Category Archives: Noah

Noah by Kamanha

By Posted in Kamanha, Noah, Poetry Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

In my birth certificate…they never mentioned what it takes

To get an interview for a job of misery and higher stakes

Speaking of stakes…I wonder what that beefy bitch is doing today

“the worst leech”? Bitch, please…ease…let’s rewind and replay

Hi all I’m Noah and fuck you, by the way

I don’t mean to insult you but it’s just what my family never taught me not to like to say

Let me walk you through, you see, I’m a strip club emcee

And being 43, accused of murder of the 3rd degree, with no son or daughter don’t mean shit to me

My wife left me because I’m a pathetic idiot

To think it was a good idea to cheat on her on her period

But it’s only because I wanted to change the club’s name to “the ark”, but I couldn’t convince the owner

So I seduced his wife…I played catch with the bitch, I threw her a boner

Just to be called “Noah of the ARK” an idea done when I’m drunk and thought of when I was sober

I must be sick…And an ambulance just pulled me over

Don’t blame a man who works at a place where everyone’s got an IQ of a retarded squirrel tricked by monopoly dollars

Damn, I see zombies dancing and racing for money, I call them Pole Walkers

So, I’m not sure why my wife got mad when I said she’s just a “hole”…I dig her

I need a shrink because, you know, I don’t want it to get any bigger

I always stand corrected and then I usually sit angered and irritated

Throughout my life, I kept wondering… What if I got well-educated things would’ve surely been alternated

My inaniloquence would’ve been blemished, no encumbrance to stay up through the Twelfth Night

And grandiloquently quote Macbeth

I wonder if my life would’ve been an opalescent and to put it pauciloquently flee the truculent

oubliette of my living death

Maybe I could’ve written a surreal poem for my wife and with originality and delightful verbal freshness draw asunder

the curtains hiding my disdained sordid tears

Or appeased to be an oculist and have children in a cleaner sty. Or maybe write an embellished panegyric as the

best man to eradicate my best friend’s -that I could’ve had by the way- fears

Or maybe a megalomaniacal and a maladroit control-freak, the worst critique of the antique land of the derelict

and the vociferous

Would I have been deleterious or innocuous? Would I gnathonize the devil in distress

or instead, admonish the empyrean for his bliss

But then again, I’m not sure who I would’ve been, either way; it’s not my place to meddle

In this hoosegow where our integrity sells for so little

Birds cry and flowers wizen suns fly and a chance for darkness is given

Words lost, destinies forgotten and eyes shut, no visage of the world I live in

And from within the depth I hear a crescendo of a lonesome clown’s laughter

haha somewhere deep down here, there could be a cure for cancer

But, too bad, Noah. Your ark sunk you so deep, sailor. Wished you can see what I can see

But tonight I, your “would’ve and could’ve been”, will sleep and tomorrow you’ll wake up to go on being

The horny people’s filthy MC.

Noah by Merriam AlFuhaid

By Posted in Merriam AlFuhaid, Noah, Prose Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

            People who didn’t know Noah laughed at him if he complained about his job. “Someone pays you to introduce strippers? Pays you? What a hard job you have,” they would say, and then five minutes later they’d realize they made a pun and start cracking up, and Noah would fantasize about putting stilettos through their foreheads.

People who knew him better said, “Why don’t you leave?” He would fumble on his words in reply, usually muttering, “It’s not that easy,” maybe throwing in a sentence or two about how the strippers were like his family. A family who knew what he was. “You’re just like one of the girls,” Lilith, the one he was closest to, would say.

But he couldn’t help but think, every time she passed by, Not quite. Not the way it matters.

He saw the way they looked at her. The glittering lights and loud music never distracted Noah from the expressions on their faces, particularly not those of the man in front who came every Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night. He sat alone in the same chair by the stage, his ice blue eyes veiled by a haze of cigarette smoke, his chiseled lips emotionless above his square jaw. He never brought friends. Noah wondered if he had any. He wondered a lot about this man, but all Noah really knew was that he never came unless Lilith was working, that he always came when Lilith was working, and that his name was Nick.

And that she had slept with him once. Lilith thought he would ask her again because he seemed rich enough to afford it. She would know. Half of her income came from him.

“Do you ever think about love?” Noah had asked her.

Love? The question had danced on the surface of her round blue eyes like the distorted image on the back of a spoon. No, she’d said. She wasn’t interested in love. She was sick of men who cared far too much about controlling women and nothing about controlling themselves.

She was smart. Nick probably liked that.

Yes, he liked and got the very best; it was apparent in the brand of the coat slung over the back of his chair, in the cigarettes he smoked, the drinks he ordered, his always shined shoes, his Ritz privilege card that peeked out whenever he opened his Gucci wallet, his belt that looked as though extra holes had been punched in it for a perfect fit…

People changed their minds. Noah knew this, and he could see in his own mind the image of them together, Lilith running her fingertips down Nick’s chest and over his face, not for the money but because she wanted to. Noah knew she had the option. If she took it, it would be the best thing that ever happened to her.

You’re supposed to want good things to happen to people you care about, right?

Noah’s real friends, the ones who knew, realized he wasn’t leaving his job and said “It can’t be healthy, keeping this bottled up inside.”

Get it off your chest. Tell. You never know.

            But you do know, Noah thought. When you see the way his eyes run up and down her body, over every unmistakably feminine curve, when you can almost hear his pulse quicken with every lacy layer she drops to the floor, you do know. There is no point in saying anything. You know he’s never going to love you.                   

Noah by Dina Al-Awadhi

By Posted in Dina Al-Awadhi, Noah, Prose Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

Noah was old. His beard was greying and his eyes, which had once seemed so alive, now carried a glassy look. He was growing painfully stiff all over and the Noah could barely bend over when he dropped a book or a pen or anything.

