You’re super weird clearly lost to your ego dream nevermind me/ i am only three and lost in fantasy— learned to protect my feelings spilling out my seams way too early but that is only relative to your ability to see me/ even at three.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Ksenia Makagonova on Unsplash
cruel child, stops in his tracks and wonders— what would happen if i crush the soul of this poor little buzzer? no, he has to go! he’s a stinging hot mess of a threat! it’s me against him in the dry sunlight/ beams bathing the garden I still the heartbeat of the little bumblebee silent winks and smiles/ soul-crushing-emptiness living in the burn-holes of suburban nests non-existence repelling happiness yanks on the chain of my Uncle Bajis pissed, he yells— then lights the firecracker! i feel the neighbors glare as i run to fetch the ball and crawl across musty grass/ muddy-socked/ soaked hiding my skin i retreat to the tree/ i retreat to the crick to the woods/ to the broken treehouse— a shell abandoned, long ago. eyes whispering/ winds of words swirling trauma’s and graves/ shattered bits of promises creeping-up my legs/ in-between an innocence saved by machinations of world wars/ with hails and waves and hideous histories white flags and gray-bombers light the sky/ and red-powder mysteriously drops like rain on playgrounds/ on lots/ on mobile homes and supermarkets and—on arms of teens smoking cigarettes unseen hiding from hall monitors/ and teachers wondering what the hell it is! like chicken-pox/ red—spotting—trailing marking the arms of decades gone dog-eared on empty pages of half-told histories of dime-store paperbacks of betty-crocker recipes and playboy magazines.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
it takes all of me to meet you here in the middle or at least an agreed upon center it takes all of me to leave my cabin and ignore the pause i cultivated this past year, or more to settle the moments of shared space left in the past yet lingers oft and over and around like a stench into our future it takes all of me to engage a care when all my energy demands i stay right here— alone in my thoughts alone in my peace alone in my sentient being, and happy to agree to never leave it takes all of me to reckon a care.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash
The dark cloud looms like a harrowing expletive leaping from your mouth in violent rhetoric— besieged in the prison of your cold silence I pretend to ignore this brutality of practice— brutality in practice/ held like a captive— one day captured/ held in a dark cell stone-walled/ depression/ cold walls of hell banishment/ containment/ clinging to my flesh leeching emotion/ cradled affection/ longing for long moments quartered/ drawn/ executed—one by one with pinpoint precision.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Ashkan Forouzani on Unsplash
i locked you out you/ and all of them it was clear there was no way forward long ago/ severed and i hung onto nothing and i clung to hope and i hoped for something turns out it was fantasy a bludgeoning a falsehood and fallacy a foregone conclusion a reckoning clearly— never fulfilled.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Moritz Mentges on Unsplash
LIKE I SAID…
As I watch the TV and witness the horror the day slips away as if it never began the powerless feeling the air heavy light becomes dark day turns to ashes the gray in my brain matter becomes black no joy in birds chirping the people lack hurt driven deep into a pit of no turning back I ask for nothing hope for something the chatter the denial smiles of dolls appearing to sleep I clamor for news to break the hell— to no avail people boiling fear shit soaked rumors inferiority beliefs holding patterns that sever love and disintegrate into hate posing as knowledge arrogance on steroids don’t ask my opinions— ‘til truth matters again.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Stereotyped into your forehead the rage—the anger your mouth sealed shut frozen/ unbirthed a still-born moment a child caught between a glance unnoted between a mother/ a father disputes unfolded the truth revealed contradictions emboldened.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Daniel Mingook Kim on Unsplash
Single malt/ single file one mash/ one glass all you are/ wooden laughing at your stillness loving your silk and ash sipping on your sweet sass you say— life is a blast then bottle it up slow and steady studying— the tasting notes long/ fast/ smooth/ strong no need to linger/ fingering round and round on the tip of your tongue.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by YesMore Content on Unsplash
