I hate rhyming words,
For my letters are sharper than swords,
Rhyming is for luxurious girls,
Silver pens in hands of pearls,
As for me i use words that are real,
So you'd perfectly understand how i feel,
In nights that are darker than blue,
I've lost contact with a word of two,
To resemble what's true and what you'd believe,
I won't play innocent for i'm smart not naive,
Should i be the judge or should i be the jury,
I've got no gavel and eyes burn with fury,
For promises you have made but you've never kept,
And in the arms of my enemy you have slept,
I shall raise the sword and spread the word,
For you've played a golden guitar yet the wrong cord.
20 December 2009
18 December 2009
Left White & Red Right
Streets of the ocean raged in calmness. Wish it was an ocean though, well no not really. I just picked the word to pretend that i'm cool. I can't swim so i prefer land better. It was an ocean of sand and aisles of asphalt.
With darker than black ink spread within the veins and everything was painted with what you wouldn't want to name - Black. I was only seeing two colors white and red dancing before my eyes.
My left eye saw white and red what was my right eye victimized. I probably breathed twice during that day once when i reached work and the other when i left. When i drank water, every one was able to see.
Not because water is clear, but because they witnessed me holding and kissing a helpless under aged bottle (500 mls) with my eyes fixed to the ceiling - i know not quite romantic. I can't seem to remember what day it was. But i can surely recall that i was sad.
And now i'm completing this helpless piece of writing after exactly 7 months and 12 hours and i don't know how many mintues. I want to blank my brain or head whichever gets formatted first. My eyes are a mix of white and red. Not because of what i said. But because of the red clouds floating in the whitest of skies.
I swear to God it's merely a coincidence i'm wearing red pajamas at the moment. White is what is actually not. Black is what i lack to be an effective part of this world. White gets dirty easily everyone's stamp leaves a mark, but i can't.
I want to have amnesia i swear i do, so helpless and restless can't breathe like a normal human being nor see what is seen. I merely make the mistake over and over again. Betting that i won't get wet standing in the rain.
This one is dedicated for the mutual feeling of helplessness and restlessness of poor souls that keep roaming in the emptiness of nowhere. The nowhere of pure hearted innocents of them all, for i know we'll never have the chance at all!
P.S. I got the inspiration of the title from the streets of the highway my left eye saw the coming cars fully beaming the lights on my left side and my right eye caught the red of the cars in front of me.
With darker than black ink spread within the veins and everything was painted with what you wouldn't want to name - Black. I was only seeing two colors white and red dancing before my eyes.
My left eye saw white and red what was my right eye victimized. I probably breathed twice during that day once when i reached work and the other when i left. When i drank water, every one was able to see.
Not because water is clear, but because they witnessed me holding and kissing a helpless under aged bottle (500 mls) with my eyes fixed to the ceiling - i know not quite romantic. I can't seem to remember what day it was. But i can surely recall that i was sad.
And now i'm completing this helpless piece of writing after exactly 7 months and 12 hours and i don't know how many mintues. I want to blank my brain or head whichever gets formatted first. My eyes are a mix of white and red. Not because of what i said. But because of the red clouds floating in the whitest of skies.
I swear to God it's merely a coincidence i'm wearing red pajamas at the moment. White is what is actually not. Black is what i lack to be an effective part of this world. White gets dirty easily everyone's stamp leaves a mark, but i can't.
I want to have amnesia i swear i do, so helpless and restless can't breathe like a normal human being nor see what is seen. I merely make the mistake over and over again. Betting that i won't get wet standing in the rain.
This one is dedicated for the mutual feeling of helplessness and restlessness of poor souls that keep roaming in the emptiness of nowhere. The nowhere of pure hearted innocents of them all, for i know we'll never have the chance at all!
P.S. I got the inspiration of the title from the streets of the highway my left eye saw the coming cars fully beaming the lights on my left side and my right eye caught the red of the cars in front of me.
07 October 2009
Rosaries
I count not the objects, but merely the beat. The flesh and blood of 5 friends who their counting I repeat. I count them everyday to insure they are still the same. For they are quite different, nonetheless they have "A" name.
I make sure that their number still stands or sits. Then i start to ask for forgiveness. I close my eyes not, and i dry my tears not. I feel content with the question and request. I'm merely nothing but a humble of human who's full of sins.
