close
close
Close
Poetry
Essays
menu
Menu
Previous page
Previous page
Next page
Next page
God Sleeps in the Middle of a Homeless Man's Guitar Strings
Shehab Albalooshi
1 min read
احبكِ حب احمقٍ لإلهه
أَوْ شاهِدًا أَناَرَ طَريقَهُ بِنَبْرَةِ صَوْتِهِ أَوْ تائِهًا لَمْ يَرَ نَفْسَهُ إِلَّا بِانْعِكاسِها
Shehab Albalooshi
1 min read
My Soul Undead
My soul undead; My voice they hear. My horse still runs at the castle’s rear, against that wind, against that year.
Shehab Albalooshi
1 min read
I Used to Have a Name
I used to have a name, but now I am afloat. Above my people's dread, I live in moments past.
Shehab Albalooshi
1 min read
My Father Was a Drunken Fool
I then became a firestorm. I then became the slithering voice.
Shehab Albalooshi
1 min read
Beauty Has Come to Lament Your Name
How hideous and ghastly, it has succumbed.
Shehab Albalooshi
1 min read
Previous page
Previous page
Next page
Next page
keyboard_arrow_up