Monday, November 7, 2016

Lampooning warlords

Do they need a giant astreoid to hit their gardens
to wake them up by sitting on their chests,
black, cold and heavy
to strip them off their soft, warm winter beds
to undress their souls which then to be catapulted
into dark pits in the sky which can not be compared
in size to those they push down kids and ordinary people
minding their own business
in markets, farms and floor tables

Do they need their palaces to be built in cemeteries
with large windows and no curtains
Do they need an ominious illness to take their children
and to be debarred from love of all sorts

Do they need a great famine to hit their territories
hunger and thirst to wade into their cellars
from all cardinal directions,
which their index fingertips travel to daily
dancing on sophisticated maps,
so that their mouths and limbs
have no more power to give orders
for additional troops and arms deals

Do they need a sudden offensive by aliens from the space,
to stop their cruel, unjust killings,
who would suck up all the bullets and melt their missiles
by hand.

Wednesday, November 2, 2016

Purple Dress

Like moist steps of a distant rain,
deliberately but slowly approaching,
send shivers down ants' spines
purple satin dreams
wrap around the waist
of my waking life
whirling and shining
becoming gleeful light
filling the torso of your cup

here, one for the road!
rub your palms together and wait
for hope's homecoming

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Sol Americae

I stumbled upon a stage butterfly,
in the lonesome hallway of autumn,
whose new-fledged wings fluttered
hesitantly, so did his words

Offered me some mesmerizing
aromas lingered in his teen
flame surfing a late summer evening
should I say lemon-scented gum
or eucalyptus tree
not to forget jasmine mixed
with mild ocean breeze

As he flew away
more confidently
I promised to linger
in his silk memories
and random lines
He promised not to let spotlights
fade his vibrant colors in winter

We might have changed
there and then
each others lives

in hopes of sharing the same skies
in a future spring

Friday, September 23, 2016


No matter what they do for a living, there are those people who talk, look, even sit like they hold a secret and a sweet feeling about it. They crave for other secret holders to talk, look good and sit together.

They have an eye laid on the embroidered tulle curtain right behind the reality, our daily lives. Whenever a naughty breeze plays with it they steal a glimpse of the misty scenery from a distance, appearing in motion, on and off...

They walk as if some song is playing that no one but they hear.. they seek familiar ears.

Just like invisible dust particles in the air they sense things but spare the delicious experience to themselves, and finally the secret forms a time capsule for them to take off..

Thursday, September 1, 2016

Note to Self

Do not despair!
Said perhaps hundreds of big minds
Each day is a lifetime opportunity
Each person we encounter
Each meal with loved ones..

Do not despair, be good!
Biggest mission of yours on earth
that is..

Monday, September 22, 2014

A Tale from the Attic

“If there was any chance for our love story to be written, you spilt the ink by mistake or God-knows, intentionally...if there was any chance for our song to be composed you scared away the notes without knowing or God-knows you watched every sol and la flutter and disappear...if there was any chance to sleep on the same dream you set the alarm without me seeing or God-knows I felt every second drip on my heart’s wings...

Was it you rehearsing a melodrame or me running down an utopian rhapsody, or God-knows a vicious envier that chewed our names cruelly, to spit our crushed petals out on some deserted land...and you left me, God-knows you did...left me like a lonesome frozen peach hanging from a wooden hand that has been stroked by an early winter..” 

said Layla repeating it 40 times and woke Goliath up by mistake, or God-knows intentionally, whose yawn let her steal a glimpse of the ink spiller sitting behind his giant teeth with a three-eyed sunglasses..

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Lament for the Levant

Their minds threw up flowers
tears chased away dizzy bombs and bullets
they gave away their smiles even to dull strangers
Passers-by always got to taste
their evergreen zaa'tar and olives

but damn it! red is still red
borders drawn by red sharp rulers
are still haunted with open wounds
now their chests hold not hearts
but cullenders

Levant's ancient books and tablets
adrift in ruby waves from electronic outbursts
scream in vain, even the silkworms
and leaves listen

flood soaked justice and wisdom
drip occasional ceasefire
but these lands are now bloated
so are the heads with ceaseless pain
caused by the stitches on our hopes

how about grandpas' strawberry harvest

Monday, July 21, 2014

sleeping in a glass box

watch out for the cross-eyed hunters,
who lived and will live in every year of history

oh yes! ask them to hear how fine the search is going
with their sharp gaze
piercing everything having lips and ears,
with their blood sloshing - almost foamy
with their pulse wafting every thought
in their designated area

see how well the search is going
they are watchdogs with hallway addiction
every shoestep is an adventure  to them
everyone is a passerby
the joy of whose sight is mistaken for insight
compassion is a forgotten note in their chant

what choice has a candle got before their breath
either booing or over cheering
enlightened tribe members

what choice have you got,
you in your glass box
with some greenery
and cool sweet water

your intuition is freaky to them
your attention cheap
oh what choice have you got
when cherishing is degrading

your admiration belittles you in their eyes
let alone causing joyful humility
but don't you ever despair
overlooked beauty in details might choke, shake
and awaken them
just like they choke everyone with their cruelty

oh yes! remembering the past could be as good news
as the possibility of knowing the future

Monday, July 14, 2014


(Scene 1: 4 min - Sitting by a pond, under a willow tree with drooping branches waving, lemonade glasses on side tables, lazy summer breeze)

Grandma reads out loud slowly from the 2nd draft of a book she is reviewing -
"..Enchanted by the beauty of chromosome-like sentences that are pure art, unique strings manifesting the divine rhapsody of creation, words whirling like derwishes... meaningful gems among pebbles and plastic dices...all mouth-processed yet the magic is in the array."

Grandson murmurs, absent minded,  staring at small fish in the pond , a newspaper laid on lap -
So is that how life is supposed to be?!..Some people, some events, some emotions...accumulated in your shoulder bag, and constant analysing under your one-of-a-kind hat..once you are done here the bag and the hat are left on the counter called, justice!?

Grandma adds -
loveful justice my dear, loveful. Hopefully.

Grandson sighs -
I saw the most disturbing dream last night...emancipotary at the same time

Grandma straightens her back as she takes off her reading glasses -
Interesting! Tell me about it, darling, for I saw a disturbing one myself

Saturday, July 5, 2014


Sum of daily tragic acts
and pollination of ill intentions, moreover
this terrible collective memory of ours
make the deaf, old, swallon globe
a lump in the universe's throat

such a relief, however:
sewer filth and rain clouds
sit in the same giant bubble

just like the sight from a prison window
of pigeons bathing
and grass growing

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Leaps and Cycles

flowers transform into fruits
thoughts into feelings
and we all flow through
the immense spiral of cosmos

we put on and off principals, ideals
in response to manuevours of today's ethos

why to bother whether history repeats itself
as long as we forget the first sin on earth itself
there will be more machines
to ream out humans
than fruits

Thursday, June 5, 2014


apple worms were sleeping
neighbour's cat was arching his back
some radio with poor reception,
forgotten on in a mansion,
was dripping music
into the ears of workers having a slack
it was sudden
the curtains were rolled up swiftly
the new scene was unfamiliar
we were caught outside
a lightning sliced our glorious tree in half
your hopes were stolen by this electrique
I didn't even had the chance to pull
my toes out of the creek
angel giggles froze in the air
snow flakes fell on my hair
your letter dated a future winter