I wonder how a heart could change its place to where it could neither exist nor belong. You might call me a liar and i will never give in. Down there it moved, to speak of what is not wrong and what is right and yet not true. I'm sure you will eventually believe what i tell you...
My friends mix with no objects only blood, flesh and bones. As i keep crying for forgiveness i make my voice change into sweet tones. Like birds who sing i forget all that worries me and relax in no time like an none living thing.
My flesh and blood rosaries i will never stop touching you, for i want you to glow brightly on the day when i will be able not to look at you.
NOTE: In case you didn't understand what i have written above, i simply don't like Rosaries so i used my right hand to ask for forgiveness for i want them to brightly glow to make them my witness.
I make sure that their number still stands or sits. Then i start to ask for forgiveness. I close my eyes not, and i dry my tears not. I feel content with the question and request. I'm merely nothing but a humble of human who's full of sins.
I wonder how a heart could change its place to where it could neither exist nor belong. You might call me a liar and i will never give in. Down there it moved, to speak of what is not wrong and what is right and yet not true. I'm sure you will eventually believe what i tell you...
My friends mix with no objects only blood, flesh and bones. As i keep crying for forgiveness i make my voice change into sweet tones. Like birds who sing i forget all that worries me and relax in no time like an none living thing.
My flesh and blood rosaries i will never stop touching you, for i want you to glow brightly on the day when i will be able not to look at you.
NOTE: In case you didn't understand what i have written above, i simply don't like Rosaries so i used my right hand to ask for forgiveness for i want them to brightly glow to make them my witness.
08 August 2009
A Crying Ocean in a Zero-Star Restaurant!
It wasn't an ocean that raged, it was an ocean that cried. It cried so much until its tears got so wet, whose responsibility is it? White tears on a blue face. Surprisingly there were no eyes to shed those white tears.
It only needed a broken heart for starters and a dark atmosphere for dessert! It wasn't a last supper though, it was the beginning of something sweet. With only one diner and no reservation, life was literally finally getting better, despite the fact that someone has cried.
It's not about the food, it was barely edible. Words on empty plates and letters with no spices. My life has stopped me for a dine in, although it was a zero-star restaurant and the chef is actually illiterate he can't read his recipes. I thought why not, until i saw the chairs.
They were chairs made of sharp rocks. I thought to myself "Nah, i'd go for take-out." Yes okay i admit, the table clothing was nice. They had no candles and i thought to myself that they were more of bald tables.
The hair on the table would be illustrated with vases hugging bloody roses. Well i've been told and they have said. You too have heard it once or couple of times at least. As you have ears and eyes to know the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
I know you know, i know you've heard the answer before.
IMPORTANT NOTE: As your answer will influence the balance of the mother nature be sure your answer is not being affected by any foreign or domestic threats!
Walk the line and listen to what your conscience is telling you. Build the castles for people who live near the shore. They're used to their houses falling apart. They don't mind.
To be continued...
It only needed a broken heart for starters and a dark atmosphere for dessert! It wasn't a last supper though, it was the beginning of something sweet. With only one diner and no reservation, life was literally finally getting better, despite the fact that someone has cried.
It's not about the food, it was barely edible. Words on empty plates and letters with no spices. My life has stopped me for a dine in, although it was a zero-star restaurant and the chef is actually illiterate he can't read his recipes. I thought why not, until i saw the chairs.
They were chairs made of sharp rocks. I thought to myself "Nah, i'd go for take-out." Yes okay i admit, the table clothing was nice. They had no candles and i thought to myself that they were more of bald tables.
The hair on the table would be illustrated with vases hugging bloody roses. Well i've been told and they have said. You too have heard it once or couple of times at least. As you have ears and eyes to know the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
I know you know, i know you've heard the answer before.
IMPORTANT NOTE: As your answer will influence the balance of the mother nature be sure your answer is not being affected by any foreign or domestic threats!
Walk the line and listen to what your conscience is telling you. Build the castles for people who live near the shore. They're used to their houses falling apart. They don't mind.
To be continued...
14 July 2009
I Love Him <3
I'll tell you the story of my beloved mother. A 37 years of age fine woman. She was and still is the most beautiful amongst her sisters and friends. She was born in December. To become so fine, she had a very loving father.
