5.14.2013

Come closer.

Come into this. Come closer.

You are quite the beauty. If no one has ever told you this before know that right now. You are quite the beauty. There is joy in how your mouth dances with your teeth. Your mouth is a sign of how sacred your life truly is. So come into it. Those who are true of heart come into this. You are true of hearts so come closer. Come closer.” (Mojgani)

This is the beacon that is Anis Mojgani. The name that at first feels foreign on your tongue as you sound it out and there after feels like a familiar hard candy; seeping sweetness down your throat. Anyone with perked ears will be thankful for the messages Anis Mojgani delivers to them. As proved above, Mojgani treats his listeners with love and compassion. He realizes the magnitude of his words and harnesses them to bring individuals together.

Anis Mojgani was born in New Orleans; he currently lives with his wife in a small house in Austin, Texas (Mojgani). He is “an international poetry slam champion, a two-time national poetry slam champion, and a National Book Award Nominee” (Mojgani). He also has three poetry books published by Write Bloody Publishing; Over the Anvil We Stretch (2008), The Feather Room (2011), and Songs From Under the River (2013). Mojgani is known to move audiences; his poems often engage the listener and enlighten on subjects that focus on personal emotions or reactions. Mojgani has a talent for entrancing his words to make his personal emotions feel universal. To Mojgani “poetry is the discovery and illumination of truths that are common to all of us and connect us to one another…poetry can serve as a bridge to that wider definition of what we are” (quoted in Osel). Mojgani has the power to captivate an audience while performing his words. He believes that “having the courage to be vulnerable. Having an honest and organic connection to your work. [and] Not forcing anything” will create an interesting performance; one that will leave his listeners feeling warm (quoted in Osel).

Many have commented on Anis Mojgani’s beautiful collection of books and captivating verbal power. Mojgani’s books themselves are each a sliver of his heart, with sketches and doodles of his personal mind inscribed throughout the pages. On Samuel Kendall’s blog, The Last Bookseller, he boasts about the physical beauty of Mojgani’s first book, Over the Anvil We Stretch. Kendall explains that “at the beginning of each chapter,” there is, “an illustration by the author, whimsical and sparse, really just line drawings”. These hand drawn creatures help deepen the connection between the reader and the poem. Spread across Amazon are reviews of Anis Mojgani’s three books, giving them all five stars. Members gush over Mojgani, describing how he managed to transform their world (Amazon Customers). One reviewer, Angela Williams of Reno, Nevada, states

This is 120 pages of poetic gold. Anis really knows his craft; he is a wordsmith to the extreme in that he can bend and shape collections of letters into meanings we never knew they could be… I get the feeling that Anis writes like he recites. Slowly placed, careful words, each one aware of the next and the above, clear in their mission, are interspaced with the fury of writing lightning in a thunderstorm (Amazon Customers).

Austen Diamond reminisced in his article, “Anis Mojgani with Broken Silence” on City Weekly, about the magic of Anis Mojgani’s first victory in the individual National Poetry Slam. Diamond exclaimed “in the middle of the finale, the lights went out; undeterred, Mojgani spoke through the black, lit up by the audience’s flashing cameras”. Diamond states of Mojganis work that he “pulls down the truths from the stars, shines a magnifying glass on the atoms of love and gives wings to the mundane”. Of all the reviews outpouring positivity for Mojgani, one stood apart from the rest. Under the community review section of GoodReads, user Demi said;

It's nearly impossible in places to find what is meant amongst all the babbling It's like the writer put his imagery on ecstasy, and the metaphors are incomprehensible I'm sure I would have liked it if I could figure out what the fuck he was trying to say

Although a negative review, it is the only one, and helps to highlight the audience Anis Mojgani is reaching.

Anis Mojgani’s two spoken word poems; “The Branches are Full and These Orchards Heavy” and “For Those who can still Ride an Airplane for the First Time” reawaken the reader to injustices Mojgani views in our society. In “The Branches are Full and These Orchards Heavy”, Mojgani journey’s through the struggle to interpret Gods silent messages. He brings forward the horrific images that come with the search to find Gods purest message. He calls upon the listener to take him as a “sacrifice” to finally end this tireless pursuit. In “For Those who can still Ride an Airplane for the First Time”, Mojgani speaks to the loss of innocence and the mutilated definition that is now man. In wanting to find out what being a man truly is, Mojgani realizes that by slowing down, savoring his inner child and looking for God he may find what being it. In both poems Mojgani focuses specifically on a couple of weighty words that challenge the readers already formed thoughts on the idea.

