Pixie Dust

They found me among

the cookie cutter society
standing out with a distraught personality 
tattooed by life’s imperfections, its unfairness
beautified by its experiences, beat down
by its bullies

They tracked down the words
that have fallen from my head
they picked up synonyms, they bagged
meanings, they even smoked some 
terminologies and ignited happiness

They moved and slithered their way
through the norms, the over norms
the proper, and the sane
and stumbled on a glitch ball
with electrocuted hair, piercing silence
with words falling from my hair 
They found me
With hungry eyes and sticky hands
they grabbed me, along with those
words that have fallen,
They scurried away with their treasure

They sat there, observing
the dusty soul, rusty let’s say
it’s been rained upon, it’s been
splashed by cars passing by

They removed the dust that
nestled in my hair, when they
brushed it off, it glittered
it was pixie dust!

With surprised faces
they removed all the pixie dust
realizing, it was magic
hidden there, in my hair

I saw their bags behind them
with my words, peeking out
I even saw the smoked happy terminologies 
in the ashtray in front of me

What do they want? Do they want to expel
what’s left of my magic? Or do they want
to preserve it?

I wondered! They sat there, high on literature
Smiling like pirates, enjoying the finding of their long
lost treasure

“Speak, write, make more” they ruggedly voiced
“I am at a loss for words” I lied
I could vomit words, pages, even books about
what I felt right then and there

I looked at their hungry souls
primitively gawking back at me
at magic
I saw them drooling over the beauty
that those words had given me,
I saw them
looking into my eyes
seeking more of what made their
blue hue, glow

I saw them getting closer
hoping some of the surreal intellect
will rub off onto them, hoping some pixie
dust will transform them
from thirsty cavemen, clinging
to their innate nature instincts of survival
to gentlemen, eloquent with magic
the magic of words

“I am at a loss for words” I lied again

I lied for a reason
Such beautiful words
are too precious
to be thrown
at empty

They mumbled away
as I smiled, amused by their
amazement by words
and the
pixie dust in my

galaxy hair 3


Third World

Consider this
A nation drugged with
Bombs of sarcasm on our border
Humans with crocodile smiles
Roads of crammed cars
Sounds of the night
Just like every other night

I could not but join in the celebration
We have become pathetic, we have adapted
to war
This is not a light thing to say
We have adapted to being the laughing stock
of our neighboring countries

We have grown fond of death and killings
we have been psychologically conditioned
to become desensitized
to what “progressed countries” call
“an unstable nation”

I forgot the patriots
I pity them, those whose souls
are strong, on an individual level because
most have lost interest in “hope”
Props to you and your unheard voices
whatever keeps that heart of yours beating
well…inject more,

project to progress

We’ve become a selfish nation
each striving to perfect that blueprint
of his illusion called “future”


I join the mental protest
towards progress, I join the
rivers of ambition that lead to the waterfall
with the rocky bottom
I join the walk towards
that fucking idea of “success”
then I pause
I halt in the middle of all that commotion
“then what?”

I still live in this country, I still have this crummy
apartment, I still don’t have water, I still don’t have electricity
I still plan on leaving, everyday
I still .. still
I still get drunk on ideas, on feelings
on alcohol on tangible moments
on psychological satisfactions
on the idea of WE instead of ME
AND vice versa when needed

“Shuffled Sheets”
I woke up, my nostrils dirtied
by the polluted air that I so willingly breathe
I am hosting this weakened body
that has become programmed
to follow routine
to react to any action
to just push through the next sunrise
I light my cigarette to compliment the fact
that I am awake, I am still alive
on an empty stomach growling
for something new

Ah what a paradox

I stood on my balcony, resting on that rusty
railing of mine, I look across to see how
the buzzing bees of Beirut, cease to
acknowledge the infesting corruption
that is slowly feeding off of their humanity
like parasites on unaware hosts

I see them, I can hear them
I disagree with
and all I can do is exhale that
cancerous smoke and join in
for now!

Then I took another look
at the messy view
colored by laundry rails
old wooden shutters
cheap paint and LCD advertisements
and I saw you standing there
on your porch with your head
stuck in your own cigarette smoke
leaning and looking straight
back at me

city 3


I see her from time to time
walking on those streets
either morning or night

We live in the same vicinity
So visual bumping is bound to occur
She’s covered in colors
a reflection of her thoughts or
a result of a hungover morning?
I wonder

I have walked back and forth
with the mornings and sunsets
I have replayed the same songs in my head
I have counted my steps
and yes I have seen her 
from the corner of my eye
the jumble of colors 
walking to the rhythms of the beats
in my ears
She smiles, I am curious and 
clueless as to the reason 
but it suits her

