Fly me to...

Fly me to destinations of future pasts
The gates are open
You are all invited.
Out of lot of noises
Silence prevails
Destinations of futures passed.

Photo Courtesy of Dan Mogensen.


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Just turned down an offer
Overseas and Vague

Lonely edge that heeds the fear,
Pretending it's closing in.
Hold on!
Say all your words
While you are dancing with the daring!

Struggle in different locations
Trying to catch a bright stretch
Aiming full time.

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The Global Individual

The Global Individual.
Copyright © Shadi Shidrawi 2015

Rusticity rusticity
Within modernity
The Postmodern fades

Tranquiluty tranquility 
In the midst of poesy 
The Romantics minimized

Postmortem in post humanism,
Man's metamorphosis into machine,
The monster is created!

Environmental studies in social fractures,
No compromise on the individual effect
The quintessential has evolved!

The wheel reinvented... 
The wheel reinvented...
Writers reimbursed...

Isms are naturally occurring 
Spritz is the fast reader.
Google is The dictionary 
Encyclopedias fade along with Encarta
Bytes melt in gigas and teras 
Word processing terrorizes spelling 
Excel does finance
Botox is the fountain of youth 
Sillicon survives the Holy Grail

Ease and comfort, 
Conventionally convenient!

Accessibility protected by passwords,
Transactions in seconds flood a treasury.
Globalization rendered inedible? 
May be not!

Yes, Individual
May be NOT!

Charging forth, towards the North!

Charging forth
Towards the north
of shores downtrodden
of realms not forgotten

Guide me with your skills
Address me with your spells
Felicitous would be
the response without stress.

Charging forth
towards the north
Simple minds at ease.
Revive me once
Till the rising dawn
When all who sleep 
Are calm and in peace.

Charging forth
towards the north
thousands of miles
A charging note
of what may become
a grove of olives
will grow and grow

Charging forth
towards the north
My heart racing
But not to flee.

Not to flee,
But to welcome.
Not to creep
But to wander
Not to decree
But to surrender 

A Pretense He Just Made!

A pretending glib
raises a fib
sun is down 
the corn is melting

Rich in snips.
Tolls at sips:
of frames,
suddenly gliding!

Strenuous at dawn,
covered and forlorn
the grits of sepulchers
snit in fits.

He saw the truck
getting rid of rubbish
right at the street 
where the torrential water
had appeased
his taste 
to fill!

Will i stay? 
Or will i leave?
It seems he's here 
to stay and believe: 

That, the truck, 
dumped the waste,
at the top of the gate,
carrying its feud,
machinations of civilians,
trying to blaspheme him, 
with oblivion.