Friday, 16 December 2011

Fixation on memory making*

As we obsess about making memories
We forget about living the moment

We see significantly important instants of our lives

Through lenses of smart phones and photo cams

We watch life passing by

We want to eternalize fragments of our mortal lives
We want to show them off, as a proof of their existence
As a proof of our existence

As we obsess about making memories
Our present becomes past

Moment after moment, years pass by

As we reflect back and remember

There is a sadness that grows inside

A sadness, not caused by a nostalgia to time that flew by
But to a time spent un-lived

Monday, 21 November 2011

On a clear perplexity

You do not have to be here
When the lack of your presence
Is not equivalent to your absence

You do not have to make promises
When every word your lips utter
Is an eternal promise carved on my eternal soul

You do not have to make up excuses
When you know that I can see through you
And that with a smile I embrace all your lies

You do not have to even speak to me
When your silence speaks much louder than your words
And way straighter to my heart

'intimacy affair'

A new concept that refers to the new trend of effective and efficient relationships for independent working women.

It is an affair - hence the secrecy. Even if it wasn't a complete secret; it is not as if women will walk around talking about it.

It is not love - hence not a 'love affair'

It is more than just sex

It is 'intimacy'

It is seeking moments of intimacy - when one can get personal with the other ... sharing their private natures with no strings attached. It is being able to be one's self in such small moments in time. It is this indescribable closeness that comes at the right dose to ease off everything else going on in the world. That small particular degree of disconnection that leaves you feeling as if there is nothing more you could ask for. Just, intimacy.

Monday, 14 November 2011

Random existential rambling

Her: I need higher ceilings
Him: are you mixing your pills again?
Her: did it end?
Him: how could it end since it never started?
Her: I thought I saw a red balloon behind that cloud
Him: it was a fish flying. Stop hallucinating.
Her: I saw you holding it. The thread was long
Him: I was holding a toothpick between my fingers
Her: Saturn is getting closer
Him: it's not Saturn. It is a red balloon. And you are holding it
Her: so it did start
Him: shut up. I like you better when you're a fish
Her: the fish doesn't think. The fish is mute. Expressionless
Him: Saturn is getting closer
Her: I must swim away

Saturday, 12 November 2011


Her: "I need higher ceilings"
Him: "Did you mix your pills again?"

Wednesday, 9 November 2011


I am a creature of habit
And I move in circles around you
I will admit there's a pattern
One I created myself

None of my lovers dared leave me
I grew impatient and stale
Didn't look back once I'd left them
Cause I always expected to fail

But this time it's different
The rules don't apply
But I need some distance to step out of line

So grant me this wish and meet me back here in a year
If we still exist, I can let go of my fear
Fear of normalcy
Fear of the solid walls of our future and let go of my past

I must be crazy to want this
Cause you are the girl of my dreams
But I'm prone to ruin the good things
Cautious 'round balance it seems

*Lyrics of Maria Mena song - Habits

Monday, 31 October 2011

Inside out_


Sharp, sharp

In the midst
Of it all



Inner self

Monday, 24 October 2011

In my parallel reality*

Today is one of those days
When I feel the urge
To dig a hole
Under my desk
Slip into it
And slide downward
Into a parallel reality
Where it rains fireflies
And snows colorful feathers
A parallel reality
The existence of which
Is bound to the walls
Of my own mind

Naked in a spaceship

She told him she was tripping
On nothing but threads of fresh air

A natural high

He, oblivious to his surroundings,
Did not take too long
To join her on the same cloud

“Let’s sleep together”, she said
“here, on this earth, in this place and time”

He smiled
But in his mind
They were naked in a spaceship

He was unaware of the fact
That through his eyes
She could read what was going on inside

His smile faded when he heard her say:
“Tonight, together we fly”

Sunday, 16 October 2011


Remember that castle we built?
Yes, the one we worked really hard on
Putting side by side sprinkles of dust
Aligning them carefully
For the whole thing not to fall apart

Remember the time it took us to build the ground floor
The basics of all other layers and details
We thought it was a secure foundation
One that can resist winds, fires and floods

We built it to last

But last it did not

No, it was not struck by an earthly clout
We destroyed it ourselves
Being too concerned about its strength
Too ambitious to give birth to something big
Something powerful, of good foundation and everlasting

We annihilate what we care about most
When we lose ourselves
Overstressing how much we care

Thursday, 13 October 2011


In my purple mind I drown
And the world no longer makes sense
You no longer make sense
Nothing really makes sense

In my purple mind I drift
And colors no longer exist
People I see in my everyday life
Take cartoon characters for a shape

People I see in my everyday life
No longer make sense

It is a different reality in there
In my purple mind

The stories I make
The lines and connections I draw
Outside the scope of my purple mind
Them too, do not make sense

Did I become too detached?
Am I that far beyond the totality of real things?

