AHMAD AL-KHATAT - POEMS

Ahmad Al-Khatat. He was born in Baghdad on May 8th. From Iraq, he came to Canada at the age of 10, the same age when he wrote his first poem back in the year 2000. He also has been published in several press publications and anthologies all over the world. His poems were translated into Farsi, Albanian, German, and Chinese. And he currently studies Political Sciences, at Concordia University in Montreal. He recently have published his two chapbooks “The Bleeding Heart Poet” and “Love On The War’s Frontline”.  With Alien Buddha Press. It is available for sale on Amazon. Most of his new and old poems are also available on his official page Bleeding Heart Poet on Facebook.

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Daughter of Death

Daughter of death she inhaled darkness and exhaled the light of universe
she wears the colour of fall and the skies become cloudy With rain drops of forgiving water
she doesn't cry as much as I do but she gets weak by the graveyard As she reads children names
her birthday is my depression day grief weeps from reading about my joys While joy cries from watching me in sorrow
she loves watching broken trees with branches all over my bleeding arms her favourite meal is the homeless dinner
her heart beats with the gravedigger’s work standing next to him, shamelessly drunk from collecting all parents during the war
​she laughs from watching their kids I asked her to be fair and feed the orphans she feeds them with Eve’s poison apple to die

Giant Brain

​You know that I miss you
but I truly believe that your
spirit has been by my yearning
in which, when I cry my tears
will come from my sad heart
​and not from my giant brain

Half of a Yellow Sun

Today, half of a yellow sun arises  
due to the civil war that forces the 
kids to use the kite with sharp knives 
to cut the other half to feed themselves 
one thousand days of pure darkness 
knowing what to kill and forgetting what 
to eat by the bloody wall of my neighbour 
whom I try to save his soul but he died firstly 
nothing belongs to me anymore in here 
young teenagers walk with the lifetime crowns 
meanwhile, I run after my shadow just to 
survive another day far from the death direction 
I learn a new language to smile longer 
I work with a less pay since I have no dreams  
yet, I see my days are wearing my grieves 
just so I feel my aches in every autumn season ​

My Lonesome Self ​

Into the water of the blue river 
I see my details without a shadow  
my face has a look of a dry leaf 
with my back straight as the mountain 
happiness is the missing puzzle 
to express how wonderful my life is 
lonely stars hanging with the moon 
like myself lonesome around strangers 
Living in another city, not my own  
with the future somewhere in my coffin  
seeking for attention of the zombies  
to eat my bones, to gladly drink my blood 
Let me go without saying anything  
since nobody understands my misery  
when I travel back to the old days when 
I thought I would be happy and not crying 
I am alone by the whiskey and the  
pack of cigarettes and together creates 
invisible friends, who will enjoy watching  
me reading my last words before I die alone ​

The Rainbow who Saved my Life

The last rainbow that appeared, 
recognized me from my eyes 
he told me that I survived the war 
and that he saved my life 
he said that back in my homeland  
he can’t be seen when he appears,  
instead he helps the angels to paint by 
Marking the children with my colours 
he painted red on the ones that died  
he painted orange on the hungry ones  
he painted yellow on the ill ones  
he painted green on the orphaned ones 
he painted blue on the heavily wounded ones 
he painted indigo on the ones with last breath 
and lastly, he painted me with violet  
to live between all of my old friends 
 
Who died, and I did not ​

The Scent of Death ​

All writers smoke cigarettes  
and so I smoke cheap cigars 
All poets drink wine and cheese  
and so I drink vodka with nuts 
All dreamers talk about romance  
and so I talk about love in an erotic way 
All workers take a break from work  
and so I do not take a break from life 
All students share ideas to help me  
and so I share my knowledge voicelessly 
All ordinary people sleep well and warm  
but I do not sleep well because death take me 
until the unknown day my flesh will release 
the scent of death from the four walls of my room 

Five Stages of Death ​

O world, take the cup from me 
I already feel the damages of 
The last sips down my throat 
Exploring the five stages of 
Death 
Denial 
Isolation 
Anger 
Anxiety 
and depression ​

Museum of Corpses ​

Inside  
museum  
of corpses  
there are  
dead refugees  
bodies who 
died ’cause  
they were  
not characters,  
but priceless,  
experiments 
That helped 
humankind, 
with plastic  
surgery, they 
test dangers  
And feature  
The weapons 
Of flesh 
and blood,  
crash test 
dummies,  
design body  
armour against  
the aliens  
from the  
spaceship  
and women,  
private body  
parts were 
all set  
to put on  
sale, since  
all the  
hairstylists 
and  
cosmetics 
had been  
working  
hard to  
keep their  
belief in  
Death.  
It does not  
have to  
be boring  
inside the  
mind of  
Lively souls ​

Death Philosophy ​

Someone who loves 
chilling  
dancing  
drinking 
smoking 
asks me if I write with an ink? 
 
I answer to her with  
yes, it’s from  
my pain 
my ache 
my lonely  
my grief  
with the colour of death philosophy 
 ​

Will Be Quite ​

I’m seeking a land, and not a homeland 
Without the aid of Google maps, instead 
I will discover a new land with a loyal pet as 
I gave up from my friends a long time ago 
I want to work like a bee, and fly with 
the birds by the beautiful blue skies 
I create a family of different plants 
with seeds of my own, and rain from God 
being a writer is being a father of grieves, and 
writing about what the city lights hid from me 
the rain drops wash the rooves of leaders 
and damage the shelters of few believers 
with my eyes I see, while nothing stops me from  
crying when I hear my adopted brother’s dying 
I jump into the dead sea to cure my wounds 
as I will have new cuts with no pain as long as 
I will be drinking whiskey, and creating an unhealthy 
cloud from the smoke of my addiction to cigarettes 
being happy doesn’t mean I’m sleeping without 
counting the stars, instead it’s another way to 
forget that I am actually being hanged to death 
since the day, I decided to own a colour of the rainbow 
I will be quite with the mirror, and hold  
The candle dropping more wax in my throat ​

Accent of Grief  ​

I stepped above my spirit 
to release the joys from the bottom  
of my belly button 
I broke my heart a few times 
To feel a healthy beat to enjoy  
every misery I face on my own 
I cracked my brain to recall 
the times when my father wasn’t a man, 
when he knew about death 
I drank dark roast coffee  
to bitter my words from saying them 
to the clock on the dull wall 
I cried as a powerless musician  
because I knew that my blues and jazz 
have a deep accent of grief 
 ​

A Foreign Student and Shaving Blades ​

A few weeks ago  
I went to the washroom in a 
Coffee shop nearby to my school 
there by the sink 
I saw shaving blades  
I was shocked and terrified in the moment 
I went back to my table 
to study my homework, next to me 
a foreign student was talking on the phone 
he spoke the same language as I do, 
his mouth was smiling, and his eyes were  
watery creating a river of lonesome homesickness 
turns out, the shaving blades 
have a chemistry in his current life 
so do I, but I would use it on some other day of the year 
 ​