My Turn

My turn has come
And I will bash you
And I will hate you
And I will allow myself to curse you.
For months I have been made the criminal
For months I have been accused the murderer
For months I have wallowed in my guilt
Fed myself the poison of distaste
But I'm done with it.
I'm through.
And my last of words
Good bye to you.

You walked around talking of my virtues,
Praising my name speaking of my graces
Behind a mask of love you concealed a demon
A raging beast that thirsted for my blood,
And that beast reached me
And that beast ate me, because I allowed it.
You told them how you loved me,
How you were grateful to have me
But it was charade,
You wanted to look strong
You wanted to seem to have gotten over me.

But at night, in bed,
At night when you write
The beast roars
The beast hates me
The beast asks revenge.

Here I allow mine.
My beast surfaces,
And it rips away yours' head
Spilling its blood all over the floor.

Go… by all means go
Tell them how you hate me
Tell them how I hurt you
Betray my trust
Send them my letters
To uncover my vices
To emphasize the fairytale you've created
Where nothing exists but extremes,
You are the Good,
And I am Evil.

Deceive them and deny the wrongs you would not admit
And let them hate me,
And let them boil in anger
And let them show they care.

I write with blood.
I write with tears.
My eyes and heart can bear it no more.
And so I detach.
Hoping one day you will wake up from your illusion
Built in a castle in fairyland,
Mr. Green…
The grass is always greener on the other side…

My Heart

- Oh love! Here is my heart.
Love, do you see me?
- What are you giving it for?
- It's yours.
- Your heart beats fast, it must be the rain.
- But love, it's not the rain, it's you.
- I'll fit it somewhere, for I do not need it.
- Turning away -


- Brother! Lend me your heart.
Brother, do you hear me?
- And what do you need it for?
- Survive.
- I need it now, it might rain today.
- But brother, I need a heart, I bleed.
- Go find it elsewhere, for I am working.
- Walking away -


- Dear friend! I lost my heart.
Friend, can you feel me?
- Why haven't you talked before?
- I tried.
- Here is my heart, use it for the time.
- But friend, you are bleeding, you'd die.
- Worry not my friend, I'll grow another.
- Dying away -

To My Beloved

And as we made our love,
I bit my teeth too deep inside my own skin
You have consumed me wretched,
And I here, your beloved, am avenged
By the name of thy heart I shall endure
By the name of thy love, I shan't...

Mend your words, lest you may save that heart of mine
Utter resonant syllables, iambic musicals
Sing for my heart, give life to its feathered wings
Mend your words, lest you may relieve that broken heart.

I beseech you, and deplore your mercy,
For I die alone, each night, mourning
Your arms, your lips, your love
I mourn them gone, I mourn them dead

…and are we dead?

Plainness I beg, i wish you not
Heave your heart into your mouth
Cut me, slay me kill and betray me
But give no words of flattery

we are dead…

Let it be so, thy truth then be our allegiance spared
From this hour forth, we cease to be,
Gaea forebode our souls to clash
A stranger to my heart you love shall live.

Avoid my sight for I see no more
I hear no more and am no more
Lest I wallow alone unaffectioned
Be you my sworn,
Eternally, and forever
My beloved.

The Mountain

You climb a mountain, your knees are skinned and your body weary. You gasp for breath every once in a while, for the air escapes you. You promise yourself it will get better. You promise yourself that it's a phase. The storm will pass. Yet deep within you know that storm will turn into a hurricane, the peak of the mountain is a dead end. A cliff awaits you and the up climbing will result a crash.
You breathe deeply. Stop for a moment, then make another step, and break into an uphill run.

The meadows under are far behind you now. You look back and remember the sweet smell of the rose. You forget how it stung you, and you promise yourself the good times will come back. But paradise was lost, it will never be regained.

