All posts by admin

The Ride Home

Dimensions, Poems

The watch seemed to leap from the wall,
a strange artifice, as if it existed beyond time.

The two young men barely peeking into adulthood,
nodded in silence.

Their jeans, in style, only suit a lucky few.
Their calm amplified their presence.

Their songs were quests to restore losses.
The talkative girl in front of me was fired up, on a mission

to force ideas on us all through uncompromising energy,
self-assurance— the overwhelming weight of her chats.

She mentioned interrupting her mother’s interview
on a zoom call, never pausing to catch a breath,

never granting her mother a word. Her mother
had picked up only after ignoring five calls before.

Now I understand why the old man beside her,
fled in a hurry, choosing a peaceful seat for himself

and his book. I took his seat and continued the poem
I had begun on the previous train.

The clock hung on my office wall. The boys rode the green line.
The girl and the old man were on the red line.

In between, I read an interview with a contemporary poet
and looked up poems by another long gone.

My wife and son will pick me up at the end of the line.

Facebooktwittermail

Last Poem

Dimensions, Poems

This is not my last poem– ask my wife.
I wrote these lines last, though I conceived them first.
I wrote another poem, and returned to finish this.

I am still alive. Typing— can’t you hear?
This could still be my last line in my final poem.
The verdict comes when facts are known.
I may not be there for that debate.

I won’t be there for every discussion.
If this turned out to be indeed my last, know this:

  1. I did not believe that at the time.
  2. I had nothing urgent to communicate.
  3. Like you, I have regrets, unfinished projects,
    unfulfilled desires. I am not satisfied.
  4. I fell short: expected more: to be better, stronger,
    Higher, happier, richer– you know the drill.

I understand all of this is temporary.
But I might be wrong.

Facebooktwittermail

The Moon

Dimensions, Poems

The moon contemplates a change of orbit:
to hide, go on a strike; pack its suitcases, turn off
the light, sever the wires, turn away, and plunge.

It has been offended since we learned to speak of it.
It resents how we invoke its name, color, mood,
its taste, even its feelings.

It is absurd that the moon can be shiny white,
bloody orange, a sad messenger, a fierce silver lion,
and a lover lamenting loneliness and abandonment.

We also call it joyful, majestic.
Or a loaf of Afghani bread, a wheel of Swiss cheese,
and combining the two we refer to it as a pizza.

Some say delicious, others say amore.
We offer it up for slicing—
half moon, full moon. Skinny or fat.

It may vanish, appear, or linger unseen.
We chart Its appearances to fill calendars
that insistingly drag us through hills and valleys.

Citizens of nations see images of their jailed heroines
or exiled kings upon its surface. Last I looked,
I saw everything—and nothing.

I could make out mountains, clouds, rivers, trees,
spaceflights, prose, equations, and also saw nothing
but a round shape begging me to engage.

When the moon is full, at its finest, we are told
our darker selves roam unleashed. Wolves howl loudest.
Under its light, we are able to cross the desert at night.

The moon is a cold-blooded body, suspended midair,
staring at us like a mute witness or an innocent voyeur–
an ageless elder, foreign in origin,

yet has recognizable facial features.
He reminds us of someone we have known
since we first learned to look up—perhaps a grandfather.

Facebooktwittermail

Morning Coffee

Dimensions, Poems

She complains about her routine as she clings to it,
moving through chores— early hours, as if treading
on fragile ground, she slips into the shower, then the kitchen

where the coffee pot rinsed the night before waits in silence.
Her shiny blue mug reminds her of a distant night,
at a campsite where a prominent moon

and cheering stars lit the deep-blue sky.
The light spread and shined, beaming like wildflowers.
Back to the cup, she sips, leans in, and feels excluded.

Her friends have side notes, hushed exchanges,
secondary bonds, secret addictions.
They shop around, gossip, practice yoga,

seek pleasure. They cheat time to forget the helpless now.
They stretch arms, lift chests, inhale desires,
and bathe in the forbidden— the tangled life.

She feels like a wrecked ship, exhausted from long voyages,
salted baths, and the weight of wrinkled luggage of young sailors.

Facebooktwittermail

Dimensions

Poems

Dimensions Book CoverThe imagery of this collection varies from a silky pillow, to a bullet hole inside a school’s wall. It depicts revolutionaries and lovers around the globe, and highlights a freckle majestically placed under the most luscious lips.

This collection takes us from the kitchen to the office walls, stopping for a nature hike, and onto sleeping with a herd of wolves conspiring to overthrow a corrupted regime. It is liberating and inquisitive.

Inside the cover, young people hold white roses as they dance, while birds denounce misery, and witness the distribution of love.

The poems are reports from the field; the emotional quest of someone trying to decipher relationships and bring us closer. Mohamed Chaouchi opens a window onto a horizon bordering an ocean. He is eager to share stories, which are usually told at night when the silver moon looks its best, and the naked lover is the warmest inside its nest.

Facebooktwittermail

Warming up

Poems

Flowers are blooming
earlier each year, while seas
are on the rise.

Writers are busy building
their online portfolios.

Readers cherish
their own truths, enjoy
new communities.

Belonging is now a digital right.

Poets surf horizons
and navigate wounds.

They burn verses
to warm the night.

Facebooktwittermail

Eastern Lover

Accents, Poems

I listen to the East and grow uneasy.
A bitter sadness overtakes me.

The wide dark eyes of Eastern women
become both home and exile.

I dig into the past, a time when we held
our struggles tightly and rose to them.

Then shepherds carried bread and flutes,
literature exposed empty promises,

and idealists were the only warriors.
For migrating birds, nostalgia is a refuge.

