Friday, December 7, 2012

It’s all about Politics by Ali Znaidi

It’s all about Politics

it’s all about ungulate mammals
drained in dung
it’s all about udders milked dry
it’s all about plans being down the drain
it’s all about searching for that fly
which irritates your throat
it’s all about a place under the sun
it’s all about guinea pigs
it’s all about experimentation
it’s all about red carpets
it’s all about red tape
it’s all about worshipped idols
it’s all about turning people into zombies
it’s all about politics

Written 23/11/2012 

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Humanity is One by Ali Znaidi

On a ground full of pitfalls I walk.
On luxurious carpets you tread.
But nothing can make our stomachs
satisfied only a loaf of bread.

You watch the news on a plasma T.V.
I watch it on an ordinary screen.
Be it a plasma or an ordinary T.V.
Both we watch the same scene.

I walk beyond the horizon
running with the scorching sun.
My path is different from yours.
But at the end humanity is still one.

Written 18/09/2011

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Eerie Place by Ali Znaidi

I have never been to Australia.
But what if my feet /fate sent me there?
I would but wonder about myself
being put in a kangaroo pocket—
an eerie place
to experience something mysterious.
I would just write something on the wall
of her pocket.
Perhaps, someone else would read it
one day.

Written 10/03/2012

Against Stagnation by Ali Znaidi

If you stare at the sea,
you can see that the sea has many arousals,
even if the weather is serene.
Just think about the many waves.

If you stare at the still water of the swamp,
you will be just dazzled
because a jumping frog
is there just trying to make the water move.

If you read a poem,
You will be amazed,
because the poem is there
just trying to make your mind doubt and question.

So whenever you feel stagnant
just look for the waves or the jumping frog
inside you,
or just read a poem.

Written 15/03/2012

Poetry: A Simplified Definition by Ali Znaidi

Watered by blood and sweat,
Poetry is like a grain of wheat.
It only sprouts by spreading its spikes
in papers plowed by  a free bird’s tweet.

Written 16/02/2012

Freedom Clip by Ali Znaidi

Freedom Clip

for Charles Bernstein

It is “Freedom” lying out there
in a sunny beautiful day under
the fragrant apple tree, gently,
but seductively, caressing her soft body
while bathing with apple juice and red wine.
She looks irresistible with that captivating smile
that lures the ones who speak for their rights
and who resist the frigid silence
to bathe with her under the apple tree…

 Written 25/02/2012

The Aftermath of the Revolution by Ali Znaidi

After every revolution
someone has to fill in big ponds with
tears of bereavement
that won’t dwindle.
Someone has to train his belly
 to swell and to protrude.
Someone has to stitch his perforated pocket
and make it very loose,
so illegal money
can get by.
After each revolution
herbs of arrivistes
blossom in gutters,
but they embellish them
to seem like fragrant roses.
After each revolution
someone has to lose a leg, a hand or a rib.
Someone has to lose the memory of a fully-fledged body.
Dismemberment is very cruel,
but someone has to trade
in this dismemberment,
saying:”That is the rule.”
After each revolution
egoistic hearts creep into the surface
suckling on the sweet sweat of the dismembered.
After each revolution
things might go well,
but this dark face of the coin is always there.

Written 19/02/2012

Great Unexpectations by Ali Znaidi

Great Unexpectations

Hugging their dear chairs close,
Arab leaders were sleeping in.
Their bodies befriended only
sleek satin and smooth silk.
All their nights were very long
like a solar solstice night.
They slept to the marrow,
dreaming only about eternity.
Despite intelligence reports—
that warned,
they kept sleeping and snoring
on their comfortable pillows
embroidered with gold—
Oh, I mean people’s sweat.
Their ears were stuffed with
the cotton of denial and derision.
Despite the alarming tears of the orphans
who just wanted a loaf of bread,
they kept sleeping.
Despite the cries of Oliver Twists
that warned,
they kept snoring.
They didn’t heal the wounds,
nor did they mend society’s cracks.
Even a poultice would suffice,
but they kept sleeping and snoring.
Despite people’s supplications
that warned,
they kept slumbering and hibernating.
Suddenly, at a wintry night, so short
like a lunar solstice night,
little worms began
feasting on the fragile delicious winsome wood of their chairs,
and licking the stains of caviar on their silky dresses.
Crows began cawing on the
windowsills of their palaces,
waiting for the coffins of their chairs to
be buried in dunghills.
Then a lovely song
named “great unexpectations
exploded in their cozy chambers opening up their ears.
They woke up to the rhythm of fear
because their advisors
didn’t advise them to read
Oliver Twist—
a book that warned.