Your lashes flap as the whirlwind blows. The tears get mixed up with the dust. Your lips are dry. You lick them to erase the cracks on them as you go on with your endeavor.
You promise you will not bow. You promise you will not break and shut everything away. The conquest becomes your obsession, and the mountain has to be conquered.
The world under you had tied your feet with ropes. The Hands begin to pull you down as you hang on to every rock and pull yourself up. The Hands are hateful of your strength. The Hands are desperate for you.
You promise you will win. You promise you will survive.
For days on end your journey lasts. And running up the hill becomes your lifestyle.
And when you see the peak nearing, your heart skips a thousand beats. It knows what awaits, and realizes the inevitable death. You quicken your pace, and with your feet you kick the Hands away, for you want the climb to be finally over. You want to be relieved. And then…
You reach the end.
You stand in ecstasy at the top of the world, and the cold air fills your lungs. You close your eyes to savor the moment. The moments tick in perpetual motion as you seem eternal. A defiant of nature's reality. And then you remember. Your heart trembles. Your hands shake, and you open your eyes.
Beautiful scenery before you. The whole universe opens up for you. God-like knowledge is yours to grasp. But your heart could only think of one thing. The fall.
You look down and see yourself at the brisk of the infinity. You look into of the eyes of the world beneath you, an abyss of light. You fear, you shake, you tremble, and your legs give way…
You fall…
For hours you fall.
You feel yourself a motionless creature in constant drop.
You think that the ground will refuse to catch you.
And you are filled with hope.
That this might not be the end…
And then…
You crash.
You hear the sound of your bones crashing, as every part of your being is one with the ground.
You feel you are dying.
You feel you are never to get up again, and you wait for your spirit to ascend the heavens. But it resides. It refuses to let go of you.
For months you suffer. You cry, you beseech the heavens to take you away.
But you prayer is unanswered. You remain in you earthly dwelling, hung between life and death.
With time you wallow in despair that you cannot see that your bruises are healing. The bones are mending, and your are retuning to life.
Years pass and you begin to notice your better condition.
You pant as you try to pick yourself off the floor, and cry each time you fail to do so.
But time is your ally, and with time you are restored.

After what seemed like an eternity of pain, your feet prove themselves strong. You fix your hands to the floor, and pull yourself upwards. Invisible wings lift you a little as you fix your knees on the ground. You remain in a crawling position for a few seconds as you take a deep breath.
You promise you will stand, you promise you will live.
And you do.
You pick yourself up, and force yourself on your feet.
You look around you, the meadow is as beautiful as you remember it.
You feel the wind brushing your hair, and you raise you head up,
You look at the sky, joyful and victorious, and feel the sun shining on your skin.
You smile to yourself, and look in a new direction.
You resume your journey with aching feet, as you promise yourself you will conquer the next mountain you see.

The Dreamer and The Pendulum

The death sentence is declared. And I am left with two minutes of life.
The blade approaches and I watch its movement, like a pendulum above my head.
My words fall short, and rhyme escapes my thought.
No time to musically adjust them, so I burst them, wild and blunt.
The feeling of helplessness does not escape me. For I watch this beast approaching with his jaws wide open and his fangs desiring my flesh.
I feel his breath,
The stinking breath and I cannot even look away.
Instead I look at it in the eye. The bloodshot eye. And I see the blade. Unmoving, unscathed, unaffected by my courage.
They say in moments like this, heroes and cowards part way.
I think cowards would be the winners.
I break down and start weeping.
Not because the blade scares me.
Not because death scares me.
Because there's so much more I wanted to do.
So much more I wanted to say.
So many promises I had to keep, and so many apologies I had to make.
I say a prayer for those who love me,
For I fear I might have not loved them enough.
I might not have truly showed them how much they meant.
And I wish in desperate hope that one day they would realize how much they meant for me.
I say a prayer for my mother and father.
I might have been too hard on them
I might have been ungrateful.
I have broken their hearts Oh so many times,
And if only I had a little bit more time to fix them.
Try to mend them, and soothe them.
But it remains a desperate hope.
I think of my friends, and I see them smiling.
Looking at me, with tears in their eyes,
But smiling.
They know what awaits me, but try to make it easiest for me.
They know tears cut me, and crying breaks me,
And they try to control it.
But I break down.
For so many times I have cried in front of them, showed my tears and allowed them to flow.
So many times they have been my shoulder, but not once had I seen their tears.
And it kills me a second death.
Then I say a prayer to you.
So many feelings I felt but could not elaborate.
I could not burst them, for I loved you too much.
You have saved me from myself.
The dark dwelling of my being.
You gave a name for my existence,
And a meaning to my life.