The theory Michael McGee presents in, “The “Ideograph”: A Link between Rhetoric and Ideology” intertwines with Anis Mojgani’s work. The ideograph is a term or phrase that sums up the ideology found for or against a specific word, phrase or idea. Rhetors John Louis Lucaites and Celeste Michelle Condit explain that ideographs exist “as cultural ideals, but gain their meaning-in-use from collective interpretations of the recursive relationship between the objectively material and symbolic environments in which they operate” (Luciates 7). Through McGee’s ideograph each of Mojgani’s poems presents an ideograph. Mojgani through his poetry works to tug at these and realign the listener.

In “The Branches are Full and These Orchards Heavy” Anis Mojgani speaks about the extremes that come from the tireless search for God. The word “God” sometimes exchanged for “Lord” or “He” accumulates to become his leading ideograph. He challenges some of the natures often associated with the word God. Mojgani begins with a question, “Gentlemen have you forgotten your God?” I don’t believe Mojgani intends to disregard women here but I think he chooses specifically to begin with a certain type of man (Mojgani). This is a man of simplicity and manners, a man who would clearly not choose to forget his God. Mojgani continues, describing an act of “making ghosts,” he rattles, “while you are making ghosts out of people, you are making ghosts out of your Torah, your Korans, your Bibles” (Mojgani). Traditionally, ghosts pose as a threat, they are scary and yet intriguing. A ghost appears real but it is truly just wisps of cool air, unsubstantial. This unsubstantial emotion connects deeply with the ideograph of “God”. In Mojgani’s interpretation, just creating a “God figure” for yourself is not enough, it is the reason we continue to search ourselves for God’s purest message. As Mojgani continues, his arms that were cupped at his waist, rise, one arm clasping his belly another outstretched as he exclaims “we have shaved our books down swallowed them so that the word of God might flow through us but the pages just sit in out bellies” (Mojgani). By ingesting raw “God” we expect to receive The Message, the divine translation, by which everyone must bow down. In reality, as Mojgani continues, while we try to translate His word we are faced with the fact that “our ears are too small for our hearts to understand the humming of these sentences singing inside of us” (Mojgani). Mojgani clutches his chest here, his feet are pinched close together, and he sways slightly. He dives into “we are trying to decipher the bang buck Braille of Your silent throat Lord!” (Mojgani). Mojgani relates the ideograph “God” to something beyond human. As we are only human we cannot translate the messages we have swallowed, our ears cannot hear the divine sound/message emulating from our bellies. Not only are we ill-equipped but we are also trying to feel out a message that was meant for silence. “God” has often been said to work in mysterious ways, remaining silent to us as we gape in awe up at the sky. Mojgani, as he passionately continues, motions to “above” with his eyes and raises a hand up, shaped into a bear claw, indicating “God” or “Lord”. Mojgani then lowers into the gruesome effects related to searching for “God”. We enter the kitchen:

and pick up knives to cut these voices out from inside
we stab ourselves

we stab
i must hear You
cutting the flap of skin
the words twist in our blood they fall to the floor of our homes
drowning
but it does not stop
i must hear you
we hear the same songs singing inside the stomachs of others
so we pick up more and more knives to cut those out (Mojgani)

Mojgani delves into the beginning of the obsession, the disrespect of self and for other beings. He describes a negative effect of the “God” ideograph, related to the loss of sight of the fragility of being human for the sake of knowing “God” the best. In a short yet significant moment, Mojgani mentions that in order to reveal “Gods” message “we need soldier’s tanks and missiles” (Mojagni). He just touches on the reason why some wars will be forever fueled.