Looks wise he was certainly aging well however. His ever-present smile was more than charming and Noah’s slim almost unnatural physique still got him more than one side eye and wink.

One would think that at such an age, Noah would have finally retired, settled at home and lived the rest of his days in peace and quiet.

But Noah loved his job.

Yes, he loved his job.

Every night, the club would open up, flickering lights blinking and flashing, drawing in the late nighters like drunken flies to oozing honey.

Every night, the seats would be filled with eager eyes, dry mouths, and twitching fingers.

And every night, the lights would dim low, and the audience would collectively inhale as Noah would take the stage.

And then a stillness would take over the theatre, for Noah was the MC of the most important, spectacular show in the world.

He would walk up to the spotlight and he would only have to say his famous line and then the music would start, and the show would begin:

“Welcome one, welcome all to The Most Important, Spectacular Show in The World!”

“Here comes Baby Baby…” so named for her interesting choice of outfit. “So beautiful, so pure,” her shining complexion and large Amazonian body striped in highlighted rainbow paint were a point of reverence for many of the audience. It might also have been the fact that she was only wearing a cotton pair of knickers. Regardless, Baby Baby swayed like a goddess to a classic Britney Spears song with more than excitable dance moves. The applause was deafening.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Tinkerbell.” And so the twirling ballerina would grace the stage. She was one of the heavier ones, filled out and luscious, and her pink tutu barely covered anything of her silvery complexion. She pirouetted to a dubstep remix of Swan Lake in manner that would have made her old ballet instructor faint. But the crowds were gasping in delight, throwing roses upon roses and scribbled numbers onto the stage.

“And next we have Barbara and the Jets,” the blonde girls who always came out in full on makeup and several states of undress. A missing top there, mismatching shoes here, and that one seems to have forgone everything in favor of a gentleman’s large shirt. They twirled and danced to their favorite Elton John song in ways even a ventriloquist would gasp at. And the audience was going wild.

When the girls finally left the stage amidst an uproar of encores and declarations of love, the crowd would die down again waiting for Noah to announce the next performer, but he didn’t have to say anything except one word: “Ted.” The crowd grew still, so still as the beautiful, dark skinned man walked onto stage wearing only a see-through-

“Young Lady! Are you still up?”

The little girl’s eyes widened. She shut off her flashlight and scrambled into bed just as the door to her bedroom cracked open. The hallway lamps cast a warm light over the girl’s bed as she feigned sleep, and her mother quietly entered the room.

She kissed her child goodnight and drew up the bed sheets to the young girl’s chin, but not before placing her favorite dolls and toys around her: a Baby Doll colored all over with markers, a stuffed elephant in a tutu, three half-naked Barbies, a teddy bear, and her brother’s old favorite toy soldier: Commander Noah.

Noah by Taiba Al-Otaibi

By Posted in Noah, Poetry, Taiba AlOtaibi Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

I wear a red bandana, play a cool pianna In a honky-tonk, down in Mexico I wear a purple sash, and a black mustache In a honky-tonk, down in Mexico (The Coasters – Down in Mexico)

First born unicorn Hard core, soft porn Dreaming of Californication (Red Hot Chili Peppers – Californication)

(The Heavy – Short Change Hero)

And they’re thinking: A beautiful face And a wicked way And I’m paying for her Beautiful face every day All that work

Over so much time If I think too hard I might lose my mind (The Black Keys – Next Girl)

‘Cause she’s a super freak, super freaky. (Rick James – Superfreak) Her body singing ‘Let me entertain you’ (Robbie Williams – Let Me Entertain You)

Ain’t nothin’ wrong with this chemistry Ain’t nothin’ wrong with this blasphemy (The Heavy – What Makes A Good Man)

With the lights out, it’s less dangerous So here we are now, entertain us (Nirvana – Smells like Teen Spirit)

Now she’s naked, nothing but an animal But can she fake it, for just one more show? (Smashing Pumpkins – Bullet with Butterfly Wings)

‘Every demon wants his pound of flesh But I like to keep some things to myself I like to keep my issues drawn It’s always darkest before the dawn.

So she…shakes it out, shakes it out, shakes it out, shakes it out.’ (Florence + Machines – Shake it Out) Waitin’, watchin’ the clock, it’s four o’clock, it’s got to stop. (Pearl Jam – Better Man)

Don’t call her daughter, not fit to be. The picture kept will remind me. Don’t call her daughter, Don’t call her…

The shades go down The shades go down (Pearl Jam – Daughter)

And I’m stuck (The Heavy – Stuck)

This ain’t no place for no hero

This ain’t no place for no better man

And ‘doin’ things just to please her crowd’

(The Heavy – Short Change Hero)

Noah by Hawra’a Khalfan

By Posted in Hawra'a Khalfan, Noah, Prose Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

You will find it here, and when you see it beside this piece of paper your instinct will tell you to check for a pulse. There won’t be a pulse. You will realize that quickly but you will still reach in and try to find one. Your next instinct will be that of any other “civilized” human being. Like clockwork you will call the government officials to come and rid world of it. This letter will make it easier for them. This letter will do their job for them.

Nobody will claim it. Nobody will even know the name of the person who lived in the shell that was left behind.

Nobody will realize that I am gone. I haven’t made a difference. I am nobody, and this nobody has done nothing.

I am pouring all my thoughts at this very moment on this piece of paper because I want to have one last human interaction. Ironically, this human interaction will take place after I am gone. I still want to show the world how it feels. I still want to share it all with somebody. I want to tell them why.  I want to tell them why.

In movies, or television shows, or even in books- the note that is left behind normally just reeks of regret. I regret nothing. I merely have an explanation. This, is why;

I have a name, but not even the people I work with know it. I am Noah. Noah, the unsettling man who lives in the basement under the lobby at the Scythe Motel.  Noah, the man who will not be forgotten, as he was never remembered. I am Noah, and I am forty-nine years old.