I do not say I am sorry.
The crying turns to laughter,
And I smile as I recall your face.
And I say thank you.
Thank you for loving me,
For being my one and only.
Thank you for every smile,
And every tear and every moment.
You have made my life worthwhile.
And as the seconds tick away,
And my life withers, I see that I have lived a good life,
Having had you near me,
To love and to cherish.
Your lips have been my remedy in the times to pass,
And so they shall save me the suffering to come.

I think of your kiss, and the blade cuts my throat.
And I do not feel a thing.

The Line 2

All the running broke me.
But I was resolved on reaching the light that kept escaping me.
Until I fell to the floor.
I crawled for a while, but crawling made it worse. For the light began dimming.
I was desperate. I was lost.
So I stopped.
I looked around.
I dared look sideways.
I dared look up, and down.
And I saw…

I saw people running, people smiling.
People walking in circles and zigzags and every shape imaginable.
At first I grew resentful.
These people are non-believers
They are disillusioned. They do not want to reach the light.
And then I noticed that no one was walking alone.
Every person I saw belonged to a pack, or a group.
And I…
I saw myself alone.
Why?

The snow onto which I walk tastes only my footsteps.
This virgin forest is my own.
It is my only refuge from savage beasts.
I trod it alone, fearful of the wolves behind me.
Only I have grown hungry, weary and cold.
And realized that the only wolf I truly fear,
Is the only one who's gotten a grip of me.
The wolf of my loneliness.

to be continued...

The secret of happiness

So, have we solved the secret of happiness?
"I believe so," he said.
Are you going to tell me?
"Yes. Ready?"
Ready.
"Be satisfied."
That's it?
"Be grateful."
That's it?
"For what you have. For the love you receive. And for what God has given you."
That's it?
He looked me in the eye. Then he sighed deeply.
"That's it."

- From Mitch Albom's Have a Little Faith.

The Line 1

Born with a choice, I walked the earth thinking I was brought up to become.
I thought that I should abide by others' laws.

Life was a straight line. No curves. No bumps. No ups or downs.
It was a path I should walk without turning my face, or lowering it.
And I believed it so.
And I walked it. I walked it tirelessly, reluctantly at times, but I walked on.
I saw a strange light at the end of the path, and I inquired about it.
That light was God and destiny, I was told, waiting for me with wide-spread arms.
And I believed it so.
I was given a reason to keep the journey.
And for years and years, I walked and walked...

But with every step, I found the light getting away, running from me.
But I dared not speak.
And I thought God was running away from me.
But I dared no speak.
I was wrong in my thinking. For God never walks away from believers. And so I was made to believe I was a non-believer. So I gave up walking and started running instead to redeem myself.

I run to you god with bruises all over my legs.
I crawl to you begging your forgiveness.
I am the damned, I am the non-believer.
I implore your mercy, for I have sinned
Save me eternal suffering.
Forgive me father.
Forgive me...

(to be continued)

Launching of The Line.

The Line is a series of texts I have been working on. I have no definition for them. They are neither prose nor poetry. They are their own entity.
The Line is a journey, and today, I start sharing this journey with you.

I Will Not Heed

God watches as I just burn myself up to ashes
He spits at me, scorning my shame
And I look up, arrogant and proud,
'I see you God and I feel you
I will not heed'
I betray his sense as I cut myself
The blade tastes my flesh
Licking the blood as the silver turns to red
Drops of my being melt onto the crimson floor
No one knows, no one will...
I die... again!

God rebels against me, breathes life
All filthy and vile into my hide
One more chance he says,
I give you more more chance
One more death I say,
I give you one more death
I tell you, I will not heed.

