Pray - A Poem by Berhouz Saba

Pray
For disaster
All the good stuff''s at the bottom

Disaster brings it to the top

1948 - 1984 A Poem by Behrouz Saba

I was born 1948
Finding most agreeable lasses
Born 1984

Dystopia to Utopia

Clockwork Orange - Photography by Behrouz Saba

Clockwork Orange, my feline friend, a born model

Club Future - Poem by Behrouz Saba

Club Future - A Poem by Behrouz Saba

In a more advanced stage
You will return to the jungle
Picking your food from the trees
Worshiping nature gods
Hunting game swift of feet
Rare of colors
And sweet of flesh
Whose genes the warden will splice
To your imagination.

You will meet you mate
Bare of clothes
By a waterfall
And will do
Without the formality of exchanging phone numbers.

Not here
But on a pristine planet
Distant from the one
You have so badly desecrated to get there.

Change - A Poem by Behrouz Saba

Change
Yourself

Cries of Racism
Have spawned generations of self loathers
Intent on killing each other
Rather than the perceived oppressor

Cries of Sexism
Make women pretend to be happy
Even Angry
To hide their rage

Your age, beauty, money

Your sex, your race

Are not remotely as important as you

It is you that they see

Evolve

Painfully

Slowly

Beautifully

Change
Yourself

The Burden of Days - A Poem by Behrouz Saba

Days fly away
Like pages of a desk calendar
In a vintage film

Yet they are heavy
With the burdens of life and death

Look at last night’s dirty dishes
In the Morning
And you get an inkling

We Need Eggs - A Poem by Behrouz Saba

We Need Eggs

The little cherub with golden hair
In a blue dress to match her eyes
White shoes and lacy ankle stockings
Reached up easily for the handle of the glass door
To the refrigerated shelves
And swung it open, enjoying the smooth action
Then closed it
To savor the conclusive sound.

Her mother pushed the shopping basket forward
Motioning for her to follow
I need eggs
The angel cried
We have plenty of eggs at home
Her mother said
I need eggs, I need eggs, she said
Tears welling up in her eyes as she
Followed her mother.

They were rounding the corner when two tall, elderly men approached
One telling the other
We better stock up on eggs
In the tone of one who had inside information
About a long and loveless dearth of eggs soon to come.

She turned up later at the checkout stand
Feet dangling from the basket
Mollified with a ride and a banana
But obviously not for long.

As she must carry the consumer's ghastly burden
Wanting and needing her lifelong pursuits
To keep robust two-thirds of the world's largest
economy.

I need eggs, I need eggs
I once again hear her cries at the day's end
Bitter, sardonic cries of protest
For she realized that she is forever condemned
To demand what she doesn't need
To turn a blind eye on her unbounded angelic riches
And her best human instincts
Which preceded packaged goods and credit cards
And she is destined to lose
Long before reaching the old men's age.

Los Angeles Captured - Photography by Behrouz Saba

College Hotel near the intersection of Santa Monica Boulevard and Vermont Avenue.

Los Angeles Captured - Photography by Behrouz Saba

Today I was exploring the Los Angeles urban scene and came upon this view looking north on the corner of Santa Monica Boulevard and Vermont Avenue.

Philosophy of Life #1 - A Poem by Behrouz Saba

Philosophy of Life #1

Life is but a minisode
No sooner have they shown the titles
Than they prepare to roll the end credits
Hello
So Long
Hulu
Be good

Fat City - A Review by Behrouz Saba

Fat City by Leonard Gardner is a singular masterpiece of modern American literature. I was introduced to the book by the John Houston film of 1972 which in its own right is a work of wonder. Gardner, who has regrettably not written another novel since, tells the story of an over-the-hill boxer in Stockton, California, his brief affair with an alcoholic woman, and the last chance he is given at a bout. In a spare, flawless prose, the novelist depicts the starkness of this life which unfolds in cheap hotel rooms and bars, in third-rate boxing arenas and in the agrarian fields where he has to work as a picker to eke out a living. A scene of onion picking is often cited as an example of supple, kinetic writing at its best. By being so specific and immersing the reader in this small world, the author manages to make devastating statements about the mercilessness of American life and even the ultimate futility of life's many struggles. As the veteran boxer mentors a young contender who is getting married and starting his own life, the reader is given every reason to believe that the travesty is open-ended.

Summer Film Releases

I don't think it is my imagination that summer film releases get progressively worse. I sometimes even think that filmmakers in what is left of Hollywood want to see just how awful a movie they can make and get away with it. I don't think the reason is commercialization, contempt or a gullible public. The reason films, novels, music and other creative works leave so much to be desired is in part due to an increasing distance between the artist and the public. Most people create in a vacuum without a sense of social involvement. Such was not the case in the 1960s, and resulted in the exemplary art explosion that still rewards the world.