I am Noah, a forty-nine year old man who had many dreams. I am Noah, the forty-nine year old man who managed to shatter any flicker of hope he ever had.

This body I leave behind will burden you, and for that I apologize. I have never stopped to ask your name, valued janitor. Nevertheless, you and I will have had the most human connection of all. You and I will have shared Death.

Nobody will claim this body or come to it’s funeral. I feel as though I should put down my reasons and last thoughts on this paper as I have never dared to share myself with another, before this.

You see, I was going to be an English teacher, yet the world moved on a pace different than mine. I knew I had everything it takes to become the teacher I wanted to be. I wanted to make a difference, but that was not in my fate. Stating that I merely wanted it, is not good enough on it’s own. But I did- I wanted all of it.

The funny thing about goals is that if you loose track of your most important one, it is nothing but a downwards spiral from there. I ended up working as a security guard in a school nearby, and that is how I met Marrian. Marrian grew and sold wheat grass down on a farm with her mother, and every Saturday she would come to the school and drop off some wheatgrass for the upcoming week to be used in the cafeteria. Marrian was a godsend. She was it- the woman of my dreams and I was convinced that I would never find another woman who was as kind, or beautiful. She was a simple girl but had the most infuriating sense of humor (which was my favorite thing about her). I wish I told her. I wish I told her. I wish I told her of my love for her, but wishes don’t mean a thing anymore, and this is not a letter of regret. This will not be turned into a letter of regret but of hope-

Marrian, you have been gone a long time, but I will join you now. I have thought of you so often. There is never a moment when you are not on my mind. There is never a moment when what we could have been was not on my mind.

I don’t remember much after Marrian’s death, the routine was slowly attacking my brain cells one by one and I went with it. I did not want to think of anything but her. I could not think of anything but her.

I later found myself working at a place much like a slaughterhouse. My job was to announce which ‘fresh meat’ was going to come up on stage.  I was told that the women I work with are beautiful, but I could not see their beauty. I constantly looked for it- but all these men came to the slaughterhouse and left it reeking of fresh meat. I could not see beyond the actions of these men and women to be able to take in their physical beauty. I did not understand the whole system, I merely went there to be able to make money, and to survive.

Survival was important to me, and I have survived long enough. How marvelous is it how much a human being can change given some time?

Today, I can say that I am a man who has been dying slowly for twelve years. I will no longer waste oxygen. I will rid you all of me. Today, I can happily say;

I am gone.

Noah by Berlin

By Posted in Berlin, Noah, Poetry Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

“Not in this lifetime” she told him.
Middle-aged and struggling is not her type.
He smiled and told her gently “Forty five is all the hype”

She thought she told him clearly and that he would finally stop
She didn’t know that Noah was not someone who gives up.

Each night he fell deeper as he quietly watched her dance
He wondered what he can do to finally get his chance

He faked a smile every time he introduced her to the crowd
How, he wondered, could he say these things out loud?
The words printed on his cards are not what he would’ve chosen
He would never dare refer to her as a bleeping sexy vixen.

A stripping goddess she was known as, but that’s not what he wanted.
All he needed from her was to be a different kind of naked

The kind where all defenses are dropped.
Where pretending she is strong can finally be stopped.
He wanted to take care of her, make her feel secure.
Let her know that money is not always the cure.

He continued treating her special, did everything to make her laugh.
He figured all the affection will eventually be enough.

Time went by and she started to see
The man he was and wanted to be.
She saw him in a different light and decided it was time to make it right

“I have something to tell you” she whispered in his ear.
He had to check twice if he heard it clear.
She kissed him and told him to meet her after the show.
He could not be mistaken she had that certain glow.

He walked around all night gleaming with pride.
That was until she screamed and cried.
A man had a little too much to drink.
Crossed the line and forgot to think.

He slapped her when she said no.
Threw money at her and called her a ho.
Noah grabbed and punched the man
That was when he drew his gun

He pointed it at Noah whose arms went up.
But the man was possessed by the devil’s cup.
He pulled the trigger without any hesitation.
While everyone flew the perilous commotion.

She ran to Noah and cradled him in her arm.
“Maybe next lifetime?” He asked with all his charm.
He smiled and closed his eyes.
That was when she realized.

“Don’t you dare Noah!
Don’t you dare let go!
This is not how it ends
There’s still something you should know!

I love you Noah
How could you leave me now?
I chose you Noah
Tonight was my last bow”

She held his lifeless body for a moment longer.
Enumerated the ways she could have made it better.
The longer she stayed at the spot where he was slain,
the more she was convinced she would never dance again.

Noah by Fatma AlSumaiti

By Posted in Fatma AlSumaiti, Noah, Prose Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

Day: Tuesday, November 28th.

Time: Moments before daylight arrived.

Scene: Gypsy.

The stage was an entire universe when she stepped onto it. My heart cracked open when I saw those riotous thighs flirt with music.

Purple. Everything was purple. The lights, the air.. her skin. My green eyes turned into night as they danced on her body. 23 years I’d been in charge of that place. No creature had ever annihilated the crowds, and myself, like Gypsy.

The way her hands traced her body was treacherous.

The arch of her back screamed to be carved with kisses.

How her waist turned the music into art. Brush strokes plagued with insanity. Damn.

And those legs.. Oh honey, they spoke a language that liquefied your insides.

She wrapped herself around that pole like a vicious purple snake. Every night I yearned to be that metallic purple pole.

She saw me haunting her with my gaze. She felt what I was feeling. I knew she did because those glistening dark eyes spoke to my desires.

I needed a plan.

Day: Tuesday, December 16th.

Time: Moments before daylight arrived.

