Whenever I ask myself if my happy, I immediately think of a quote by Leo Toltsoy,"If you want to be happy, be.". It is odd, but this is all what it takes!
This past month, we have seen death and hate and I was tempted to just lose hope and feel sorry for myself.
But, then I smile and feel instant gratification when my smile is returned. I speak to my parents and feel their deep love for me and I feel all warm inside. I call my brothers(they are both abroad) and they ask about me and sense how much they care for my well-being and I cannot be but thankful. I play with Milo, my cat and Maestro, my dog and experience a love given for no expectations, a love so pure and immediately the world around me becomes more colorful.
Today, I spent the day with my cousin's 6 year old girl and she was so happy with me and we read stories and rode the bicycle and played with Barbie and believe me she left and I am still smiling. There is nothing sweeter than a little girl's innocent happiness and love. It is truly contagious.
I don't know but I keep finding that happiness is not something you pursuit. It is just there, within your hands. The trick is just to choose it over the easier temptations of following the trend of blame, stress and sadness...
Friday, June 22, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
I am tired, truly tired
I am tired. It is getting too hard to keep the faith. The assassination of Walid Eido has not passed 2hours and already there is finger pointing to this side or that.
Just give us a break! The blood of the man and the others who died is still fresh and both political parties are trying to use his death to settle scores!!!!
Where is hate taking us? We are like a dune of sand eroded by the elements, only we are eating ourselves up... I just read a comment by a none other than a Lebanese saying that he is happy Eido died since he was playing cards in the July war!!!
Blame, revenge, hate, spite, the list goes on and on! The man is our countryman! Forget his and your political affiliation and mourn where we are going. Mourn how our country is losing its people through killings, wars, immigration, embezzlement, corruption, sectarianism and what say you.
I am truly tired. Tonight was supposed to be a night of candles and wine for me but I should have known that happiness is something of a rarity in this country. I should have prepared myself for a night in front of the TV set, listening to silly politicians speeches and feeling sorry for our lives that are being squeezed out of every hope of a better living...
Just give us a break! The blood of the man and the others who died is still fresh and both political parties are trying to use his death to settle scores!!!!
Where is hate taking us? We are like a dune of sand eroded by the elements, only we are eating ourselves up... I just read a comment by a none other than a Lebanese saying that he is happy Eido died since he was playing cards in the July war!!!
Blame, revenge, hate, spite, the list goes on and on! The man is our countryman! Forget his and your political affiliation and mourn where we are going. Mourn how our country is losing its people through killings, wars, immigration, embezzlement, corruption, sectarianism and what say you.
I am truly tired. Tonight was supposed to be a night of candles and wine for me but I should have known that happiness is something of a rarity in this country. I should have prepared myself for a night in front of the TV set, listening to silly politicians speeches and feeling sorry for our lives that are being squeezed out of every hope of a better living...
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Strangers
the day is dripping with longing
desire is waning
one-by-one
the colors somberly drip off the painting
leaving behind a blank canvas
like an empty soul
a dream deferred
love is put on hold
he is a rose!
but doesn’t smell as sweet
after the men have lined up and
feasted on their meat
a blank canvas is art
molded out from the genius
of the abstract painter
as the nightly reshaping of Love
is love new-formed
in the hapless arms of strangers
desire is waning
one-by-one
the colors somberly drip off the painting
leaving behind a blank canvas
like an empty soul
a dream deferred
love is put on hold
he is a rose!
but doesn’t smell as sweet
after the men have lined up and
feasted on their meat
a blank canvas is art
molded out from the genius
of the abstract painter
as the nightly reshaping of Love
is love new-formed
in the hapless arms of strangers
Monday, June 4, 2007
Take Me Home
If only I had a moment to figure out what’s going on,
But my sorry concept of time has negated the moment.
Last night was a whisper of the pleasurable past
Today is a haunting reality check of a daunting future.
The seconds drip with intensity like melodies from a violin.
My lament is one in the same as the hunger pains of a stillborn.
A loosened piece of gravel has more significance to the world
Than me. It has aesthetic beauty
My mom used to tell me that she saw generations
Of ancestors when she looked into my eyes:
“I see everyone, I swear I see everyone,”
She would say with her silver-chipped tooth smile.
