disdaining
    serpent probing our souls believin’ our believin’ eyes in askin’,
    do you be “secret agent man?”
    because they’ve taken your number and given me your name I
    raise in exultation of bone-bred pain screaming for a strangling
    of questions “in the shadow of the city” risen from scorched, grinning alleys
    strewn with fragile hope-seeds born in the spittle of fertility, ancient
    moments still watching over the sacred egg from which we
    came – and shriven of barrenness I throw back my head to yell,
    “you ain’t nothin’ but a houn’ dawg”
    nothin’, nothin’ but a
    houn’ dawg, houn’ dawg
    runnin’ tongue-led along my trail joined
    to your redolent thread, us sweetly inflamed with “bad, bad whiskey – and we’ve lost our home”,
    bad, bad, bad, bad whiskey, highway of liquid-burning sin and yelping salvation
    from heaven and hell to the beyond of the subway station confessed with “I love you”,
    and the only answer I need is redemption of the night
    steeped in the beautiful, bad bad whiskey
    of your eyes…
    … and the whispering hymn of the wind…

  • Ashk Ruhani

    (excerpts from “No Quatrains, But Refrains”
    a poetry collection)
    for The Beloved

    “Mavi” (Turkish for ‘blue’)”

    We love hallucinating dreams
    of ivory towers out of fear
    of tumbling truly asleep into visions of
    doghouses and nightmares of
    falling in love with the dog in the backyard…
    * * *
    Alexander… they called him Great,
    loved a beautiful soldier and a beautiful horse,
    kissed one
    and the riddle is: Did he kiss both?
    which one first and with the most ardor?…
    … pulsing…
    … our blood thick
    with us together
    oceans of each other
    in the salted mist,
    rapt, I hear your thunder and hiss
    am at sea in your siren call
    beckoning my shores
    cleansed of all else…
    … our anchor rocked
    in the umbilical rhythm
    washing through us
    ceasingly pulsing…
    * * *
    … my vision of you blinded me
    when you came to live
    in the irises of my eyes…
    … the ultimate,
    marriage of illumination and lustrous darkness…
    … perfection of vision – blind, yet
    still seeing irises…
    * * *
    … there is a dark realm of every
    kiss as the kiss of death…
    * * *
    … I am dying even while I am living
    the death you handed me – music
    searching blindly for us in
    forsaken alleys,
    fractured, empty bottles of wine
    reflecting the winking of stars
    we hold in our hands…

    * * *

    … you send me artificial roses…
    … their spears mock my
    your ears hear my words, my voice,
    … are your guts listening to
    the inflection of mine
    trying to breathe life
    into the petals – and thorns?…
    * * *
    … I am spirit-Casanova
    a consecrated harlot of soul,
    boundless, my loves…
    … oceans envy my reach…
    * * *
    … ask and I’ll disrobe for
    the velvet storm of your eyes,
    barren but for your glance,
    not sleeping, reveling
    in velvet drunkenness to our core …
    … then again, you don’t have to ask…
    … I have been assailed beyond the
    illusion of my robe…
    * * *
    … in my
    drunkenness I don’t see double,
    I see the blurring of our shadows

