Sing

I remember how the dawn was tickling the soft hands. Buildings, subways, leading to the small apartments and unwanted meetings. Have you walked Manhattan at 6 am? The mystical lights, all the faces, tired and filled with millions of bad photographs. All the grandmothers and the grandfathers … New York City is filled with children. Death is close to their skin, to their majestic eyes, to their dreams, to the sunshine covering their bodies. It’s close to each and everyone of them.

God: Here, come over here.

Me: O God, your face is unknown to the painters. Poets are not prophets.

God: Here, come over here.

Me: Where do I find the truth?

God: In wastebaskets.  

Me: Not even in the heart of the sea?

God: In wastebaskets.

Sing, babies are being born

China is a billion people

We love wars.

Sing, small rooms crammed with people

Music is real

No one prays to God.

Sing, we died today

The night was heavy

When Jesus died for our innocent sins.

Sing, a million women pregnant

The lights never sleep

The world is a headache.

Sing, when the drums speak

Rivers and clouds smile

On our deserted paradise.

Sing, Time is a matter of old watches

Future doesn't exist

Alcohol is the answer.

Sing, mama smiled a lot

When she cut our fingernails

Sleeping in cold rooms.

Sing, when porn stars were featured on

The pope’s forehead,

The people danced.

Sing, I don't believe is sleeping early

Songs are nightmare

When insomnia is your paradise.

Sing, I slept with her

She was crying

I hate her cancer.
 

Sing, in New York

There’s one tree

And too many people.

Sing, between every other line

I write a haiku

Fuck poetry.

Sing

Sing

Keep Sing

And die alone.

Saif Alsaegh
April, 2013

My play "There was a Dream in Syria" at OU

From my play "There was a Dream in Syria" featured last week at the University of Oklahoma.

Witness Magazine-New York publishes a poem of mine.

http://issuu.com/forusa/docs/witness-2013-spring/3

Boring Earth

Boring is the earth

Everywhere is the same

Tall buildings covering the sky

The sky is where God used to live.

 

سوزان عليوان

The dawn is not free

The trees are not free

The wind is not free

The faces, the cars, the play grounds

Not free...

 

Boring is the earth

Everything is rusty

The glorious smoke rising from the ground

The crazy hiding their heavenly music trying to be normal.

 

Poems are not free

Paintings are not free

Angels are not free

Laughs, gazes, love

Not free...

 

Boring is the earth

Crowded stores

People running late

Huge corporation filled with

Groups of uniforms

Walking at the same time, eating at the same time, smiling at the same time.

 

Revolutions are not free

Prophets are not free

Power is not free

Knowledge, religion, earth

Not free...

 

Saif Alsaegh

Chicago, 2013 

"A Filthy City" - Saif Alsaegh

This one is to NYC. Published in the Great Falls Tribune:
http://www.greatfallstribune.com/article/20130127/LIFESTYLE/301270012/-Filthy-City

"Son of Nothingness" ~ Saif Alsaegh 1-19-31 SLAM

A Filthy City

The City is filthy
people walking with bottles of gin,
in circles.

Tall buildings masturbating
on the history of the ancient battles.
men of three faces
women with no lipstick.

Black parties
photographs of dying couples
all eyes illuminating
all souls are naked.

Libraries filled with smoke
paved roads

from idrugs

immigrants grocery stores
cathedrals
eating the lonely smiles of the children.

Facts:

Breathing is dangerous.

Hell is here, in our brains.

Airplanes are always sad

And we are very alone in this world.


Discoveries:

Better than music
better than fire
like the misty mountains at sunset
words of dead poets.

Happiness generates emptiness,
Jesus said.

Mother Mary was not a virgin

History is a meth

And I'm not the man of God anymore.


Random scenes:
Strangers
in a bar
burning the illusion of existence.

Drunk men under a bridge
creating their own heaven.

A father telling his daughter
how sad she will grow up to be.

O City filled with filth
Bottles of gin and people walking in circles
wishing they were dead ...

I want to tell you:
I'm just like you.
I'm not sad,
I'm not dead.
I am just trying to find eternity in my reflection.


Saif Alsaegh

Everything in between

Do you want to know what’s in my mind?

There’s heaven, hell and everything in between

 

There’s a civil war between numerous weak elephants

There’s that fine mother whom face fades away everyday

There’s the beautiful girl with black hair full of waves and mysteries

There’s that girl who speaks angelic

There’re so many tears that grew to a bitter monster full of poems

There’s a new Torah

A different god

There’s a dark night like a prison full of tortured souls

Piles of bodies sucking life and death out of me

Leaving my skull happy in the mud

There’s a lost home

There’re many pale people

Presenting dying symbols of clouds that declared a revolution on music

There’s that repetitive sad morning

There’re the hallucinations of Rimbaud

A mirage of a new year

A year with no identity; a year crammed with days of redemption prayers

There’re the marks of nails on my holly hands, holly feet, holly chest, brain, penis, asshole

There’s that celling covering eternity  

There’s a terrifying picture of the Messiah

With eyes that made me insomniac many nights

Made me feel that I worth a bad father, an old candy bar and many wars in my ill eyes

There’re the trails of Adam and Eve on my back

There’s a gray Christmas tree   

There’re smelly old books

There’re the remains of a demolished temple

There’s more than one soul

More than just words

There’s heaven, hell and everything in between.

Saif Alsaegh

Sept 2012