Rocks of Pride

I cherish every single word I have posted on this blog, and that is precisely why I chose to post this...

He took off the gown of wisdom, and bowed

bestow your beauty, return my kingdom, as you once vowed

this wretched war is yours, are you not proud?

cuts, bruises, blood and scars, a girl crying loud,

look at her as you did me, the day I tried, the day I died

is she not you, a shattered wave, a broken tide

a black spell, a foul crave, crashing on the rocks of pride

for in the dawn of the brave, men who defied

the charm of a pretty queen, as she wept and cried,

rains of gold kill the wealthy and seas of gluttony run dry,

grey grows old and empty, and your velvet demons die

look at me, watch me be, behold your champion fly

gone is the time of courtesy, and dead is every lie

Listen

Midnight Filosofía

There's something about driving that brings out the little Nietzsche in me, that tireless thinker that ends up eating up all my head noodles. And when that happens I get grouchy, coz the noodles wrapped around my cranium go in circular zigzags all the way to the ticker at the center of my chest.

I believe that bastard thinker is trying to bite my heart.

Listen.

i want the red underwear back

We live in crazy times, I swear. Things are not the way they used to be when I was a kid, it is called growing up they'll tell you. Agreed, but that's not just it I believe. The very texture of man has changed; we have evolved, in oh so many ways.

Now, an alien in red underwear should start looking for a new job, because a black president just got hired as superhero. Girls* are not the only emotional blackmailers out there anymore; there are now nations that pull that nifty trick off, the whole shabang, crying and all.

It is as if the molten sea of lava that used to be our collective communities has just, and I mean just, solidified. To each his mess, I used to say, as long as we were separately afloat and astray, but now, we're connected. You don't need a titanium ship to cross over to someone else's mess, you can just walk there.

But despite this bizarre human-cocktail, we have grown more apathetic, because when subjected to a larger amount of incomprehensible misery, one tends to resort to escapism, usually manifested in imposed apathy.

Get this, a crowded room, full of people who very much abhor the stench of one another, but can't be bothered with neither the idea of getting out of the god forsaken room, nor perhaps de-funking it.

Crazy world we live in.

* I love girls though, even with the blackmail.

Watch.

Home.

A city never dies. It grows old, but a city is immortal. One moment separates the fabric of time, yester moment was home and the next it is not, for a city can grow cold with age. My city once begged me to stay as I packed my bags, my memories clung to my feet, and my baby sister squeezed me ever so tight, she broke my heart.

I tried to kiss her tears away assuring her that I'll be back, and I left a city behind, home.

I'll never forget the first day I set foot away, an alien, in a world void of memories. I walked under cloudy mellow skies, in awe, a novice, relearning life; away from roots I had planted so deep back home.

But, you see, a city never dies, because regardless of where you are, home fights for dear life inside you, vigorously, giving your lonesomeness a bittersweet flavor of anguish. All that I held dear gave me features in a city of blank faces; I was color in a blank white page.

In color, I found home, away from an aging oriental city. But the fact remained, my love for the beautifully flawed warm cozy city was irreplaceable.

Simmering cold pearl showers couldn't change my mind, but they cloaked my features, and home couldn't recognize me when I returned. The warm city had grown cold, my memories turned against me, and I stood at square one.

Time however is a friend, and it was all I needed to rearrange the jigsaw I believed made sense before my departure. I am who and where I want to be now, and for that, I am very grateful.

Home can give you the cold shoulder, but it will never abandon you.

Listen.

Maybe..

He woke up one day, looked ahead, and started running. Sweat and tears they're called, but to him, they were elation, they shed away all those years. Years that made him older, years that heaved down his powerful heart.

He ran, the wind killing one frown after the other, neutralizing his memories. One would think that memories are either good or bad, but the truth is, good memories can turn bad.

Not that he ran away from anything, on the contrary, he ran towards an armada of unborn memories, a family. He ran towards a silhouette his mind has done such a good job in creating, but failed at giving features.

Life is simple to him, not complex, help one another, smile, fall for one another and try. Why it has to be otherwise, at any given point in time, was beyond him.

Identity mattered no more, man needs not a name when alone.

A cliff.

He jumped, and plummeted to a new day.

Sleep, tomorrow might be the best day of your life.

Listen.

perspective is a talent...

It occurs to me every now and then that writing can somehow be fraudulent. You see, no matter how candid you try to be, some parts of you will never meet ink. Conscious may your choice be or not when you conceal remnants of who you are, it happens. Even in writing this piece, I am nowhere near candid.

I hate it when I impress people for reasons that, to me, don't describe who I really am, or for choices I deem natural. I'd certainly hate it if someone reads this and thinks highly of me, and I'd also hate it if someone comes to the conclusion that I am a humility-faking pretentious douche. It happens though.

How many times have you been perceived wrongly, or hated for who you're not?

To be seen with one, desired eye, is impossible, and to be seen by numerous impaired perspectives, is frustrating. Paradox, mayhaps, but equilibrium in turbulent times like these becomes an effervescent elusive dream.