He gave her everything he had and to be more accurate he was her everything. No one could ever love her the way he did. As for me i'm really trying to follow his lead.
Not only that, his love, her passion how they loved each other created an unbelievable bond no one could really understand. Who do i love more? I really am confused! I can't actually love one more than the other.
To think about it reasonably, the father was the reason the daughter raised and the daughter is the proof of the father's existence. Once, i was sitting with her talking to her about him.
Do you know what she told me?
"It's not about how i've grown, what i've become or even who i am" she paused, sighed and then said "It's merely for the pride that fills my lungs to the veins when someone mentions his name (Zayed)" said the United Arab Emirates.
She loves him, i love him, we all love him!
(May Allah rest his soul ~ The Late Sheikh Zayed Bin Sultan Al Nahyan)
He gave her everything he had and to be more accurate he was her everything. No one could ever love her the way he did. As for me i'm really trying to follow his lead.
Not only that, his love, her passion how they loved each other created an unbelievable bond no one could really understand. Who do i love more? I really am confused! I can't actually love one more than the other.
To think about it reasonably, the father was the reason the daughter raised and the daughter is the proof of the father's existence. Once, i was sitting with her talking to her about him.
Do you know what she told me?
"It's not about how i've grown, what i've become or even who i am" she paused, sighed and then said "It's merely for the pride that fills my lungs to the veins when someone mentions his name (Zayed)" said the United Arab Emirates.
She loves him, i love him, we all love him!
(May Allah rest his soul ~ The Late Sheikh Zayed Bin Sultan Al Nahyan)
10 May 2009
Who I am & What I Do... <-- (3 dots)
If you're the one who reads what i write, i'm the one who listens to what you might say. I could sense your worries and read between the lines as well. I used to be the devil in car, but now i'm just a writer!
Mark my words as i will never take back what i said once or even twice. Here i am sitting alone, watching the walls with great caution. I can't remember how many times i've blinked today. I will count tomorrow.
The cold air was the background music as i'm so not in the mood for writing. So hungry and trying to bribe my eyes not to fall asleep. No one was there except for me. Turning to my left to stare at whiteness. Without realizing that i should be careful how i move my arms, i hit the bottle. And it fell down.
I leaned to grab it and place it back to where it was. Gazed at the sweat drops that covered the little bottle. Usually the drops would float on the surface of the water. However, this bottle had its perspiration of drops beneath the surface! I scared the little one!
The bottle name was Masafi. It was 500 mls old it can't grow though. It was to be reborn if they wanted the little bottle to grow. In other words, recycled. I wanted to be friendly and start a topic.
The bottle however, will just keep the only one eye it has looking at the ceiling and will never blink to make an eye contact with me. I wanted to smirk the fact that it always stands and never sits, but changed my mind because that would be mean.
I have noticed that i talk about things more than people! Check my previous entries and debate with me. For my army will be gathered before you know and the sun will pause its rising just to make me win the battle of losers!
For the worst of the good is another loser living the era of no time. Trying so hard to be what they can't become to prove the fact of nothingness, just like what i'm doing right now.
Lying to the lines talking to me every day. Believing that i will be okay tomorrow. Until it actually is A-OKAY in a while i will be resting my case. The battlefield will take a place on my papers.
I will be fighting their tongues and will have the eye of my pen witnessing the tragedy of a murdered in cradle hero - me!
P.S. I read something beautiful today,
(Don't argue with an idiot, people will not be able to differentiate between the two of you)
Mark my words as i will never take back what i said once or even twice. Here i am sitting alone, watching the walls with great caution. I can't remember how many times i've blinked today. I will count tomorrow.
The cold air was the background music as i'm so not in the mood for writing. So hungry and trying to bribe my eyes not to fall asleep. No one was there except for me. Turning to my left to stare at whiteness. Without realizing that i should be careful how i move my arms, i hit the bottle. And it fell down.
I leaned to grab it and place it back to where it was. Gazed at the sweat drops that covered the little bottle. Usually the drops would float on the surface of the water. However, this bottle had its perspiration of drops beneath the surface! I scared the little one!
The bottle name was Masafi. It was 500 mls old it can't grow though. It was to be reborn if they wanted the little bottle to grow. In other words, recycled. I wanted to be friendly and start a topic.
