"damascus" poems
for leather accrues
The miracle of the streets
The scents & smogs &
pollens of existence
Shiny blackness
so totally naked she was
Totally un-hung-up
We looked around
lights now on
Top see our fellow travellers
~~~
I am troubled
Immeasurably
By your eyes
I am struck
By the feather
of your soft
Reply
The sound of glass
Speaks quick
Disdain
And conceals
What your eyes fight
To explain
~~~
She looked so sad in sleep
Like a friendly hand
just out of reach
A candle stranded on
a beach
While the sun sinks low
an H-bomb in reverse
~~~
Everything human
is leaving
her face
Soon she will disappear
into the calm
vegetable
morass
Stay!
My Wild Love!
~~~
I get my best ideas when the
telephone rings & rings. It’s no fun
To feel like a fool-when your
baby’s gone. A new ax to my head:
Possession. I create my own sword
of Damascus. I’ve done nothing w/time.
A little tot prancing the boards playing
w/Revolution. When out there the
World awaits & abounds w/heavy gangs
of murderers & real madmen. Hanging
from windows as if to say: I’m bold-
do you love me? Just for tonight.
A One Night Stand. A dog howls & whines
at the glass sliding door (why can’t I
be in there?) A cat yowls. A car engine
revs & races against the grain- dry
rasping carbon protest. I put the book
down- & begin my own book.
Love for the fat girl.
When will SHE get here?
~~~
In the gloom
In the shady living room
where we lived & died
& laughed & cried
& the pride of our relationship
took hold that summer
What a trip
To hold your hand
& tell the cops
you’re not 16
no runaway
The wino left a little in
the old blue desert
bottle
Cattle skulls
the cliche of rats
who skim the trees
in search of fat
Hip children invade the grounds
& sleep in the wet grass
’til the dogs rush out
I’m going South!
40.3k
Social chaos metered out through tiers of population stung
By indiscriminate battle wrought lifeblood, incessantly, is wrung.
Why so the need for Assad’s torch, your Syria so needlessly debauched ?
Nameless causes fuel the fire, Shiite, Sunni intervention. Hezbollah and al Qaeda spew
Vindictiveness to streets of rubble, Toxic, killing vapours stew.
Misery to gasping children, horror in the dying eyes….
Condemnation points it’s staff to you, Assad, where vile blame now lies.
Why so the need for cities torched, Damascus needlessly debauched ?
Inevitably the missiles cometh, raining incandescent death and blast,
International righteousness throws intervention’s unknowns vast.
Why so this need for man debauched, Your Syria, once so beautiful, now scorched ?
Marshalg
Pukehana
7 September 2013
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 4:47 PM UTC
How it felt about when she smiled
Her roses were red wine
Teeth were an iceberg in a cold sea
I didn't know she knew me more than by name
I walked head up to her in a confident laze
She always willed to lay a hand in a steamy time
Whenever she called me by my pet name
I would light up a grin
How I couldn't help her spell
How much I belied of having a way out
The more she drew close, the more I sank in
How she made seduction a white collar trade
The lavish eyes, the lazy talk, the pure feminine mien
She pat on my shoulder and turned to catch a glance
Asked what made her hands a soft pleasure
Whispered that she was schooled in pottery and making dough
I couldn't stop but ask about the flawless curves
She pushed out her lips and said I used to spin a ring at nine
I asked her out for a movie
She said tragedies make her cry
One day I went to look down through my office windowpane
My sight met hers taking down a secret gang
With a fierce nine millimeter gun
I was left speechless in awe
We needed to rethink our revolution
On her mission in Damascus a plane crashed
I still cried a pail.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC
I saw a gigantic tree.
Uprooted and on its side.
The great roots forming a mane for the snarling ringed face on the stump.
But the fallen beast is taken, it’s husk a Home.
A vibrancy of weevils, ladybugs, frog hoppers, Cockchaffers that’s skittering, scattered like a smashed ant farm.
Around its base were prehistoric ferns,
Curled and scaled like sand lizards’ tales.
Reminiscing the demise of the tyrannosaur.
When dust clouds darkened the sun which warmed their claws.
The skittering skinks, slow worms and other small lizards, who need far less to survive, then feasted upon the monsters’ flesh and found a home in its bone structured palace.
As whale sinks,
Distorted into a globster of its former self,
It hits the sea bed hard in oil-Black darkness.
The hagfish burrow, starved for millennia.
Brutally tearing at the befallen banquet.
Mouths used to scraps choking on steak.
Getting their guts knitted as they squirm over each other to grasp some sashimi.
Dripping saliva as if we’re sweat in the ruckus.
