Category Archives: I wrote this for you

My inner child – Writing I

We take the world for granted every day. Whether it’s people, or the mere fact that planet Earth is a viable enough medium for us to flourish in, we forget what matters, who matters and we never stop to ask “Why?”.

Why we communicate the way we do, or fail to. Why we drive to school or work every day. Why you can read what I’m reading and why my hands are typing figures that shape into letters that shape into words that shape into legible sentences that you can both read and comprehend. Why? Why can we do that?

All of you that are going “Pssht, it’s a habit.” have lost the “faculty of wonder”. That amazing inner child that smiles every time spring flowers bloom, not out of recognition of it’s beauty, but out of sheer amazement to the thawing of winter, thereafter the emergence of that beauty.

For the rest of you that have either stared at your screen, or your mouse, or just thought about the way life is, ask yourself the simple question of “Why?” and stop taking anything for granted.



Filed under I wrote this for you, Life, Myself & I, Saving the world

A poem for 1,000 days

Our war begins today

Today, yesterday and every day

Today marks 1,000 days

Yesterday a cry away

Every day, a boy they slay

A child, with dreams delayed

We stomp our feet

Give our time to the cause

What cause you say

Palestine’s free will I say

To live and die as we please

Not taken by your lead and steel

Your tanks, your armored suits

I pity your cowardly self, if I may

Hiding behind your sorrow and dismay

A nation built on ruthless lies

Religion, politics and power plays

Funded by those whom we give respect

Respect is to no one

But the people we can’t resurrect

Children, women and men

Victims to crimes left unpunished

Unfathomed, unbelievable how can they today

Sit around and do nothing

Not even speak out

Not mourn, not see, not tell nor care

A nation of assholes if I dare say.

I speak, mere words on my computer screen

What they experience I see on a 17″ window

No smells, no blood, I’m warm and content

Have you ever smelt a dead body?

Rotting in it’s place, morgues can’t support

The enormous amount of death

Take it as you may,

We only asked for a day.

A land became a prison

Our people became slaves

They locked up the warden and the prison guards

Cut them off on all sides.

Gaza, we cry for you

Palestine, we mourn for you

The martyrs, we cheer for you

Mother earth, we beg you

Sixty two years is enough

Sixty two years is enough.


Filed under I wrote this for you, The fight for Palestine


Atrocious crimes against humanity they commit, we watch on our tubes, weeping and sobbing, our arms unable to fulfill our mind’s wishes to end it all. The right to land, quickly turned into the right to live, what Gods are they mimicking. On all fours we will not fall, unless dead, beheaded or shred into a thousand pieces our blood we poured, we poured, the blood of our fathers, our sons, our daughters, our mothers, our people.

In black and white we douse our shoulders, our hearts and our minds, waiting for time to show them it’s ours again. From ’48 to ’67 to ’08 and all the time in between, a race against the clock we ran. We still sprint, against the spokes of time now all 3 dials replaced with 1 hand, with the background numbers doubling, tripling, quadrupling.

Palestine, where are you? A poster on my wall? A coaster on my desk? A kuffiyeh staring at my back? A necklace around my girlfriend’s neck? A woven map framed on our wall back home? Palestine, where are you, I scream, she screams we all scream where are you, show yourself! A border line I watch you disintegrate as I drive back home, I want to drive towards not away.

For all that’s wrong in the world, the injustice my people are enslaved by should not be permitted. You speak of a God who is fair and just, you speak of governments bound by rules and regulations, yet 62 years you watch in anguish as the list of martyrs grows by the hundreds, the thousands! What happened to Palestine, the land of the olive tree. Why should we be defined by being a country with the most number of martyrs? Our olive oil, our olive trees, our mlo5iyeh, our msa5an, our heritage, our land, our people, our traditions. We wear a kuffiyeh, they wear the joy of martyrdom, blood sprayed across a white linen sheet, covered with the white, green, black and red.

On March the 9th, we remember Gaza. We remember the martyrs. We remember the ongoing siege, the 1,000th day with no way in or out.

“Palestine, come back, we cry, we scream, for you, to come back, to us.”


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Filed under I wrote this for you, The fight for Palestine

Once upon a no-star night

Looked up unto the pitch black darkness, the sky had no stars, no moon, no life. I looked up unto the dark canvas, asked the man upstairs if he’s lost his art, he said no but I merely do not wish to paint tonight. It’s a sad night, for humanity. A sad night, one among many we have passed upon. Time flies, a gust of wind blows a leaf in front of my face, it lands on my belly and crunches as I lay my palm atop it. *crunch* The seldom appreciation we give to the world, we see so little of. We see so little of the world, our  eyes focused on what doesn’t matter, tunnel-visioned into a world ruled by democrats, republicans, kings, queens, tyrants and lords. Ruled fairly, sometimes not, the rich get richer, the poor get poorer, pummeled by the rocks that society bears at hand. Rocks of social equity, be like us or perish they say as they break wind and hit them right in the face.

