‘In Jerusalem’ by the Mystic Poet Siam

September 20, 2016 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION


Shola Balogun

A mystic poet is one not only with a higher level of creative talent but also one whose spiritual vision presents both a distinct form of language and prophetic minstry, comprising love poems with revolutionary themes and protest. Mystical poetry experience,with all its stunning imageries, finds a deeper interpretation and dimension in SIAM.

The poem, IN JERUSALEM, a solemn yet agonizing symbolism of an unwavering soul after the vision of God in the midst of chaos provides a higher model of literature with inner spirituality. The contents of the poem hold the literary resources and imaginative creativeness of which great poetries are made. One is not only attuned with the the cosmic centrality of Jerusalem in divine economy, the Deuteronomic placement of its temple, and the visible presence of conflict in Palestine, one is made to experience the expansive moods of a great thinker from whom one could learn elevated ideals and as well profit as from any sermon.

SIAM’s poetry speaks eloquently of the altered level of awareness to which the men and women of richest wisdom stand in full stream.

Jerusalem provides the symbol of the pillar of fire, the desert dialogue, the sense of presence of a transforming light for the lives of millions of the oppressed, the sick, the downtrodden, the despised, the poor of the world. This portrayal is aptly projected in the contexts of “cosmic aesthetics”- apprehensions of imageries, which have a subtler kind of attractiveness to raise us into the literal sense of “feeling-with”.

The identity of SIAM has not only been established as a revered scholar, learned teacher of ancient records, playwright, dramatist, and mystic poet, his engaging mind has added volumes to English vocabulary and a distinct genre to world literature.

One may stand on a different ground to talk about SIAM’s tradition of poetry-making and the magnificence recurrent in his works, but one could not successfully deny his vast talents and eloquence in the arts. As in the poetries of great imaginers such as Khayyam, Levi Yitzchak and Rumi, SIAM’s IN JERUSALEM carries within its lines an extraordinary touching journey.

The reader is offered a living ‘Hu-ni-ver-sal’ poetry.



In Jerusalem


(A poem of Firasah Love and call to ALL the righteous of the world, on behalf of ALL my brothers and sisters now dispossessed, dying and suffering in Palestine; and on behalf of the memory and honor of the great heroic writer and academic who spent his life struggling for the Palestinian cause ~ Edward Said, Nov 1, 1935 – Sept 25, 2003)






i will die in Jerusalem

on a day, neither cold nor hot,

a day told of, long, long ago,

before the Ark of Noah, Alaihi~Salam,

was built to float, and rest upon the top of Mount Judi

the place of my birth is also the place of my death,

the origin is always in the end; ask Jesus,


or our Holy Prophet Muhammad, Sall’Allahu

Alaihi was Salam,

their lives can tell you more of this than i,

but our ending is always in our beginning,

and our beginning is always in our end;

all things begin and all things must end ~ in Jerusalem.


i will die in the streets of Jerusalem,

on a day of joy amidst weeping,

wailing, and great lamentation,


an aftermath to mad, but loving,

and yet, joyous, poetical prophesying,

though IAM no Prophet Alaihi-Salam, just

another poet,

walking in the footsteps of the Prophets Alaihi- Salam,

who all went completely mad on behalf of the


of righteousness in the midst of

unrighteousness, and

justice in the midst of injustice;

you and my brothers will see ~

because this earth and all flesh shall see it together,

yet, IAM but ONE of TWO,

that shall dance their MAD dance in the streets of

Jerusalem together,

on behalf of the



of their brothers’ suffering,

the ONENESS of their brothers’ needs ~

all my brothers in the great land of Palestine,

all my brothers and sisters who are dying in the

great land of Palestine,

all my brothers who need me and you in the

great land of Palestine,

all my brothers and sisters waiting on you and

me, in the great land of Palestine;

