Tag: #Poetry

The decrepit shallowness we live with
day in and day out
dictated by a calendar with hallmark bullshit
mapped out

stealing lineage/ history/ in bits
doled out in porridge bowls
for misfits/ who live in doggery—

think less of themselves than dogs
care to consider
given into a story of we know better

we trod on in misery/ some shiny moments
of bliss/ marked on a calendar/ for next year

we fold it up/ carry ourselves to post
mark it for good times/ celebrations

if we have anybody left who cares
or wants to pretend it’s a new day/ same as last year—

we carry on/ we throw parties/ we throw our lives away. 

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

Photo by Xuan Nguyen on Unsplash

sometimes when I’m sitting here 
writing and staring
I get stuck and can’t move—
 
time has no pace 
space has no time
the night became day
day became night

the numbing of my seat 
tingles and shocks
my back
my mind is struck
awe-struck 
by night lost to day—
 
spun into a dream
and spilled like milk 
the black fleck of type
peppers the page and I

iiiii….I
sputter away….

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

Photo by Hannah Wei on Unsplash

I saw a fireball fall
from the sky 
in slow motion 
low-hanging 

above treetops 
hovering like a headlight 
on a motorbike 

stuck on brights mode 
zoomed real close
then fizzled out 

in a black ashen stream
of thin air—
poof gone into nothingness! 

Not there.

That’s when it became
real clear 
I just witnessed a ball of light 
falling/ in control/ it seemed—
unreal.

A falling star
controlled 
by hands unseen—

a meteor ship sent 
from a distant galaxy 
of our outermost stream
of consciousness.

A marvel jetted 
through our atmosphere 
like Thor raging down 
from heaven’s door.

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

Photo by Mindaugas Vitkus on Unsplash

LIVING IN THIS WORLD TODAY first appeared on this blog March 5, 2021. I’ve reposted again as the horrid events in this country, and around the world, leave me in a bit of a bummer and stupor today.

living in this world today to wonder

about and pray of not dying

the living live in constant death

and of love and of fear intertwined

like a ball of yarn spun then dropped

in dismay.

living in this world today to ponder 

away the life given in love and lust

and sometimes in rage, doped up 

by the news bitten from hate.

living in this world today to squander

the love born yesterday to strangle 

the innocence of nuance and play.

living in this world today to blunder 

the blessing of angels and saints who

deliver from evil the human decay

‘a life worth living’  is what they say

however you cut it, don’t piss it away.   

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

it all became a thwart 
towards space
throttling, hurtling, scurrying
debris
a shock wave felt across the world

I cross my eyes to see 
the strange light
emanating from the clouds

and rearrange my thoughts to match
the pace of this new phenom 
entering from above

I shiver and recollect, the same
as the day you pummeled your fist
into my jaw—

and I lost all of my humanity
as it was forced into a hyper-reality

I live that moment, every moment 
on end, moment of that moment
on end, to that moment
on end—
to this day.

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

I have no collection of poems or tiny messages
wrapped in wax paper / delivered by little gnomes

I see no fortunes ahead / in miniature globes with snow
handed to little fingers with pointy wedged toes and

there are no fancy delights ringing in our dreams of 
sugar plum scenes / nonsense to lessen the pain of No!

I cannot deliver magic and abundance on twinkle twinkle 
little star without acknowledging the loss / the tragedy / the sorrow

that lands on our door / cleaving open the closed / bitten heart of denial 
reigning pain / on our cities and towns / onward they march as we cower / we clamor

we collide in the streets / the thrumming of the New Year threatens / assaults / our confidence
lost in the dreams / some believed / some not / some scurry in doubt / and some— some retreat. 

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

Photo by olia danilevich

Don’t beg me to enlighten and entertain that intellectual
old man who was your professor, or may well have been 
on his bike pedal/ peddling/ mingling on your stoop 

charming you to listen to his worldly
knowledge and the reading of his little book 
on astrology and moons.

He once gave you a reading 
typed on rice paper
cut, bound and glued,
a tiny thumb-book 

gifted— 
as clever as his bifocal laughter and 3 speed
peddler/ tooting his horn for your glamor
and youth. 

Who made him the boss of you?

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

Photo by Brett Sayles

Blank documents/ in retrospect
alight the nascent day
sun cresting the horizon

meteor showers/ salted debris 
black canvas/ infinite twitches 
flicker against the night

the mind creates 
a fortress/ to ground the body 
to a meaning/ a purpose
to greet each day—

as the turning of lathe to leg 
on wooden post.

Would the Creator grumble if broken?
Of course you ask the obvious
not mistaken for frivolity—

you jester 
a crooked smile 
then proceed with caution. 

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash

I ask myself to batch it all up 
and let go
float the raft down the river
and watch it wash up later
downwind

stop pretending this doesn’t exist
and face the truth 
when will I see that it was part of my 
skin 

all the wounds
all the lines
all the ugly spots—

I chose to ignore

I try, I do—

but, however I parse it out
I lose in the end
the meaning—

of why 
I tried again, 
at all.

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

Photo by Hamza NOUASRIA on Unsplash

We bleed fatigue now
as contagion and war spreads itself
like jam across the universe

jamming mutations / mutating jam 
from reason to reason to gone fishin’
perhaps no reason existed, just mutation.

Fatigue recites a Soliloquy
to the few who engage 
a wide-eyed gaze 

at the mutant vibration 
of mutations—
living amongst our dead.

We plod on with our day
fatigue welded to the end 
of our words—

muscles atrophied / nerves deadened.

Fatigue engulfs like petrol on water
flames / bombs / fire's
in our mind’s eye
skies lit / trauma’s blaze

a trail through Millennial moments—

but those mutants are mutating
again / the bitter bitten 
bastard enemies
of our future dreams—

Act One complete!

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

Photo by Ayo Ogunseinde on Unsplash