Meghzouchene's poetry

by Belkacem Meghzouchene Fri Sep 23, 2011 2:32 pm

63. Unbowed foe

Boredom,
a psychic cancer
hard to contain.
It kills
your wills,
bit by bit.
An invisible bullet
Shooting through
your morale.
No blood ;
no perforation.
Just creeping sequela.
Patience fails
to make it wither.
Time to fire away
from gorges of boredom.

64. V is for vagabond

Your neighbor, the have-not,
crawls on the odd pavements,
just below pigeons' crannies,
tonguing all heaven's dungs.

65. The waltz of bones

By quitting its body
the soul betrays it.
Irreversibly?
Comes the decay
of soulless flesh.
Irreversibly?
Remain the bones,
sturdy and alone,
waiting awhile
for the dust stage.
Irreversibly?
Short of a museum,
bones disappear, too.
Ossuaries catch
and denounce the authors
of man-slaughters
(Curators in disguise!)
Reversibly, this time.

66. Rescue tire

Close to your nave,
you dared not to turn.
Your eyes clasping
to bank notes,
my breathing was needless,
for I was moneyless.
Withdrawal was a must.
Cheap masts raised high,
I sailed faraway.
I settled nowhere.
Meanwhile, notes burnt up;
ashes blinding her eyes.
She remembers me.
She needs me, then.
I can't sail back
to you, Lady, you see?
Sorry! You're blind.
And I'm deeply deaf
to your belated calls.
Let me in my loneliness!

Belkacem Meghzouchene