& occasionally about other things, too...

Sunday, July 07, 2019

The noise of living with others - Poems by Ahmad Marouf

Real Star

White screens are blinking, in my closed eyes.
Flames of wild flesh,
are scratching me inside.

I need to recognize myself, at least for tonight,
at least for one night.

Should I stay here, peering, at sexy TV stars?
Should I listen to their crazy, breathes?
and enjoy their artificial, kisses!

I need to recognize myself, at least for tonight,
at least for one night.

My eyes are covered, with images.
My mind is full of illusions, and my heart is deserted, it is completely deserted.

Turn off all screens Baby. I keen to be a real star.
Turn off all lights Baby.
I miss the holy darkness.

I need to recognize myself, at least for tonight,
at least for one night.

oooo-----oooo

The Walking Man

At this stage of my life, I've finally recognized, that all my setbacks, started when I announced:
Hey smart guy! It is not your business,
anymore to change the world around.

The world shrunk down very soon. The globe shrunk down to my town. The sun rose from my bedroom.
The moon shone on the walls, of my bathroom.

Look at me, here I am: a walking man,
a drinking man, a sleeping man.
Someone, something like a dead man.

oooo-----oooo

Secret Rumble

The world listens to me as I am revealing, the secrets of my life.
My mind sounds the alarm:
Stop talking or you'll lose, the magic keys to survive.

My heart replies:
If you don't speak out today, you will keep silent forever.
Your red and white cells will explode, as they get the spark of fire.

My mind shouts:
Look at the 99-year-old woman, with seven daughters and a son.
She has a talking mouth but nobody, knows about her first love.

Till now she feels the electricity, of his 82 years old touch.

My heart cries:
Don't listen to all these lies.
When you don't share the feelings, they will die.
Be clear like an open page.
No fears, no tears, nothing is to hide.

The world is still listening to the secret rumble, of my heart and my mind.

oooo-----oooo

Absence

The empty blue wooden chair, announces my absence,
for the third time in a row.
My stemmed glass sits in the middle, of the tray by itself, alone.

Dear old friends:
Don't ask about my whereabouts. Don't search for me anywhere.
I am here everywhere.

I'm hiding around the big crowded city, in the walls' micro holes.
All the drawings and graffiti, I've made. All of them are my own face.

I broke all your cozy frames. I've chosen to go by myself. Don't wait for me.
Don't save my place.
You can pick up my lonely glass, to drink the toast of an absent, Old friend.

oooo-----oooo

Close to The Moon

the three of us were meeting, night after night, In the forgotten room above the roof,
so close to the moon.

I was the inspired dreamer, you were the believer,
and he was watching with approving gestures,
playing the role of the amazed repeater.

It's been twenty years.
We are complete strangers.
I am here. You are there... so far away. He is somewhere in between,
asking all the time when and where, the next Rendezvous will take place.

How many delusions do we need, to relive one of our old nights?


Would you believe my words when I read, my poems again like old times?
Would he watch with approving gestures?
playing the role of the amazed repeater?

I wonder if the forgotten room above the roof, is still there... so close to the moon.

oooo-----oooo

The Turtle Meets the Butterfly

Two words were enough to pick me up. The tone of your voice pulled me forth, and back to the version land.

Talking to you is kind of shaking the old trees, and sending the boats to a stormy sea.

You asked me:

Are you one of the earth's residents? I don't know... simply I've answered.

I keep moving through multi layers sky. I am thinking of adopting a turtle,

or getting a butterfly.

I couldn't stop rewinding our lines. Are you one of the planet's residents?

Do you think of adopting a turtle

or getting a butterfly?

I'll reach you behind the walls, under the rocks, Our union is a Must.

Don't think of hiding in the rain drops. I'll be the earth's dust.

Do you think of adopting a turtle or getting a butterfly?

I am your turtle.

You are my butterfly.

oooo-----oooo

Departure

It is the time,

to leave your old world. Sell your safe nights, to cold wind and go.

You aren't alive anymore. The ghosts surround you, and yellow smiles.

You eager to be a fresh man.

You played all your cards,

You waited lifelong for the sun, but nothing new has come.

It is the time,

to leave your old world. Sell your safe nights, to cold wind and go.

You should admit that, you live alone.

You don't belong,

to any tribe, to any soil. Your soul is your home.

Don't be afraid of tomorrow. you will never feel sorrow.

The world is longing for, your fresh smile.


It is the time,

to leave your old world. Sell your safe nights, to cold wind and go.


Ahmad Marouf is a Syrian-Canadian poet, broadcaster, graphic artist and designer

All rights reserved for the poet 2019

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