INJSA (IN NJ SOULS ALONE)

INJSA (IN NJ SOULS ALONE)

INJSA:

I am Injsa, My name stand for, In NJ souls alone.

My sister Ibsa, stands for, IN Babylon souls alone.

We are twin sisters born in different civilizations centuries apart but born at exactly the same

moment.

My sister Ibsa was actually born in Baghdad, Baghdad of ancient days.

But she wants and that is her utmost desire in life and death and then in life again

to be remembered as if she was born in Babylon.  She is in love with the word, "BABYLON"

Maybe she is Babylon herself in a previous life, centuries upon centuries ago.

I told her if, "Ibsa" if you were born in Babylon then our story, the story we are trying to tell

won't make any sense."

I AM NOT IN THE BUSINESS OF WRITING STORIES BUT I AM TRYING TO TELL A STORY OF TWO CIVILIZATIONS BY GIVING THEM FEMALE NAMES.  iSN'T THAT GREAT?
IN A WORLD FULL OF MACHO KILLER MEN, I AM MAKING TWO GREAT CIVILIZATIONS INTO WOMEN.

 THE  STORY OF TWO SISTERS, TWINS,  TWO DIFFERNET CIVILIZATIONS, BAGHDAD AND NJ, IBSA AND INJSA, REMEBER? IT'S AFACTUAL PROSE POEM CALLED, "MANHATTAN SPLEEN" YOU SEE THE POET LIVED IN MANHATTAN, ALWAYS IN MANHATTAN AND LEFT HER ANCESTORS BEHIND AND HER GRAVEYARDS BEHIND IN BAGHDAD AND THAT IS THE SPINE OF THE STORY AND THE SPLEEN  OF THE STORY AND THAT'S WHY THE WRITER KEEPS GOING BACK TO THE STORY BECAUSE HER SPINE AND SPLEEN IS IN BAGHDAD AND SHE IS LOOKING FOR IT IN MANHATTAN AND THAT'S WHY THE STORY SEEMS FRAGMENTED AND BROKEN AND FRAGILE AND TENDER AND FALLING OFF THE BONES AND THAT'S WHY I CAN'T CONTINUE THE STORY BECAUSE YOU WANT ME TO SET IT IN BABYLON AND IT WON'T WORK...IT WON'T MAKE THE SLIGHTEST SENSE...

 And she said, " My dear darling sister Injsa,  THE BOOKS WHICH SELL AND MAKES TONS OF MONEY MAKE NO SENSE MOST OF THE TIME. nothing makes sense anyway, BUT SELL IT AND GET SOME MONEY INTO YOUR HANDS...

INJSA:

I'S NOT A BOOK AND I DON'T WANT MONEY IN MY HANDS...

IBSA:

AND WHY NOT?

INJSA:

I WANT MY HANDS TO BE FREE, SO THAT I CAN HOLD ON TO SOMETHING WHEN

I AM FALLING...IT'S IN THE AIR.  IT COMES FROM THE SKY, HIGH ABOVE, BOOM,

BOOM, BOOM AND YOU ARE TURNED INTO SMITHREENS...

IBSA:

EVERY ONE IS GOING TO BE TURNED INTO SMITHREENS, MIGHT AS WELL HAVE

YOUR HANDS FULL OF GOLD.

INJSA:

WHY WOULD I SELL MY ANCESTOR'S HISTORY?

WHY WOULD I SELL THEIR MEMORY?

WHY WOULD I SELL MY MEMORY?

ALL I WANT IS TO SEND A LETTER TO MY MEMORY EVERY DAY

"TO MY MEMORY A LETTER SENT"

THE FERTILITY OF MY MEMORY IS TROUBLESOME SO I PUT IT IN THE LETTER

EVERY DAY.  THAT'S ALL.  THAT'S ALL I WANT.

I JUST WANT TO KNOW IF IBSA, YOU GETS MY MEMORY SEALED IN AN ENVELOP?

 NOTHING ELSE MAKES SENSE ANY MORE...