The Last Battle

I hold on to my crucifix
My only sword in this last battle.

Humanity decayed
Divinity betrayed
Nothing left to salvage the world.

The lights go low and the voices arise
Screams of the fray slay the silence,
But deep within me, I strongly see
The whisper of my prayer shall set the world free

Falling asleep with every bomb deafening my ears
Time starts to run out as I feel their howls creep into my spine
All I have been and all I ever will be
Vanish from my sight, and I am left with the only present I have been given.
Bloodshed, slaughter and agony,
All I see, all I feel…

Then,
As though injected with sleeping poison
My mind relinquishes, drifts into a land of sheer innocence and purity
Or maybe the land of the dead.



And the sun decides to rise once again
Apathetic to human tragedy.



The voices are silent
The crows feed on the remainders of flesh
Few men remain on their feet
Heads held low
Conscience awakened
'What have I done?'
What began with anger ended with monstrous devouring of human skin…

Will the world of tomorrow learn
From the mistakes of their forefathers?
Will the bloodstained sins
Ever be justified?
Or will history, as it always has,
Repeat itself once again?

Genesis

I met her before the waking of the world
In a dreamlike state where she and I were not human yet
The sea spat us on the shore where the sand sheltered our sleep
And when our eyes opened, we perceived each other's beauty.
Hers was the beauty of a goddess,
She shone far more than the spectre that hung above us
She filled the vacant space of the air,
And she replaced my senses.

When we first spoke, I felt her singing my name
As she muttered every word
And I sang my longing whenever her eyes drifted from my face.

We were alone at first.
Two creatures thrown into a virgin world
Nothing disrupted our peace
We were made to love, and love we made.

Night and day
We shared our passion and poured our insides into one another
We became one.

The wind came, and asked for half my being,
Half my soul and half my flesh
Then asked my love for the same
And took them far beyond the sea,
Where she shaped our son.

When our child was born,
It was carried by the ocean on the shoulders of a wave
Who mourned her loneliness and scorned our love,
Envious, she poisoned the child
Returned it misshapen and seeded with pride.

We never saw the child was sinful
We thought the days of bliss would forever stay
Pride and ignorance, were the first two sins to come to the world.
And we were too blind to see them.


The child grew a beautiful man,
Married a seductive siren from the deep.

They had their children, two beautiful men and one mermaid
Who seduced her brothers, turned them onto one another.
The strongest won. The most instinctive.
And the intelligent perished.
Survival was for the fittest.
And the fittest married his well deserved prize. His sister.
They gave birth to further men and women,
Who learned from their parents,
Arrogance, pride and vanity.
Each challenged the other,
And each gave birth to more of our kind.

Years and years passed and my children grew older.
They became plenty, and they filled the earth and invaded it.
Planted in them were the virtues of the land.
Yet the initial seed of pride remained.
Poisoning them, and following them generation after the other.
But they survived.
They remained.
And they multiplied.



---------------------------------------------------------------------



Soul of the night, redeem me into innocence:
I beg.
Show me truth without its mask
Let not sin into my skin as my children allowed
Ah heavens! Return me to my love's arms
Bring her forth to erase the devil's mark
I was blind, and blindness disrupted the world
Mother Gaea,
My soul lives on into your heart
And your heart weakens today
Because of the foolishness of my kind… of my children
I shall perish Mother,
Take your revenge and make them suffer
And go your way.
A new beginning starts at the end.
Bring forth that end…

Introduction to Death and Rebirth

Death and Rebirth is an autobiography in verse. It has the different
stages I went through in my life. The poems basically speak of my
experiences throughout this journey we call life.

It begins with The Birth of a Poet, where my senses were
introduced to the world, where I found myself experiencing the
complexity of human emotions. Here I would like to ask the reader
the excuse the frailty of style in that chapter, for some of the poems
date back till 2004 where I was fifteen years old. I could have
edited them of course, But I decided to leave them in their chaos,
for they represent an era of innocence and pure spontaneity in my
writing.