Yeti crab pinch, as do isopods
But get only mucus insulting their jaws.
And they thought they helped to cut up the portions.
Soon all that is left is a skeleton.
Hanging in a museum for future generations to see.
Once again, dust gathers, from bombed out sand.
Erupting in the air as giants hit the ground.
We may soon again see darkness fall.
As the rayiys is skinned.
But no tears are shed.
We all cheer none the less.
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 6:07 AM UTC
Deception feeds on ignorance in every lane,
Missiles are wrong symphonies in Ukraine.
The world won't rise with the cries of a thousand,
Corruption sneaks into the bones in Thailand.
Humans and bodies are wars' cheapest lance,
The riots take back stolen rights in France.
Starvation is stronger than the dignity of men,
Begging for food is integrity, in Yemen.
Moms paid, with their children, the fees.
Souls taken, are countless in greece.
There, living in an empty land is the plan,
Women, children and men, murdered, for power, in Sudan.
"Spending eternity in peace, is a ban",
Told the people, between Armenia and Azerbaijan.
Depravity spreading in man like Ameba,
A losing game of change played in Cuba.
Billions of harassment cases, you bet,
Are, will be reserved in god's eyes in Egypt.
Buried her father, brother and,
desire of existence, dear Haya,
She, and millions another, in fenced Libya.
In the name of religion, crimes covered, disgracefully,
Chastity thrown, in land of churches, the Vatican City.
Shattered wood under a phloem,
Are the confused inhabitants of oriental Jerusalem.
Too many sects, invading the minds, anon,
Conflicts will split the one entity of Lebanon.
Washing souls with lies of worship, is a key
Says the elected president of Turkey.
To be served, pure blood awaits in the line.
It rains glory and sacrifice upon Palestine.
To regain true reality, they had to wham,
Under snow, through fog, numbed rain, in Vietnam.
Lost a thousands of years worth of legacy,
Guns are the rulers in Damascus city.
Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 6:07 PM UTC
Take this metal car and plane
And give me a camel or a horse
Take these four walls
I want to trade them
In for a tent
I will pitch it at the bottom of the Mountains
On the banks of Barada
That runs through Damascus
Or the shores of Tigris
That binds Turkey and Iraq
In the suburbs of Amman
Amongst the unique contrast
Of old and new
Or the deserts of Arabia
The unknown regions of Yemen
Maybe on the slopes of the pyramids
In the oasis of Libya
The valleys of Kashmir
On the beaches of Zanzibar
I'll trade in the can of pop
For coconut water
Or thirst quenching
Organic blends of fruit juice
That I will hand pick
Straight from the trees
Sleep to the lullaby
Of rain and birds
In a tree house
In Kuala Lumpur
Awake to the
**** a doodle doo
Of a rooster
In Bangladesh
Then go and collect
The eggs from the hens
I'll trade these windows
For a panoramic view
Technology and social networks
For loyalty and love
Go back to simple living
Be friends with the earth
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 9:39 AM UTC
At the end of the road to Damascus
There paved a street called Straight
Where lay the home of Judas
A blinded Pharisee did await
For hands layed on by Aranias
Saul now Paul the converted Pharisee
Again could walk the street of Straight
No longer blinded he now could see
Returning back to Jerusalem
Persecuted by King Agrippa
And perform the acts of apostles
I still seek to take my first step
On my own road to Damascus
To walk the street called Straight
Find my way out of this blackness
r 7Oct2013
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 3:42 PM UTC
Arise Great Britain, swell wi pride
this is no time tae split, divide,
a hero needs us on his side
a man apart
Brave Osbourne comes wi manly stride
and lion heart
When danger ca’s, he stauns and fights
He’ll haud the baddies bang tae rights
Nou in their een he sees the whites
and yells, “Attack!”
He’s got oor mojo in his sights –
He wants it back!
Let’s cheer his valour tae the roof
Condemn the wans wha’d cry him couff
And pray oor Geordie’s bulletproof
As on he flies
Then fit him wi a parachute
and wave guidbye.
This GM perfect Tory clone
need not rely on un-manned drone
He’ll tackle ISIS on his own
their fight dissolve
His pores squirt pure testosterone
his eyes, resolve
Just watch the baddies turn and flee
as George, wi patriotic glee
wreaks vengeance for democracy
a one-man dojo
And cries, “Come, Britain, flock to me,
and feel my mojo!”
Or mibbes we should check this twice.
Although the image may be nice
The blood we risk on his advice
may never stop -
But Geordie will not sacrifice
one ****** drop
These profiteering pinstripe ******
wha ken no life but politics
Are no the first tae play these tricks
while deals are made
Why no just wave a crucifix
and shout “Crusade!”
