The Algerian Water's Diseased

Algiers is burning again and it seems as if the global media is intent on linking the recent bombings as a part of the skein of jihadism. God-forbid the Algerians acutally have their own political struggles. God-forbid some reject our own ideological ordering of the world. Let's hold hands and leap across the vast chasm of understanding and find bleary-eyed refuge in these incessantly colorful re-runs.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/alqaida/story/0,,2225908,00.html

Madame Rieux

She always is standing
On a ledge atop the landing
And we feign a smile
Because we’ve reached an understanding
Not to think or dwell on anything of import
Despite this precarious precipice

Our conversation drifts
From the slight to exegesis
Her voice begs for comfort
And I cannot resist
To lie about my relationship with abstraction

Algiers 'Gospel 3'

She laughs like the dying
She's glued her hands in patience
Its too early to worry, its too early to wait
Erased from her memory
She's erased all the feeling
She has no remorse and she just doesn't care
Its come to an end.

"You shine from the window.
You shine from the seal, my love"
As grey as the morning
Your love lingers there
Outside of her patience
Inside fornication
She has no remorse and she just doesn't care
She'll wait for him there
With a gun in her hand
With a cross around her neck
With a cross in her hand
"Its over...I said its over."

Your memory is teeth now
And you gnash with persistence
To the last of the sinful and the bottomless smiles
The smiles of delusion
The smiles of division
All the smiles that she gave you and made you tremble inside
its come to an end.
she said its over.

Algiers 'Remains'

Sown grains,
Carelessly placed,
Now vines upon the house's frame,

The sun invades,
Through a cracked window pane,
The burnt floor content to sunbathe,

Ghosts now,
Spectral remains,
Inscribing names on the cenotaph,

Undisturbed and,
Unaware chests,
Gasp for breath in the attic,

Resolute doors,
And broken frames,
Grasp and tame unwieldy contents,

And down, down, down,
By the side of the road,
Lays a note addressed to God in phlegmatic prose,

In the margins,
Repeats the phrase,
“I don’t remember.”

r. mahan

Algiers 'The Violent Bear it Away'

Of course my debt to Flannery O'Connor is great...

She was young,
Ingenuous,
Her mouth formed catechisms,
Her body invited lust,
She dreamt of marriage idyllic,
Recoiled from sin she thought endemic,
From without,
Some boys from school,
Coaxed her to their favorite place,
They took her there,
Down by the lake,
Mixing her blood with the water,
They painted a landscape,

"The violent bear it away,"
it read,
then the newspaper listed the names of the innocent,

The violent bear it away,
but it could not reconcile their intent,

He was there,
But not directly involved,
Determined guilty,
While the others were absolved,
They said he's possessed,
Of melanin,
Years later set free,
Plagued by his sin,
So he took a wife and child,
Facing self-doubt,
To his co-workers an exception,
His friends a sellout,
So he stole to his room one day,
With a gun and a clenched fist,
And his head against the wall,
He painted a canvas.

r. mahan