The bottle however, will just keep the only one eye it has looking at the ceiling and will never blink to make an eye contact with me. I wanted to smirk the fact that it always stands and never sits, but changed my mind because that would be mean.
I have noticed that i talk about things more than people! Check my previous entries and debate with me. For my army will be gathered before you know and the sun will pause its rising just to make me win the battle of losers!
For the worst of the good is another loser living the era of no time. Trying so hard to be what they can't become to prove the fact of nothingness, just like what i'm doing right now.
Lying to the lines talking to me every day. Believing that i will be okay tomorrow. Until it actually is A-OKAY in a while i will be resting my case. The battlefield will take a place on my papers.
I will be fighting their tongues and will have the eye of my pen witnessing the tragedy of a murdered in cradle hero - me!
P.S. I read something beautiful today,
(Don't argue with an idiot, people will not be able to differentiate between the two of you)
The Evil Circle .O.
I think i need some distraction! For i have a lot of my energy focused on something that will certainly take me down along with the ship floating in the air. I tried to think of a painful facts, i tried to think of a teeth-less child laughter. It's hopeless. I'm still focused 0_0
None of the mentioned above was helpful. The only thing that succeeded to distract me was the evil circle. It was unlike what will usually seize down my wild thoughts, it was new and peculiar.
For so many days now, the red circle kept banging against the four walls of my skull. The first time i have ever seen it was the 22nd of Feb, three days before my younger sister's birthday and the independence day of Kuwait.
I never knew that the evil red existed at all! I'm best friends with the orange circle. That was good enough for me. Although mum hated her so very much. Tried everything in her governmental powers to separate us.
Nonetheless she failed like hundreds. She's still trying and still failing. I admire her perseverance though. I hated pretending that i don't speak to her anymore. But i had to do it, at least in mum's presence.
But when the mums are away, i will certainly call on the orange circle and hell yeah we would play. During the day when i first laid eyes on the circle of red evil i was mentally and physically full of pain. I'm not saying that red resembles evil, but do you think this is a coincidence? I think not!
I'm the very last person to make assumptions, i always ask the questions. Yet the circle had no ears to hear my questionings! I had a fight with my sister and my best friend one day before we met.
Abu Dhabi was crowded due to the IDEX exhibition. I got stuck in the traffic for literally three hours taking my sister to college and another three hours going back home to catch up with mum before she leaves to Egypt.
I was moving my baby boo one inch every five minutes. I had the cauldron of rage and anger boiling above my neck. The boiling needs heat and heat consumes energy. I ran out of energy and self control before i could even notice.
The the sound of my silent breaths knocked me down. I stopped on the way back to think a little. It was not doing me any good. My energy was consumed to some number below the zero. I live on a pair of Duracell.
On the way back i tried to push my baby boo - Abya'6a - to go beyond extremes a little bit. It was my first time ever - so far i didn't do it yet. Just a bit more to see mum before she leaves. I didn't head home, for my black dudes took a different path. They walked me down the road that led to the red evil circle.
It was 260 km/h wasn't long until the circle divulged. It wasn't as red as blood, it was darker. I haven't realized that i can't push her any further. She was at her limits too and so was i. We were both sad since that unlovely Saturday. I didn't bathe her. She has every right to be angry with me. Yet she didn't disappoint me.
None of the mentioned above was helpful. The only thing that succeeded to distract me was the evil circle. It was unlike what will usually seize down my wild thoughts, it was new and peculiar.
For so many days now, the red circle kept banging against the four walls of my skull. The first time i have ever seen it was the 22nd of Feb, three days before my younger sister's birthday and the independence day of Kuwait.
I never knew that the evil red existed at all! I'm best friends with the orange circle. That was good enough for me. Although mum hated her so very much. Tried everything in her governmental powers to separate us.
Nonetheless she failed like hundreds. She's still trying and still failing. I admire her perseverance though. I hated pretending that i don't speak to her anymore. But i had to do it, at least in mum's presence.
But when the mums are away, i will certainly call on the orange circle and hell yeah we would play. During the day when i first laid eyes on the circle of red evil i was mentally and physically full of pain. I'm not saying that red resembles evil, but do you think this is a coincidence? I think not!