So hooses burn and horror grows
A stream o misery outflows
While braggard Geordie struts and crows,
"Ye want a fight?"
I’d dump him on Damascus road
tae see the light
Ye plot the death o innocents
Tae score yir points in parliament
Yir fascist mocking o dissent
it suits ye well
George Osbourne, ye're a proper gent
**** ye tae hell.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 5:54 AM UTC
*
*
~
Her opalescent wings unfurl under the
clear skies, glittering beautifully under
the golden glory of the sun
As she opens her jaws, lances of flame
covers the green, ravaging life with scalding
kisses of red and orange and purple and gold
Her breath has grown hotter over the years -
now able to melt steel and stone, flesh and bone
But her eyes, molten suns are always wet with
affection when she looks at me
Her claws are curved, sharper than Damascus
steel, the shade of deep obsidian.
Her tail long and spiked; a dangerous whip
Her scales drinking in sun as she watches
me dip my feet into the sea. From it, rises smoke.
Like the water, its's rising and receding into
nothing.
A clear blue and it seems so vast and endless
Just looking at the horizon makes me feel so
free...
~
*
*
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 11:24 AM UTC
PRIME OF FIRE. RESORT
Last night the Moon was still rises
That is silver cord
And I wake up and the station of London Eve
In my dream
with glory
Venus . But love
driving all burning love and you looking at the mirror of passion
are we forget the Greece birth
Damascus at night
where
I CAN SAY NOT WELCOME TO ATLANTIC ARMIES
for ever and ever and ever
like the waves dancing with beauty land
The Earth waiting my Lady love
through all life
and passionate kisses
home for love and home for deep passion
CAN I LOVE YOU ??
FOR EVER and ever
THE SECOND PART OF ANY SPRING
love wealth flower in your cedars and pines
are we do love over do
new for modern times
out Jupiter
Sep 4, 2011
Sep 4, 2011 at 7:28 AM UTC
NOT LOOKING AT OURSELVES
August 7, 2009 - Damascus
Ayad bin Izzet
Why is it so hard to think of ourselves?
Why is it so hard to change bad habits that seem to possess us?
It seems to be a near certain fact, that humans do not like to think of themselves; certainly, very few seriously, deeply think about themselves. Who asks himself: “How do I look like to people?” “How do I sound to people, when I say this and that?” “Why is it people like certain aspects of my behaviour?”
When you open up such a subject to people in general, it is common to hear: “Look, I don’t care what people may think of me”. But an answer like that will not help you go far in this world. You do need to pay attention to what people think about you, otherwise you will be, de facto, behaving like a tyrannical dictator – you are, in effect, alienating and restricting the advancement of your varied self interests.
Why you ask me?
Because we all need people if we are going to succeed in our professional and social lives. Without the agreement of people you cannot succeed, unless if your work can survive within a hermit’s context.
So why are people so antagonistic to change themselves?
I think that for people they are scared of thinking about themselves because they fear what they might find out the nature of what is existing within themselves.
Another reason, is addiction. A person may simply be compulsively addicted to the harmful personality he has – yes, even if he knows that his personality is harmful to his own self interests.
I talk about this subject because we all do need to change our selves, our personalities - since all the troubles of our entire lives emanate from one source: we dysfunctional humans!
Where else do they come from?
And yet, anyone who has ever tried to explain to another person their faults will surely go nowhere. No one is interested. I know one lady who I call the ‘Pharmacist’ because she lovingly showers everyone else with advice, while she herself cannot bear to hear one word with respect to her faults. And then, as the years passed, I came to realize, why all people are basically ‘Pharmacists’!
People have an obstinacy that harder than leather, colder than an icicle; we simply will not improve, as human beings, if we remain this determined not to reform our minds.
And there is nothing else to add on this sorry subject.
How pathetically sad.
A fine epitaph on Humanity’s grave.
Feb 2, 2010
Feb 2, 2010 at 8:02 AM UTC
North Korea, Syria, Damascus and Iran
Pieces of a puzzle, do you see the master plan?
-
Now it's Eastern Europe, Ukrainia to wit
Thank the New World Order, peace they'll not permit
-
One World Government, Dictatorial control
Hail! Hail! Big Brother! The Antichrist extol!