Mojgani then arches backwards spiraling into violence “we need dead mothers children raped from searching the hospitals are full and overflowing” all trailing in the wake of our search for “God” (Mojgani). Mojgani’s arms rise continuously, rigid with the stress of communicating his message. Mojgani rises on his toes as he speaks “we clutch throats pistols and palms in the same two handed clasp of prayer” (Mojgani). Mojgani effortlessly dances across the irony religion poses, in encapsulating violence and peace.

As he nears the end Mojgani slows down, his voice shifts and seems to break as he pleads “let me see you Lord” (Mojgani). His arms rise up into a T, he confesses “I am holding still,” from here he begins to offer himself (Mojgani). Anis Mojgani says to those who are still searching “So gentlemen Tender Sinners Raise your guns to my gut and fire on cut Him from me I wish to drape His face with my kisses and finally sleep softly,” ultimately sacrificing himself. He returns to the title “gentlemen”, completing the circle, giving respect to his listeners. Mojgani then asks them to take him instead so he can finally sleep softly. He calls on the ideograph of “God” and its relations to self sacrifice for the betterment of others. Throughout his poem Anis Mojgani greatly manipulates the ideograph “God”, he poetically approaches cultural ideals about “God” as well as presents negative effects of what occurs when the thirst is never quenched.

Anis Mojgani’s spoken word poem “For those who can still Ride an Airplane for the First Time” also known as “Quentin” also known as “On Being a Man” expresses Mojgani’s frustrations and ideals on being a man. Mojgani challenges the word “man” as an ideograph explaining society’s ideal of man verses his. He later connects the ideograph of “man” to innocence, relating that the latter helps improve “man”. Mojgani begins “I’m 29 years old and I’m trying to figure out most days what being a man means” (Mojgani). Every time Mojgani delivers this poem he updates the age.

As he continues he states “I don’t drink fight or love but these days I find myself wanting to do all three,” these three verbs become pitchforks for Mojgani as he struggles with aligning the ideograph “man” to himself (Mojgani). As Mojgani continues he warms up the audience, calling them to reminisce with him as he talks of “back then” (Mojgani). Mojgani holds up his hand and flicks out his fingers as he lists off his childhood dream jobs “I wanted to be an astronaut an architect an artist a secret agent a ranger for the World Wildlife Fund and a hobo” (Mojgani). These occupations have an air of masculinity as they invite danger and independence. While Mojgani continues to speak he goes into detail about some of the things he finds himself doing:

making pictures or thinking about making pictures- or masturbating or thinking about masturbating—and I dream too much and I don’t write enough and I’m trying to find God everywhere—trying to figure out this thing He made called a man

And the television tells me that it’s bare knuckle bombing.

And if I had a tank or was a movie star my penis would be huge I guess because that’s what being a man means or at least that’s what they keep telling me (Mojgani)

Mojgani descends into what he believes is society’s ideograph of “man”. In Mojgani’s point of view it is upheld with phony self-images. Elizabeth Hatfield quotes Esquire Magazine in her article “’What it means to be a Man’: Examining Hegemonic Masculinity in Two and a Half Men”

A man carries cash. A man looks out for those around him—woman, friend, stranger. A man can cook eggs. A man can always ﬁnd something good to watch on television. A man makes things—a rock wall, a table, the tuition money. Or he rebuilds—engines, watches, fortunes. He passes along expertise, one man to the next. Know-how survives him. This is immortality...A man knows how to bust balls...A man gets the door. Without thinking

Esquire Magazine produces the exact opposite of what Mojgani believes is the sincere ideograph of “man”. Mojgani admits “my pops. My pops takes care of us. He puts the garbage out twice a week. He drives forty-five minutes to water flowers” (Mojgani). The traditional father figure is Mojgani’s response to hegemonic masculinity idolized today. Doing what is best for the family and community without thinking twice is more admirable to Mojgani.