Death of Innocence represents the time where I literally hit rock
bottom in my emotions, and you will find that very much
reflected, and here I would like to apologize, for some poems
might seem too dark, and too depressing. For at the time, if only
words would help me express, I was in that transitory state where
childhood was to be left behind, and I was left to face the cruelty of
a world to which I was unprepared.

Transitory Silence represents the time where I found myself inside
a bubble where I felt all my of my thoughts were dispersed. It was
a difficult phase, for it often brought drought for my pen, which is
every writer's fear. In that phase came deep reflection and reevaluation
of values and thoughts upon myself and the world. It
was a crucial phase that helped escape the depression that, I later
on learned, was self-inflicted.

Rebirth of Faith is what I can call the time I am going through right
now. Where there is strong belief in the world, in love, myself,
others and the human condition as a whole. I have become a
learned and experienced man.
The boy who once suffered, hurt and went through phases and
phases of depression now truly understands who he is, and he is
set on reaching what he believes is the ultimate goal of his
existence, which is to reach out to others, teach them of his
experience so that they would be inspired to improve theirs.

Poetry Book

Two years ago, I submitted a book to a website, www.lulu.com, where I posted a poetry book that can be sold through a print-on demand method. Now, two years after I posted it, they send me an email telling me that the book would be available on amazon.com!

And it brought me an idea. Currently I am working on the books, fixing it and editing it, in hopes of publishing it in Lebanon.

Point is, I am now listed in amazon! go check out the book! ^_^

Death and Rebirth - Ribal Haj

http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/death-and-rebirth/674242

P.S : I know, the cover sucks!

Abstraction

Dans un monde sans vision
sans contacte physique,
sans sexualite
Tu es paru
Me manquer
me bouleverser

Ma croyance en une ame abstraite,
rend mon coeur le plus concret,
a le toucher,
et l'embrasser...


a S. A. le seul a m'encourage d'ecrire en francais... tu te connais! :)

Silence of my god

Silence,
Is the language of my god,
As he turns his face.

Loud screaming, deafening my human ears
While my soul screeches for divine sound.

Left my heart buried in the dying soil
While I look for answers in salty seas
Deliver my speech O mighty divine!
Offer me truth I most implore
Relieve the pain of loss!

For you I have fought my wars
For you I have wept my tears
Eternally yours I have promised my soul
Given it strength, fed it your words

Now, facing unbearable agony,
I beseech you,
And my creed is found in vain.
For you have shut your ears
And forsook me…

Again.

Simplify

To simplify my emotions
I write you stupid love songs
But love!
Easy words fall unworthy

Poetry withers at the mention of your name
Rhyme loses its musicality
And verses fall ashamed

Love,
You strip me off my education,
My talent and reputation
Oh sweetheart!
The more I try, the harder I fail…


I fail, Oh yes I fail
But failure boils me
It kills me
And death feels good
Death feels sweet.

So I'll shorten my phrase
For the sooner I shut lips,
The sooner you'll kiss me
So kiss me,
And silence the desperate poet
Pathetic at composing rhyme
Oh if only with every silence,
You would kiss me each time!

To Tuomas...

Bless your words, for they wound my soul
They cut through my being like a blade that rapes my blood
They waken my heart from its numbness
Revive my insides, thirsty for feeling

Your verses weave thoughts within my dreamless mind
Shatter the walls of my inner flood
They are a drug that circulates in the veins of my stiffened hand
They creep into me and the poet inside is resurrected

My Christendom is built upon your church and bible
That teach of pain, of sorrow and of dear sweet life.
You are no god, and far from being divine,
And it comes a consolation

You are no man-created being,
You are your own created self,
A self anointed Christ!

I shall not worship you, nor your words
But I shall feel them, remember them
And build my poem upon them,
A foundation of my rhyme

You, among the thousand prophets,
Are the only I might call a friend,
And if only I was your friend!

I shall dwell within each line your hand weaves,
In desperation awaiting every magic…
I sign my letter with my only name,
Nemo, the once and forever.