How did I end up with a double existence?

Tuesday, 4 October 2011

Social decay

Failure of social imagination
Has left humanless shells of skin
Roaming around the debris
Of what was once their own
And what is now nothing
But a psychological exclusion
Of the soul from its own body

Thursday, 29 September 2011

Purple things*

The box is full
And it is starting to spill them out
They are taking over the place
The floor is all wet now
If you set foot on it you will slide

But all of it doesn’t matter
Because to you, they are invisible
To your oblivious self, they don’t exist

You can easily fly above the floor
You can easily soar
Right into your cave
Your comfort zone of oblivion

I am not offering them to you
I am just asking of you
To acknowledge their existence

Thursday, 22 September 2011


Emptiness knocked on my door
And stormed in uninvited
It came in the shape of Beauty
The worst of all masquerades
Evil witty Beauty
The kind, the most virtuous of all cannot turn down

Emptiness was in disguise
And I was blinded by the vice
The moment I thought I was on top
Turned out I was looking at the world upside down

Emptiness carved a place in my heart
Locked itself in and refused to go out
It was eating my soul
One bite at a time
It was sucking on my blood
Hollowing out my bones

Until we became one

I am Emptiness, Beauty in disguise

Sunday, 21 August 2011

It's philosophical*

What we have is conceptual
To the point that it could have never existed

If I turn my back and leave the room, right now
Nothing will change
No transformation
No regrets, no remorse

Not even a thought would be given by any of us
Regarding the abrupt amendment in our situation

What we have is conceptual
To the point that it could be whatever we wish it to be

But it will always remain abstract
An idea, distanced from our two objects of being

Wednesday, 17 August 2011

Hysteria: in colloquial use, unmanageable emotional excesses

I am not hysterical. I do seem weird. To some people. During specific periods of time.
I am not hysterical. Yet. I do have moments of extreme emotions. Affecting my sense of reason.
But those are just moments. Moments. At least in my own perception of time.
And during those moments. I find myself. Straying from the norm.
I find myself. On a different cloud. Flying higher. And higher. And higher.
Until I am alone.
Looking down.
At what I am leaving behind.

Tuesday, 9 August 2011


Photos courtesy of C.L.

Wednesday, 3 August 2011

Electronic nights

Photos taken at a local band's gig: Mashrou' Leila - July 29, 2011

On natural growth

You cannot force something that doesn’t exist
Into existence
Something that is not processed by the inner self
To be out, visible and exposed
To the outer world
Of the individual.
Or of the nation.

You cannot force democracy in Afghanistan
Nor you can force a ring around the finger of a gamophobiac
You cannot force a relationship with someone who already established a relationship with himself

It has to grow by itself
In itself
As a newborn… with all the endurance it has to go through
In order to make the perfect first step

Tuesday, 19 July 2011

A poem in the writer's shoes

A poem does not write itself
No matter how alive it can seem
No matter what disguise it puts on
The red lipstick, the long copper hair
Or the most arousing smell ever

A poem cannot write itself
Without the senses of the writer
It will wear her lipstick, her hairdo
And her perfume
It will adopt her personality
Walk the way she walks
And be still whenever the writer’s senses
Decide to retreat to the real world

Friday, 8 July 2011

On endless Fridays

Fridays are like being trapped in a purgatory
with one foot in heaven and the other in hell

Sunday, 29 May 2011


Part one

The city is sleeping
But I am not
I haven’t downed too much alcohol tonight
To put me straight in Sandman’s Land

The city is sleeping
But how could she sleep?
Can’t she realize what is going on around her?
Can’t she see that the world is changing?
The whole universe is changing…

Doesn’t she feel fear?
Can a city be this cold blooded?
How can she simply close her eyes
And disconnect from everything around her?

This oblivious city
Turning her back on past and present
Turning her back on me

This oblivious city
I envy for her peace of mind

Part two

As the city sleeps
I sit in my bed
Daydreaming about walking in the empty streets
Fantasizing about a breathe of cool air
Stroking my face
Lingering between the thin threads of my hair
While my bare feet are being soaked
Of streets wet of summer rain

As the city sleeps
I feel betrayed
I sit still and wonder
Who will be keeping me company tonight?