He then shifts perspective; Mojgani introduces himself to a young boy “Anis. That’s a nice name. Thank you, what’s yours? Quentin. Anis? Do you wanna read with me?” (Mojgani). In little time, Quentin becomes the center of hatred evolving in the poem “And Quentin this world hates your fingers—little like the stems of flowers—for not being able to pick up the things that you left behind because you were still learning to do so” (Mojgani). Mojgani funnels societal haterd for the innocence in Quentin, for his inability to act like a grown man. Mojgani picks up his pace in the poem, lifting his arms, weighing them against each other as they levy up and down with his words. Mojgani returns to the three pitchforks “I don’t drink fight or fuck but these days Quentin it’s only two out of those three that I don’t do” (Mojgani). Mojgani replaces love with fuck, removing the romance and softness from before. Mojgani has been quoted before about cussing, that it “doesn’t come from a lack of vocabulary – I know all the other words. None of them speak the same language that my fucking heart does” (Anis). Although true, the switch here seems to correlate strongly with Mojgani’s struggle between him and the ideological “man”, cussing becoming a way for him to be assertive.

He watches Quentin as he reads with “his fingers moving across the lines sometimes skipping whole sentences because they’re moving faster than what they are showing his eyes” (Mojgani). Anis Mojgani impulsively tells Quentin to “slow down. You don’t have to touch and go” (Mojgani). Mojgani concludes that although this is a fast paced world, with so much to retain that you should “hold what you see just a little bit longer. Because in a world full of fast faces I’m looking for God everywhere—trying to figure out a little better this little thing he called a man” (Mojgani). Mojgani successfully returns back to the ideograph, “man” after losing himself in the innocence of Quentin. I believe Quentin is a representation of Anis Mojgani when he was younger. By speaking this poem, he is challenging the ideograph of “man” and reinforcing his own, one that supports his inner child and his innocence.

Anis Mojgani will keep shredding apart and re-examining these ideographs. In “The Branches are Full and These Orchards Heavy” Mojgani expressed some of the violence that results from the ideograph “God” and in “For those who can still Ride an Airplane for the First Time” Mojgani delved into his own problem with the ideograph “man”, defining his own definition of man.

Anis Mojgani’s words spread like honey across warm toast. They are sticky and dense as they seep into where it matters. Their golden tendrils make love to your soul as they wrap their thin arms around your heart. Mojgani’s words will continue to soak in, until those who have listened to and read him enough glow as brightly as the golden honey in their hearts. It is important that we listen to such a magical man.

Resources

Amazon Customers. "Over the Anvil We Stretch [Paperback]." Over the Anvil We Stretch: Anis Mojgani. Amazon, 2008. Web. 13 May 2013.

"Anis Mojgani Quotes." Goodreads. GoodReads, 2013. Web. 13 May 2013.

Luciates, John L., and Celseste M. Condit. "Reconstructing : Culturetypal and Counter-Cultural Rhetorics in the Martyred Black Vision." Communication Monographs. Vol. 57. N.p.: n.p., 1990. 5-24. Print.

Demi. "Community Reviews: The Feather Room." Goodreads. Goodreads, 19 Jan. 2013. Web. 13 May 2013.

Diamond, Austen. "Anis Mojgani with Broken Silence." The Essentials. City Weekly, 27 Jan. 2011. Web. 13 May 2013.

Goodwilltx. "Anis Mojgani - For Those Who Can Still Ride In Airplanes - Poems / Poetry."YouTube. YouTube, 20 Apr. 2009. Web. 13 May 2013.

Hatfield, Elizabeth Fish. "'What It Means To Be A Man': Examining Hegemonic Masculinity In Two And A Half Men E. F. Hatfield." Communication, Culture & Critique 3.4 (2010): 526-548. Communication & Mass Media Complete. Web. 13 May 2013.

Kendall, Samuel. "A Review of Over the Anvil We Stretch." The Last Bookseller. The Last Bookseller, 28 Oct. 2012. Web. 13 May 2013.

Mojgani, Anis. Hello. It's Anis Mojgani. N.p., 2013. Web. 13 May. 2013.

Osel, Joseph D. "Interview with Spoken-Word Poet Anis Mojgani." The Commonline Journal: The Commonline Journal Interview with Spoken-Word Poet Anis Mojgani. The Commonline Journal, Aug. 2007. Web. 13 May. 2013.

Speakeasynyc. "Anis Mojgani's Sensational Performance:"The Branches Are Full and These Orchards Heavy"" YouTube. YouTube, 23 July 2010. Web. 13 May 2013.