ابنة الصحراء

Friday, October 29, 2010
سرتُ معها في حقل ألغامٍ، و كل لغم يتفجر بسؤال. إلى الجمال الذي يكمن وراء الشك..



يا ابنة الصحراء!
ما للخزامى يزهر،
و إن حل عليه الخريف؟
و في حوضٍ صغيرٍ
داخل السور المنيع،
 يتفجر ينبوع بكاءٍ
يروي
عطاشى الزهور.
و تحترق أناملٌ
كانت قرينة الحريرِ،
علها تحفظ رمق الدفء
الأخير.
و تغني حشرجة الصوت بأسى:
"نامي جياع الشعب نامي."
غفت عيناك
 في حضن اللاهوت الأرفعِ.
و تعطل سبيل الدموع
يحفر الخد الأعفرَ.
كيف لها عاصفة البال، أن تغفلَ؟
و كانت قبل ساعةٍ
تنثر الدررَ،
تسألني: أحُقَ لكل آدميٍ
أن يتبسماً؟
و ربك تجهم وجهك،
فأصبح الكون متجهماً.
أتدركين كم طافت في مقلتي
صور السَحرِ.
لا هي تقف بعد الطواف
فتصلي،
و لا هي تفر في معترك الفِكرِ.
بتُ أضاجع السهاد فوق مرقدي.
كيف لعقلي أن يدركَ
سر السعادة الأعظم؟
يا ابنة الصحراء،
رويداً،
تغافلنا الضوء في المخدع.
لا تجمعي لفيف فستانك الشفاف
فوق صدرك الناهدِ.
كم حصدت فوقه
بسماتٍ خفاف،
أنسنى بهنَّ وسط الحندس.
و نسينا هموماً عظام
كأنها جبالٌ بعد مشيخٍ
تنسفُ.
فعلمت أن الشفاه تُبكِي حيناً،
و أحياناً تُسعِدُ.
ثم لملمتي عفافك
من فوق الجسد الأعرجِ.
و دعيتي ربكِ،
أن يضم المنتصب بالمنكسرِ،
رحلتي.
خلفتي ورائك عطراً
يهز الخافقَ.
كيف يفرح الجرمُ الصغير،
إذا ما تراقص القلبُ الأحمقُ؟
فقدتُ بعدك بعض الروئ،
و السحر لازال في محله مقيمُ.
يكيل الميزان،
إن شاء يعطي
و إن شاء يمنعُ.
يرسل جنداً إلى الحجرة العليا،
تطاع كيفما تأمر.
فأرقص مع الظلال،
علها تحمل في خدعة النورِ
صاحبة الظلِ الأجملِ.
و أعلقُ صورتي فوق المرايا،
باسمة الوجه،
تدفع الضحكة فوق مبسمي.
و سحرها يجول في الحجرة،
كأنه وحيٌ
لا يدركه سوى عاشقانِ:
فاتنة تجفو،
و صبيٌ يصِــلُ.
يا ابنة الصحراء،
إني خارجٌ في الأثرِ.
كم يخفيني رحب الفضاء،
و كنت أرى في سقف غرفتي
السماءَ و الأنجمَ،
دليلي في سبيل الهوى
دموع فوق التربة العذراء،
كالدم جروحه تملأ المدمع.
سأقطع شرايين معصمي،
علّ حوار الدماء
يدلني عليك،
علمت في لحظة الألم،
أن البهجة التي اشتهي
لن أنالها إلا بطلوع الدمعة
من المحجرِ
أو نفاذ الروحِ
من الجسد

الرياض
الجمعة 29-10-2010

P.S:  you deserve something more than thank u.. specially for the pictures.