-
Blame everything on Israel, wipe them from the Earth
It’s all their fault, it’s all their fault, all this pain and dearth
-
Forget about the Bible, just a Book of Myth
Listen to the Aliens…their wisdom and their pith
-
Take the MARK! Take the MARK! In your forehead or right hand
Burn in Hell forever, forget the Promise Land
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
the world today truly has become
the global village once predicted
by McLuhan 50 years ago
it took three decades longer
than he had thought
but now we have
all real time developments at our fingertips
Trump talks to Putin and Duterte & cetera
and we know about it
right afterward thanks to his tweets
that land on our mobile phones
suicide bombs exploding
in Damascus Baghdad Gamboru Kabul
hit us on our social media right away
so does the news about a bus
that fell into a gorge
all 65 passengers killed
somewhere on the globe
or of the cat caught in a sewer pipe
rescued by these brave firemen
little of all of that
adds to our understanding of the universe
or might be relevant to our lives
a bit more positive reporting is in order
at best served as sensational
as the bad news
that keeps us occupied
yet more important for our daily lives
than all this hype about
the danger and the devastation that
possibly
or not
may happen if
soandso does suchandsuch
at times I contemplate
if it is better to be out of touch
and not to care about the news
so very much
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 4:32 PM UTC
Beloved
I yearn night and day
each blood tinged second
for the intravenous
of Your intoxicating Presence
like ripe, ruby grapes crave
to be tread and pressed into
the drunken bliss
of holy wine
Like the cow maiden Radha
and Princess Mirabai
pine for their peacock plumed
Blue Lord’s
rapturous darshan
Like Magdalene’s tears rolling
down her love soaked cheeks
seek only to wash and kiss
gentle Jesus’ celestial
Lotus feet
Like the great scholar Rumi
scouring the desolate streets
of Damascus
searches for even the
faintest echo
ghostly glimpse
of his beloved
God mad vagabond
Shams of Tabriz
Like my breath liberated from this
time bound, earthly form
soars free, unfettered
a shooting star
exploding into the
chaotic brilliance
of Your perfect Love
Your incomprehensible, pristine,
pure, primordial Peace
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
***
When you think
Maybe, we ~
Are
Forlorn
For the time-
Being cruel to us
In most heartwrenching
Wonderful impossible
Way
love, Love, _
Never was I yours
To come at your
Thresholds
Blushed a little bit
Over my sunlit cheeks
Holding in my hand
A Damascus Rose
For my beloved~
For you
A jazzy blues done
None plus no one
Gets the whole bush
Unless walking hand in hand
Through garden divine
Loving
Like
Icecold queen n' king
Siddharta within our seams
Yet, I turn in my dreams
And look straight
In those lovely
Flames
Portruding in me
Fireflies lit
For me
To you
Cosmos exists as a play
Of darkness through
Light
Hurting me
Again
No
More
~~~~~~
Please
~~~~~
For a begining
You gently touch
My wrist, holding
It with desire
And say
- Here
You
Are -
My twin~flame!!
A
Long
Awaited
Wonder
This Day Is
Magnetic
Grip
. . .
Unutterly
Unyeilding
Pulling me close within
Your chocolate
Emerald wisdom
Vishnu Inevitability
Embrace
Emitting radiance
Embraced for as long
As we need to please
The almighty & amazing laws
Of physics
Nodding
In approval of
.
.
.
Weeee-_-omens
***
= =
Woed by
Thunderous pounds
Blood in our veins
Burning like the
Ocean waves
Rhythmic pace
Dreamy foams as
Satin
Lace
Overwhelming Us
Courageous
Navigators of
Our starry midnights
Building the arch of
Invisibility
For the rest
of the
World
Our tent
Under satin~silk
Is heavens
A
Relationship
Beautifully
Playful
Extraordinaire
& Serene***
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 5:46 PM UTC
Once felt in the lonely, identical corridors
of hotels, hostels, hallways of homeless flatblocks;
The urge,
The urge to move the moment,
Move the momentum of the meandering life
From work to shop to sleep to work to shop to sleep,
Supplanted by the unattainable mental utopia,
Supplanted by delusions in the colour of dreams,
Supplanted by 10,000 madman notes on the nature of daylight,
Tender sounds accelerated into screams,
Lost in the pylon forest,
Trapped by Tendonitis, Tinnitus, and terrestrial TV,
Stifling the electoral laugh,
Deafened by D-beat, Dubstep, and Democratic conventions,
Bled to death in Bosnia,
Died in Damascus,
Executed in Entebbe,
Murdered in Mogadishu,
Born in Berlin,
Lived in London,
Carried in Copenhagen,
And again in Amsterdam,
Until tomorrow’s endless oceans
Forecast nothing of their waves,
Until tomorrow’s endless oceans
Safely say their real names.
Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC
we left the hills of lebanon
through the fields
first poppy and then through the taller flowers
i need a new shirt
with a taller collar and french cuffs
we simply must
travel to damascus
80 kilometers over the mountains
wheels between villages
barren spaces and us
needing new shirts
on that last hill
we could see the whole thing
holy **** man look
we can see everything
all the seas and **** like that
****
...
you know i think i might need some new socks too
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 2:57 PM UTC
LIVING IN A WILDERNESS
October 2, 2009 – Damascus, Syria
Ayad Gharbawi
I see my eyes
Reverting
Bulging inwards
Yet, speaking outside
Of shrill fears
Feeling hues and nuances indefinable
Lovely contrasts
Jagged emotions,
Acres of mutilated humans
Serrated teeth
Severing carotid veins
Jugular explosions
Blood frothing inside
Mine mind
That throws itself
Weeping far too low
On this strangled ground
Near my skin
Far too many times
I’ve felt, seen, experienced blazing humiliations
Searing slicing fear
That I can never ever
Describe to you
And so
I’m writing for no one
I know
Listen to these skeletal notes
Being played out
Manic piano loving my drunk guitar
Producing acoustic screams
Hurling within
My hatreds
That need to prop my reason of d‘etre
Isn’t that language
Being expressed
Spouted out
Created forth frothing from these experiences
That are harrowing?
Jan 28, 2010
Jan 28, 2010 at 8:06 AM UTC
MENTAL PATIENT WRITING SOMETHING
Ayad Gharbawi
February 19, 2010 – Damascus, Syria
I love you all you
Or, all of you
I guess
I should write
Properly
Happy ones
Yes you!
Living you all
Drinking air
Vacuous nonentities
Am I describing myself or yourselves?
Supreme in my brutal
Powerlessness
Inertia is my magnificent pulse
Loss is my definition
That defines
My dumbest elemental stench
I live to see so-called teeth grinding
My teeth
Actually
I talk about
Am I being grammatical correct for you all?
Worms satanic
Within
Eyeballs melting from Sorrrow
And they then
Continually
Keep
Bleeding and looking fractured and pale
Didn’t Sane People
Tell me
Eyes are Souls into
Our lost Selves?
Or, something similar?
Weeping Nerves
That are
To dry
To move
Without a breakdown
I am scared, in a bed, a room
I involuntarily break my idiotically stretched lips
So, I become shy
From you all onlookers
Doctors and Visitors
Or Relatives?
Who’s who here?
And,
If I fake
That pointless
Smile
For any ashamed passerby
A sad banner
Shall be there -
Announcing my
Smashed structure
And functionless music
Will tell you my homeless address
Of my abandoned Mind and Flesh.
-----
Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 9:04 AM UTC
The New Lion of Damascus roars
Obama stuck, Putin snores
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 6:30 AM UTC
Qliphoth, Qliphoth,
Qliphoth, Qliphoth
roar the horses hooves
of the apocalyptic Eloah
like a bull of Bashan which
under ye terror unto thee;
unspeakable, the secrets
of truth traducing these
thy habiliments of bread
and wine, creatures, as if
they were apples of *****
the staff of life; cossetting
lambent judgement peril to
the duetoronomy of novice
pyre souls not safe to dwell
where those who venture
fear to tread travelling
the road to Damascus,
pontifical with emerald
honesty venatic of
consenting stars
pealing Dabar-Yahweh
as if a song sung to
the shell of Heaven.
Eleete j muir
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 10:57 PM UTC
I layer and layer my sadness
Which only strengthens my
Depression
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 11:14 AM UTC
Dear, Sweet, Damascus,
Even your vinegar will
attract hungry flies.
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 2:04 PM UTC
we dont know his name
we dont know his family
the only thing we know
another child in Syria is in heaven now
another mother somewhere is sleeping with tears
another father somewhere is with broken heart
Unknown child was killed today due to Assad thugs
random shelling on Damascus suburb
Al fatihah... Rest in peace.
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 3:33 AM UTC
Iran will strike
A United States ship will be brought down
Israel will strike Iranian forces in Syria
Damascus will be a ruinous heap
Just as Isaiah 17:1 says
Poor clueless people
America will never be great again
Economic collapse is on the horizon
Internal strife and jihadists will cause chaos
The trigger event is not far away
Donald will dance for the 8th king of Babylon
Donald will dance for the antichrist Obama
Donald will dance for his Jesuit masters
Trump will divide Israel
The Lord God Almighty will divide America
Russia and China prepare for war
The servant of the Lord told Dumitru Dudman
"America is a modern day ***** and Gomorrah."
The Lord will strike the nations
For his judgements are righteous and true
Jan 6, 2020
Jan 6, 2020 at 2:47 PM UTC