My heart is with her at home where she is now.
If I were to change how would she recognize me
when I see enough enough hate and killings.
Would she still be so adamant?
My culture is my only possession
as I take my first foreign steps.
My clothes are soiled with various sorts of filth
And smell of the reek rawness of the voyage.
It’s so busy, people bustling by like race-cars
I don’t know what day it is, or long it took to get here.
Last night I still felt my home in my bones,
I was with my peers. We spoke in our tongue.
Now I feel loss, if only I had a moment.
“Excuse me sir,” he doesn’t understand my accent
“Do I go this way or that way”
I pass the same illegible sign
I’m walking in circles
I stop to ask for help; all I hear is politicized religion
No one is listening.
Maybe if I was a loose piece of gravel
They would pick me up and take me home.
Take me home,, where there is no religion
Take me home, where there is no wars
Take me home where there is no greed
Take me home where there is no poverty
Take me home where there is no hypocrisy
Take me home where people ask why
Take me home where people don’t judge
Take me home ;I want to smell love
Take me home
If only I was a loose piece of gravel…
But my sorry concept of time has negated the moment.
Last night was a whisper of the pleasurable past
Today is a haunting reality check of a daunting future.
The seconds drip with intensity like melodies from a violin.
My lament is one in the same as the hunger pains of a stillborn.
A loosened piece of gravel has more significance to the world
Than me. It has aesthetic beauty
My mom used to tell me that she saw generations
Of ancestors when she looked into my eyes:
“I see everyone, I swear I see everyone,”
She would say with her silver-chipped tooth smile.
My heart is with her at home where she is now.
If I were to change how would she recognize me
when I see enough enough hate and killings.
Would she still be so adamant?
My culture is my only possession
as I take my first foreign steps.
My clothes are soiled with various sorts of filth
And smell of the reek rawness of the voyage.
It’s so busy, people bustling by like race-cars
I don’t know what day it is, or long it took to get here.
Last night I still felt my home in my bones,
I was with my peers. We spoke in our tongue.
Now I feel loss, if only I had a moment.
“Excuse me sir,” he doesn’t understand my accent
“Do I go this way or that way”
I pass the same illegible sign
I’m walking in circles
I stop to ask for help; all I hear is politicized religion
No one is listening.
Maybe if I was a loose piece of gravel
They would pick me up and take me home.
Take me home,, where there is no religion
Take me home, where there is no wars
Take me home where there is no greed
Take me home where there is no poverty
Take me home where there is no hypocrisy
Take me home where people ask why
Take me home where people don’t judge
Take me home ;I want to smell love
Take me home
If only I was a loose piece of gravel…
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Untitled
Diluted hearts, impure and unjust
Dissolve humankind’s righteousness.
I’m ineffective with words now,
It all burns down
To a molten stew of mumble-jumble
That NO-body is hearing,
So I remain humble in presenting my building
BLOCKS
I’ll just let those letters create their own path.
What’s present and past
Adds on to the aftermath
Of consequence,
So incidentally
I implement
A regiment
Of conscious thought
With the intimate
Relationship of ears I so hard sought
On the eve of dooms-day
With 5 minutes left ‘til midnight
I’ll write a rhyme to God
Giving thanks for insight.
So whom may doubt,
This paper doesn’t
That’s why it’s emitting me out.
On the last Sabbath of time
Some may fine-ally understand this rhyme.
Define energy:
A universal synergy
Aids in the Will’s escape of injury
In a hell-hole of misery.
Where the thoughts are thoughtless
And the hearts are heartless,
Which coincides
Where there’s no regard of Life
Regardless:
Of friend or foe;
Stranger or kin;
Maker or men.
The burden of binge
Has anchored us in
The ports of consumption;
Lying in the Bay of Complacency.
In the soul of sin
In the citizen
Lies a vast vacancy.
A total empty,
Anarchy
With lurid tendencies,
Horrid memories
Strike the body with a force
To strip you mentally.
That’s my window of vulnerability,
But we gotta keep moving
We gotta keep grooving
To the drummer infinitely
Pursuing
The centerpiece/inner peace
The glue in
To the U – N –
I
Versal mystery.