Remedy

Watch me die as I shed my skin.
I agonize before your eyes and you stand helpless wishing there was something you could do to cease my pain.
I watch you through half open eyelids as you weep like a child
'Give me the kiss' I mutter under my breath
'Give me the kiss that springs life into my veins'
But your ears are deafened by the sound of your silent tears.
'Darling, your lips are my remedy
Come forth and electrify me with the power of your breath
Give me the touch I need to live onto
My dose of heart beating you inject!'

'My insides are numb and I feel hollow
Frozen without your love
Overcome by shadows swarming to claim my soul'
But I do not give up
'Your love will revive me,
Your love will protect me
It will save me.'

As you begin to turn your face to walk away
I feel my heart bursting the words 'I love you'
I scream into myself!
I bellow to silence the heart that keeps you from hearing me
Then…
My heart, as if obeying my command, stops…
And I am left alone in a moment of time,
Alone with my soul,
And I must deliver my final words
Before embarking onto the journey,
Towards nothingness…
I decide on my words, and direct them to you,
'He is my soul'

I feel you stop in your tracks, as if to listen
'I love you…'
Then nothing…




My lips moisten, and I feel…
… the blood running through my vein
… the air penetrating my lungs
… the heartbeat
… the breath
… the soul returning to me
I feel…
Your kiss


and I feel…
Alive again.

My eyes open, and I see the most beautiful scene in existence
Your teary eyes starring into mine.

Will You?

Will you be a part of my human experience?
Will you share my intellectual thoughts?
And bring me to confess my intimacies hidden?
Will you laugh at my jokes, and cry at my pains?
And will you let me feel those lips curling
as you kiss my cheek?

Will you leave a mark on my lips after we kiss?
I'll forget to wipe the Rouge
and walk down the street with smudged lips

Will we sit by the chimney and sip our wine?
naked and wrapped up on a cold winter night
as the rain knocks on the window while we share our love

Will I one day hurt you by saying goodbye?
and you'll hurt me more by saying you don't care
I'll walk away thinking the love is gone
and you'll sit on your bed crying your heart out
crushed from dreams we wanted to build

Will I then bring you flowers, saying I love you?
saying I'm sorry and that I need you forevermore
Will you jump at me, hitting me with the ashtray?
for being a fool, and doing that stupid mistake
Will you then kiss me, like I'd never been kissed?
And we'll make up, and we'll make love for a night or two

So many question and answers are few
I will keep my dreaming inside of me
If roses were red, and Violets were blue
Then the day will come where I will find you...

I am your home

Your heart has lost its home, Oh dear friend!
Make way for my hand to reach out and touch it
Carve into my being with what might you still possess
Plant your heart into my flesh…
Take away mine, for it means none if yours was lost
Let your heart live in me, Oh dear friend,
So that when it hurts, it is me who suffers
So that when it falls ill, it is me who dies…

My body will live on, nourished by all the love
You've filled into your beating organ!
I offer my whole being a sacrifice,
It is all yours to claim
It might not seem much, Oh dear friend!
But poor I have been raised,
And poor shall always be
Seeing how rich of emotion I see your soul!

When you feel all lost and weary, Oh dear friend!
Remember…

I am your home.

To Jad B...

The Mark of All Beginnings...

