Thursday, November 04, 2010

شفتيه....شفتيه...
ارسمها بالاحلام...
و عينه....عينيه....
اتيه فيها الى عالم الغزل...
حلم يطوف في خيال بعيد...
يبتسم كملاك حنون وسيم
و شعره....شعره ريح...
و جسمه و شفتيه...شفتيه ريح عاصفة تهب بوجهي.... قبل ساخنة!
اتألم...
كفاك ....كفاك ياحلم...
انزل انزل هنا...
و تجسد لي و قل لي ها انا موجود!
انزل و خذ بيدي و انا كرهت الدنيا
خذنى الى عالم الازل.....
الحلم...
لابقى دفينة حبك بعيدا عن الخيال....

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

موعد مع الاشجان

ناديت باسم الوطن قالوا لي مات

صرخت باسم الام قالوا لي الوقت قد حان

ركظت وراء ظل الشجر فقالو لي الطوفان غلبك

ناديت باسم الحب قالوا لي قد فجر

ناديت باسمي…فرح…. قالوا لي قد غيرته الاحزان

فمات ماكان و انحرقت الجدران

فلا داعي لسجون السجان…

و حتى كأسي انسكب

على الورق

و الحبر نشف على قلبي السكران

و ما احس….سوى التوهان…

تائه في سجون بلا حيطان
فلا داعي لسجون السجان
و حتى قبلة الشغف
انجرفت و اندثرت الى النسيان

فماتت قبلتى على تراب الاوطان
و تركت همسة حبي له نغمة تغنيها الاحفاد
و تلك الشجرة الحنونة بظلها
انقلعت مع الطوفان
مع الطوفان
و انا سوى ذكرى
في عالم النسيان
فماتت قبلتى على تراب الاوطان
و تركت همسة حبي له نغمة تغنيها الاحفاد
و تلك الشجرة الحنونة بظلها انقلعت مع الطوفان
مع الطوفان
و انا سوى ذكرى
في عالم النسيان

Friday, June 04, 2010

Until I reach Nirvana…

The vociferous agitation no longer materializes into telephone calls to mom and close friends venting of how the disaster has hit, or how has the negative comment of bad souls hurt my very poetic essence…but now, the irritable angriness is kept inside, in an internal burning furnace I call mine, surrounded and shielded with my own medications made of my strong soul.
Now I know I have became mature, now I know that I absorb but react with great calculated mutiny if needed, and cry but in an acquiescent voice I call serenity.
It is kept and dealt by me solely, I know where my ship wants to sail, and I know how I need to feed those chirping free birds so they can fly higher.
And I know this eternal, internal furnace will stay, but can at times be put off with the gentleness of beauty of heavens and earth, of inspiration and reality, and the very strength to look forward from an optimist lens that tomorrow I can have a whole green garden inside me, I call peace.

Wednesday, June 02, 2010

The long-term fallacy.

It was one hot morning, we were walking together on the beach barefooted, wearing the same denim shorts we bought together, and all I feel is peace when I recollect our moments together unifying us in one clamped solitude… we were friends.
The beach that we went to discover together to our surprise was variant in colors to include dirty dark green that reminded me of fungi, beautiful mesmerizing turquoise, and angry dark oceanic blue.
And it was a strange beach that reminded me of how rough life can be, but with some added mysterious beauty, there was nothing gradual about it; the land crust of its shallow shore did not extend its arms much to the faint-hearted, only to have a sudden deep dive almost in less than one meter in some instances, but I loved it.
I hurriedly called off my beach walk with her and took off my shorts and top and swam. But my friend with her wide-brim hat concealing her sensitive skin, kept on walking as she came underprepared for a swim…she did not wear her bottom bikini under the shorts, and despite my many requests that it is ok to swim with the shorts, but she did not.
She enjoyed looking at cute little tiny fishes. Long time ago I used to like the zoo.
We are different, I am crazy and act according to the spur of the moment, and she is this demure lady with low voice and gracious acquiescent smile, but we do meet in many similar moods and modes, and what I like the most, even during our ultimate differences, and complete silence, we enjoy each other’s company, and nothing feels at odd or odd.
But when we called our early morning beach discovery journey to an end to head back to the office, and after settling in her convertible car listening as usual to her great fusion of music collection, we started talking about guys! We discovered our similarity, we have the same taste in men, and did not understand how can George Clooney be rated as ‘hottie’, in addition to his sad dating record of being a womenizer which we both despised.
Yeah, not that everyone should be a monogamous person, and I understand that marriage is not for everyone, its just we both did not like him, and we shared the same bias.
I thought… it was the right moment to further our commitment, and filter our friendship from any girl to girl jealousy. I felt that we needed the talk …of the friendship contract.
“I do not know, if I am going to appear as unromantic, I do not fight about men, because it is a choice, so if he likes you I would not really care, that is life, and people have to move on,” I said.
“Oh no, I would never do that, and I would not go for it,” she replied with concern, however not commenting on the ‘unromantic’ part.
“I am saying this, because I will take my chances, I am sorry,” I said laughingly, adding, “I guess, we can not give each other sex or babies, I can give you 50-75 percent happiness, but how about the rest, so I would want you to be happy, and I expect the same from you.”
“I think you are right, you are being realistic,” she replied.
I overlooked her fast conviction of my argument, but I do understand those eyes of hers, they have this subtle sadness….after all, we are friends that understand each other, but I do understand that nothing is long-term, and I am up for a deep dive any time life needs me to, I thin I grew wiser to believe in the long-term fallacy and in any aspect in life. Maybe, this long-term we define is a set of short-terms, and maybe this long-run we perceive is a set of mutated dramatic short-runs.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Chocolate is for pussies.

