غبرة

مرهقة الذكريات
تقفل عليها باب وتصرخ “غوري”
الذاكرة الجماعية
والذاكرة الشخصية
لم اعد اعرف من انا

تلاشت اطر الذكرى الاحادية
اندمجت الذكريات مع ما نسج العقل من خرافات

بدأت اتلاشى
بادئ ذي بدء
اختفت الالوان
لست رمادية
بل بيج
ذلك اللون اللعين
لون الغبار
وبنايات عمّان المملة

لم يكن فعل ارادي
بل حدث مع الزمن
بسبب اللامبالاة
لأني اخفيت صوتي
خوفا
ورغبة بتفادي جدال
لا لن يكون هناك جدال
بل وسم

اخاف الوسم
يحدني
لأني الشيء وعكسه
لأني الفعل وعكسه

بل كنت كذلك

الآن اتلاشي في البيج
لون الغبار
لون الملل

Fire

How grateful one can be for ones sharing their languages, their choice of words, their feeling, their experiences and their belonging! — How they own their experience!

My best friend always told me walk through the fire — but she missed telling that before leaving the fire – no matter how burnt you are – carry some of that flame with you.

Instead, I learned how to grow new skin

Just to run through new fires

To grow new skin, thicker skin.

Stuck in that vicious cycle

And when what you own – your belongings are lost in the fire, you let go.

You choose fancy words to mask your weakness – minimalist.

Own nothing

Belong to the abstract

Be inert, react to nothing and you will live forever – never decompose.

Being the joker – to fit anywhere – is not an alluring concept anymore.

You start losing your distinct features and resemble everything — and nothing anymore.

How you got there?

Your face melted in the first fire.

You threw your masks in the last fire and watched them melt.

Forever, I looked for others’ belonging to live that sense!

Short Story

We met amid the processes of regaining our faiths in humanity and love and we broke each other’s hearts in our search for eternal happiness.

 

We laughed a lot

 

He hid his selves while I grabbed his hand and took him for a trip across my universes. We wandered in my dimensions and spheres.

I took him to the darkest spots in there, he pulled his hand from mine. I cried.

I cried a lot

 

He shared his vices.

He danced a lot

 

He swam inside of my blood

I sank in him

 

We drank a lot

We laughed a lot

We loved a lot

 

He tried to fit me in her silhouette

But I am not that thin – I suppose- and I certainly have bigger boobs

I was blocking her silhouette, only a few centimeters of her showed above my head

 

That scared him

He didn’t really want to not to see her

He didn’t want to forget her

 

I didn’t hate her

I didn’t love her either

 

I was jealous of how beautiful she looks in his eyes. I liked her.

 

 

They broke each other’s hearts in sake of keeping that eternal happiness they felt in each other’s arms.

 

 

We loved a lot but not that much

He danced but we didn’t

I cried and I didn’t

 

We laughed. We always will

On a dreary past & a bleak present

I am losing control over my demons and monsters
Violent, very violent
They escape the cages the minute I close my eyes
I travelled 2000 miles and still can’t escape
Persistent and rude
They sneak up on me
They are nothing but my repressed desires and hopes
Their smiles turn into infants from hell squishing my eye balls till they pop like balloons filled with a rotten breath of a rapist with yellow hollow teeth
And I hid from them, cut my hair, changed my address, wore a different me and they found us
I have changed my bed’s position, changed rooms, houses, changed countries
And still those creepers crawl up on my back, on my face, inside my veins.. in silence.. No sound, nothing!
Pounding in the chest
And I am tempted, over and over again, to

24 hours ago

Then there was void,

With the gravitational force of a thousand black holes

—

An abyss with no end

—

And I fell in.

—

Like what happened to Alice

The White Rabbit yelled that we ran out of time

And the Queen of Hearts demanded his heart in red..

Or his head!

While the Mad Hatter told me that I have lost my muchness and warmth

—

And I forgot,

I must close my eyes otherwise I won’t see anything.