Scene: Gypsy.

Fire ate its way through my insides. It was burning. It was suffocating. It was so purple. I couldn’t wait any longer. My darkness was wilder than ever.

My burning purple fire needed to be fed.

Day: Friday, December 19th.

Time: Daylight had just arrived.

Scene: Gypsy.

I walked barefoot that day. The stage had never looked so mesmerizing. So warm. My feet sunk into opaque RED that used to inhabit her veins. With every step I felt my soul come to life. The smell, so sweet it carried Gypsy with it into my pores.

I lay down next to Gypsy on that warm RED stage. Resting my cheek on that RED floor, I faced her RED eyes. She had never looked so alive. Laying there, bathed in RED. So still. So beautiful. So RED.

Noah by Dee

By Posted in Dee, Noah, Prose Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

 He fiddles nervously with the lit cigarette, knowing he had to take a puff of it soon for appearance’s sake. He tried to inhale as little of it as possible but he is still uncomfortable with all those carcinogens hanging out in his mouth. Noah was on the wrong side of fifty to be taking stupid risks, but cigarette breaks were the only excuse he could think of to escape the insanity inside the club for a few minutes. So he tried to breathe in as little smoke as possible while enjoying the peace and quiet of a dark alley smelling comfortingly of stale cabbage.

He runs his tongue against his back teeth, trying to drive away the memory of his fillings vibrating with the beat of the bass. It hung there in his mouth, a phantom itch that had quickly become part of the job. Two weeks now doing this and it hadn’t become any less ridiculous. But then the whole situation was ridiculous.

Not too long ago he was a husband, a father, a pillar of the community. Now he’s an emcee at a strip club in a no name town, shady enough to pay him in cash under the table, because credit cards are traceable and banks need real names. So he’s Noah now, because for all intents and purposes, his old life is under a few thousand feet of water. Unfortunately the god whose wrath had rained upon them was one that he’d personally pissed off.

He checks his watch then quickly puts out the cigarette before heading inside. Maybe I should invest in a pair of earplugs he muses as he’s hit with the noise of the club, so loud it’s an almost physical blow. He nods to some of the ‘talent’ waiting to go on as he makes his way to his booth, trying to keep it as professional as he can with so little clothing involved. He always thought that the whole stripper with daddy issues cliché was just that, a cliché. But he supposed clichés were there for a reason. So he kept it friendly but impersonal. Although playing it distant was probably not the best choice when it came to making some of these young women lose interest.

He makes it to the relative safety of his booth, nods a quick thanks to the waitress who serves him a fresh drink. Boozing at work took a little getting used to, although he supposes it’s expected of any grown man who’s effectively run away from home. He pulls the mic closer to introduce Cherrie Blossom to the stage, cringing at the racist undertones. As he observes Grace make her way to the stage, barely recognizable underneath the geisha inspired get up, he wonders if anyone cares that the scantily clad girl was actually Korean. He sighs to himself as he watches racist undertones quickly turn into overtones. I used to be an accountant he thinks to himself. At least I found a line of work less likely to damn my soul to hell.

Noah by Noragotcharisma

By Posted in Noah, Noragotcharisma, Prose Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

Life has a funny way of changing you. You could be living life in red, like those red lights that scream sin accompanied by loud sinful music. But all the sudden, you stumble on something, so unexpectedly and it makes you evolve to the point where you can no longer stand the sight of those red lights.

That’s kinda what was happening with Noah. He had spent thirty-eight years living this life he was given, unhappy but unable to figure out why. He knew there was more to just giving into hedonistic desires, specifically ones that revolved around the birds and the bees. He grew immune to all that lust; exposed flesh just didn’t do it for him anymore. He often wondered if he was being punished, by having his manhood taken away, by not being able to feel anything.

He recalled once making conversation with one particularly rich customer, an Arab man who loved leading this double life of religious man and Don Juan. Noah was never particularly interested in customers, but this man had this aura about him. His warm toned skin and shiny black hair—the definition of tall, dark, and handsome.

Ironically, the man appeared to know so much about the history of his name, Noah. He told him that in Islam, Noah was a prophet, a Godsend that encouraged his people for nine hundred and fifty years and warned them about the afterlife. How God had instructed him to save a pair of every living creature, enough to rebuild the world once the flood swallowed it

That was the moment that changed it all. As if it was the cherry on top to make him walk away, feeling guilt for holding such a holy name, but throwing it to the ground.

Noah quit Arch and never looked back.

Noah by Tifa

By Posted in Noah, Prose, Tifa Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

I have a rare full night of sleep in me, and somewhere to be. The late construction shifts had been starting to grate on me, making me feel like I was living in reverse, going to work when others were going to dinner, going home when people were waking up. I had jumped at the opportunity to take on a day shift, but I don’t know what to expect from this one.  I finally decided to quit one of my two jobs, I never really needed the money anymore since my wife died, but I liked being busy. When you’re busy you tend to forget to think about anything other than the job you’re doing. It also really helped that all of my jobs required me to be in loud spaces.

I sleepwalk through my bathroom and dressing routine, my eyes finally opening once I am on the bus.  And then there it is, the banner that has been hanging up for the last month “Sassy’s doing Breakfast, starting May 1st.  Steak and Eggs, 7am to 3pm.”  There is already smoke curling out of the kitchen vent, and the low thump of bass seeping through the walls.  The cook must have figured out how to turn on the stereo, the new system that I had told him to stay away from.  Playing his cousin’s death metal band.

He had made a pot of coffee, so I put off the lecture that he wouldn’t hear anyway.  Damn, if this wasn’t a loud system.  Clear, even sound in any corner of the place, bass that felt like each seat had its own subwoofer.  The mixing board was the shiniest thing in this place.  As soon as I turn off the cook’s playlist I see Liza on her stool behind the bar.