Mornings and sunsets,

Suddenly you find yourself
having drinks during the week
with your comfort group

the table was covered
with filled ashtrays. colorful
drinks, to each his own 

I was there, with my drink in front of me
I saw her come in, making her way

She had her own group
But I as intoxicated as I was
I let down my guard 
to my thoughts that is
I unchained them, 
and let them loose
since my body was catatonic

However at the end
I abdicated to my mind,
I gathered my limbs and walked towards her

She looked messy but it’s beautiful
she portrayed a mosaic of pulchritude
different pieces of different colors

“I see you pass by everyday
She giggled, “you do?” As she took a drag
from her cigarette
I felt she was examining me
Her eyes scanned my face,
stripped me to the bone
but the beauty of it is that she did it
so innocently

She raped me innocently
Fuck who can say that!

Then I found myself at a loss for words
Her vision scan has erased my vocabulary
my mental capacity to engage in small talk
“wtf is small talk anyways”
As I tried to articulate something worthwhile
to give value to my presence next to her
I found myself frozen

“What do you do?”
I used those four words as an excuse
for her to look at me and talk,
giving me the chance to feast
my eyes at her, I do know her

Her hand gestures
her giggles
Her candy wrapping truly does hide
a lot,
hard candy with a soft chewy core
I just figured
that this confident person
with no care in the world
shields herself from the bullshit
She has fortified her being
by ingesting every bullshit factor
and morphing it into something beautiful
no matter what

Every time she took a drag from her cigarette
Her eyes would divert from me and into the crowd
She would just look at them
I could see the gears in her head twisting
I could see what her eyes were doing
she didn’t say much, she listened
but she also listened with her eyes
she watched every woman and every man
It gave a her rush, they seemed to be the strings
to which she would weave stories about
they seemed to be characters and her joy
was to read, strip, create, generate, replace,

I could see that,
As she exhaled her smoke
She smirked
For smiling to her
was too precious to give away
so easily she diverted her

minute attention to me
She grabbed my hand
got closer to me
My heart…

Got closer to my ear
she whispered

“I see you too”

Those 4 words sent
ripples of
it’s like I’ve been stripped
of the last tiny bit
of sober confidence I had

I have
and infected
with her colors

flower boy


I am car less
So I took to walking under the rain
passing all those cars in traffic
I felt a sense of accomplishment

As I did, on the dog shit infested sidewalk
My thoughts came knocking
Knowing that I would shun them away
But having forgotten my headphones
I hesitatingly welcomed them
as grim or as random as they may seem
They entered, first step forward
“the nerve on these rascals”

As I carried my legs
along the pavement
first, as silly as it sounded,
I started scanning the pattern below my feet
and made sure that all fit perfectly

Then someone passed me
That cologne, met my thoughts
and they invited it for a drink
over that drink, my thoughts asked it
“hmm, nice scent, did you get it
is it YOUR scent?, what other scent friends
do you hang out with? Did his girlfriend force
this cologne on him?”
These thoughts had no mercy,
they questioned that cologne
like no tomorrow

All this in my head,
in a split of second
all in silence

Walking through,
I spotted an old man
carrying a plastic bag
with parsley and oranges
coloring that cheap transparent bag

Again my thoughts clung to his image
They too invited it for a drink
“What’s for dinner? Where’s the wife or you live alone?
Why are you walking late, under the rain? Oh you’re wearing converse?”
Poor idea, sat there on that round table in my brain,
again quiet

Then I passed him and my thoughts let go of his idea
Step by step, ideas roamed around in my head
like crazy alcoholics seeking the next idea
to binge on it, let loose

Oh foreigners!
Here we go again,
Those crazy thoughts
Seduced their idea to share that table in my head
“Why are you here? Do you even like it here? Maybe
cause your presence is temporary you enjoy
this country’s corruption? But seriously
Why here?”

Silence, I can only feel
the rummage, but to the world outside
I am just a car-less person
walking under the rain

I got closer to home,
these faces walking past me
prompted my thoughts’ invitation to them
Oh the questions, they asked
Oh the curiosity it spurred
I’ve seen them before,
bumped into them,
I know them,
but I don’t
This instant identity click
is street language
I am sure you know
what I mean,
Sometimes this click
prompts an involuntary smile
because “yea I’ve seen you every morning
but I know nothing about you, but
know you”

What if I truly articulated these questions to strangers?
Imagine the stories i’d weave

I got to my apartment
and for some odd reason
once I found myself
in my familiar zone
these thoughts got too drunk
and crashed

Have you met my thoughts?


She rubbed her hands together
Her skin was so cold that friction gave up
Thoughts swirl around her head
like wine in a connoisseur’s cup

She observes the world outside
and you observe her
she giggles, in solidarity
her perspective
has swung from side to side
it doesn’t seem to like stability

You marvel at this creature
Her lack of self containment
Her ability to say anything
whenever, wherever
Her magical power of being real

Is there something wrong with her?
Is her scarf tied too tight around her neck?
Is her head too weighty to carry?
Is it filled with ideas, deep secrets, much love,
a dark side, a dash of insanity?