    etched from above the clouds…
    … stumble…
    … fall with me…
    the floor is a place for us
    to lie
    inundated in stupor
    our stink rising from the floor as one…
    * * *
    … reach deeply into the quiver,
    your hand won’t get lost
    except in my flame…
    … come…
    … the arrows will follow…
    * * *
    … respiration…
    perspiring through
    the smudged
    windowpane that
    is us,
    indistinguishable from lost expulsions of the hidden sun,
    sacredotal robe,
    we hide in our nakedness
    unashamed to sweat raging
    pheromones of naked desire
    to live in, breathe one another
    until stricken by
    arrows of the
    moon and laid side by side…
    … who cares about the silly sun?…
    * * *
    … our love needs no tailoring,
    unclothed we wallow and play
    in the biting November rain
    tattering the warp and woof of our
    mother sea –
    - liquid muslin – too much clothing
    let us
    get more naked than naked,
    more than the earth
    and the sky,
    all the tailoring we need in
    the ocean wind…
    … do you feel its sting
    shredding the veil of
    even the rain?…
    * * *
    … I felt my heart
    thundering in the grip
    of your satin-steel gloves
    lightning rods thrust inward
    to a bone-searing…
    … and still I am stunned,
    please let me sleep
    until the dawn of more thunder…
    * * *
    … I can’t mirror you,
    only hope to hold you in
    a reflection of myself, dagger
    of heaven
    through our pores screaming
    in a fever for a transcendent wound – alchemy…
    … madness…
    * * *
    … a chemical, my love
    enlivening the roots of you
    in the ash heap
    of all this…
    … and I encompassed by the
    reek, infusing myself
    with your incense incinerating all that is,
    with me firmly lashed to the acrid-smoking pyre…
    … our essence rising above the stench…
    * * *
    … when you leave
    there is no death
    no silence but
    soundless cries
    of chaos – living,
    nothing when you return
    but heat raging between here
    and beyond,
    furnace-anthem struggling
    toward fusion …
    … my longing
    for a molten center …
    * * *
    … snarling beneath the despairing numbness
    shuddering trap of my teeth caressing your veins
    trying to strain you back into my recesses..
    … hissing silence,
    blood-cadence, smoke and
    seething ice beneath
    the emptiness…
    … only a trash can to catch and love the debris…
    * * *
    … moon-stripped void of mine
    staring into the pre-time howling of wolves
    and sand through your hair
    spinning requiem
    - ours – in a cauldron of void,
    moon-watched… staring… unashamed…
    * * *
    … I beg your indulgence in rough,
    rhythms, for my best refuge
    is me – with the door open to you,
    Come, jitterbug in gratitude, in that
    a stuttering heart is a heart alive…
    … stutter with me…
    * * *
    … how brutal!… I
    said ‘I love you’
    and deepened was the pool
    of our blood-touched union opening
    to the most beautiful of poisonous flowers;
    we drank deeply, drugged
    we slept wide-eyed in each others arms…
    * * *
    … deeply
    where unfurl the petals
    burn the jarring-jagged points, the
    of our labyrinth beyond
    … unsolvable riddle, primal,
    priceless, profanely scorching…
    * * *
    … trembling echoes – smoldering -
    our lava boils upward
    to singe away the scars…
    … ashes of newness…
    … the wind has never been more lost…
    … demons of joy are on the loose…
    * * *
    … love is blasphemy inherent,
    * * *
    … the distance between us – scorned
    by the glance of your eyes possessed
    by our nights
    flittering before the mocking dawn of your eyelashes…
    … sunrise disheviling darkness has
    never been more replete,
    as close as
    our clutching fingernails
    eyelash to eyelash, skin-of-skin…
    * * *
    … a bright shadow casts our darkness
    never more luminous…
    * * *
    … suspended, I languish in the wantonness of
    your shadow,
    breathless, watching you kick it around…
    … lost… found … lost…
    … I don’t live on the edge,
    we are the edge, you and I…
    … the exit is the way in…
    * * *
    … give me your cheek
    and I’ll slap your
    blood to your roots,
    stunning them, shouting them awake,
    the dance thereof will never die
    and resurrection never sleep
    except to dream…
    … us…
    * * *
    … you came down from Mt. Olympus
    and my head suddenly spun
    with your olive scent,
    craning my neck to
    look up at your tangled hair
    searching to fathom our connection
    crowning the summit
    holding our olive branch
    torn from our sacred groves…
    … anointed snare of our depths,
    dirt-scented vine of Olympus…

    * * *

    … shards of laughter
    strew some alleys,
    shattered grace of bridges,
    haunted sacrifice of cathedrals, hovels, our temple…
    … strewn… stinging grace of laughter
    aching to remove the shards…
    * * *
    … no wound is deeper
    than that laid open
    by your eyes and I bathe
    in the salt sweat to immersion,
    never crying out
    for a ceasing
    of the flood
    riding mercilessly
    toward our immolation…
    * * *
    … I once was prenatally afraid
    of your eyes, now luxuriating
    in the exquisite excruciation of terror
    renewing the womb of my being…
    … I can only beg
    for bliss of the nightmare evermore…
    * * *
    … the raven spoke: ”Nevermore!”
    and I wandered into the raven-soul of night
    casting about for wings…
    … my face was smitten by the feathers of
    yours soaring through the musky dark,
    and it rained!
    … our wings are locked together…
    * * *
    … numb-satin intoxication arising
    to awakening epiphany of anguish,
    expectant grind of waiting,
    ecstasy of desperation to fall unleashed
    for flight…
    … let me see into your eyes and
    I shall lose my grip,
    … linger for my plunge…
    * * *
    … before you pull the trigger
    ask yourself if there is any love
    at the point of a gun…
    … or anything but…
    … staggering,
    I fell on my face
    in The Ineffable One
    hidden rawly in the smell of your feet lifting me back to mine,
    staggering, still, but
    wrapped in the musky perfume of
    Ineffable Oneness…
    … forever – lost – ecstatic…
     ”The Twelve Kisses Of *Saturn”
    … it was snow,
    cold-burning, scorching walls in the caverns of my mind
    bleaching the bones of my soul
    crystal-yearning of
    ever-burning stagger along the adulterous breeze -
    on frozen embers…
    * * *
    … access the night of
    darkness beyond darkness
    seducing the light to weave an unseen fabric
    feathering against our skin,
    you, with your head on my chest,
    peaceful and light…
    … never forget to access the night…

