Monday, May 26, 2014

Worm in the Bookshop by Ali Znaidi

Worm in the Bookshop


There’s a worm in the bookshop over there.
She is creeping up the books searching for a lair.
She likes to hide because she doesn’t like to be used as a bait.
She is always hiding. That’s her inevitable fate.

There’s a worm in the bookshop down the street.
She is very cautious not to be trodden by the clients’ feet.
She is climbing the bookshelves searching for a refuge.
She is very astounded with all those books – tiny or huge.

There’s a worm in the bookshop next to the pub.
She is searching in the books for some hearty grub.
She is searching for nectar to quench her thirst
because for her knowledge always comes first.

Narratives will go with the wind and perish,
if writers don’t write and publishers don’t publish.
Books combat the oblivion of time’s rust;
either alive in a reader’s hand(s) or buried in a shelf’s dust.

There’s a worm in the bookshop in the city center.
She is hiding from the public glare— the eyes of the hunter.
There’s a worm in the bookshop. See! She’s devouring a book
because she likes to be considered as an intellectual (angry) kook.

Written 22 12 2013


Acned Discourse: An Experimental Short-short Story by Ali Znaidi

Acned Discourse: An Experimental Short-short Story by Ali Znaidi

Acned Discourse
________________________________________________. ___________________! ________________________? ……/……/……/…/………/………/…. __________. & the
decapitated discourse still oozes from the blocked pores of the tongues.

Written 21 12 2012

Friday, April 18, 2014

Untitled: A Nano Story by Ali Znaidi

Untitled: A Nano Story by Ali Znaidi

The thick snow looks like mayonnaise. Swallowing the pedestrians’ feet, it becomes a frigid cannibal. But, what a carnival!


26 02 2014

Euphoria: A Nano Story by Ali Znaidi

Euphoria: A Nano Story by Ali Znaidi

She would prefer not to plan splendid things because she is living in a garden of marvels right now.

26 02 2014


Sunday, April 13, 2014

Tunisian Desert by Ali Znaidi

Tunisian Desert

Sand soaked
in sleek satin.
Touching it
resembles
kissing
the soft
cheek
of a blonde.
Kissing it—
a paradise
unraveled/
Satan
expelled.

Written 03 03 2013 Revised 23/09/2013

pastiche by Ali Znaidi

pastiche

Mud clings to stones.
Stones cling to mud.
—Eagerness for pastiche.

Written 10 10 2013 Revised 03 04 2014


Three Short Poems by Ali Znaidi

The Shape of Inexistence

When the night comes
existence takes the shape
of inexistence for those
who have no home
but the streets’ laps,
for those who queue,
           as usual,
waiting for new sorrows,
        & above all,
for those whose morning
is not yet to come.

Written 16 10 2013

3

feathers of a crow
shine through
the empty shot glass.
—A (jailed) triptych.

Written 25/10/2013

Platonic Forms

I loved the shadows
of candles in the dark,
& I suppose
this love still persists
but in platonic forms.

Written 25/10/2013