Can someone be that real today?
Her real-ness is so rare, it glows
like a long lost gem in a tombstone
somewhere in Egypt

Her realness is so surreal
She isn’t afraid of being the person
she is at home, with you,
She isn’t scared to tell you what she is thinking
at the moment
Isn’t that wonderful?
She left her
sugar-coating in the past, she’s on an
all natural diet, she’s into this REAL thing
she has discovered it, after she realized
that changing for someone actually dimmed
a bit of her glow.
She realized that this Real thing,
is actually who she is

You try to look into her soul
you concentrate on her eyes
those windows
they smile back, they glisten
The collision of colors carries
you into that trip, where you have no control
literally ..

You feel warm, she is real!
You feel rewarded with that gleeful feeling
that you have found something actual in this world

You revert back, you take a deep breath
You light a cigarette and sit there
Her messy curls, harvest the golden
stories of many pasts, her pasts
her golden locks love dancing with
the crisp cold wind, on long
alcohol infused cruises,
You know, because she told you
and you undoubtedly and blindly trust her
She’s genuine and she’s there

For curiosity’s sake, you reach out
You want to touch her red cold cheeks,
She messed with your head, you want to feel
that all this is REAL

As you reached out, she paused,
Your warm fingers landed on her
cherry red cheeks,
she blushed and went on
about her own world in that bubble
of hers
With those hand gestures
those curls that dance with the wind
those windows to the soul
concentrating on yours

You smiled in content
You leaned back
took a drag
tilted your head backwards
exhaled it upwards

Then you straightened up
Your wobbling head
fixed itself
on that woman
in front of you

Her scarf carries her head!

Her scarf carries her head!


I am not sure
how to jot down
the surrounding
ideas that swim in my brain

they are not ideas per say
they seem to have a direct link
to my heart

I am truly happy
am I?
the conflict
I am alive, more alive
that I have ever been

I am in love
not with anyone, I am in love
not with anything
but this natural high has taken
me places and brightened
my dull confidence

Everyone knows after a high
comes the low, I am in limbo
I am stuck on a blank slate
with no plans ahead
nor any behind me, I made sure
I threw acid on them and burned them to ashes
those past mistakes, oh silly mistakes

I am on a tabula rasa pinned
by the beating heart and keeps me going
Yet, those beats always play solo
sometimes they long for the other
to comply with every thump
sometimes it beats so well, it enjoys
its aloneness

That slate, my canvas
what should I do with you?
Should I go wild and slap colored paint streaks on you?
Should I meticulously create my future?
Should I mix-n-match a messy creation and
then watch it burn?
Is this liberating or just confusing?

I am caught between
the two extremes of the scale
I am alone and I embrace it
I am alone and I dissecting every
layer that has covered me and hid me away
from my true being

Thick impermeable layers that I
inflicted on myself to please others
Give me the damn scalpel, I feel my inner bright rays
aching to shine, to expose themselves
As I make an incision, I felt lighter
I felt better, those dark layers
fell one by one, day by day
I am naked, I am comfortable
in my own skin
I am naked
and my heart
beats by itself




I saw you
eye-ing me
with your drink in hand
leaning on that dusty
sidewalk car

If you could
walk yourself
through the foggy smoke
and seat yourself next to me
A midst the unknown
what a rush it would be!

To host that confidence
to defy all social alliance
and just carry yourself
to do what you desire
Oh what defiance!

If you could
speak in that voice you use
to seduce my thoughts
and keep them a float
in the smokes
what a high it would provoke!

If you could
alert me to the wits
that embed your mind
and share them
with a manner so kind
what a chill it would give!

If you could
welcome my arguments
accompanied by the occasional
initial blush moments
interrupted by sing-alongs
with the tunes playing
what a thrill that would instill!

If you could enjoy
your drink and cigarette too
with all the hustle that’s surrounding you
with your gut twisted, clouded by
my judgement of your bold move
what a salute to man kind you’ll be

It all comes in waves,
the gathering of your strength
the courage to walk
towards me, locking eye contact
with no script in hand
with no plan at stand
with no knowledge of me or them
with no clear stance of what’s at whim!

It all comes in waves
the rushes, each one whips your heart
with an adrenaline rush
Slaps your face
with a hesitating smile
coating you with confidence

All those waves
come crashing at you
you enjoy the salty droplets
you defy the inertia of each wave
with sturdy feet standing
You are seduced by the thrill
of the unknown

therefore I ask you now

If you could
would you?

Waves of chemistry

Waves of chemistry