Words

They come stampeding
Rushing
Flushing
On the white page
Seeking silage–
An extra mileage
To subsist

In their quest
They persist, penetratingly,
To reach you

They form a prude
Who insists
On taking you away
Atop the wings of a cliché
Of sonnets
In soothing, but racing moments

Yet, it’s only a front
The truth is blunt–
They need your
Apathy and
Bewilderment

They’re immaturely
Insecure
They demand
With a wag of a hand
To allure You
Until you say
The final word
On which they may
ETERNALLY exist

More Photography

Shadow

Geisha girl

Belly Dancer

Serenity

Thi girl

Night Vision

Innocence

Tick your Souls with the Right Rhythm

Music; the food for the soul. I believe as much as it is important for us to choose our friends, it is as equally important to choose the music we listen to regularly. It does affect us and affect the way we lead our lives. For example; if we listen to sad music all the time, we tent to feel sad or self pity. On the other hand; if we listen to jolly and revitalizing music; we tend to look towards life with optimism.
I have been labeled between family and friends to be Mrs. Chills, meaning; I always listen to chill out and those are the only CD’s I take pain to dig out in different stores. I do not care what language they come in, the rhythm that ticks is what grabs my ears at first. But I listen to them with my soul not my ears. I can sit for hours in a room lit by candles and listen to my type of music without feeling bored. Tell me what type of music do you listen to and I can tell you what type of a person you are. No, I was just kidding, I don’t claim to have such ability. But any way I would like to know what type of music do you listen to on a regular bases.

Can we Change our Future?

Sometimes you wake up in the morning and think that everything is going to be OK. I could not sleep last night, I was too worried. There was this thing that kept my eyes wide awake although my body was exhausted. I tried to meditate, to read books, watch TV, and check other blogs thinking may be all that would take my mind away from the subject that was dominating it. But to no avail; I was too damn worried. There were two things that were on my mind and both concerned two dear ones. I remember last time I checked the time it was 6 AM, and then I drifted to sleep to wake up at 7:30 AM fresh and relaxed, a wave of settlement and serenity took over every cell in my mind. It is strange, but I felt that nothing is going to ruin my day and all will be just fine. I smiled to every known and unknown person that I met. And what do you know? It turned out to be just fine, may be even better than what I expected.
This got me thinking. Do we have this sixth sense that tells us about the future? Or is it our reactions or should I say “actions” that interferes with our future? What happened in this one hour and a half that changed my thoughts towards the same thing? And I wonder if by the process of our thinking we can actually redesign things or happenings in our future. And if this can be done, can we redesign our destiny? And here I do not mean the things that are within our control, I mean the things that we have no control over what so ever.

Borj min 3agli 6ar

Yesterday, I read this article in AlGabaswhile on the plane. And it astounded me how much people can use religion to justify their wrong doings (of course; this is my perception of wrong and right). It also reminded me of my last post on how “Bad” and “Good” are relative when it comes to people’s domain of thinking and ideologies. And just in case you missed it, please tell me; does this make any sense to you?

Time for contemplation

Good and bad to me are relative. Like when one thing is considered bad in a specific situation, it could be good in another. Like lying for instance or even stealing; they strike us as bad yet we practice them when we feel that it’s best for a specific situation. So is good a propensity in humans? Or do we need set rules to direct us? In other wards; can a human being naturally differentiate between good and evil / situation? Or does he need rules and regulations to strictly follow regardless of the situation?

The Story of My Life

It was a brilliant July day
When love found us
Vulnerable buds–
The two of us.

No one but us
Knew passion.
No one lusted–
Our fashion

Making love was
A game to play
I have wasted my life

The Rain

Rain, rain and
More rain

Rupturing,
Shuddering
Blue heavens

Crying,
Frying,
Trying
Phobia–

Exploding
Upholding
Nostalgia

Wanting,
Lusting,
Weltering
With each drop
Of rain

“I need you”

Don’t Test my Strength

She dreaded meeting Ahmad since the tragic day of their separation. She wanted to forget that he ever existed. He was once the love of her life. She avoided all the places that risked his presence. She abandoned all their mutual friends when they were together. She just wanted to live her life peacefully away from him.
And she was satisfied and contented with Ibrahim; a person whom she recently developed a strong bond to. She and Ibrahim shared a mutual understanding, they were good friends, and sex between them was exceptionally superb.
But she could not escape her stars; her fate planned an encounter with Ahmad in a place and hour that she had least expected.
She was shocked to see him, her anxiety to find an excuse for an immediate departure made her loose some of her self control in the beginning, but soon enough, she regained her right senses. Maturity demanded facing one’s problems and not running away from them; she decided that it was time to face him and to face herself. To test him and to test herself.
The first thing she noticed was that Ahmad exaggerated his greetings to her, or may be he was genuine with his feelings! Who knows! She convinced herself that she didn’t care.
The room was small with a handful of people gathering around a medium size table. They were seated on limited chairs that were cramped together in a small circle around the table, so their proximity was inevitable. But she surprised herself by the “indifference” mask that she wore on her character as soon as she awoke from her first bang.
She was happy with her achievements, happy with her indifference. Or to state it more correctly; she was exhilarated by her artificial act, not wanting to believe that she was actually thrilled to see him. He was once a part of her. They were once: one.
And in her effort to master her game, she casually conversed with all the attendees including him; skillfully avoiding his stares and cunningly pretending she didn’t notice the face gestures that he was making every time he thought no one was looking in his direction. She prided herself of finally being strong enough to overcome the soft spot she always had for him, or at least that’s what she thought until she had to face test number two.
It happened when she was about to close the host’s bathroom door behind her after she finished using it when Ahmad used the element of surprise in his attack on her. He grabbed her by the waist and squeezed her against his body causing an audible gasp to escape her throat and echo in the long corridor. His lips devoured her face savagely seeking their way to her lips and smothering them in a long seductive kiss causing the reserve fort that she built around herself to be crushed as if an egg shell.
He did not want to give her a breath to retaliate, and his trick worked: His familiar scent, his addictive embrace, his erected masculinity against her body, and the familiar song “you are everything and everything is you “playing loudly in the background; all conspired to explode all her dormant desires for him, and she became weak for him again.
When she took her seat on the sofa again, he was taking his turn in using the bathroom. She was glad that no one around had noticed her follies. And she was thankful that the music was too loud for anyone to hear anything. But she also felt as if she was back at home where she belonged in his familiar passionate arms, yet her weakness for this person who cared for no one except himself was not something that she could take lightly, she had paid so dearly to get over him; as much as she loved him, she feared him. She feared her love for him.
Her attitude towards him changed after he returned to where everyone else was cozily enjoying their time, she took off the mask and assumed a more attentive role. Diving into her thoughts; she contemplated what was it with this person that made her feel the way she did, she watched every move he made to get a clue, but she never found one, for Ahmad seemed too satisfied with himself for his regained control over her; he was too full of himself.
And as the hours got smaller, and the weather got colder, her mind drifted to Ibrahim’s warm bed; spacing away from the crowd in reminiscence.
It was then when she realized that she did not care to know anything about Ahmad, he became one of the others. He did not uniquely exist in her life anymore. It was time to go home, her home.
And before starting her car engine to head back, her fingers urgently typed these words on her mobile “Baby, I’m sooooo horny for you”, but before she could push the send button to Ibrahim, she received a message from him that drew a wide smile on her face. The massage read “well? Busy?”

Time for Photography

Hope

A New Day

Bling Bling

Peace