Biography of Locura Alaam
Started writing Poetry at the age of 14, and even though at the first the interest was mostly in Arabic Poetry, later on the interest turned to English at the age of 16.
Nevertheless, the interest has furthermore expanded over the past year into Rap, and now the skill in writing raps (and rapping to an extent) is being developed as well.
My real first name is Husain, by the way.
Locura Alaam Poems
Hold My Hand
Just hold my hand, girl we'll walk through this together We'll keep it up forever Won't let it end ever
My First Actual Rap Song
Chorus As I went on living life with sorrow sharp as a knife I went through quite the change
The Joy Of Life
Oneday comes while another one goes That's my life: so full of woes Bob Marley said and I attest -With so much pain that's in my chest
The Mysteries Of Life
By the light reflected from the moon By the night in its prime at noon Life goes by and death flows nigh People smile and sometimes sigh
A Song For A Very Dear Friend
Listen now, my pearl Even though I'm just a churl I do know life is hard Don't need to ask no card
A long time it sure has been Tell me do you miss my pen? The words of ink that I lay down To rest on paper without a frown
By Death, Dear, And The Name Of Hell
By Death, dear, and the name of Hell Wouldst thou, one day, so ring my knell? By Hell, and Death, I'm just a shell I ask thee, love, just do it well
Bahrain, My Dear Country
Bahrain, my dear country You ask how I love thee? Would you ask on any day For a verbal answer, I would say
Drowsy I felt when she Embraced me softly A joy mathless...O si! Tender they were and holy
The Lone Wanderer
He walks down the path he chose Yet wonders: 'What was the cause? ' So many years ago it started And now his fate's all discarded
A Lover's Fear
The night hums a song in my ear When it does, my love, draw so near But I admit that I do fear That this night, dear, my last would be
A Shadow's Oath
He didn't know what to say Not even on that day When his love sat right there Her aura filled the air
Procrastination On Math Project In Ib Da...
We have to do a Math Project In life, it's a mental reject In IB, it is no joke For sanity already broke
The Crucified Tear 1
A little boy once shed a Tear He hid it in his fist with fear Of mockery, and of the world He returned to his bed and curled
The Lone Wanderer
He walks down the path he chose
Yet wonders: 'What was the cause? '
So many years ago it started
And now his fate's all discarded
And his mind still does ponder
Why he pulls a Joker after Joker
The future is just so dim
The present does not guide him
Thus all he does have is the past