do you think me a blotted sky with no moon, sun or eyes? do you find my words a soft breeze in double-speak? I had this amazing memory of once loving you before a scream of questions pelted my mind like eyes boring alien-holes penetration deep-space-black lasered by nines forward into the backspaces of lost time.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Kenny Eliason on Unsplash
The nebulous atmosphere sifts through a black hole/ dissipates escapes without a glance/ nod/ or an adjustment to the cause of humanity no one cares about it/ no one notices it no change in pressure exists/ upon the lighting of day nor the pending dark/ of night. I thumb through pages of past mentions and accolades/ unencumbered by the chatter and wince at the sight of myself in the mirror— what has become of me? what has become of me? meaning—what has become of me in the sense that I look unsteady/ unsure not in the sense of dishevelment that’s a given I care less for— in fact/ proud of it’s less relevant than the scattered thoughts and projects littering this floor collecting dust/ it’s nebulous.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
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
When things seem too stagnant and the world too difficult, ponds and rivers and streams don’t flow, and words and music and lyrics don’t rhyme or reason, a note to fret, a sound delivered of logic or heaven. The negating and the infantile unleash like wild beasts, as the population mounts their ego’s deceased. Humanity pins their faces to walls of social-media accounts and digital digitizing, replaces their hearts and dislodges their brains, and the lovely old lady down the street spews hate, and your neighbors nice family lacks that familiar repose, as you contemplate, how the man over-there, doesn’t show you his cool collection of vintage cars anymore. No more can you claim your humanity next to someone you knew as friend, as they, unrelentingly bash your good name for play.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Elia Pellegrini on Unsplash
As hearings begin tonight, I am reminded of this poem I wrote, after witnessing that crazy event. Don’t know where this will all lead, maybe nowhere, we shall see… but it is worth the time to hear the evidence and progress.
UNBELIEVABLE was written on Coup Day—a reminder to January 6, I can’t unsee…
I have no words
Today
I’m spent, exhausted
Merely from
A viewing
On my screen
A coup… read more
Photo by little plant 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
My poem RAW WAR has been included in the new release, Issue 23 Spring 2022, of Door Is A Jar Literary Magazine. “Door is a Jar is a print and digital literary magazine of poetry, short fiction, nonfiction, drama and artwork. Our publication focuses on writing that is accessible for all readers.”
Here is a link to the magazine on Amazon.
Paperback: Amazon
Ebook:
Here is the list of Authors:
Tony Abbott
Madinah Jolaade Abdulsemiu
Rashmi Agrawal
Shannon Barbour
Mark Belair
Allyn Bernkopf
Robert Beveridge
Karen Boissonneault-Gauthier
James Bone
S. T. Brant
Corrinne Brumby
Charles K. Carter
R.T. Castleberry
Linda M. Crate
Gail Denham
Sarah Ferris
Sharon Goldberg
Phil Goldstein
KJ Hannah Greenberg
Steven Anthony George
Joe Gianotti
John Grey
Joel Harris
Phil Huffy
Olivia Ivings
Mark Jackley
Meghan Kemp-Gee
Jeffery Letterly
Kalyn Livernois
J.C Mari
Corey Mesler
Coery Miller
Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Cyndy Muscatel
Brontë Pearson
Robert Pegel
Scarlett Peterson
Vincent Antonio Rendoni
Kevin A. Risner
Matthew Schultz
Claire Scott
Beatriz Seeleander
Nora Smith
Gina Stratos
Edward Michael Supranowicz
w v sutra
Mary Grace van der Kroef
Alexandra Williams
Bill Wolak
Fran Zell
Okay, I’m game! Looks like I’ve been nominated for Publication of the Month for my Spotlight on Writers interview at Spillwords Press. I would welcome your vote very much, if you find my Spotlight worthy of your vote, as I am pleased to be included in this nomination alongside many other great authors. And, Apparently, registering is quick and painless, as told by someone who voted already.
*Please note, you need to register and/or login to vote.*
Dear writers,
We want to congratulate you all, as your pieces have been nominated due to Popular Demand for Publication of The Month of May!
You can vote here: https://spillwords.com/vote/
Voting will cease on 5/29 and soon after we will reveal the winner.