Monday, 9 May 2011

Emptiness in a box*

Today I feel the emptiness inside adding up
Soon enough it is going to flood from inside
Float, pour outside my skin, and surround my body
Soon enough I am going to bathe in it

Feeling hollow on the inside is one thing
And swimming in a pool of nothingness is another
I cannot tell which is worst

The old me would say: soon I will color the void around me
Carve it with smiley faces and happy shapes

But I am not feeling this urge anymore

My refuge is grey space, a fragile box I reside in
And a mental trip to a past, altered enough
That I can no longer retrieve memory from imagination

Sunday, 8 May 2011

The poem that came to life

The poem was lying there. On the bed, between us
It wasn’t complete yet. It was forming itself
Trying to fill in the blank, created by our silence
The poem had a mind of its own
I am not sure if it was waiting for us to create its story line
Or if it was forming a story on its own
Telling about this couple
Lying on the bed
And watching a poem being formed

Friday, 15 April 2011

Still Sun*

It is when silence stands as a heavy wall
Between your two bodies

When your faces become expressionless
And your wandering minds
Are constantly seeking an escape
From the reality surrounding you
From the human form, in front of you

It is when colors fade and music becomes noise
When the wind becomes still
No laughs, no tears, not even remorse

This is when you should step back, turn around
And fetch a new start
For no moment is worth wasting
When everything is clear, under the sun

Tuesday, 22 March 2011


Being part of a system
Is not working for me

I am a free soul
I cannot be contained
I do not need an ID
I do not need to feel belonging

I have my dreams
And they keep me going
Following them

Craving to touch
A passion I have inside
To materialize it
Hold it between my palms
Blow at it
And spend the next few years
Following it

Being part of a system
Is not working for me

Sunday, 13 March 2011

Spring colors' strike

Long sought
Turned out to be

It all happened this morning
When Red knocked on my window
Informing me that all spring colors
Decided on a sit-in, on the porch of my house

I look outside
Everything is grey
Even White and Black
Are joining the strike

In a world where colors are undermined
What would change if they actually disappear?

Thursday, 3 March 2011

The urban feel

This city is draining me
Sucking all energy out of me

Encounters and confrontations
Recurrent spaces of uncertainty

The hybrid, disjointed and unsteady
World that we are living in

The fixation on objects
The overlook on the substance

This city is draining me

I need to vanish into invisible space
I have a nostalgic longing for the unreal

Spiritless existence is as tiring
As walking bare feet from one continent to the other
Bearing all people’s sins in one backpack
Glued to the back of your neck

Wednesday, 2 March 2011


She looks to fill the hollow inside
With meaningless events
Serving in helping her escape
The path to which her life has led

Saturday, 26 February 2011


you are that sun ray
on a cloudy rainy winter day

Saturday, 12 February 2011

High down below

High on his words
Her wings are lifting her up
To another reality
But her legs want to stick to the ground

Surreal space
Is not unknown to her
Neither is the downfall
That follows

Afraid of reaching the ceiling
Anytime soon
She will, for now
Stick to the ground

Friday, 11 February 2011

your vibes

Your vibes
add colors
to the white sheet
of mundane existence

Tuesday, 1 February 2011

Poème de Baudelaire*

"Je veux m'anéantir dans ta gorge profonde
Et trouver sur ton sein la fraicheur des tombeaux"

- Damien Saez

Thursday, 27 January 2011


Some things when broken cannot be fixed
And you cannot replicate what once didn’t exist

You can simply try to create
But creation is useless if the need is not collectively felt

To create is a process, not an end

Monday, 24 January 2011

A silent shout

It wasn’t until a year later
When she was in the bathtub
Shaving her legs
And accidentally cut her skin
With the cold razor blade
And saw the blood running down
Without feeling an ounce of pain
That she knew she could no longer feel
That she knew that cuts in her soul
Did have an immunizing effect
Even on her flesh

Tuesday, 18 January 2011

One fake winter season

The sun was swallowed by a rain cloud
The sky, wearing its black dress of mourning
Instead of weeping
Is now trying to hold its tears

I was told when I was young
That keeping things inside
And refraining from expressing sorrow
Leads only to a dead end
Eventually, one explodes from too much emotion

Expressing is one step forward toward accepting

Cry sky cry

Sunday, 16 January 2011

A thought

In the moment before the night is completely over
And before sunrays start making their way
Through the fading darkness
I find myself thinking about
How perfectly symbiotic our bodies looked on white bed sheets

Sunday, 9 January 2011

A trip in lost time*

Let’s ride together the back of a butterfly
And dive into a pool of our memories
Break into a heaven we once shared
That is now lost in a different place and time
Let’s color the film strips of our photos from the past
Let’s re-arrange moments of our lives
Leaving the sad ones behind
Let’s disconnect together, like we used to do
Drift into our created shared consciousness
But this time, let’s shut the doors behind us
So that we never fall into reality again
Never again

Wednesday, 5 January 2011

The Comical Spiral of Sorrow

Close your eyes
Fake a new dream
Watch the night pass by
As the daytime colors disappear
Recall instants of your day
That was similar to any other day
Nothing special to mention
Nothing much to say


Another year passing by
What difference does it make?
You are in the comical spiral of sorrow
One day you will close your eyes
Longing for a dreamless night

Can you go on faking it all your life?