“Doors open in fifteen, Honey.  Turning the lights down in a few.”  I had never seen the place with the overhead lights on, much less Liza.  She was enough in the dark, a mountain of a woman with the grace and smile of a garbage truck.  The best bartender in the Tri-state area, Sassy’s arm-wrestling champ 7 years running, and a source of knowledge of all the things you don’t want to know.

“Good morning, sweetheart!” I try a happy greeting on a frowning Liza.

“I’m not your sweetheart, and if the girls don’t show soon you’re going to have your dancing debut.  Show me what a sweetheart is and finish mopping the stage.”  By finish mopping, she means start mopping.  The empty yellow bucket is already up on the stage.  I know the secret mop water recipe: cold water halfway up the side, two caps of bleach and half pint of beer.  The bleach takes care of what Liza so lovingly calls “stripper juice”, and the beer gives the floorboards a little traction and covers the bleach smell.  Another Liza-ism, “The only thing more suspicious than a smiling cop is a clean smelling strip club.”

Five minutes to open.  Shiny mirrors reflecting dim neon lights, hip-hop rumbling back to the sizzling stove full of beef, and an almost non-frowning bartender.  All we need is the talent.  The closer it gets to opening the more I feel she wasn’t joking about putting me on stage.

The front door opens, slicing a line of morning light through the dark room.  The figure in the door pauses, then walks towards me.  The door slams, my eyes adjust to the darkness again, and that’s where I lose it.  Kendra, my wife dead all these years, stands at the foot of the stage.  She looks just like the day I met her, brown hair hanging just over her big, deep eyes.  She’s here, finally here to take me away from my meaninglessness and misery.  I drop the mop, almost drop to the floor myself, and she smiles and says, “I’m Tequila, the new dancer. You alright?”

“Um, uh, yeah.  Yeah, fine.  Thought you were a ghost.”

“Ghost, huh?  I don’t know her.  Sounds like she works at one of those rocker strip clubs on the East side.  Think a girl can get a breakfast steak before I start dancing?”  I tell her I will ask if the cook is ready.  I point her to the dressing room and pick up the mop.  This breakfast shift is going to be weirder than I thought.

“Come on, Noah.” Liza is right behind me, reaching for the mop on the ground.  “Let’s finish polishing this turd.  Sassy’s is open for breakfast.”

Noah by Eva Al-Meshal

By Posted in Eva Al-Meshal, Noah, Prose Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

I’m not sure if every human being is granted this experience, or if it’s something that only happens once in every hundred-some-odd years, like those special comets that can be seen from the Earth at certain times. Whichever it is, it’s certainly something that a person can’t ever forget. When it happens, it feels almost like the first time you see the ocean (or some other grand design of nature). That’s how it was for me, at least.

It must have been about 20 years ago when I met him. It’s crazy how time flies, and how it has the ability to erase or engrave certain memories and experiences so pristinely. I can’t seem to remember not knowing him – or perhaps I choose not to – but everything before meeting him seems so blurry. In fact, meeting him and knowing him was all blurry. He was one of the most talented men I had ever met when it came to the art of blurriness, and yet, that’s what seemed to make any moments of clarity between us so precious. It’s funny how things play out like that.

His name was Noah, and he was an absolute mystery. He had this uncanny gift of being able to give off the vibe that you were the closest person to him in the whole world, even if you didn’t know him at all. His charms had this way of captivating and engaging all your senses at once, but he was irrevocably jaded. If you looked closely, you could see how his experiences had aged him way beyond his years – he was only 26 at the time, but his mind was just like a Rubik cube that one couldn’t resist trying to solve. Somehow, though, he was still able to fool his unsuspecting victims into playing with the string of hope he dangled in front of them nonchalantly. There was nothing and no one that was beyond his reach, and all the girls who still ached for him even after he had treated them like shit were proof that he could “have his cake and eat it too”. He was the precise recipe for a beautiful disaster of the heart, and it just so happened to be monsoon season in mine. It was horribly perfect and perfectly horrible timing, as it is with most stories that involve that stubbornly fixated organ we call the heart.

*To be continued…

Noah by Osman Naeem

By Posted in Noah, Osman Naeem, Poetry Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

The contents in a plate composed of a decomposing mashed potato hallucinogenic salad and carcinogenic beer stains that had soaked the velvet sheet which slipped off the bed onto the carpet
Oozed through the spaces between Noah’s toes as he took a step and walked butt naked with a limp towards the shower
Drunk on deep space dilemmas and the intense scent of lingerie that lingered through his nostrils and made its way to his brain
As a twist of the tap sent rusty water gushing down to replace the dirt he tried to scrub off from between the wrinkles on his face
He closed his eyes and held his breath as consciousness began to squeeze in alongside alcohol and nostalgia, it was his fortieth birthday
And drops of water met the redness that clotted inside the crack on the marble below, distorting the sound of the radio playing Bohemian Rhapsody
He pulled out a fragment of glass that he’d stepped on and blood rushed from a flooded head to the tip of his pinky toe
With every breath of air that he took in, he exhaled life and stared at his hands that now felt older as they began to melt

Well renowned for leaving his audience spell bound with just a click of the fingers at the speed of sound
Reliving each and every day that got him this far, unsure if he was witnessing his life flash before his eyes
Reminiscing the times he spent sleeping on abandoned hardwood floors with a jar of fireflies, being  a vagabond, being spat out and being all alone without a home
The struggles, the troubles, till his life was no longer monochrome and his guardian angel quit singing in a monotone
They said he was possessed and had to be exorcised, the deacon said his demons grew fat because they never exercised
So he eloped with the devil and the ones who raised him now hoped to hear him declared dead
He began dwelling in neon caves, calling out lioness cubs for applause and a loaf of meat to eat, in a place he called home territory just like a lion in the Serengeti
He made friends with the seven deadly sins, but they gave his life a purpose and gave him bigger wings
They rusted his cheek bones but made him smile and destined him to bigger things
To be seated on the throne of the forbidden kingdom, but etched on the heart, it was more than a symptom
How could being here be right? With all these pink thongs a dollar bill upsurge
To be in love with no one, and no reason to soul search
To have nothing to lose, and no reason to feel cornered
To be unsure of life being perfectly normal, and no fear of being bipolar
But as he stepped out to grab a towel no longer did he feel any older, he was all sober and the guilt trip was now over