Written 04/02/2012

Strawberries of Speech by Ali Znaidi

Develop a nose for noise. That is, stop decoding and begin to get a
nose for the sheer noise of language…  Or stop listening and begin
 to hear…—S McCaffery

I am silenced again & to be
licensed infinitely     to speak again,
I compose a symphony of a liquid song
capable of resisting congealment and canning—
a liquid song never broken up by silence again.
From its ripples, so rich and large speech swells—
a song of freedom breaching the unbearable silence
because silence tastes like a rotten mustard.
The fluidity of freedom fears
nothing—a shield for the body’s and soul’s whim.
I license myself to speak—a terminal embrace of free speech,
despite any silencing power,
and to taste the strawberries of speech.
Though scissors are always there,
inside my mouth there is a tongue
a tongue a tongue
that makes me forget about annihilation.
A tongue that is ready to howl
“against the silences to come.”

[Against the Silences to Come is a poetry book written by Ron
Loewinsohn and published by Four Seasons Foundation in 1965.]

Written 03/02/2012

Saturday, June 9, 2012

A Haiku Poem by Ali Znaidi in

     shiny black olives
slumbering under the sun
     symphony of peace

Written 06/06/2012

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Couplets for Barcelona by Ali Znaidi

Some songs and stories make me dream of you—“such a beautiful horizon.”
The wind will make my ship sail to you even without using a mizzen.
I’ll sing to you that beautiful song of Queen,
while dreaming of your calm sea, so serene:
Barcelona - such a beautiful horizon
Barcelona - like a jewel in the sun
Por ti sere gaviota de tu bella mar
Barcelona - suenan las campamas
Barcelona - abre tus puertas al mundo
If God is willing
-if God is willing
If God is willing
Friends until the end
Viva! Barcelona!
Oh, Barcelona! You are a poem written by the seductive Mediterranean Sea.
You make me spellbound. What can I do with thee?
I can only succumb to your sun soaked beaches and vivid trees.
I like to be soothed. I like to inhale your fragrant balmy breeze.
Your beauty casts a spell on me. It infiltrates into my heart and even into my kidney.
Joan de Déu Prats once called you “the city of the gardens with chimney.”
Oh, Barcelona! I see you a gorgeous mesmerising Mediterranean bride
You are enfolded in beauty, charm and pride.
Oh, Barcelona! Can I have the honour to be your knight
even for just one month and a fortnight?
Oh, Barcelona! You stand so loftily between the mouths of the rivers Llobregat and Besòs.
To you I send millions of kisses or “besos”.
“Oh, Barcelona I am so eager to come to you!” I said this even to a skylark.
How nice to have a stroll around the Gothic area or a walk around the Labyrinth Park!
In the narrow streets of the Gothic area I love to lose myself.
I like to have a drink and tapas in Born, while listening to an old man telling a story of an elf.
The “Boquería” market and the boutiques in Gràcia have their own charm.
I would love to have a coffee there, while reading Homage to Catalonia, not Animal Farm.
Oh, Barcelona! You are a city that gets me hooked and makes me spellbound.
I like to go to the Palace of Music to listen to the sweetest sound.
How nice to be in the Gothic Quarter or in Las Ramblas shopping street
contemplating the amazing architecture, while listening to buyers’ shuffling feet!
Oh my God, what a heavenly sight to see, and what marvels to relish!
What beauties to enjoy, and what a marvellous city to cherish!
Oh, Barcelona! Poets have written your name on papers of gold.
Only beauties are bestowed on you by the Lord.
Written Summer 2011

Thursday, May 24, 2012

A Silkworm by Ali Znaidi

A silkworm waging
a war on
the cocoon,
and breaking the bars
with all her might.
She jubilantly
leaps out
from the cocoon,
silk in my hand.

