Shehab Albalooshi

My work serves as a personal cartography of exile and resistance, written to navigate the 'shattered glass' of a displaced identity. In the spirit of the Beat Generation, I seek to transform a private 'howl of madness' into a rigorous philosophical inquiry against the machinery of thrall. By weaving historical and theological threads together, I strive to move beyond individual suffering toward a shared, universal resilience found in the eternal march of man..

Beauty Has Come to Lament Your Name

How hideous and ghastly, it has succumbed.

Iridescence

In all your laughter, fury and frustration, I worship the sacred air that touches your presence.

I Am Become Your Tomb

Here to serve, and pray Father Time honour your name, as you live for glory and to see your enemies burn at the gates of Valhalla.

Here to whisper your soul
Into slivers and shreds.

There Is No Beauty

There is no beauty in the summer breeze I have been yearning, when it carries with it mustard gas and a love letter from Armageddon, in yearning for me.

Insipid Beasts Buried in the Snow

On top of Mount Kilimanjaro or buried deep in the snow...

On top of Mount Kilimanjaro or buried deep in the snow, we marched as cacophonies and blank silhouettes.

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