I Do Not Want You, Petroleum

I don't want you, petroleum!
For a long time,
I thought that you burnt for me.
Now I see that I am burning for you.

I'm not saying that it's not pleasant
Sitting near a kerosine heater
And enjoying the falling snow.
Or the working water pumps
In the empty plain.
And yet, I can not believe you,
Seven-headed dragon!
Fire still spews forth from your mouth
To the soul of my homeland.

In your school I learned servitude,
So that the Khan of the tribe
Could send his son to London,
The Imperial Army in Mohammara  
Forced me to abandon
The dream of a "House of Justice."
On the street my blood was shed,
It turned into ink
For the pens which wrote
The new contracts of slavery.
The grand gates of falsehood
Opened with your keys.
Today the promised Messiah rides
On you, donkey of the Antichrist.

You raised this state to the heavenly throne
And polished its boots to a sheen.
You raised its seven-headed club
And whenever I tried to pull it down
You reinforced its shaky body
With your sturdy beams.
No! I don't want!
I don't want you, petroleum!
Oh, bloody stream!
For a long time,
I thought you gave me blood.
Now I see, you made me bleed.
 
Majid Naficy


Was polically active against Shah of Iran. Wife and brother assassinated during Revolution. Has published books: Muddy Shoes; Father and Son; In Search of Joy: A Critique of Male-Dominated, Death-Oriented Culture in Iran. Ph.D from UCLA.

Social and Political Poems

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