a stormy night shattered
the fabric of the unseen.
the moment of retiring
the long-lived lies from
a fabricated existence.
the tearing of the flesh
rendered the truth naked
bones reveling in grotesque
articulation of structured
reality and scripted consciousness.
now it lays in graves of
failed awakenings where
hope is air and despair
is the earth that entombs all.
01/05/2016 © Waseem Sherif
28/03/2016 © Waseem Sherif
this is a haiku
and is being read by you –
words are connection.
30/04/2016 © Waseem Sherif
I have no stories with words and scribbles
ink crawling on derelict parchments
just a stowaway on a mind-boat
sailing aimlessly in oceans of language
alone. among the timelessness of
their chaotic movements.
There is no X to mark the spot.
no clouds above, no sky
no water in the ocean, just an ocean
no metaphors, no poetry.
I have no stories to tell.
just a Broken inkling of nonexistence
in a Room of Empty Reveries
and the Void to fill it with.
no meaning. no sense.
take it or leave it. that is
the only story I have for you.
isolated in its own fantasy,
feeding upon those oceans
full of scribbles and words and
bones carved by quills,
the instruments of Poetry and
30/04/2016 © Waseem Sherif
my poetry is an element of my existence’s character,
a timeless experience reigning the mind/soul complex throne
condemned to be dethroned upon articulation.
Language exiles it to the labels of timeline and history.
Confined to the prison of runes, glyphs and symbols;
receded from ethereal music to limited auditory markers,
from endless primordial euphoria to structures of consistent imagery;
morphed from an eternal wanderer sage into a soldier of syntactic rules;
my poetry dies
my soul dies
26/03/2016 © Waseem Sherif
Fluid mind motions
free from language
Thoughts, pure and naked,
stark in the vast
are the truth in its
28/04/2016 © Waseem Sherif
The truth lives in the very core of our being. however, it might be lost or forgotten because man always seeks ‘meaning’ and sometimes meaning isn’t enough. <= just an idea that’s been in my head lately. I have a lot of free time to waste wandering in endless philosophical BS.
Monochrome shades regulate the scenery.
Upon pallid lands, skyscrapers erected high
sweeping the horizon in chaotic asymmetry.
The sky crashes like a wave of gloom in the night.
The moon yet reigns with majestic tyranny.
Its silver light devours the darkness in my eyes.
The streets are plastered by shadows in company;
some are illuminated by patches of moonlight.
I walk the contrasted streets burdened on my feet.
My sight rises scheming ahead the blurred lines
anticipating a familiar shape of memory,
an opened door of a home and a warm smile.
21/02/2016 © Waseem Sherif
rhymed poetry is not my preference. but I do like to try different forms once in a while.
So many feelings yet so few words
I’m lost within these runes of love
It feels like music played with magic
And I’m just so helpless to play it along
by my humble and plain ink moods
I try my best to channel the magic out
The pen as my wand, waving it around
Alas. Not a word. Not a sound.
17/01/2016 © Waseem Sherif
I don’t like roses much. I do love jasmine though. too bad I don’t have a good shot. It’s going to be jasmine season soon here in Tunisia and I’ll make sure to get good macro shots.
That is me! just my reflection on water at the deep bottom of a well.
Now, say hi to Nunu. :3
Hannibal Barca (3rd panel) & Publius Corneilius Scipio Africanus (1st panel) from the historical manga, Ad Astra.
I’m sorry for the random picks this time! I take pictures randomly so I thought it wouldn’t be a problem to share them randomly too! >_<
dim dark pitch black
opaque obscure oblique –
life is a shadow
27/04/2016 © Waseem Sherif