Noah by Ahmed AlRasheed

By Posted in Ahmed AlRasheed, Noah, Prose Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

Spring Hill, Kansas, is a place where people are born, raised, then die there. Noah is my name, and yes I was born and raised in this humdrum town. I’m in my fifties, I live alone, and most people around here think that my life is a great example of a midlife crisis. I am a math teacher at Spring Hill Middle School. Go, Monkeys. When you live in a town where everybody knows everybody, you get that faint feeling that this town has no reason to be in existence, ever. I mean- let’s face it, we try to go for a university degrees, but this town seems to always fall back. I remember that Billy Hill was the town’s smartest man, he even got accepted into Colby Community College. After he graduated he came back and opened a grocery store which he named Limpy. I might also want to mention that my neighbor married his cousin simply for the sake of “experimenting” and this led to a shotgun marriage.

My sister Roxy, who is also my cousin, thinks I should marry Jenna, our second cousin. It annoys me that everyone thinks down at marrying within the family. YOU’RE WRONG! Keeping our sacred gene pool within the family is a number one priority at the Winston house! Anyways, I tend to walk around town saying hi to people, including Mindy. She’s a waitress at a diner at the corner of Lawrence and Madison. She is hot! “I’ll see you at work?” I gave her a toothless smile. It’s half past eight and I should head to Plan B. I get into my gold 1999 Buick Century, she’s my special dirty old hag. It puffs black smog and is loose in all parts. I get on highway 169 driving south towards the open road. It appeared out of nowhere, the sign on the building I work in, it is made of neon lights and shaped in the figure of a naked woman on a stripper pole. Three cars were parking, alongside a motorbike and a truck. I walk into Plan B, and the cigarette smoke filled up the whole building, Luke Bryan is playing in the background and people are waiting. I go to the backstage and get ready. Mindy was there, on time, so I smile. It’s show time.

Mindy starts to introduce me, “Gentlemen and gentlemen, the all time streak record holder, the legendary MC of Spring Hill’s history, NOAH WINSTON!” I dash out from behind the curtains, the thrill was making my heart pound louder and louder, as the stale claps emerged from the dull crowd. With a huge smile on my face I thought to myself, I’m a star!

Noah by Bader A. Shehab

By Posted in Bader Shehab, Noah, Prose Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

I’ve been everything a good family man wouldn’t wanna be, or perhaps would out of guilty pleasure; I’m right out of the hoods of Terrytown, New Orleans, Louisiana. The home of the blues, home of the Cajun, or the “Big Easy” if you wanna call it, but it’s been home to me, made me who I am and showed me my years. I started out as a boxer at Jim’s gym, old Jim taught me well, gritted my troublesome hands into good use, and boy did I ever not leave a stone unturned or a lesson learned, I trained my butt off every day for him. He got me out of trouble and got me into matches after matches, I fought at venues across the state and I went on undefeated, I used my training and charismatic personality to land me on and off jobs at bars and nightclubs, I bounced the doors and I even performed stand-up with one liners on some nights. And right into my 18th birthday old Jim told me I’ll fight for the Louisiana golden gloves, a coveted prize of every young boxer, this will get me into the big leagues, I’ll get my professional license, real money gonna start flowing in! I was ecstatic, I then trained harder. I showed up twice a day, I even dropped high school to keep up with his work, but then, I fucked up my neck pretty badly, and just like that, I had to pull out from the tournament. It was over, that was it.

Man, I was devastated, I sat on that bench out on our front porch, my own mother couldn’t look at me and my father later died that same year from a heart attack. I was depressed and borderline suicidal, no school, no job, no future. Decided then to just run away, I didn’t know where to go, I just packed my shit and got out, I simply left and kept walking for miles, and miles.

I was on my own, until, one time at a McDonalds, was browsing the one-dollar menu, then this big black Cadillac pulls up, everybody twists their head and this man, white man gets out, fancy suit cut on the shoulders, boots shine a mile away, he lost the thousand-dollar shades just to catch his thousand-yard stare. His grey hair nearly covered his grey deep eyes, he flicked it back as he approached the counter, and at this point we were shoulder to shoulder, minding my own business by then. I ate, got out, walked to the bus stop about to go home that is the public park where I sleep at. Strangely enough the man only had a drink, not that it is of any importance, but suspicious nonetheless. The black Escalade stopped right across the street from where I was, the driver’s door unlocks open, a younger man in full black suit stepped out, and I could tell he was eyeing me down behind them shades, and then the same man from the restaurant got out from the back passenger seat, this time smoking a thick cigar, crossed the street and walked gracefully towards me. “I know who you are” he puffs and exhales fumes of thick, expensive-smelling cabaña’s “I know your face” he turns towards me and lowers his glasses, takes a step closer “You’re Noah, Neat Noah, so they call you.”