I promised myself that I would stand next to you as you fought your battle. I promised you that all will be good, that I would make it easier, that I would stand beside you till the very last moment, till the very last breath.
And here I sit next to you, watching your breath weaken, your skin turn pale, as your soul fights for its existence. I put my hand in yours and you squeeze it, letting me know that you are still here, telling me that your love for me is what is keeping you. I get up slowly; kiss your lips as my tears fall on your face. You are dying, a graver death than that of cancer. A death with no remedy, with no deliverance promised. The body once perished is relieved off its pains, but the soul is never.
Your tears appear now from under the closed eyelids, and they get mixed up with mine that fell on your face, and I can't take it. Silently I sob, silently I swallow my tears, and silently I kiss you. But you hear me. You feel me as I burn us down to the ground. I wish I could control it, but I cannot. You squeeze my hand some more, and I feel it giving me life. Suddenly I am the one dying, I am the weak one, and you are the one bringing life into my soul. As though the remainders of your fragile spirit are creeping into me, nourishing my agonizing soul.
I start to shiver, and you are as firm as stone. You, lying there in your hospital bed, supporting me while I should be the one supporting you. I cry, and I allow myself to sob aloud, until I hide my face in the side of your pillow. I hear your weak breath, and realize I should calm down, for your sake. I get up, and start my weak attempts to wipe my tears. And then I hug you. I hold on to you for what seems like eternity. And I say goodbye…




I had been looking for years and years for that one person to be able to love. And he came just like a dream come true. I saw in him the one person to break my defences and unlock my heart. I do not think it was love from first sight. It was pre-destined love. Love before sight. I believed myself crazy for falling for him, but crazy I wanted to be, if it meant having him.

I remember counting the hours, and timing my sleep just so I would be able to wake up and find him awake, and talk to him. I'd promised myself never to give my heart so easily, and never to go through unprotected love. But he came to me an intoxicating drug, a disease that took hold of me, never allowing me to breathe. And I was happy.
I was falling in love. And I was surprised, that this time everything was perfect. He was available, he was there, and waiting for me to say the words. Ironically enough, he comes to me, and tells me the words I'd never imagine hearing, or reading but in tragic love stories, and corny cheap movies. He told me he had cancer.

I'd never known someone who had died of cancer, except for my cousin Ali. But it was such a long time ago that I can barely recall it. I think I was about eleven years old, and he was seven. I remember it happened so quickly. One day we were on the beach, both our families, the next he was in the hospital. I remember the grown ups making such a fuss about it although I did not understand why. Everyone went into hospitals. I found nothing strange about that. I also remember them talking about his possibility of being exposed to too much sun. Again I did not realize that Ali's case was crucial.
Then one day my father came waking me up. As always, I pretended not to hear him, for maybe he would go away and I could have more time to sleep. Then he said it: Baba, Ali Mekdad died. I still remember his face as he said it, full of pain. His eyes had cried, I could make that out clearly.
I sprang into my bed. What?
It was all I could say. It felt so strange, so weird. How? He's only seven. How could he have died?
My memory then flashes to the funeral. I saw a lot of people, most of them I did not know. His parents had been divorced, and I'd never seen his father before. I would never, ever forget that scene: Men crying, men including my father. My heart was about to burst, as I felt my throat go sore. I kept the tears in. I fought them out. Ali could not have died, why cry over him then?
Then I remember his mother, my aunt, being carried by two of her sisters, as she cried and screamed in the middle of the street.
'He told me to give his savings to his sister.' She would scream non-stop.
'He told me he wanted a burger once he got out of the hospital. You didn't get your burger Ali. You didn't get your burger ya habibi.'
I couldn't take it anymore. I burst out crying. It isn't fair. Why should I live while he's in that tomb being mourned by all of those who loved him?


At first, conceiving the idea was what I went through the most. I even began to doubt his claims, but I never shared these doubts with him of course. He told me about his battle with Leukaemia that started 8 years ago. How he was able to win once. Giving him 4 years of pleasure, and peace, until very recently the cancerous cells began to reappear. And how the doctors and his parents were doing their best to hide the horrid truth from him, and how he was able to figure it out. And how he had little time left, and how I should not be involved with him. It was too much to conceive in the course of our little conversation we were having, and that began with our admiration to music, and our love for Loreena Mckinnitt. I wished our conversation would have ended there.

I was before making a choice there: either accepting the fact that we were not meant to be, walking away, and saving myself an inevitable heartbreak and thus living in peace; or staying, falling in love with him deeper still, fighting, suffering and watching him die as my heart shredded itself day by day watching him go away. Irony hits again, that I chose the second.