IBSA:

YOU JUST CONVINCED ME AGAINST SELLING BUT JUST WRITE IT AND NARRATE

IT TO US..THAT WOULD BE MORE THAN ENOUGH FOR US, THE LIVING AND THE

DEAD. NOTHING ELSE MAKES ANY SENSE...ANYMORE... (Laughs)

 Sense?  That's a laugh.  ABSOLUTELY NOTHING MAKE SENSE DARLING SISTER,  neither

life

nor death, nor graves, nor cemetries,  nor gold,  just the stories..., just tell the story you want to tell, you are the

teller of the story... and you and your sister are in it and what difference does it make where it's

taking

place?  I always believed that I was born in babylon and even if I wasn't, do me a favor and place me

there...will you please?  I just love the word BABYLON...AND YOU DO LOVE ME, DON'T YOU?

We are the story."  And the one's who came to hear it are poets themselves and poet's imagination

goes far and wide, it spreads across the occeans and desserts and the sky and the sun and the moon.

Their imagination will travel from ancient Babylon to Mesopotamia to the present day Iraq and NJ.

My name is IBSA anyway...It can stand for In Baghdad souls alone but please full fifect.ll my heart's

desire, we have silly attachments to things and places. 'In Babylon souls alone" is just perfect.

'If I can live for centuries, roaming around in cemetries I can be very well from Babylon.

Don't worry about the different religions in different terroteries or no religion at all in some.

Religions come and go....but death is the only thing which comes once....

Life doesn't come and go...It comes once and then goes...never comes back...religions are trouble...

always coming back, always creating murder.

Injsa, you worry too much about everything.  You want to be accurate, but fiction is not accurate...

Any way we are not real.  We are metaphores.  Metaphores are easthetics which is the most beautiful

depiction of poetry...poetry belongs to the senses, reality is ugly....

 Reality belongs to Govts.  Reality is just ugly.  Metaphores belong to the poets...

Arn't you a poet?

INJSA:

I wish I was a poet...

IBSA;

Arn't you?

INJSA:

No.  I am a model.  A nude model...

IBSA:

A muslim nude model?

INJSA:

Yes, I am so ashamed to say so...

IBSA:

Why ashamed?

INJSA;

I show my flesh.  That's haram, isn't it?

IBSA:

Do you make an honest dollar?

INJSA:

Few dollars but it gives me peace. Peace and stillness.  And during those moments I think...

IBSA:

What do you think about?

INJSA:

About you, my parents and the lack of every one's presence in my life. When I am ot modelling I am lost.

Lost in a crowd, lost in a train.  Lost in the street.

IBSA;

We are all lost.  I live in the cemetry amongst graves.  I roam around all night reading the names

on the headstones...

INJSA;

Do you find any familiar names?

IBSA:

I don't.  That's why my search hasn't ended yet...

INJSA:

Me too.  I am also searching but have no idea what is it that I am searching...

There is a silent void in me even after they shout at me all day long, that void inside of me remains

still and silent and I want to fill it with some noise...

IBSA:

What are they shouting about?

INJSA:

With sound and fury they call me a, "Terrorist".

IBSA;

I knew it, I knew it...

That's not the sound for your void to be filled with...

INJSA:

I am surprised that you have heard of that word.  You are centuries upon centuries old and you are

familiar with the word, terrorist

IBSA:

Yes, I have heard of this word.  They used a different word, back then but the meaning of the

word was and is the same, they called us, "MUSALMAN' in ancient times.

The Europeans called us, MUSALMAN." with such disdain and hatred, MUSALMAN AND

TERRORIST HAS THE SAME MEANING FOR THEM. but don't let that disturb you

Think about the beautiful things when you are standing still as a model, listen to the song of the,

BULBUL, the singing bird.  Remember in our courtyard on the top of the lilac tree,, our BULBUL

chirping, chirping singing songs of love and joy and contentment?

Be content under all circumstances and the void will go away...

INJSA:

Oh! Ibsa, I wish we were still living together and listening to our song...

IBSA:

You can still listen to the song no matter where ever you are...I live in the cemetry.  The insects crawl

on the graves, ancient insects are better companions than the modern man and then the bulbul comes

to me and sings for me...Don't let any one bother you with their derogatry words.  They know not,

they are ignorant.

You are the daughter of the poets, poets who recited poetry in the garden

next to the river Euphrates with candles lit... like the old days when the prophet would recite verses of

 the qoran and the scribes would write it down always in the candle light,...candles belong to me as

well Injsa..our candles brought a revolution in the dark ages.. people forget, its us who brought the

light into dark souls and dark streets of the world. and that candle lightmakes patterns of an avant

garde painting in the deep, clean,

blue waters of the ancient rivers...

