Category: Poetry

You’ll find the poems I write here.

Silence

Don’t be silent, look at me. Love me.

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I sit on the balcony
Cigarette in my mouth,
4 A.M, complete silence.
Just like hers.

Silence is cruelty
Silence is death
Silence is crippling my soul,
Please, don’t be silent anymore.

I’m trying to reach you,
But some part of me
Is keeping ground, hesitation.
The quietness isn’t making me sure.

Beauty and soulfulness
Combined with your tranquility,
And your convoluted self.
I can be the remedy,
The cure to your silence.

Please, think about me,
As much as I think about you.
Please, love me as much
As I’ll love you.

Don’t be silent anymore,
Be clamorous and loquacious,
For I will cherish you and hold you
I’ll never let go,
I’ll always be there,
Just let me,
Before it’s too late.

Alone

All you need is love. Down with loneliness.

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Alone
Staring into the height of the sky
Dreaming of your love
Time passes quickly
The sun sets down

A dream I had
Before the sun woke up
Of promises unseen and unexpected
Embracing you
Holding on tight
Everything was safe and sound
But I was alone
When the illusion ended

I wake up
Hysterical
Craving you between my arms
I don’t want to be alone.

Alcohol

Alcohol is all you need.

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I feel conscious
But I’m not really
I feel sick
I want to throw up

My hands are loose
I’m writing this without a worry
I feel free
I feel no strain of a noose

No feelings
No emotions now
Just my glass of whiskey
And my words
I’m finally free

Swaying to the music,
I don’t know what I’m going through
I’m drunk, but I’m not
I’m dying
Rotting away from myself

I’m losing touch
I’m drunk
What’s happening to me?

Time

Time is the answer.

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It’s a long way to fall,
Pushing and struggling
Trying to get out
Time to a screeching halt

Time plays tricks on my mind
Acts like it’s on my side
Stirring my entire being
Shivering by the depth
Of the inevitable fall

Baby
Time is a game for me
Fall, or fall
It won’t let me down easily
We all eventually descend

Time again, our savior
Our healer, the grand tinkerer
All shall be fine
When the time
Is right.

Revolt

Change is inevitable. Life won’t wait.

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A high pitched shriek
Louder than the strike of thunder
Descending upon me
Mountains tumbling
And collapsing to the sight
Of the internal cluster
My insides turning against each other

Revolted by myself
And for myself
A swift change of winds
A zeal of attitude
And of life

Succumbing to the zest of being
Devastated for not seeing
What existing is all about so early
But it’s never too late
For life never waits for anyone
And I won’t wait for it anymore.

Repetition

Repetition is vital.

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Repetition is godsent,
An intercession of reiterated words
Repetition scribed to the depths
It molds and holds down
You keep hearing it, over, and
Over.

Anew, I would repeat,
Reveal,
Express,
Whatever you want to hear, whatever
That makes you complete.

Repetition is refreshing,
It keeps you unblemished
And safe.
It holds you, and clasps you
on to the shores of well-being.

 

Beirut

My hateful and lovable home, Beirut.

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Beirut,
Destruction and alluring zen
Love and heart ache
A place of peace and war

The grit of structure
Buildings in the shape of bullet holes
Metal containers hugging people to sleep
With the beauty of the architecture
Grand designs and lavish concrete
Green trees and garbage
Provides a strange and peculiar mix

People of all difference
Difference of thought, of belief
Of unbelief, and of all unusual walks of life
It’s strange alright

Images of refugee families
Sleeping on the sidewalks
Right next to the club and pub goers
The poor and the rich, all the same
Drunken and miserable Beiruti millennials
Feeding on the chaotic surroundings
Turning them into monsters of sadness
Pictures of a better life unseen

I’m lost, a disorder of existence
I love Beirut, but Beirut hates me

I’ve nothing here, but
Heartache and war
I grew up too fast
Most grow up too fast here
Beirut is for the privileged
An unforgiving place for those who can’t
And for those who won’t

Streets with a million ales and tales
Of people and things
Stories of happiness and stories of sadness
An imperfect mixture, an anomaly
Beirut,
The perfect anomaly
My hateful and lovable home.

Dreams

Dream up a new self, for yourself.

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In the absence of feelings
There is no time for healing
In the gloomy night sky
He saw hope midst the darkness
A glistening bauble of belief

Like a cricket chirping away at nothing
His unhinged howls to a screeching halt
A sudden pause, out of nowhere
Trees moving with the night wind,
The only sound heard now

Camp-fire shines away with the stars
With thoughts of desire,
Similar to those he had at the bar
He enters his tent feeling broken
For love to him is the grand token

Lying down atop crumbled sheets,
His small sleeping bag provides the company
Holding him to sleep,
To hopefully dream up a new self
For himself…

Paradox

My lust and romantics, she holds the key to both.

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A lustful paradox,
Lost in the maze of desire
Like a hungry mouse
Moving around and around..

Trapped in the realm of love,
An old soul,
Feeding on the new romantics,
Like a madman, death of spirit slow.

Imagination runs wild and deep,
Beautiful bodies, violated,
Satisfied and fulfilled…
A vital life force for existence.

She holds the key to both,
My romantics and lust,
Drives a person to the edge
With her perfection.

How can someone be so perfect?