If it has been a normal love story, it would have been the end, or at least the beginning of the end. But when it comes to me and Marc, it was the mark of all beginnings...

Lilly and the Willow

Under the willow she sat
Mourning with her guitar
A sad, sad song came through her lips
Followed by a tear… only one.

The breeze rustled through the willow
An icy chill filled Lily's heart
Brought the tune back to her song
And filled the hollowness inside

Childhood memories,
So bittersweet
Hurting, cold and alone
Lily stroked the cords, in pain they wept
Under the willow,
Lily found her home

The wind then came,
It was Lily's time
One with the wind,
She began to fly
A thousand pieces she split herself
Tiny shards unseen by the eye

Gone away, along a journey
With her guitar
Lily is a flying soul that all forgot
Except the willow who kept her song
Sang it alone, every night
Reminding itself of Lily's heart…

Melancholy of a Lost Boy:

Born from darkness, a starless night my mother, and the bloodshot moon, the father I never knew.

It is me, the forever lost, unnamed and unloved.
Every step I make in search for myself leads me astray, far, far away from home.

I write you what I could not have told you. My pen tells of my pain and delivers the unspoken cries.

These dying lines are the last before my endeavor to find my lost lifeline.

Never cry for my absence, I already found peace in the forgotten track onto which I shall be sailing. I have buried my past under the dust of times and shall only think of what is yet to come. My only wish for the night remains that you shall never taste the pain that I have tasted.
The garden of hope that I've cared for since the day I was born, shall blossom with red flowers, colour of the blood with which I have watered the dying soil. I shall lay my back there, comforted that after the pain, remedy came and my wounds turned into scars that shall be buried under my skin with the passing of years.

When you read my verse, only think of the moments to come for the poet's dream to flourish. Think of his cry for freedom you've ignored for so long, and think of his beaten wings that are craving for emancipation.
I've given my words the tears I fought for years for fear of weakness. Now these words have become the eye with which I shred my pain into pieces.

The world now wants me. It needs me to be just another flying soul in the universal unit. And being wanted has become a thrill I've never known.
Time will tell how I will turn out to be, and I shall embrace the days to come with wide spread wings.

Now you, I wish I did not love you the way I do. For it has become the poison that fills me with guilt. My love for you shall never cease, only the memory shall dim. And the voices inside my head will keep their constant screaming only they will diminish themselves if I ignore them long enough.
There's so much more I wanted to say…
I wish the night would find my heart hidden in its realm…
I shall live no more to shame you…
I am sorry…

She...

She was the canvas onto which I painted
My colorful joys and my days to come
She gave ink to my wounded pen
That wrote the verses of a desperate dreamer.

Will the world ever know, and understand
Without her, the poetry within me is never found?
Will they realize she is the art with which I pronounce myself human?
Hopeful they will, for I leave none to indulge my being.

I leave my masterpieces to glorify her existence
Her non ceasing incandescent beauty
I leave my art to perform its magic
In moving and disrupting emotions of generations to come
To show how much a poet has fallen deeply,
Madly, and completely
Into the grasps of a love he never got over
To show the omnipotent, god-like power of the human heart
In raising the dead, and putting suffering to an end.

You who read these lines learn
That this poet's intention was never to be called upon
Remember not his name, but remember the reason for his verse
Learn that this dreamer sighs as he wishes
An end to his mortified soul.

I say this bitter farewell, with an unshed tear
I am sorry…

The Poet Screams...

His insides lurch,
Agonizing still,
Thunder struck,
And hail fell.
A shard of ice
Pierces through
The hot blooded veins.

And the poet screams!
'Relieve this pain!'
Through the congealed blood
The ice creeps,
Reaches the heart,
And it turns blue
And it hurts like hell,
An icy hell…

And the poet screams!
'This is not me!'
Fire burns
But is it enough?
The fire of love
It is not enough.

So the poet screams!
'I will not be!'
Days come by
And the poet's core
Freezes down
Furthermore
He loves the pain,
He enjoys the ice,
And after years,
He no longer screams
After years,
The poet dreams...