The going will get tough, you'll kneel, you'll cry and maybe even pray, and if someone is there, you'll be seen for who you really are and vice versa. Is this how it has to be, is it even fair? I know not, and I can't be bothered with the idea.

At my age, I'd say I've seen my fair share of faces and taken a good amount of blows to my ego. I've seen my armies in defeat and have discovered grave errors in my judgment and at other times, my ways. I have witnessed my dreams barely escape murder and have run towards one mirage after the other. I have a little spot with my name on it at square one.

At the end of the day, here's what I know for sure, I am smaller than what I'd like to believe. Don't get me wrong, this is no self-destructive depressive thought, but perspective, if you will. I am but a kid, regardless of what I've been through.

To each his misery, but at the end of the day, some fight bigger fights, noble ones, those are the fights I've been looking for all my life. Belittle not your own sadness, but view it for what it really is, and in that you will find faith.

Listen.

Dear Lost,

Listen to a beautiful song, so beautiful it saddens you, brings a tear or two to your eyes. Listen to a song so sad, it crushes you on the inside, then listen to a happy, cheerful song, and laugh hysterically at your dismay.

And sooner than your tears dry up on the fallacious smile your face has, somehow, depicted, you think, then believe, that you're lost. You dress up, drink a beverage of your choice, known for its mood-altering ability and head on your way.

On the road to your destination, you take a look at the sky, and it almost always doesn't suit your mood, but occasionally does, when you really want it to. Then, a thought driven memory cuts through you, slices your soul, bringing it down, leaving you hollow for the day.

Your troubled mind mumbles a loud "nobody cares anyway" only to be outdone by another song. Another beautiful rose in a musical garden. But this rose, you wore for a while, you had it in your hair or pinned it to your shirt, and never went a day without it. You are now without it.

You listen and see that your blood on its thorns has not dried yet. And you cry. The second regret sits where your soul once was, you're jolted by a friend so full of life, regret scurries back the saddest corner of your heart. You wear that old smile again and greet the friend.

"I wish..." you interrupt your soul's shy, muffled, cries for help.

Dear Lost,

Make a wish for a change, for you are human, and should find no shame in a wish. It will come true, sooner or later, I promise. Lost is a path, not a place. Lost is a path to your dreams, what you wish.

Dear Lost,

You're not lost, and I am your friend.

Wessam.

Listen.

Evening After Evening in a Sunspot

Purity is missing, he thought, bringing a 60 year old cup of tea to his lips. He took a tentative sip and frowned a bit. Yes, purity is missing. It doesn't taste genuine, flavourful.

He placed the cup on the table and watched it for a while. It was as if he was waiting for the life-like strings of vapor to weave an answer. Tea has tasted different for a while now, and that needed explanation.

She used to make beautiful tea. I loved her tea.

He looked away from the cup then looked back at it, raised it off the table and tilted it. The hot tea made a loud hissing sound as it collided with the surface of the sun.

A small house stood in the darkest corner of the sun, where a man sat on the front porch, waiting for his wife to come back and make him tea.

The Song: Unsaid – The Fray

The Simplicity of Pain

Take long, long, walks through heaven everyday. You'll still spend the night in an abandoned dark house.

Shame.

The Song: Open Your Eyes – Snow Patrol

حكمة اليوم

للـ"استبياع" فوائد عدة٬ إلا أنه يجرد المرء من أبسط المشاعر وأجملها. فهي تلك المشاعر التي فُطر عليها الإنسان٬ ومن دونها٬ تخلو دروب الحياة من القصص والذكريات.

وعجبي.

Word of Advice

If you want something dead. Kill it yourself.

"I'm only a man in a funny red sheet"

I think I just ran out of road.

This is not a fork, because I don't have much choice. Simpler times saw me in a cape as I waved my shiny sword and shield. I was happy. I was a him, a him that I saw on TV and read about in books. Killing was easy, it was fun and clean. Witches, bewildered by my mastery of magic, throned me as King of their little cozy house. I lived as a big smile, and every night, I slept noisily in a room decorated with heads of slain dragons.

.... I used to fly.

Dragons turned out to be the least of my worries.

I can't fly, any more.

The Song: Superman - Five For Fighting

Disappointment

I'd don't take it lightly. At all.

Blind as a Bat

If anything, he is not blind. He may seem so, but have you ever seen him stumble? No one ever did. In fact, he can see so well it scares you. True, he bears darkness. Or is it light? Have you ever seen him shine? I know I did.

If anything, you are blind. With eyes wide open. In every trembling wing, you saw a dive and in every flap you saw a fall. But he sees, and comes from blinding light that you mistake for darkness.

Blind in faith, he is. Can't you see?

The Song: My Hero - Foo Fighters.

Skewed Wisdom

To preach is to stand on a tower in the middle of the desert. You may stand highest, but you remain alone.