Where death be the release?…
Or death be the Penalty?...
Dissolve humankind’s righteousness.
I’m ineffective with words now,
It all burns down
To a molten stew of mumble-jumble
That NO-body is hearing,
So I remain humble in presenting my building
BLOCKS
I’ll just let those letters create their own path.
What’s present and past
Adds on to the aftermath
Of consequence,
So incidentally
I implement
A regiment
Of conscious thought
With the intimate
Relationship of ears I so hard sought
On the eve of dooms-day
With 5 minutes left ‘til midnight
I’ll write a rhyme to God
Giving thanks for insight.
So whom may doubt,
This paper doesn’t
That’s why it’s emitting me out.
On the last Sabbath of time
Some may fine-ally understand this rhyme.
Define energy:
A universal synergy
Aids in the Will’s escape of injury
In a hell-hole of misery.
Where the thoughts are thoughtless
And the hearts are heartless,
Which coincides
Where there’s no regard of Life
Regardless:
Of friend or foe;
Stranger or kin;
Maker or men.
The burden of binge
Has anchored us in
The ports of consumption;
Lying in the Bay of Complacency.
In the soul of sin
In the citizen
Lies a vast vacancy.
A total empty,
Anarchy
With lurid tendencies,
Horrid memories
Strike the body with a force
To strip you mentally.
That’s my window of vulnerability,
But we gotta keep moving
We gotta keep grooving
To the drummer infinitely
Pursuing
The centerpiece/inner peace
The glue in
To the U – N –
I
Versal mystery.
Where death be the release?…
Or death be the Penalty?...
Humming Bird
Whenever I hear gunshots
All I hear are screams of hatred.
I see the hatred in the face
Of a person firing a pistol
Thinking
Die. Die. Die.
With sport a hunter shooting its game;
In a drive-by shooting;
The hatred of bullets
Fired in retaliation,
Blood thirst vindication,
Screaming
Die. Die. Die.
Police firing forty plus shots
When one gets the job done,
Enemies in a war
All screaming through their guns
Damn you!
Die. Die. Die.
Even when one must shoot
In self defense, unless
You aim for the feet of your assailant,
But hardly,
More likely
Subconsciously
Praying
Die. Die. Die.
What I think of is the moment
The brain decides to pull the trigger,
The thought must be
Before the callused squeeze
Please
Die. Die. Die.
I’ve once felt that aggression,
I’ve once felt that hatred.
I was ten
I shot a b.b.
At a humming bird
On the branch It lingered
As I watched
It grasped on to the tree
Like the tree was Its life
And It clung on for dear life
But It plopped down,
To this day I still hear the sad-sad sound
Of Its body hitting the cold-cold ground,
The sound of Its life seeping out
Into nothingness
Like air from a flat tire.
Nothing to comfort It
Besides me, Its killer
And with each breath
It die (inhale), die (exhale), died (expired)
All I hear are screams of hatred.
I see the hatred in the face
Of a person firing a pistol
Thinking
Die. Die. Die.
With sport a hunter shooting its game;
In a drive-by shooting;
The hatred of bullets
Fired in retaliation,
Blood thirst vindication,
Screaming
Die. Die. Die.
Police firing forty plus shots
When one gets the job done,
Enemies in a war
All screaming through their guns
Damn you!
Die. Die. Die.
Even when one must shoot
In self defense, unless
You aim for the feet of your assailant,
But hardly,
More likely
Subconsciously
Praying
Die. Die. Die.
What I think of is the moment
The brain decides to pull the trigger,
The thought must be
Before the callused squeeze
Please
Die. Die. Die.
I’ve once felt that aggression,
I’ve once felt that hatred.
I was ten
I shot a b.b.
At a humming bird
On the branch It lingered
As I watched
It grasped on to the tree
Like the tree was Its life
And It clung on for dear life
But It plopped down,
To this day I still hear the sad-sad sound
Of Its body hitting the cold-cold ground,
The sound of Its life seeping out
Into nothingness
Like air from a flat tire.
Nothing to comfort It
Besides me, Its killer
And with each breath
It die (inhale), die (exhale), died (expired)
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