INJSA:

Those rivers have blood in them now.  The color of the water is of burgunday shade.

IBSA:

Blood of our ancestors and the plastic of the modern world together floating, floating...

Blood and plastic...that should be the title of your new poem in case you want to write one...

Poetry, my dear baby sister, is your only salvation. Hold the QALAM in your hand and pick up the

hand made paper made by your dead great, great, great grandparents and write a poem and then

another poem and then another...and you will never hear the word, terrorist...

INJSA:

I wish I dream about you more often...Ibsa..

IBSA:

It's not a dream Injsa. I am always with you.  I am in your thoughts, in your heart, in your breathing.

I am your breath, I am your air.  I am your silk garment with which you cover your breasts after your

nude modeling job...I am your garland.  I am your candle.  I am your light. I will show you the way

like  I always have.  You are not lost, you are not confused, You remember me.  Your memory is

crystal clear.  YOU REMEBER ME.  YOU ARE MY FUTURE.  Don't be sad. I am with you,

I breath when you breath.  Breath for me.  Live for me.  Without you I will die again....

 now run along baby sister for your modeling job....

Stand still for a while and think of me...and compose your poem. But Injsa, infact you are the

poem...never forget that, think of yourself more often...

INJSA:

People ask me if my sister IBSA is really a belly dancer?

And if she is why is she not dancing?

She has to be a belly dancer...wasn't that art form more prevalant in Babylon?

I said, "Yes.  She is the belly dancer in Babylon and I am the bellet dancer in NJ

And my ankles are broken...

And that's why I am standing still on a modern boulevard

Where all are in a hurry...

Racing me by...

Passing me by...

Running marathons...

Knocking every one off in their path.

I am posing as a nude model in an art class which is now turned into

an olympic stadium...where everything is a sport.

I am a good model.  I mean I can be...

I can stand still for eternity...

Take my clothes off and pose

"YOU ARE UNDER ARREST MISS."

The police man putting handcuffs on me.

Why?  I ask

"You are naked, stark naked, this is a proper civilization and you are stark naked in the

middle of the road,"

"Well,  well, when was an art class  now known as, "THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD?"

"NO wonder the art which comes out of these classes is not very good any more if

you are going to treat work of art as a shopping mall. You are not going to get a Rembrandt out of it...

Definitly not Leanrdo Divinchi...

"YOU NEED NAKED BODIES STANDING STILL TO TEACH THE FUTURE ARTISTS

WHERE THE SPINAL COLUMN IS IN A HUMAN BODY AND IF YOU COVER THEM ALL

UP, THEY ARE GOING TO LOOK LIKE DEAD BODIES WRAPPED IN ANCIENT GARBS

LIKE ALL THOSE DEAD POSING IN BABYLON LIKE MY SISTER...

S"DO YOU KNOW Mr, POLICEMAN THAT IN BABYLON LIVES MY SISTER?

SHE IS POSING WITHOUT A SINGLE MOVEMENT AS WELL.

I CAN STAND STILLAT THE SAME SPOT FOR CENTURIES WHILE OTHERS CAN GO TO

THE MOON I CAN JUST STAND STILL FOR ETERNITY...THE ART LOVERS WILL LOVE

ME,  (laughs)  AMAZING SOMEONE WILL LOVE ME? YES, THEY WILL.

A NUDE MODEL STANDING STILL...STUDENTS LOVE THAT.

AND I CAN..

I AM A MUSLIM.

I HAVE STOOD STILL FOR FOURTEEN HUNDERD YEARS

I AM THE WORLD' SFAVORITE NAKED MODEL.

"YOU ARE UNDER ARREST. DON'T BABEL TOO MUCH.

THERE IS NO STREET CALLED BABYLON HERE AND YOU HAVE NO SISTER

NOWHERE...

YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE AND NAKED ON TOP OF IT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET

CALLED,  CIVILIZATION."

THERE IS NO NAKED SISTER SISTER OF YOURS ON ANY STREET ANCIENT OR

MODERN, YOU ARE THE ONLY CRAZY ONE...A NAKED SLUT, YOU ARE COMING TO

THE PRECINCT, COME TO THE PRECINCT AND WE WILL SHOVE SOME PRUNES,

BERRIES AND


DATES UP YOUR NAKED ASS, YOU WILL LIKE THAT.  IT WILL CLEAR UP YOUR

DIGESTIVE SYSTEM AND WILL IMPROVE YOUR MEMORY OF YOUR IMAGINARY

SISTER AND HER FANTASTICAL STRRET NAMED BABYLON...WHAT THE

FUCK..BABYLON, SHALABYLON...