Flip a Coin

We sometimes go about thinking that, in our daily lives; we strive to do the right thing, say the right words and perhaps, if we're lucky, walk the right path. We rarely however stop and take a good look at the visage of righteousness. Right can be obscured by reality; it can become that one demon you don't have the courage to approach.

If everything is relative and controversial, how can one even identify the righteousness of their actions, let alone rectify them if they turn out to be, alas, wrong.

The Song: Changes - 3 Doors Down

© Getty Images

Steps

But what good is writing when I could run to your doorstep and take you in my arms? I'll whisper pink clouds of emotion into your ears. I'll kiss your rosy cheeks; I'll pump passion through your back that rests against my thudding heart.

I'll love you.

I've listened to different colors of music, multiple spectra of tunes and melodies. None resembles how your voice resonates and bounces off the walls of my chest. Don't cry, love, never cry, for this sad music shatters my formidable heart.

Formidable is my heart for holding a love so deep and profound; powerful is my body for encaging emotion so furious and wild. Crazy love, angry love. Angry, because you're back is not constantly against my chest.

One tear though will break me into shades of vapor so untamed; it shall move the universe right to your doorstep. But you bring me back, and I hug you.

Don't cry love.

Your eyes to my heart are like a full moon to a starless night sky.

The Song: Celebrate - Embrace

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Fire.

Burn me up.

The Song: You Make My Dreams Come True - Hall & Oates

Falling for a Mustang

I look at my car and this is what I see...

Imagine what I'll see...

... if you let me look at you with the same eye

The Song: Give Me a Sign - Breaking Benjamin

Loup Garou

I will transform into one.

And when I do, I will eat you up.

The Song: Break - 3 Days Grace

Right.

Blind light grazed her fair skin illuminating a beautiful pink blush that hid behind dark eyes. In translucence she picked up her pencil and started drawing a little sketch of a heart. Her heart perhaps, and maybe mine. She knew that I watched as she beautified my shirt, placing the heart gently on the right side of my chest. I tilted my head inquisitively and gave her a puzzled look she knew so well and has even come to adore. The warmth of her smile was a not that of a million suns, no. It was a supernova.

A supernova of emotions seeping right through the fabric of my rugged soul, refining it, shaping it. She smiled, and I stood helplessly stupefied, burning with curiosity as I waited for her to reveal yet another piece of her puzzle.

Blindfolded if I have to, I will guide her touch, to where my heart is, to where she wants it to be. I will lead her to the heart on the right side of my chest.

© Getty Images

The Song: Kings and Queens - 30 Seconds to Mars . . . I will drum this beautiful song one day, for her. And she will behold me in awe.

I bit a Shark

Surfing mystic rivers of gold I was ambushed by a school of Harley sharks, who tried to mug and then eat me alive. So, I summoned my Chi and blasted them all to the depths of oblivion, sparing only one to take as my prisoner. As I tried to tie it down with my ropes of faith stringed together by a million memories, the feisty shark squirmed and fought splashing blazing drops of lava on my adamantium armor, engorging my already swollen temper. In anger, I held on tight to the prudent creature and took it on a trip to outer space at light speed. The shark begged for its life, for it knew that I was going to take it to Orion, the hunter who showed no mercy. The now helpless predator sought my forgiveness, promising me to quit crime and to bestow its life to its baby sharks.

After thinking for a while, I descended back to earth deciding to give the shark another shot at life.

Everyone deserves a shot. Once, twice and thrice.

And I can and will be whoever I want to be.

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The Song: Cosmic Love – Florence and the Machine, thanks for that one, Moaj.

"..."

Quotes describing Quotes describing life born from nothingness that teaches wisdom inspired by Quotes of those who believe they have transcended into realms of enlightenment augmented and highlighted by beautiful rays of light ignited by Quotes once said by an old man sitting by a lake observing shining reflections of himself in a mirror like motion yet frozen in an everlasting picture drawn in ink on yellowish paper creating eloquent verses of musical literature and magnificent Quotes.

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The Song: Resistance - Muse

A Different Kind of Fall

A beautiful tree stood in the middle of a green clearing alluringly, overshadowing earth. Its lime green leaves, wet with dawn's dew, reflected the young sun's red rays. The tree was a fire flower.

A magnificent blue river that made its way from far lands, curled around the tree. The tree's roots intertwined with the river's sweet water, for the river was in love with the tree, and the tree without the river was nothingness.

The tree was home and the river was verve.

The day the river ran dry, the tree cried its branches bare.

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The Song: Until The Last Moment - Yanni

Joyeux Blogiversaire.

A belated one.

So, I forgot my own blogiversary, although I had a special piece for for it.

C'est cool ca.

That's really, really, good. I've lost track of time, I really did.

There goes another chain. I'm also free of time now. Kapow!

This year has already been a crazy one, and we're only 8 days in. That is just lovely.

So many things to do, so little time. I'll fit them all in though.

I'll be the leader of a world some year.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Happy belated New Year people.

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The Song: Disarray - Lifehouse, they have to be the first song of the year.