type, delete
type, delete
type and fucking delete

“What’s happening” her thoughts alerted her
my fingers have lost their rhythm
the music that once was has now been raped by silence
that racing mind has now been seduced by stagnation
the morning used to be her haven that black coffee
used to be her drug, the one that carries her away
from the plastic bags that suffocated her
every freaking day

“is this anger?” this foreign feeling
that’s infiltrating her soft skin
making her quiver with wrath
she penetrated her brain, beyond the thoughts
that clouded it, across the nerve bridges
that balanced her sanity
she walked on the lines that connected
the cerebellum to her frontal lobe
she could feel the throbbing pain
that caused this anger to erupt
that’s causing that white slate in front of her
to haunt her

Her eyes dilated
glazed with a layer of tears
that she fought so much to hide
everything around her blurred
her brain power has infiltrated her reality
altering it, trying to convey a message

She found herself
on a window sill
looking down,
this new augmented reality
surprised her,

she saw individuals wondering around in circles
this mind over body experience beat any psychedelic
she could taste emotions, her eyes had the ability
to strip the raunchiest of fakes to their birthday suits

Her eyes scavenged them scanning them from head to toe
As she did, she peeled off a layer that was translucent
that covered the muck and gunk within
She wowed herself with this ability

She was astonished to notice that those close to her
were filled with more dirt than the bottom of an oil spill
they were dense but had a beautiful cover
that lured the loveliest of people

She felt like she was looking down at a fish bowl
filled with gorgeous colored creatures swimming
peacefully with each other
red and blue, pink and velvet
weightlessly swerving, waltzing
with each other

“what a brain”
“what a reality check”

while some were filled with dirt
others were consumed with niceness
a humble nature, that of a rare breed
a diamond with in the rough
their colored glowed from under the water
seducing her being, wanting to be part of her real reality 

She had never exhibited any rough nature
but that boiling within needed to be tamed
or adapted to
that alter ego wanted to surface and paint
murals with the insides that embodied
such beautiful creatures
while keeping those of pure nature
of transparency swimming seamlessly
in her world around her

The fish surfaced
and fled the waters surrounding her
leaving those
dense ones at the bottom

“we know” they said
she found herself
plastered with colors
seducing nature
by her true
sense of




Once there was this soul
that wandered aimlessly

that soul, was a product
of easy living and naive breathing
walking through paths less traveled
taking advice from the here and there

that soul, was a conclusion
of the picture perfect being
striving to complete the straight A
attitude it has always maintained

That soul always clung to passer-bys
for fear of being a lonely wanderer
that soul needed the comfort of another

Until one day, there was this hammer
that was hitting that bubble surrounding this
body-less aura, that hammer
redundantly kept hitting that fragile cover
as the cracks crept from all angles, it eventually broke

The soul was released from confinement
it was left to wander and wonder
it was alone, escaped that comfort of its own inflicted
cover bubble

It left that space like incense smoke
swirling with the wind, creating art out of nothing
generating amusement as it left that burning stick
with a beautiful scent, leaving behind the ashes
of the cold fragrant stick, wilting

Now what?

As it curled and swirled
it expanded its horizons to a bigger bubble
a bubble of no boundaries
It escalated to the euphoric highs of freedom
and it sometimes deterioted to the lingering feelings that
once reminded it of that silly fragile bubble, it once called home

As it weightlessly flew through that bigger horizon
it stumbled on lost body, wandering the face of the earth
it felt familiar, the soul looked closely, that body was empty
broken burnt, effaced from all things that reflected its true beauty
to the outer world

As that body inhaled a breath of fresh air
the soul entered it with no thoughts
the soul fell in love with it
that feeling of love at first sight
driving the soul to insanely and spontaneously
become one with that body
the soul nestled beautifully
and slowly realized that this is home

The body, glowed it felt alive again
It has found sanctuary within itself again

It felt beautiful all on its own
It felt powerful

It was just the antidote
to those empty lifeless eyes
it felt like all  it needed

was breath of fresh air

to revive that once wild spirit
to give light to the world it had
hidden behind those eyes
that rib cage
and that damn thick skin

and the soul, oh the soul

it felt more at home
than ever
it has found its



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

Jumble of Nothings

It didn’t bother them
that it’s raining,
What did though was the fact
of their wet pants sticking to them
in cold loving passion

Damn wet jeans

They scurried over water puddles
they jumped in a few in drunken frenzy
Fuck, and we have water scarcity!