my brothers near the Gaza Strip,

my brothers in Shiloh, Suba, Kakun, Jafa, and Akka,

my brothers who had thirty-two of their houses

destroyed by bulldozers in the Rafa Refugee camp,

my brothers who are forced to walk a thin green

line that leads to extermination, nullification,

and more death,

all my brothers struggling to survive all over the

Western Bank,

all my brothers in Jericho and Bethlehem,

all my brothers incarcerated in ghettos, jails, and prisons,

all my brothers who are being tortured daily,

my brothers who are being missiled in their sleep,

my brothers who are being bombed in their awake,

my brothers who are being machine-gunned down,

my brothers who are being run out of town,

all my brothers toward whom the Israelis act demon possessed ~

and do not care for or caress,

all my brothers who one day have a place to live

~ and the next day are dispossessed,

all my brothers who have lost their wives and their children,

all my brothers who have lost their arms and their legs,

my brothers who have been blinded,

my brothers who have been castrated,

my brothers who have been beheaded,

my brothers who are flame torched and maimed,

all my brothers who have been denied and disclaimed,

all my brothers who have lost their homes and their beds,

all my brothers who are beaten, shot in the back

~ in the head,

and often left alone for dead,

all my brothers who are being made to fear and quake

~ all because of an unjust Israeli State.






my wondrous and marvelous friend ~

Reality Call from NEW Berlin writes to me and


that you have been Gangrened of Jewish

Settlements ~

the body of your nucleus cut off and discarded forever,

entire families with the young, elderly, and invalid,

literally burned and buried alive beneath the weight

of overturned rubble in brick and mortar ~

crying, hurting,

needing, bleeding, dying, an atrocity multiplied

to the trillionth monstrosity,

a scientific equation of devastation that even

Albert Einstein or Dr. Frankenstein

could not, and would not speculate to calculate,

an existential hypothesis of Salvador Dallied

proportional distortion, of politicalized

exterminational surrealism in 3-D’d amplification

application, of alien domination, an abomination

of horrified occupation, where hundreds of your

villages have been knocked completely off the

face of the earth, to be replaced by a distorted

Jewish face and race of immanent domain and

foul disgrace, a policy of imperialistic expansion

of manifest destiny without any right of justice

or equality for Your People’s Spirit, wrapped in

sacred fragility of flesh, bone, and blood, your

dwellings taken away in a single day or blown

away in a solitary night of catastrophic fright ~

cities like Nahlal arising in the place Mahlul,

Kibbutz Gvat arising in the place Jibta,

Kibbutz Sarid arising in the place of Huneifis,

and Kefar Yehushu’a arising in the place of Tal al-Shuman








nerve gas used on demonstrators in Gaza,

and water poisoning of those at the siege of







but it was you my brothers, who laid foundation,

and built and beautified the original land; you

are the heart and soul of the land and without

you, the great land of Palestine has no heart and

has no soul; because you are the salt of this

land and you are it’s gold.


Shamir, my beloved Ustad, teaches me,

that in your veins run the blood of ancient

Aegean warriors,

and that it was you who fought bravely on the plains of Karameh,

that you are the poetry of Mahmud Darwish, the

wisdom of Edward Said, and my Ustad says,

there would be no Bible if there were no you, no

Star of Ghassul, or Castles of Monfort, and

Belvoir too, no Mount Carmel Monastery, no

churches of the Holy Sepulcher and Nativity, no

temples of Jerusalem and Mount Gerizim by

necessity, no harbors of Ceasarea Philippi, no

Mosques of Haram As-Sharif, and no Judas to

become the biblical thief, and no disciple of

Jesus, Alaihi ‘Salam, to wash his feet.


you are the perfection of Palestine’s wondrous Olive Oil,

the first disciples who helped Jesus, Alaihi

‘Salam, deliver his sermon on the Mount, the

great warriors, who defeated Napoleon

Bonaparte, and without you, the palaces of

Jericho and Samaria today would not be art.


yes, it was you my brothers who built and

beautified the land,

and now the world must come to help you make

and take a stand,

an Intifada call, an Intifada wall of resistance, a

greater Intifada resurrection, of persistence ~

merciful, peaceful, and sincere assistance on

behalf of every Palestinian woman, boy, girl, and

man ~ and we can, if we will but recognize as

an entire WORLD view, what is right, what is

tight, what is just, and what is true, but you can

forget about the support of most evangelical

Christians, because they act as though they’ve

never heard of you, let alone ~ loving you?!