    * * *

    … I see your face in satin spades
    your heart in clover twined
    around the pennywhistle of my tributes,
    drums clubbing, whipping the wailing
    river into frothy nostalgic nettles
    prickling my flesh and shadows
    watching your tavern rituals of guzzling my essence
    before you ravished my unraveled ends in nearest parks,
    and that before your parchment disappeared in white of the
    … your etchings left behind,
    nothing erased…
    * * *
    … when you are away
    and I need you,
    I look into the depths of the nearest flower,
    even if it’s a dandelion, then
    lie down beside it like a lamb,
    a reborn lion satiated – and subdued
    by your perfume, reveling in sweat of the conquest…
    * * *
    … our journey is swaying
    through foreign moments, yet
    familiar and near and darkly
    perhaps burnished
    by nector crushed from ebony pearls,
    olive juice splashing
    our astonished ogling of the nascent moon,
    swaying under its hidden riddle and
    tumbling into our abyss
    of its soft-smoldering glow – simmering
    rhythm of pearl-ebony…
    * * *
    … cities, those faceless monoliths, are cancers,
    love an acid-sweet erosion stripping
    bare the maze of our sinews
    sobbing with resplendent excruciation, racked
    across the bosom of pavement, concrete, glass and steel,
    the blackened gems of our streets
    fleeing ecstatic through our marrow
    to blazing ghettos of the noon-high sun
    hungry to be warmed – and
    quenched, endlessly fed…
    * * *
    … I feel your clutching of the wraiths (ghosts) suspended
    between us, serenade of
    blindly agape – and I crouching on the curb
    watching the road
    baptizing its secrets with curses dripping
    incinerated from our lips,
    intoxicating myself on
    a promise of smoke clutching,
    clutching at the road
    sotted, unspoken wraiths…

    … twisting within the heat…
    * * *
    … the swell of sky and earth
    is in the curve of your belly and lips
    I teased with delicacies until
    I stuffed them in your mouth
    while you smiled as widely
    as the springtime laughing
    through the trees
    awaking and unashamed…
    * * *
    … did we have a child?
    no, but we whelped giggles
    as shy as a bridal veil,
    as bold as robbers
    accomplishing the theft
    of marriage nostril to nostril…
    * * *

    … raining, raining! – disrobed heaven’s
    chain of glittering tears
    washing our earthen face, and
    I raise my umbrella
    thinking of you
    in the shattered liquid glass
    around us…
    … warmth of our enveloping womb…

    * * *

    … let’s cross the *lyric mountains
    to the sunset and beyond,
    not satisfied until we reach
    the dawn we
    hold in each others hands…
    * (for the Lerik Mountains in Azerbaijan)

    * * *

    … narcissists, your glorious eyes
    feeding on me, boiling-ravenous
    smacking lips,
    glutted upon our saturnalian feast…

    * (Esoterically, Saturn is associated with the 12th. month of December.)

  • http://ravenanda.blogspot.com/ Ravenanda

    Ashk, I enjoyed this poem very much! I wanted to let you know I have placed this poem on my blog as part of a series there on homoeroticism. I cited you for the poem and also provided a link to my readers to this page. If however, you wish me to remove your poem from my blog, I will do so. You will find it here: http://ravenanda.blogspot.com/2011/02/homoeroticism-new-blog-series-man-2-man.html

  • http://lovequote.us/ love quote

    This is really nice !!


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