He hugged her, her wet hair stung his face like
jelly fish tentacles, he didn’t care
she laughed loudly, her breath smells
like her favorite drink,
It’s becoming her scent,
She couldn’t care less

They balanced each other,
they snuck glances at the sky
where droplets of rain landed
stinging kisses on their faces

Why is this so romantic?

Blah, Traffic, yelling
dirty splashed water from speedy cars
Obscenities, over flowing sewers
it does feel like home

Where chaos warms you
instability comforts you
and that careless feeling
secures you

No they are not insane,
their mental capacities will
threat those in asylums,
shake them in their straight jackets
since what you dub as insane
is completely standard
for them

Damn right
So let them
Walk in the
stinging rain,
wet dirty jeans
small bottles of
alcohol find warmth in their
and in their bodies

It does look like it’s a scene from a movie
what movie?
My mental one?
or the one you’re weaving right now?

It’s called dirty glamour,
Messy thoughts,
unbalanced steps
butterflies in their wallets
They bump into friends
whose smile is as big as theirs

They too are wet, the rain is merciless
They hug
They too have found a loophole to warmth
They giggled at the shared mini alcohol
bottle secret nestling in their jackets

With butterflies in their wallets
crooked damp cigarettes in their hands
They danced to their own tune
They walked down the street
that wet one, with cars
flooding sewers
and honking

You sat there in your car
miserable and stuck in traffic
your eyes followed them
your heart wondered
and vicariously enjoyed their smiles
while you sat there
warm and roofed
by your jumble
of nothings


Wet Cigarette


You stand there
Paused in a fast forward world
You squint your eyes
to focus your vision
on what you THINK
You stand there
bottled with mixed emotions
injecting your brain with digital
droplets of imposed norms
You stand there
with a beating heart
that your body has harnessed
till now
With breathing lungs
that still support you, even though
you smoke like a fucking chimney
You stand there on the street
Scanning the same faces,
the same familiar faces
that frequent your footsteps
to and fro, everyday
those whose eyes are glued
to the very same gadgets
that stir their vision away
from the world itself
You stand there, with the moving landscaped
centered in front of you
but no sound, just the blasting
music, in your ears
unique to you, ON THAT DAY
You orchestrate the motions
of humans, cars, birds
to the beats of your tunes
You stand there, helpless
facing that fast paced world
that has individualized the “WE”
that has controlled us … digitally
You stand there,
Also standing there
looking away from those
plastic robots in his palm
and looking right back
at you!
The stare that speaks to you in a loud world!

The stare that speaks to you in a loud world!

Free Writing

She thought
She would be in those pictures
where faces are painted with smiles
where dresses are so perfectly and selectively picked
where every photo is as memorable as the memory it preserves

Then her thought struck her
like lightening in a random damp rainstorm

she wasn’t ready to wear that dress
she wasn’t ready to settle

she has so much life in her
butterflies in her body
strong heart beats
she couldn’t pickle it in a jar

she has so much to offer
she gives with no thought, it’s her high

she has the world to wander
she has citizens of the planet to meet
she has ambition,
different kind of ambition,
she has fireworks in her head  (quoted)
she has words to share
she has stories to tell
she has a love to spread
she has her self
to explore

what was she thinking?
Societal acceptance?

Never try to constrain her free spirit
hers is meant to soar
in thought, in the skies, among the stars
You are welcome to join
but never to pin down!