MY SISTER IS LUCKIER THAN ME.

SHE IS SILENTLY RESTING ON THE GRAVES

AND NO ONE IS CURSING AT HER. SHE IS IN THE CITY OF DEAD PEOPLE

IT'S A CITY OF DEATH

IT'S A CITY OF DEAD CIVILIZATION

DEAD PEOPLE DON'T CURSE...

"HURRY UP MOVE"

POLICE MAN IS YELLING AT ME

"HURRY UP,  I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY FOR SOME ONE AS DUMB AS YOU.

You want to be a criminal?  Be a smart one, HIDE YOUR SELF, CAN'T BE STARK NAKED AND

 BE A CRIMINAL...MOVE IT."

I CAN'T MOVE"

MY ANKLE IS BROKEN.

"WHICH ONE?"

THE RIGHT ANKLE...

"HERE YOU GO"

THE POLICE MAN SMASHES MY LEFT ANKLE

"NOW BOTH OF YOUR ANKLES ARE BROKEN, NOW MOVE YOU BITCH..."

HE IS PUSHING ME,

SHOVING HIS ROD AT MY BREAST

NOW I AM ABITCH...

I THOUGHT I WAS A BELLY DANCER...

NO.  THAT'S YOUR SISTER...SOME ONE YELLED IN THE BACKGROUND

WHAT'S GOING ON?  AM I GOING NUTS?

POLICE MAN, A MOMENT AGO SAID, "THAT I HAVE NO SISTER ANYWHERE"

AND WHO IS THIS PERSON TELLING ME THAT  MY SISTER IS A BELLY DANCER?

"YES, YES, THAT'S CORRECT.  IT'S YOUR SISTER IN BABYLON WHO IS A BELLY

DANCER.  YOU ARE A BALLET DANCER, YOU ARE IN THE MODERN WORLD.

THAT'S THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE MODERN AND ANCIENT.

BELLY AND BALLET DANCE...

"OH1 WHOEVER THIS PERSON IS,  SEEMS TO KNOW MY HISTORY BETTER THAN THE

POLICE MAN"

HE MUST KNOW WHERE SHE LIVES

I THOUGHT NO ONE KNEW MY SISTER EXCEPT ME.

NOW SOME ONE SEEMS TO KNOW...

I HOPE THIS SOME ONE DOESN'T TELL THE POLICE ABOUT HER WHEREABOUTS...

THEY WILL GO AND SMASH HER HEAD.

THEY LIKE TO SMASH THINGS AS YOU CAN TELL.

MY ANKLES ARE THE WITNESS.

"NO, HER HEAD IS ALREADY SMASHED" THE POLICE MAN SAID

"WE ARE GOING AFTER HER ANKLES."

BUT HER ANKLES ARE ALREADY BROKEN IN BABYLON, I SAID

"IS THAT WHY SHE IS NOT DANCING HER BELLY DANCE?  HE ASKS

NONE OF US ARE DANCING RIGHT NOW...THAT'S WHY SHE IS LYING DOWN ON HER

ANCESTOR'S GRAVES DAY AND NIGHT...FOR COMFORT BECAUSE SHE CAN NO

LONGER DANCE.

"WE ARE GOING TO BABYLON SHALYBLON AFTER WE TAKE YOU TO THE STATION.

YOUR SHALYBLON IS NOT FAR, JUST ACROSS THE HUDSON RIVER.

GOING TO BABYLON TOO, NOT FAR, NOT FAR AT ALL TO TEACH ALL OF YOU A

LESSON, THE LIVING AND THE DEAD TO SHUT THE FUCK UP."

"MY POOR, POOR SISTER, NOW THEY ARE GOING TO BABYLON TO BREAK HER

ALREADY

BROKEN ANKLES.

"NO, POOR YOU, YOU ARE GOING TO JAIL FOR OBSCENE BEHAVIOR...

WHERE DO YOU COME FROM YOU BEAST?"

AND THAT'S HOW IT GOES AND GOES

IN IBSA'S MIND

IN INJSA'S MIND

TWO TWIN SISTER'S MINDS

IT GOES AND GOES AND CENTURIES KEEP PASSING.