“What the fuck? Whose they? Who the fuck is you?!” I replied angrily or more so shockingly since he knew who I am, “I’ve seen your fights in New Orleans a few years back” he answered while smoking and keeping his calm collected smooth self “They called you Neat ’cause your punches are so crisp and sharp, you’re a knockout artist!” he continued as he placed the cigar in his mouth and threw his fists punching in the air as though impersonating myself. “An artist now, is that right?” I thought aloud “well, sir I ain’t no more that neat former self I was, I’m just a… drifter now, here and there, you know how it is, sir” I cried that last word out “I gotta head home, so you have a nice day now” I caught the bus turning the last corner and as it slowed down to a stop “You don’t have a home, Noah, you sleep at truck stops in the back of alleys, you grit your way around, you fight every day to eat bread off the dollar menu, you ain’t going home, Noah. You’re just gonna drift somewhere and get in trouble with the law again, and again. Then run away to another state, repeat. For how long, Noah?” his words were preparing a bigger question, he then pointed at the bus before continuing “Now you got two choices, Noah. You take that bus and go back to your pot hole of a shit-stink you call home or you come and work for me, gonna get you cleaned up and make some good do’, what do you say?” I don’t remember pausing that long to reply, in fact, I didn’t even think “Well, you’re right, fuck this shit, I’m coming with you.”

I never got the man’s real name. He asked me to call him “McDonalds”, I didn’t even know what he did for a living, but it ain’t legal that’s for sure. Hell, I didn’t even dare ask, not after what he did for me, got me cleaned up, suit, place to stay and I had it all. At first I just carried his bags and escorted him or his girls, he then had me deliver cash from point A to point B, I even went with him overseas, he fixed my paper work and passport. Anything he asks, I do, no second thinking him, he was punctual, proper and always, perfect. Soon enough, I was his right hand man, I would stick with him for the next 8 years of my life, he knew my worth and what I done for him in exchange to what he has given me, our relation remained strictly professional, and to this day I still know him as “Cadillac” Mr. McDonalds. He showed me the world in its truest form.

I then went back to working in nightclubs with more than enough pocket cash to get by, I did stand up just like how I used to in New Orleans and it felt good to be back, apart from my drifting life, beating people up and taking a beating, or transporting briefcases of god-knows what was in ’em, I always knew I belonged on a stage with people below having an innocent laugh, a good time is what I needed, and I needed it nightly. The shows got bigger, then I started giving myself more chance to go from one-line jokers to full written pieces that I performed myself, people loved me and my name “Neat” Noah became somewhat marketable, I thought I always belonged to the nightlife, this is what I was supposed to be doing all along. I would even get called up by some local celebs to host their birthday parties or New Year eves, I was the hit of every town and my name only grew, it grew like my dick when it was on hard erection as Elektra grinded that soft firm ass of hers on my junk in the champagne   room of Stiletto’s Cabaret, New Orleans. Yeah, I found myself back home again, I was doing a show up in Penthouse club then I decided to stop by at one of the bikini bars or “strip clubs” so they call ’em, I was never too fond of such places, I just went in a couple of times with friends. But that night, I wanted to walk in after signing autographs and just to do the “whole thing”; drinks, a couple girls and naked lap dances. Now, I am a celibate man, I’ve been so all my life, I never married nor I ever envied a relationship, I had sex from time to time but nothing serious, just one night stands.

But boy this was something else! That night, I got hooked from the first time, something about the shining-sweat skin, fake titties, blues and hip hop music to the rhythm of the girl’s body flow and scent that sends me to awe, I can say it’s almost better than sex. If I get bored of Bubbles, I get Lemon, oh, Lemon ain’t here, let’s get Foufou with her fake French accent and her “allez vous couches avec moi mon cherie” trademark line every now and then. I asked the manager after he took a photo with me, “big fan Mr. Noah, I loved your show the other night!” he recalled, “Do you guys happen to need an MC here, mic handler by any chance?” I asked carefully into his ear over the music, “as a matter of fact we do, if you got someone that would be really helpful, this is my e-mail and…” I stopped him right there as he was reaching his business cards which were stacked in his hand, “It’ll be me, you’re looking at your new master of ceremonies” I replied slowing down at each word, “What the fuck… Neat Noah is gonna MC my joint, oh my god!” he cried aloud and shook my hands firmly for a full minute “welcome aboard man!”

I like it here, in fact I love it so much that I’m well into my 10th year in the gentlemen’s club business, I even partnered with the owner, Mike Virago, improved the place and Stiletto’s Cabaret only grew bigger and more popular, especially after everyone knew that I was on mic, I got a live band while I played the harmonica myself and introduced all the girls. But the women, ahh ahmm, my favorite part was when I get to cast new girls in, I still did comedy shows from time to time. I like it here on Bourbon Street; it is where it’s at! This is the place where you wanna be! Now if you’ll excuse me I gotta introduce Kiki and Lexus, they’re working the pole in a double dance, enjoy the show.

Noah by Farah Al-Sultan

By Posted in Farah Al-Sultan, Noah, Prose Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

            It’s time to start.

“A few blocks down from our apartment, is a cute little coffee shop called “Chillz”. My friends and I meet there weekly on Fridays. Exactly in the middle lay this horrible strip club, you can catch any sexually transmitted disease by just looking at it. I walk by it most of the time. Last Friday on my way back home, I spotted a person I wish I didn’t. Noah, a man between the ages of 45-50, was leaving the club. I was incredibly shocked, all I could think of was ‘did mom know about this?’.

“Are all the nights you claimed you were teaching spent here?” I asked later on.

“Yes.” He answered. He then continued to explain about how my mom knows, that he was working as an M.C., it’s helping out with the money, he didn’t…, then suddenly silence. I looked at him, and out of nowhere he was covered in his own blood. It took me a while to figure out it that I heard a gunshot, but faster to realize it wasn’t just clubs he dealt with. I just walked away, someone will find him eventually. Although my mom will have sleepless nights when she finds out, all I can do now is let her have her sleep. I never understood what she liked in him anyway. And that’s all I guess.” I ended. None of them spoke.

“So, he was your stepfather, correct?” policeman one broke the silence.