So I made up sounds

To fill the void with noise

And climb the noise out the abyss

—

But the noise is heavy…

—

أون كرولتي آند ديهيومانيزايشن

جسد بلا رأس، معفّر بالتراب
أب يبكي طفلته بعجز بينما هي تلفظ نفسها الأخير بين يديه
شاب ينقسم نصفين بينما تنطلق سيارتان بإتجاه معاكس
أطفال أيديهم على صدورهم و أرقام متسلسلة تلتصق بجباههم
بعضٌ من صُوَر ..

…

أو مشهد واحد في فيلم هوليوودي
وفي المشهد التالي غضب يطل من عيون البطل، بينما يضم صاحبته التي تنهار باكية ويزرع قبلة على جبينها
الـ 15 دقيقة القادمة صور متلاحقة لا يفهم المُشاهد كنهها، فقط يسمع صوت رصاص!
المشهد الأخير: يخرج البطل ظافراً من بين الركام بجرحٍ على ذراعه وآخر على جبينه

…

لكن لا أبطال هنا
هنا يموت الموتى
ومن يبقى، مثلي، يتمم: “زمطنا هالمرة”، ويكمل فنجان النسكافيه، ويشعل سيكارة أخرى

إختناق حاد

الألوان تهرب مني

دوائري
مدني

كل ما لدي
وما ليس لدي
– أيضاً  –
يهرب

هو الوقت
يسرق ما يشاء ويهرب

ومجددا تلك الرغبة بالبكاء تلاحقني
وأنا أهرب

On emotions and survival

trivial, all is trivial
before an norm, a verse, a belief

and I am no better

In the end you are truly alone
and that belief is all u got
to fight for it
to fight with it

there might be overlapping in those circles we wander in
but they would never intersect

humans were never social creatures
they lied to us

we were unicellular ‘opportunistic’ organisms
and now we are multicellular “so-phisticated” opportunistic organisms

and yet again we witness our own death
over and over and over again

share all, and all is trivial
give away
because what you give is invaluable in the first place
feed your arrogance
never keep a record of how many of your selves died

and never share yourself
because you are too vain
too arrogant

tomorrow holds nothing better
it will never do

وقوف متكرر.. متكرر.. متكرر

لبنان 75

حاجز.. زلمتين

بارودة ع كتف الأول
وفرد ع خصر التاني، نافخو

وعشر عيون خلف كل ساتر

كلمة وحدة:
هويّتكّ

وكلّك ع بعضك حقّك خرطوشة…

لبنان 010

بناية وزلمتين

فاتحه، سيف، صليب.. بعقد مزيّن رقبتو

المنطقة داعمتو
وعشر عيون ع كل شبّاك

سؤال واحد!
من وين حضرتكن؟

وكلّك ع بعضك ما بتسوى لبطة

لبنان 012

ولاد وشارع

شارعين.. عشرة

سيارة مفخخة

دواليب ونار

رصاص و”إشكالات فردية”

المناطق ولعانة

وعشر عيون.. 100 عين عم تبكي

ما في سؤال،

ما في حكي

مرحبا ما في..

وأنا وإنت، زمطنا هالمرة

بس..

كفرت

Two years of office work were more than capable of killing my brain.

Now I can not analyze,

I do not feel like reading,

Chaos had left the soul and settled in the brain…

Absent minded… that is how I’m seen!

But it’s not absent; it’s wasted in noise…

And I am walking down into the blackness of something I can not define

Walking to it with all the free will I have.

I abandoned the colors

The places

The familiar

And the faces…

I was forced to abandon the faces, forced to let go of that last hope, of the old smiles…

Of that old love I disclosed recently..

طلع مزبوط الحكي..

بتعرف سرّك عالـ 25

وبتكبر.. وبتختير.. وبتموت

وبتعمل حدن غيرك إنت .. تـ يحكي عنّك إنت

ويكون…

لأن إنت ما بتكون

ما بعرف إذا بس هون، بهالبلد، بتموت عالـ 25

لأ.. هالأرض وين ما كان عم تكسرنا..

عم تفتتنا.. تـ ما يبقى منّا شي..

هالأرض يللي عَ بنا ما فيا غير كل خير..

تاري يللي سبقونا أخدوا هالخير وما تركوا شي..

تاري أهالينا قسيو علينا قبل ما نكون..

بمين بعد بدنا نكفر؟

بمين بدنا نكفر ولّا بمين…