The future of Alexandria

The sea is waiting you, oh Alexandria...

As your ruined palaces and temples

set up by pharaohs and kings

lie in its murky waters,

so shall your streets and houses of today,

your monuments of old on land

see the rising sea embrace them.

Your past, today and future shall be united

in the sea, as the glaciers melt

and the Mediterranean rises,

its waves the last army

which shall ever conquer Alexandria.

27.06.2016

White phosphorus burning in the night sky

above Syrian homes

illuminated by its fires.

In human flesh a tiny piece of phosphorus

can keep burning a day;

Lancet study recorded that from Gaza.

It burns holes in human flesh,

in that darkness

it illuminates,

in that darkness

it creates

with that flesh on fire.

27.06.2016

THE NIGHT LAND

Against a light orange background

the birches sway

in the midsummer night.

I have been awaken

by a mosquito

seeking a little blood.

The green leaves, emerging

to their own colour

from black,

on those dark branches

still camouflaged.

The night is a land

whose border is still

far away.

Like the buzzing mosquito,

it escapes me, that border,

through the hours.

27.06.2016

#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse

Alan Hollinghurst II

A fine piece of English chalk

pretending to be marble.

17.06.2016

Tiresias to Creon

To David Hockney

It is wrong, for us - the old -

to continue

when the young die

and are lowered to the soil

to nurture it

when we, with a limp

go to face new days

etching them in our

shrinking brains

when the Earth,

their second womb

makes them a womb

for its small beings.

Cease, old man -

the tombs are ready...

17.06.2016

Alan Hollinghurst

What is the point of Alan Hollinghurst?

To produce a parody of a gay writer's oeuvre

 before they became queer;

producing pastiches of the novels of those

English gentlemen of Oxbridge

too old by then or too dead to bugger him when he was young.

That is the point of Alan Hollinghurst -

a parody on two legs, producing bourgeois fiction

so nauseatingly ready for BBC to produce that

Andreï Makine could be his French pseudonym.

A fine English piece of chalk pretending to be marble.

11.06.2016

breaking the sound barrier

the jet fighter hides behind the cotton clouds

a modern chariot from the sun god's entourage

joining huitzilopochtli hiding its light

in the white mountains floating

but tlaloc that devourer of children

sends us abundant rain

so plentiful are our sacrifices

so freely flows humanity's blood today

07.06.2016

The past, that foreign land,

is under occupation by today

and has been conquered anew

by each following era,

each proudly putting its flag

above the ruins, each

sending its magistrates to

unite that occupatied land

to its occupiers', to give it

a veneer of the culture of the

occupier, to claim it as its

source spring - only to

give way to a new wave

of proud conquerors

which shall stalk its own

ruins also, for

a passing moment in time.

05.06.2016