“He was indeed.” I replied.

“Let’s forget about the crime for a second, why are you so emotionless? I understand he was just a stepfather, but why?” policeman one spoke once more. Seems like policeman two is asleep.

“It’s a survival skill. If you attach yourself to something you will feel pain, why should I let myself feel pain?” I replied while leaving the room. Clearly, nothing more could be said or unsaid.

Noah by Batool Hasan

By Posted in Batool Hasan, Noah, Prose Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

Noah Shaw has a foot fetish.

Noah loves big feet, small feet, tattooed feet and especially high-arched feet. The main reason he agreed to work as a emcee in a strip club is that he gets to admire them all.

Red toenails, toe rings, colorful tattoos, sometimes it’s hard for Noah to remember why he shouldn’t kidnap one of the strippers and keep her in his closet.

“Goodnight, Noah,” A raspy voice says. He looks to his left to see Sparkles. She leans in and kisses him on his cheek.

“Sharing is caring!” She says as she stuffs some money in his pocket.

“Goodnight, Sparkles.” He winks at her as she turns to leave.

Sparkles is one of his favorite girls. Pale pink toenails, a single star ring on her right pinky toe, Daisy tattoos on both ankles. She has this little white scar on her left big toenail that drives Noah crazy.

Sometimes it hurt Noah to look at Sparkles’ feet.

It’s about 8 A.M. now and Noah holds the keys to lock the doors of the club.  He dreads this routine every morning: Having to abandon his safe haven and deal with boring reality. This instantly reminds him of the second reason why he needs this job: Noah’s mother has cancer.

The medical bills are crazy, but the club pays good money. Sometimes celebrities pass by to get wasted, which means you’ll get a shitload of cash for keeping their dirty secrets.

Noah walks through the streets of a noisy New York morning-no surprise there!

Five minutes later, he turns left at one of the ditches in a hurry. The weather is freezing and he’s much eager to reach his comfortable rat-infested apartment.

Realizing that he had taken a wrong turn, he turns around but-

“Kneel, you mewling quim”

What the hell? 

A sharp object pierces his skull, causing his knees to drop to the floor. He crouches on all four and tries to look up, but a wave of burning fire shocks his brain, blinding his vision.

What the fuck? He tries to say.

“You’re not vey bright, are you?”

Am I getting mugged?

“I am Loki of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose.”

And then the world went dark.

Noah by Toby Al-R

By Posted in Noah, Prose, Toby Al-R Leave a comment

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

The day was beautiful.

The sky kissed the sea to become bluer and birds hovered over the trees singing a train of magical melody. But I was on the verge of depression; collecting fragments of my lost heart, I am overwhelmed with debt, my wife filing divorce papers, my children abandoned me and they occasionally send me hate letters.

Rumors echoed in the strip club that they want to get rid of me. After thirty years of coordinating their mic… I guess I am getting too old to represent the beauty of the youth.

My fifth decade struck yet I have lost everything I worked for! Heck I even lost track of days. So today I am going to treat myself… by blowing up what remained in my wallet in a luxurious restaurant.

Upon my arrival and settling on the regal table the waitress recommended to me the chef’s special, I went for it and started to examine the stainless steel fork and knife, the posh napkins and candles, the lush chandelier and the distinctive decoration of the restaurant.

Time passed in exchange for the dish to arrive topped with a haddock on a bed of samphire. The succulent plant were too salty for me but I convinced myself it must taste good being that expensive.

I took my time and treasured this moment of reality escape. Oh how I wished for a fresh new start for me and all humanity. To strip off all the negative attributes we created upon ourselves and wash the sins of our own creation.

I closed my eyes…

And the universe responded to my dream;

Tectonic shocks crept to the ground!

The sky turned ruby red!

A wormhole drilled the space and spawned a new earth-like planet!

The hibernated moon is finally awake! It orbited closer to the sun and obliterated hatching billions of mega speed dolphins swimming in the space.

Years passed and people learnt how to tame the dolphins and travel through space in flashing speed. I was the first to set foot on the new planet. To start a new beginning for humanity with no dusty book to follow and no rusty stanza to obey. Because in here all rules are under one rule, Noah’s rule of no rules.

Along with my followers we started to construct the biggest stripping stage ever nested on the ground, it is going to be the capital of the new planet for all the people to come and strip off their clothes along with the old traditions. A place beyond war debt greed hunger taxes disease poverty pollution crime vengeance extinction consumption slavery unemployability corporatism corruption stratification and all the sins of our own creation.

It is time to STRIP OFF!

The new planet is magnificent, mysterious and pristine with abundance for all. In the summer ice cracks burning fissures and in the winter frozen volcanoes spit blue tongues. And today the stage is set for the opening night.

People started to forsake the earth and swarm the new planet leaving behind only the richest elite cruising their yachts and using their golden toilets realizing there is no one left to steal from.

Music gushed from the ground, light beams crisscrossed like a fishing net set to capture your mind with excessive euphoria. I held the microphone like a king holding his scepter.

When I was just about to give the first announcement, I suddenly;

Opened my eyes…

Only to see the waitress holding the bill.

Who is Noah?

By Posted in Noah 3 Comments

The project we chose for this meeting was somewhat unconventional.

Instead of choosing a certain topic to write about as we always do, we decided to build up a character and write about him/her. We each had to write about this character from our point of view. And we were encouraged to use our imagination and make this character as interesting as possible.

The group built this character up together. We decided it should be:

  • Gender: A male
  • Age: 40-50 years old
  • Occupation: Emcee at a Strip Club

And finally, we decided to call this character Noah. The reason we picked these certain characteristics is to make it more of a challenge for us to write, as several of these things are extremely hard for us to relate to (obviously…).

I hope this explains the project for you. And I really hope you enjoy our Noah’s!