Fleeting
The clock ticks endlessly
Stealing the minutes
Right under my nose
Time is running away
Numbers keep changing
On the oven’s screen
A continuous roll of digits
The clock ticks endlessly
Stealing the minutes
Right under my nose
Time is running away
Numbers keep changing
On the oven’s screen
A continuous roll of digits
— In response to the Lebanese Protests — To iterate the madness of life through the domination of people in controlling resources, finances, and choking the populace. Men and women in power are blinded by too much power and their lifestyle. I wrote Stand, a poem calling my people to stand up for their rights…
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Tired
Of the day
Of the month
In my waking
my sleeping
Tired
My mind has trouble
Focus is lamentable
Presence is absence
life has its own way
inviting itself back
into the feeble body
it bubbles with subtelty
wish none of it is real
not the separation
nor the sickness
wish it is all a mistake
an error of timing
a lapse of mind
As I waited patiently her arrival
Time seemed long and heavy
It felt like an unjust trial
To not know how to sit or be
The curtains shaded part of the room
The sun’s rays caressing softly
I could still smell her lingering perfume
Swirling around playfully
The words floated
On a bed left undone
With sheets ruffled
Long ago
In a time
When our love
Was our manna.
She looked up to the mountains
To where her savior might come
One riding upon the mist of eve
Gliding over a mantle of green
She never saw the figure longed for
Nor did her dreams come true
So she turned her gaze upon
The mystery hidden in her bosom
Stable,
like the promise of rain,
And the promise of sun
After it.
a path opens up
to the past,
a peephole
into a time of long ago
spirits calling
the living,
spirits silenced
through the ages