I choose hope and listen to music
along forgotten roads.

I dream of reinventing myself, befriending
lovers, and sunbathing in secluded backyards.

Facebooktwittermail

On Names

Poems

I think of neighborhoods in cities
where the sun rises out of duty and boredom.

Of dusted streets and deserted schools
named after kings in rural areas.

The more pretentious a place’s name,
the more it resembles a dump.

Names try hard to make up the gap.
to mask reality, to project lofty claims.

Like journal entries of unfulfilled desires,
or promotions of unhealthy diets.

Examine a name long enough, meaning appears.
Sometimes a name craves things to improve.Facebooktwittermail

Why the Stock Market Will Go Down To Zero

Humor

Come on, don’t be absurd now. The market at zero? That’s a far stretch. It will never happen.

Precisely, my friend. You did the talking on my behalf. It is outlandish, beyond belief. How on earth could someone imagine such a disastrous outcome, let alone go public with it. It takes some nerve, I tell you.

Not so fast. Just hear me out, would you? I shall get to the point and make my case.

Just common sense, if you ask me, plain and simple. You see, you would easily believe me if I were to write about the stock market doubling from its current level. And with some difficulty you could also believe me if I were to say the market will lose half its value. This is simply because we are wired to believe the good news and we are not readily willing to accept the bad news. That is why the doom bearers have to work extra hard to prove their case. They are only vindicated after the facts. However, all of this theory is thrown out of the window when I say the stock market is going to zero.

What does $0 mean? Is it the same as free? Or worthless? Bankruptcy for all?

Well, I agree that zero is not really going to happen. At least not directly; or overnight. But how about a major decline worse than the greatest depression we have seen so far. A loss of greater than 80% in stock market. Then the government steps in and nationalizes the big banks, and major companies from every industry. Effectively, pushing the many stocks to zero and the market closer to zero than we have ever seen.

You say that is just rubbish? Well, please hear me out as I list my reasons.

1- It has never happened before. Yes, you read that correctly. Because it has never happened before then it MUST happen in the future. This is the most compelling reason, I think. And when it happens, it will be the biggest and the blackest of black swans. You have heard of a black swan, right? It is the unpredicted and sudden fall of the market that catches most by surprise, including the powerful institutions. Like when the tsunami caught traders while they were enjoying their recreational swims. Lehman Brothers disappeared in fumes because of one of those!

If a ten percent decline is called a correction, 20% a bear market, and 50% decline a depression, then 100% will be called a clean slate, wiped out, or simply re-setting the count to zero.

The marketing folks will come up with flashy and catchy headlines. Actually, I take that back. There will be no headlines. Because no one will have time to write about the biggest event in the history of the market.

Everyone will be so shocked with the news that they will just sit still, and wonder if this was a trick, a false reading of the tape, a glitch maybe; or maybe it was a hack. Was the trading halted or is it over and done with. Finito. As in no more trading.

Such a state of shock assumes, of course, a sudden fall of prices to zero. If the fall is gradual, however, then there will be headlines. In fact, articles will be written in advance to explain why it fell and what to do from there. Analysts know very well how to explain the market’s actions in hindsight. They fall short at forecasting but never fail to come up with a reason why the market did what it did.

If the crash does not happen by chance, markets makers can still make it happen, perhaps, and maybe for the following reasons:

2- The United States has many enemies. Although they are our enemies, they take advantage of our democratic and financial institutions and they invest (heavily I may add) in our market. In short, foreign investors– governments and others– are hiding their wealth in our market. They are protecting their capital from their poor citizens, seeking growth, and are trying to impose some control over our economy. Holding us hostage, economically speaking. Those filthy-rich foreigners!

So what if we voluntarily set the prices to zero and this way we take all their money away? Without firing a single bullet, we can bring their economies to their knees. So you see, setting the prices to zero makes sense for national security.

3- You have heard of the social divide. Basically, the rich are getting a lot richer and the poor are falling behind faster than ever before. There used to be a middle class. No more. It disappeared. Or it is getting trampled. Most of us are barely hanging in there, hoping to stay afloat as we struggle to face minor crises when they arise.

So obviously, eliminating the middle class, the powerful engine of spending, is not good for the economy, or for the political stability of the country. No one wants any social unrest. Rioting and people revolting. To help solve the problem, the market makers will need to level up the playing field. Taking the market to zero will allow us to be equal again. As it should be. Why is it that some are born rich and others are born poor? If we are all Americans, then we should compete in fairness. No one should get a head start.

I am tempted to keep on going. But you’ve got the point my friend. There are more reasons to take the market to zero than there are to take it higher from here. I thereby rest my case and wish you well. Happy trading.Facebooktwittermail

Refugees

Poems

What does it mean to be violently displaced– roots cut?
To become nameless; faceless as you blend into a sea of faces
around you. What does it mean when home is no longer safe?

That your savings vanished, your job disappeared,
house flattened, families killed? What does it mean
to walk a thousand miles, cross borders, seek refuge?

Memories fade as you struggle to stay alive in the dark.
Packed into camps, living under tents.
Indefinitely postponing your medical needs.

No calls to make, no emails to send.
No papers to read, no news to watch.
You are the headline; the show others are watching.

What does it mean to survive war? To be denied entry?
Refused , turned down, and rejected once more at borders?
I hope to never know. I cannot even ask.

Customs at the borders, bureaucrats in consulates,
and elites in parliaments won’t let you in;
a few citizens even protested.
If you are angry, I understand. If you hate me, I understand.Facebooktwittermail