I'm the very last person to make assumptions, i always ask the questions. Yet the circle had no ears to hear my questionings! I had a fight with my sister and my best friend one day before we met.
Abu Dhabi was crowded due to the IDEX exhibition. I got stuck in the traffic for literally three hours taking my sister to college and another three hours going back home to catch up with mum before she leaves to Egypt.
I was moving my baby boo one inch every five minutes. I had the cauldron of rage and anger boiling above my neck. The boiling needs heat and heat consumes energy. I ran out of energy and self control before i could even notice.
The the sound of my silent breaths knocked me down. I stopped on the way back to think a little. It was not doing me any good. My energy was consumed to some number below the zero. I live on a pair of Duracell.
On the way back i tried to push my baby boo - Abya'6a - to go beyond extremes a little bit. It was my first time ever - so far i didn't do it yet. Just a bit more to see mum before she leaves. I didn't head home, for my black dudes took a different path. They walked me down the road that led to the red evil circle.
It was 260 km/h wasn't long until the circle divulged. It wasn't as red as blood, it was darker. I haven't realized that i can't push her any further. She was at her limits too and so was i. We were both sad since that unlovely Saturday. I didn't bathe her. She has every right to be angry with me. Yet she didn't disappoint me.
20 April 2009
Wordless!
It feels really odd. It's quite strange. The amount of the words that i think of and form daily. I will not exaggerate but i write around 3 journals in my head on daily basis and if i was lucky enough one of them would be able to see the light.
Scenes and lines. Names and nicks. Characters out of this world and evil that was born only in this world. Imagine the combination of survival. Who would win and who will hold his head down in shame to be the loser who's simply given in. Simply lost when he could have gone a little bit farther to cross the line. To win the race.
But you know what, sometimes it beat me too. The amount of fear that takes over me when my mouth is so full of letters. Capital and small letters that i sometimes can't put together. Although i'm a writer, i can be wordless every once in while, or shall i say i'm letter-less now.
Sometimes i think the alphabets only existed my-solo-sake. But then if i was to try and make a word of my own those letters betray me. Leave me there in white space of an adult page that i can't deal with. That i can even write on.
A very strange conduct of letters that sometimes i feel they have ganged up on me to bully the little writer i have within. Wasn't very long for the war of words to start attacking. I grabbed my ever lasting companions my pen and a blank piece of paper to write a peace treaty.
The pen was only the messenger delivering the shivers my hand was producing. Who am i to joke about this war? If a line smiles, it doesn't mean that he likes you, it means that he's going to eat you! Yet you all know how optimistic i am. And how my hopes are always taller than the 166cm of my skeleton. Even if they exceeded my height with 1 or 2 cm, that still make them taller.
The world is weird and so is the Strawberry cheesecake! And what does that have to do with anything, i really have no idea. I can get Cuckoo from time to time. Cuckoo is strange and strange is nice once in a blue moon, wouldn't you think?
Scenes and lines. Names and nicks. Characters out of this world and evil that was born only in this world. Imagine the combination of survival. Who would win and who will hold his head down in shame to be the loser who's simply given in. Simply lost when he could have gone a little bit farther to cross the line. To win the race.
But you know what, sometimes it beat me too. The amount of fear that takes over me when my mouth is so full of letters. Capital and small letters that i sometimes can't put together. Although i'm a writer, i can be wordless every once in while, or shall i say i'm letter-less now.
Sometimes i think the alphabets only existed my-solo-sake. But then if i was to try and make a word of my own those letters betray me. Leave me there in white space of an adult page that i can't deal with. That i can even write on.
A very strange conduct of letters that sometimes i feel they have ganged up on me to bully the little writer i have within. Wasn't very long for the war of words to start attacking. I grabbed my ever lasting companions my pen and a blank piece of paper to write a peace treaty.
The pen was only the messenger delivering the shivers my hand was producing. Who am i to joke about this war? If a line smiles, it doesn't mean that he likes you, it means that he's going to eat you! Yet you all know how optimistic i am. And how my hopes are always taller than the 166cm of my skeleton. Even if they exceeded my height with 1 or 2 cm, that still make them taller.
The world is weird and so is the Strawberry cheesecake! And what does that have to do with anything, i really have no idea. I can get Cuckoo from time to time. Cuckoo is strange and strange is nice once in a blue moon, wouldn't you think?
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