MINE is an end time, apocalyptic call ~ to

brothers who love righteousness ALL ~

over Palestine, Africa, and Holy Mecca ~ in

Medina, London, and France ~ in Belgium, in

India, Canada, and in the Americas North and South;


my Rastafarian brothers who love righteousness in The West Indies,

my brothers who love righteousness in Saint

Martin, Saint Croix, and Martinique,

my brothers who love righteousness in Barbados and Spain,

my brothers who love righteousness in Scotland,

Great Britain, and the South of Wales,

all my brothers who love righteousness in the

North – in Russia, Poland, and Afghanistan,

all my brothers who love righteousness in Iran,

Syria, Libya, Egypt, Turkey, and Karbala,

all brothers who love righteousness in Sultan Bahu’s Pakistan,

all my brothers who love righteousness

in SaintJilan’s once, emerald City of Baghdad,

my brothers who love righteousness

throughout the entire Sudan,

my brothers who love righteousness

in The South – called Malaysia, Thailand, and Vietnam,

my brothers who love righteousness in

communist China and Japan,

my brothers who love righteousness

in SaintTouba’s Holy land,

all my brothers who love righteousness

in The Gambia and in Senegal,

all my brothers who love righteousness

in Nigeria, and Shaka Zulu’s Swaziland,

all my brothers who love righteousness

in Switzerland and in the Mountains of Tibet,

all my brothers who love righteousness

here, throughout the rest of the EARTH, and


my brothers throughout the world, who hate

injustice and unrighteousness in the great land

of Palestine,

will all flank my perimeters,

whose base is wide,

whose height is infinite,

whose CapStone is ~


but it will be too late,

because no appointment or date,

had been made or set,

to say good-byes before i left.

the station and estate will have changed by


and i will be flying further east,

apart from them, never, ever to return…

but i was there when they most needed me,

wrapped in purple, green, and gold mantles, of faith,

and sincerity, and yet i dreamed of no

foreboding Martyrdom,

and i did not beat the drums of Lebanon,

BUT I DID drink water at Aynou Rahmati’s

Well of Mercy, where Simba lives,

and Mammadou gives, a children’s song unselfishly,

where the Angel’s visit i did receive,

in wonder, awe, and sanctity, or Saint Jilan adopting me

as his beloved son out of graciousness

and courtesy, or Saint Touba’s self made shoes,

i did with haste and not misuse ~ hold, lick

and taste, in the Majestic House of Darr-ul-

Quddus,or at Serigne Saliou’s feet, a gift to mee

– i did advance ~ the miraculous mystic

alchemedic sub-stance, or smiled at.

laughed with, and Ziarra’ed ~ by Serigne Afia

when he called me M’Backe and made me

benediction of Shaikh – i did but tremble,

and should not break, or take

~ except to now dance, and romance,

in exalted tranced ecstasy,

on behalf of my brothers being set completely free,

to return and rebuild their homes

in Palestine finally, without bulldozers or armored tanks,

or gun shots fired or heard ever again on

the Western Bank!





Yes, i will die in Jerusalem city,

not unbecoming, but a becoming ~ willingly;

on a street paved in pure gold, among the

young, the destitute,

and the old, who still have passion for ALLAH’s

COME passion;