Modern warriors no longer wear helmets and carry engraved scars on their demolished skin and anatomy, rather those modern fighters are the best dressed, with vitamin-c moisturized skin, donning their best fearless smiles in the worst times.
And they do not fume anger, at least in the presence of others, as they want to signal self-discipline and self-control. Putting their ultimate zealous-defiance upfront is a priority, to not let the quagmire bog them down further in the slump.
These warriors do not use swords to thrust it into their enemies; it is their computerized gadgets they use to re-align their strategic defense, and marketing campaigns to clean mirror images of their polished positive, entrepreneurial spirits.
They are the go-getters, with no time to question themselves.
Their weapon of defense and attack lies solely in their capability to think ‘straight’, excised from any emotional beating amid fiery situations.
Are they robots?
No, but they have became like advanced technology, with think-tank rational backing up their system to settle from the chaos to stability, after all their fight is the continuous mind-discipline to think – positive – all the time, at all costs.
Their scars are of an interior type, hidden inside their inside, blocked and deleted for anyone to see.
The solemn, quiet, non-reactionary inside of these warriors is what makes them rational.
After all, who needs emotions when they are the ultimate downfall for anyone to ascend the corporate-ladder or even in the modern-day romance.
If they ever want to hit with their cruise missiles, be sure that they hit the targeted location with their strained and constrained minds to squeeze refined creativity in the intangible war of ideas.

Monday, March 08, 2010

Interesting.

Many of the human species make experiences as the factorial multiples of a person’s magnitude of being ‘interesting’ or otherwise.
There are some that send their rancor, that a certain set of individuals have lived along a certain scheme of arrangements, and they do not trespass the boundary of monotony, and simpleton thinking which itself can never out bound the conventional.
I found it ‘interesting’ whether or not it is really the experience that heralds a ‘distinguished’ person among others. Of course no one can ever argue that one simple experience can add one thousand meaningless jargons to be of a soulful, changing, thoughtful one nevertheless.
However, the question begs itself, can there be an ‘interesting’ person located in a limited zone interacting with such zone’s limited experience, or there is always a possibility that a simple thought can give to the progeny of thousands of invigorating thought processes, which can one day be grandpas, heralding the wrath of the younger thought generation yet to bring another new disagreeing generation.
I believe, what makes a person ‘interesting’ is not exactly the Ibn Batutta stories she shares, however the critical thinking she carries regardless of her location, it can include her while she is sitting on the toilet proving her very mortal being.
The ultimate question then, what makes some to have critical thinking while others cannot uphold the minimal requirement of its logical processes.
Of course, societies with a wider set of freedoms will entertain a higher number of people of critical thinking skills. Their critical thinking can even be entertained quite unconsciously for the freedom they enjoy.
It is simple, in a closed society all those ‘interesting’ questions will go down the drain in the name of hearsay and trespassing the very imposed union of family and social norms. It is even the fear that makes such free critical thinkers to fear their very own selves!
All in all, I take a rather Marxist take, the world is under the procession and construction towards great enlightenment, I do believe however that it will never be achievable, but this is the real ‘interesting’ engine that keeps us progressing forward.
And whoever ‘interesting’ is the one that stands a great sentinel of her own ‘critical mind’, and what is even ‘interesting’ is to see Iraq’s election results! Hmmmm could it be that Iraq’s head-turban experience can lead to a secular party winning or having more seats!
I hope next time to discuss science vs. social science differing critical skills, and if there is a difference anyways, I guess I was tired of my computer science sister to call my logical reasoning an embryo drunk with poisonous acid hence to the level of retardation.