الجمعة، 25 نوفمبر 2016

Tick Tock


Being impatient was never a vice,
As you elegantly described it
Its obvious symptoms, they don't betray a malady
An excess of loving never traps a person
That was the point all along
And a quickness at running
Becomes of help when it's to keep safe
What hasn't broken yet
Never heeding advice, and giving liberty
To the corporal expressions of my limbs
Unleashing the hounds of my speech
At leisure
Indulgence in my passing caprices
A ridiculous obsession with mending
What could never be whole
Then taking my time at recess
Letting the ship go under
Taking a deep breath and delving
Into turmoil
Head first

Cutting short all the cords of my ticking bombs
Beautiful explosions of reason

I wonder,if forgetting is the true salvation out of this labyrinth
Of faces, and names
Of convictions, and feelings
If forgiving is our sole deliverance, after all
People never really change
It takes years to make them do
Years one doesn't have
You would be cruel to think
That what I am is primitive
For what I've become is a rebound

We are
Running out of time, aren't we ?

Ever since inception.



الثلاثاء، 22 نوفمبر 2016



But, God, what would I have done with myself
If it wasn't for poetry ?
If these hands couldn't manifest
My mute soul
And bleed what refuses
To untangle
From the tip of my tongue
Where could I have turned
With all these floods
Unstoppable rains
Trying to break through the lids
Sealed tight on my eyes
Through the barricades
Of fires and fuming hurricanes
Tearing apart to shreds
What's left of my heart
It's the greatest boon
Aside from being
To be able to weep at my own bareness of feels
To sigh with the tenderness
And instant blush of a lover pining for their beloved
As I read what my hands
Have left for time to grasp
Touch these strokes,
Almost pulsing with vigor and convulsing pain
The dying will of my flat brush.



To Kateryna

If water was a human 


May the lord preserve the souls
That exhaust themselves to calm one's rage
Like water quells the rising flames
Before it gladly perishes into smoke
May the lord protect, for the sake
Of all that struggles to stay soft
In this dark age
Those that walk along the border of existence
Never faltering
Never altering
The ones resigned into mere hardness of visage
Abiding, solemnly
Against the strains of doubt
Bulging inside their cracks and veins
May He eternally bless
The innocent few still willing to harness
What's left of beauty 
Hidden in the hearts of strangers.

-Rain


الأربعاء، 16 نوفمبر 2016

Pizzicato


1//
"Make haste to call."

I got a short text while out
Three lines of information
Delivered curtly
And my stomach stirred
It was there and then that I learnt
That it's better to be out of reach ,sometimes
And that grieving could be differed 
Until it sinks in

I went back and finished my slice of Pizza

Waited three days to remember

What difference does it make ?

If I wept a year later
They are far beyond rebuke, beneath the soil
Eternally asleep
Whether I howl, they wouldn't know
Bang my head against a wall, or break in silence
Does it revive the dead
Does it unwind the time
Does it comfort the living
Or stop the worms
From feasting on their flesh?



2//

I'm pounded shreds of glass, too small to cut
Too jagged to reflect
Harmlessly I try to exist
White of color, since I couldn't be
Invisible
Caressed and toted by breeze
But folks still circle me around
To avoid hurts they don't need
Or tip toe when they have to cross my path
Corrupting my order
On their way
Out.


3//

These repeated lines walk on their own by now
Assemble at the tip of my tongue
"Al Baraka fekom"
"A7san Allah 3azakom"
"IsA akher Al a7zan"
"Al Baqa2 lellah"
"Al dafen mtain?"
I always remember that Hadeeth
That says sudden death becomes frequent
At the end of times
And I muse at how people can get used to loss
So readily
Perhaps
We have been dead all along
Some of us merely
Stop breathing when
The time comes.



4//

I decided since a while
To remember them properly within these lines
I know that I defile poetry by my wretched ways
Like a sick habitual deprived of his means
Of appeasement
They say that ache impregnates the soul
With the most solemn of phrases
But it's too late to steer clear from the wall
I use the memory of dead souls to revive mine
I shiver as I recite these dissonant dirges in my head
Another dedication
Out of obligation, I know
But somewhere, along the line
A forced whine verily converges
To a river of anguish
It's a price to pay when one never cares
To say things out loud when they have the chance
Time stretches lazely while one is alive
These hearts pounding
These finger tips twitching with vigor
Eyes flaring
Cheeks red with youth
Time taking a nap
But words busy flipping through magazines
On the couch

One never counts their breaths until air becomes scarce.



5//

This is a dedication : 

Though my words are in utter disarray, like his front teeth
Expressions as weak as his presence
In a room full of people
Indecisive, as the shadow of a candle
Lighted on a winter night
Only kept burning by the warmth of affection
This is a celebration of someone's life
See, he always parted his lips in an undefined smile
When he listened
In the rare occasions on which he spoke
It was crude and unrefined
Been robbed of the precious
Of his time
Of her time
But he sounded like he found comfort
In having something to be robbed of
Perhaps it's because it made him lighter
These kinda souls are never vile
And they linger around

Their shadows linger around for a while.



6//

I saw you at the mall the other day
Stopped mid sentence, and forgot where I was going
It was your doppelganger
I knew it because you didn't look twice
So strange, perhaps it doesn't matter
For how long you have known a person
They always steal with a gouged piece of your abdomen
And tuck a memory deep in the hollow left behind
It stings
When one tries to get up in the morning
The festering flesh caves in
Like a sufferer biting on a stick
And with all its might, clings
To what's left of them
Perhaps it grows with time, inside your guts
The planted seed of a morbid notion
And it's been spreading like cancer
Of late

Could I possibly be
Seeking a meaning
In grief?


الاثنين، 14 نوفمبر 2016


Rage, rage.
Not like a hurricane
Not like a volcanic eruption
Not like a cosmic explosion
Not like an avalanche
Not like a tsunami
Rage,
Like a human
Beautifully
No wreckage left behind, but within
And no toll to pay but from your own account.






السبت، 12 نوفمبر 2016


One hears a lot that shattered glass could never be fixed
Not without visible scars, swollen veins
And a vulnerable despondency
Unable to carry the weight it used to handle
When it was whole
What is it, then, that draws even closer, two hearts severed
By time
And ruction
When they find each other again in the gust of living
Is the fear of falling apart the best remedy for the cracks in a construction ?
When the ridge in between is deemed a vile enemy
And the sides of a crack pine with remorse and desire
A strange, strange business, human affection is.

الثلاثاء، 8 نوفمبر 2016




"A great egoist. Her egoism and her vanity are colossal. She demands everything of other people, all the perfections, and does not pardon the slightest imperfection in the light of other qualities that one may possess. 
I still love her, but I do not want to love her any more.

She doesn't deserve this love."