who have been mercified by The Mercifier of ALL,

i will die in the City of Jerusalem, ~

Pouring ~ THROWING!! buckets of my brother’s

blood, sweat, and tears, upon The Wailing Wall,

standing and smiling in front of The Dome of

The Rock, for the whole world will recognize

IAM the ticking clock,

with Nuclear Light Rays

passing through and from me,

bursting and spreading forth everywhere endlessly,

leaving my image indelibly etched like a photo negative,

my life image positively reversed,

anthologized for all time,

on the window pains of my Palestinian brother’s

street vending shops, that had been bombed,

toppled over, disarranged, and flattened

to the ground, as well as on the widows of houses in

Ramalah, Samaria, Qumran, Janin, and

elsewhere, like, in the thought and hearts of men forever,

throughout the Nations, and on TeleVision Stations,

like CNN, NBC, ABC, and, Al-Jazeera,

who witnessed by satellite coverage, my flash,

and my dash,

infinitely long, and secured by the promise of Him

who made all mankind to be in love and free,

without hate, without distasteful bitterness, of

corrupted bile,

of a River Nile, rapidly running through the veins

of diseased hearts, it’s flowing waters turned red

with the blood of death, hypocrisy, and

destruction, because they would not conform, or

reform, to the commands of the Divine decree ~

to see that all men be made free!!






The Poet’s Holy Lamenting Cry!

a litany of Holiness in demise of the unjust, the

evil, and the unwise,

a litany of Holiness in song and deliverance for

those who cannot sing,

a litany of Holiness in prayer only the wretched

of the earth can know and bring

a litany of Holiness against all that is

unHoliness i bleed,

a litany of Holiness for the Holy of Holiness that

all mankind

deeply doth need,

a litany of Holiness the poet shouts to the Holy

mountains, the Holy heavens, the Holy earth,

and its Holy seas,

a litany of Holiness resounding, abounding,

astounding echo penetrating all Holy deaf ears,

a litany of Holiness in grief to waves of

spectromatic unbelief on behalf of a billion Holy

weeping tears,

a litany of Holiness for the praise of Holiness to

come for a thousand Holy of Holy years

Holy! Holy! Holy! against all that is unHoly!

Holy! Holy! Holy! against the purity that is

impurity and unHoly!

Holy! Holy! Holy! against the denial of the Holy!

Holy! Holy! Holy! for the yearning of the Holy!

Holy! Holy! Holy! for the return of the Holy!

Holy! Holy! Holy! for those who live to make

unHoly clean and Holy!

Holy! Holy! Holy! for those who die to bring

presence of the Holy!

Holy! Holy! Holy! for the unafraid to declare and

become the just and the Holy!

Holy! Holy! Holy! for all that is perfect and

righteously everlastingly Holy!

Holy! Holy! Holy! for to be all Men, Jinn, and

Angels more Holy of – THE HOLY!










Here in the Jerusalem, the City of Peace, i die;

i die when the Sun is once again in Sagittarius,

and the Moon is eclipsed in the sign of Pisces,

while finding release, and relief, of affectatious

reflections, in the eyes of my brothers souls,

as theirs meet mine for comfort and consolation,

thousands of them, now, waiting for relief,

across the seas,

to give me their Salams, and other greetings of


Yes, i will gladly die in the City of Jerusalem,

and because of King Solomon’s, Alaihi-Salam,


Song of Songs,

IAM the song of luminous martyred choirs

singing on the

Western Bank, a Holy, Sweet Honey In The Rock,



God is not through with me yet!

because all musical instruments have been


and set on fire there, schools blown apart and

pulverized into

an aggravated and intensified Cloud of

Unknowing there, and

all school children’s books have been burned to

a crisp there,

on heaps, too steep to climb, to put out the

flames there,

and save them while they were still clasped tight


the little children’s hands there, before they

cried, and died

in pain there, children and adult teachers who

had been raped there, and murdered on their

land a million times by the millions there, where

a zillion tears have been shed there,

under a cloudy sky near Megiddo, or the city of


or Bethel, or Hebron,

when a nightmare of hell broke loose upon my


when i died in the Holy City of Jerusalem,

my face turned toward,

the Resplendent Light!




-Mystic Poet SIAM

(C) 11.22.03





The Mystic Poet Siam

SIAM, after completing his studies at Aenon Bible College, and Ohio State University, went on to complete his Master of Theological Studies degree from the Harvard Divinity School in 1976.