Written 02/03/2012

Waterfalls of Hope by Ali Znaidi

Tonight the moon was sick.
The stars were slumbering
under black blankets,
and electricity went mad.
A small glimpse of seeing
a little lantern poised on
the wall of a remote
standing there emanating
waterfalls of light
brightened my mood.
A little lantern holding its own
luminosity and proudly dancing
for being able to reflect,
and produce light in this sinister
nailing the coffin of despair,
and flooding it with
waterfalls of hope.

Written 02/02/2012

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Five Experimental Sonnets by Ali Znaidi

Sonnet 1

You can read sonnet 1 here

Sonnet 2

You can read sonnet 2 here

Sonnet 3

You can read sonnet 3 here

Sonnet 4

He escaped the grey town.
The colour grey harmed the eyes.
The eyes wanted to see other colours
diluted w/ desire.
The colour grey—ash in the ashtray,
grey pebbles prisoned in asphalt,
scents of a burnt tyre:
All coerced the poor eyes.
Same colour cuffed the eyes
from eyelash to eyelash.
The eyes wanted to see prairies, so lush.
Even a flash of greenness would suffice.
It would set the eyes aglow,
saving them from a deathblow.

Written 13/04/2012

Sonnet 5

You can read sonnet 5 here

Sunday, May 20, 2012

A Traditional Haiku by Ali Znaidi

   the sun’s rays wither
 summer will never exist
    happy April’s fool

Written 08/04/2012

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

A New Life by Ali Znaidi

Deep sea.
Rough sea.
Howling wind.
Merciless tempest—
a monster with
dreadful shapes.
Ghost of death
A lifeboat.
A white boat.
A new life

Written 16/04/2012

End by Ali Znaidi

And the morning
passed away,
as a flicker of light.
And the magnet
of the sun
witherd away,
as a weary bee
swallowed by
a black lily.
And the body
turned into a
nude skeleton,
as if it never

Written 16/04/2012

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Three Haiku by Ali Znaidi submitted to the HaikuNow! international contests 2012

The Haiku Foundation here created the HaikuNow! international contests to expand opportunities for writers of English-language haiku. Prizes will be awarded for English-language haiku in three categories: traditional, contemporary and innovative. Results of 2012  were announced on April 17. For past winners, see the HaikuNow! Archive here.
These are the haiku I submitted on March 26, 2012 for this contest

Traditional Haiku

rain mingles with mud—
the big house falls asunder
wallpaper keyholes

Written 17/09/2011

Contemporary Haiku

a ripe fragrant apple thrown into
the dustbin
an educated  jobless

Written 11/05/2011

Innovative Haiku

worm injecting life into a corpse

Written 25/03/2012

So Many by Ali Znaidi

So many bombs of
anger are stored
in the heart,
ready to
explode any time
and destroy.

So many bombs of
wrath are stored
underneath the tongue,
ready to
explode any time
and assail.

So many wisdom teeth
are caged into the mouth,
ready to
and appease the tension.

Written 18 03 2012

A Bohemian Journey by Ali Znaidi

After years and years of making truce
with traditions and conventions,
and after years of touring the realms
of standardization,
it takes just one minute to be a bohemian.
Just decide to strip off
the robe of conformity
and start your bohemian journey,
letting your boat sail
against the current!

Written 10 04 2012

Postmodern Rain by Ali Znaidi

Then when I found frogs in the bucket instead
of water,
I just shivered.
I didn’t expect to find frogs; jumping frogs—
green ugly creatures that signify…
The bucket was full to the brim with frogs—
a palimpsest of scattered & scrambled ideas.
Green frogs in the bucket,
jammed like sardines in a basket.
Each one wanted to speak the truth.
I was flabbergasted.
I shivered.
I smashed the bucket against the wall,
and    f  r  a  g  m  e  n  t  e  d   it,
letting the frogs go in multifarious directions.

Written 10 04 2012