Our world, we live in now. Our world, we die in now. Generations upon generations, we live, we die, we thrive, we demolish, we destroy, we build, we break, we threaten, we fight, we make love, we listen, we talk, we see, we don’t see, we scream, we shout, we shut, we close, we run, we stand, we eat, we starve, we whine, we bitch, we clasp our hands in the end we clasp, to the world we clasp.

I write this in pain, pain caused by us unto mother earth. We appreciate not the land, the wind, the trees, the sights, the sounds, the birds, the water. We appreciate the money, the power, the sex, the glory. We grow up wanting and wanting, giving but little to a world that requires anything but that.

I’m not a tree hugger. I’m not a perfect person. I don’t live a simple life with just the clothes on my back and the food I eat, but I know enough to make myself cry at night.

“Close ’em eyes”, she yelled, as she climbed up on top of me. Each leg on one side of me, staring down with a flower in her hair. Her mint-laden breath flaring through my nostrils, listening to her throw the wrapping paper to one side. *Pop* She blows a bubble and giggles ever so lightly, almost orgasmically.

“Open your eyes now my dear, open them”. I look up and see the art the man created. Drawn if not in the sky then on earth, for it is that equity that I realize. It’s not always in the heavens, don’t always look up top, for when you do you forget what’s on our own level. We spend our entire life looking away, looking across, looking in the distance that we forget what’s right there in front of us. We forget our brothers and sisters. We forget our closest members. We forget ourselves.

Remind yourself constantly of who it is you have right in front of you. Remind yourself constantly of who you can help and give help to. Look at a flower, don’t pick it. Stare at the ground, not just the sky..




Filed under I wrote this for you, Myself & I, Saving the world

My gun, I fire with blanks

Wall upon wall they put up, it started with a fence, moved to gigantic concrete slabs. One, two, three, four. On all sides, deep into the ground, high above to the, not blue, but blackened skies, pollution created by a zionist regime. Ahmad and Salma, with rubble from their own home like lego blocks, the sides don’t match, the blocks don’t stay stable, they topple, much as their own lives. Running water, what running water, runs nowhere but the streets. Demolished homes, the smell of burnt skin still can’t elude their nasal canals, the sound of falling bombs wail across their ear drums, still echo in what’s left of their rooms, a broken window, shattered glass, dried blood splattered here and there, an abstract painting tells a story, a sixty year old story plus.

“For in vain I bellowed shallow screams, my voice over-ridden by the firing guns and the blasting tanks, my people still surrounded by concrete, for them I ask injustice lifted, but I merely ask..”


Gaza, a year later. Palestine, sixty-two years later. The world, a deteriorating place, I want to live more. I remember, a year ago, fireworks lit the sky. The bombs are falling. The bombs are falling, Gaza is at war, the bastards broke their word of a cease-fire, naive were we of their ruthless ways, I say not. On the 27th day of the 12th month, their jets like the flight simulation games we’ve all played before, this was real. Showered the Gaza strip with nothing but fear. Bathed the streets with the blood of children, we watched on our tubes, we watched frightened with tears.

A year later, we remember the victims. We’re reminded of the anguish. We remind the world, of the Zionist oppression. We remind the world, we stand tall, yet surrounded on all fours. We tell the world, our story, Cast Lead would not go in vain, but who am I to kid?

I apologize to all of you, all my fellow bloggers and friends. I apologize to those passionate about my home country, Palestine. I apologize to the children who died, the women who passed away, the men who left us to a better place, the country that most of us forgot. I apologize for our leaders, arms crossed dealing with affairs of their own, infuriated I am by the lack of action I say. Names I shall not mention, but Mubarak you son of a, I shall not mention. World leaders win noble prizes for peace, I see no peace, I see pieces.

Pieces, of a nation worn down by a regime who continues to oppress, a normal life, clean water, clean sheets, a bed to sleep, a roof over their head, medication for the wounded, protection from the big bad monster, they have not that nor a way out, just four walls, the largest prison cell.


Boom go the bombs. Blast go the tanks. Bam go the guns. Crumble go the homes. Hooray go the people, another soul oppressed no more.



Filed under I wrote this for you, Saving the world, The fight for Palestine

To a friend…

Happiness from deep within, I look around and find myself, again.

Challenges, walls of concrete I break, I do not hesitate.

Tears, stream down my cheeks, a breeze scatters them across my face

I know, I kneel, I hold on to that belief in myself, I cry.

Withered roses, petals dry and crunchy, in the box I place them, now

I cover it, the details in the beauty, I do not see


The real deal, the sky, the ground, the people around me.

I yell, I shiver, in the cold I wither, I crack

A cover, a blanket, I take off and now I’m naked.

Exposed, I am exposed.

With rope, with glue, with clamps and screws

I bind it all together

My might, my heart, my own desires, fluctuate in the dark

A candle, with no match it cannot light.

My inner flame I call, asking for that spark

I know, I know, it hides with bitter silence

Now I know, silence with no light, I tell myself the same.

Excruciating pain, no morphine in a drip, I challenge

Myself and all the folks around me, look

I light my path without the wax

I light my path, hold on.



Filed under I wrote this for you, Life, Struggling with the unknown