This Mystic Poet is known both for his poetry as well as his work in theater. SIAM has appeared, read, and performed his art, taking his energy and light to institutions across the nation and abroad. Such notable places include, but are not exclusive to Ohio University; Central State University, Xenia, OH; Wilberforce University; Chillicothe Correctional Institute; The Columbus Stage Center, (Ohio); Wexner Mershon Auditorium at Ohio State University; the Karamu Theatre; The Human Race Theatre; The Chapel and The Braun Room of The Harvard Divinity School; The Apollo Theatre; The Brooklyn Academy of Music; the Kenya Science Teachers’ College, Nairobi; Aynou Rahmati in the Holy City of Touba, Senegal, West Africa; and inside the Kings Chamber of The Great Pyramid of Cairo, Egypt. He has also read his work and performed on the stages of The Warren Performing Arts Center, The Phoenix Theatre, The Madame Walker Urban Life Center, Marion County Public Library Atrium, Arts in The Garden, Write On The Poetry Spot, Midtown Arts & Coffe Lounge, The Indianapolis Civic Theatre, and the Indiana Repertory Theatre, The Jewel Center, Daddy Reals’s The Place, and numerous other notable places.

His art and writings have appeared in magazines and periodicals such as Our Choking Times, Kuwas, The Escutcheon, The Midtown Writer, NUVO, Ain’t No Frost On This Pumpkin — New Hoosier Poets, Vibration, Proud Black Images (the OSU quarterly publication of poems, essays, and photography which he formerly co-founded and co-edited), The Flying Island; and most recently, SIAM’s poetry has appeard in the anthology edited by Don Williams, New Milennium Writings. His poetry has also appeared in the provocative intercontinental Best-Seller, Galilee Flowers, The Collected Essays of Israel Shamir. SIAM’s workhas also been read on television stations in various cities; and, articles about him as an actor and poet have been published in newspapers such as, The Columbus Call & Post, The Columbus Dispatch, and The Dayton Daily News, all in Ohio; The Harvard Crimson, The Indianapolis Star & News, and The Indianapolis Recorder.

SIAM was a recipient of a $5,000 Fellowship from the Indiana Arts Commission for his work in theater. He also received standing ovations and accolades on behalf of his poetry from notable poets such as Norman Jordan, Delbert Tibbs, Ethridge Knight, Eugene B. Redmond, and Imamu Amiri Baraka (LeRoi Jones).

He has often been asked what SIAM means? The poet responds by saying: SIAM is like unto IAM — the continuous eternal verb to be; it is the ever new me of being and becoming endlessly evolving into new and more beautiful construction and art forms. SIAM is not only that new creative name for my talent and the place it comes from. SIAM also stands for my spiritual and human station in life (my mission). SIAM is… Shaikh Ibrahim Al-Jahizz M’Backe.

Last but not least, SIAM is the first and only African-American Shaikh (Cheikh) in the history of Mouridism, an islamic Tariqa and mystical and spiritual movement and Order founded in the 1800″s by Shaikh Ahmadou Bamba (Saint Touba) ~ who also founded the Holy City of Touba, in Senegal West Africa.



Shola Balogun

Shola Balogun, playwright, poet and writer is from Yoruba, southwestern Nigeria. He received his Masters Degree in Theatre Arts from the University of Ibadan, Nigeria, specializing in Literary and Dramatic Criticism. He was the winner of the First Educare Trust’s Olaudah Equiano Poetry Prize (2002) and the Festival of Peace Poetry Award (2005) organized by the Institute of African Studies, University of Ibadan. He is the author of a collection of poetry, The Cornwoman of Jurare and Other Poems (2007).

His books The Wrestling of Jacob, Praying Dangerously: the Cry of Blind Bartimaeus, and Death and Suicide In Selected African Plays, are available at Amazon and select bookstores.

His play, Egue Eghae, is ready for the stage. Shola Balogun also writes stories for children. His Yoruba background and encounter at the age of 21 with the poetry of John Donne and William Shakespeare influenced his creative writing.


No Comments Yet!

You can be first to comment this post!

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.