Islamic Veil

Friday, October 22, 2010


It’s smart to obtain wisdom from crazy people. It’s insane to seek love in Saudis. And let’s say I’m crazy. This entry would sound very odd as we progress, so I warn you: in the end of this blog, don’t feel horny or sexually aroused. As I’m sitting in my favorite place, in Starbucks, I can over hear some soft voices behind the hedge/fence, between families and singles section. For those who never had the chance to visit Saudi Arabia: all restaurants, coffee shops, or customer service centers are separated between males in one side and families/females on the other side. However, I am feeling little attracted to that voice. I imagine that girl as pretty as TV stars, because they are the only females I see. Also, as I don’t have the right, or the mean to practice any sexual or physical contact with females, I would get really more attracted to the mysterious voice.

Attraction most often finds a couple to engage. This couple would produce soon a newly born creature, called love. Love, this miserable creature, lingers in eyes, mobiles, dark rooms, and ends up either in religion police center or rehab clinic. Though rehab clinic is very advance term for those people, they would relieve the pain in another victim. We could all notice that the process of creating love was highly physically ordinated. As a result, love is dependent and involved in bodies’ interaction. Virginally love, or so called innocent, decent or Platonic love is one of 2 options: having babies without intercourse, and that explains the name virgin love as Virgin Mary had babies without a father/intercourse. The other option is having an intercourse without penetration, because most of the boys are very afraid of hurting the girl. This can be reformed correctly and says: all the boys are afraid of commitment.

I can understand now why some Saudis would screw the whole life abroad or when they get married. They wanna unload. To make this long story short follow me: men get married because they are sexually pressurized. Then, they found out their wives are very conservative according to the horny man fancies. Most of those females are not really embarrassed, but they wanna give the impression of decent life before marriage. Eventually, the man would either seek another married female, who doesn’t care about his expectations, or he would sleep with every prostitute in Dubai, Bahrain and all around the world. Meanwhile, the shy wife would find another horny guy to practice the same right/wrong, her husband does.

I’ve lived long enough to witness people misery. Some of them are fathers who lie on their children promising them a house rather than the current apartment. Some of them are struggling against the whole world stressors, bully boss, high life expenses, and demanding partner. Other just live hopelessly meaninglessly and waiting for the beloved one. Yet the most miserable is a broken heart.

Imagine if time travel is possible. Also, each one of us has one chance to go back. Believe me, everyone would travel in time to splint the broken heart. Again, this meant to be the entry for the time travel topic, but I’m feeling very consumed. I have to stop. Don’t follow me, I’m heading to the graveyard. In my country cemetery each gravestone reads: here lies the love, the biggest lie they had believed in.   

the picture source is here

لقاء بالأمس

Wednesday, October 20, 2010
حتى ظننت أنك نثرتيها على لسان فيروز


Consequences

Friday, October 15, 2010


Why do we tend to be complicated? In Starbucks, coffee could be only coffee. We don’t have to add milk, sugar, chocolate, and in some cases salt. In love, passion could be only a high level of affection. We don’t have to justify love to have sex. In atom level, it is only the basic unit of things. Is it really important to divide it into smaller particles and particules (this is just a word from my mind). In the end, Life is complicated, thus we are.

Why life is too complicated? I wanted to discus time travel to clarify that point. However, a recent event changed my mind dramatically. The answer lies in front of our eyes: consequences. A misplaced stone would eventually cause a whole building to collapse. Therefore, masons paid (and still paying) a lot of attention to cornerstones. The idea of a cornerstone is a bit amusing; and we may claim poverty is the cornerstone for all evil. I don’t mean that poor people are devilish. In contrary, most of times poor people are good believers.

The percentage of house owners in Saudi Arabia is somewhere around 40%. Though, I think this is inaccurate, since I know people who build apartments more than those who rent the apartments. This could be a misleading sentence, and I have to make it more correct: 20% own houses, 60% rent houses, and other 20% are homeless. Still, the idea is: those who are capable to lease are decreasing on the favor of homeless. I’m very comfortable to say that magnitudes of this are very uncomfortable. Yet, what is so significant to own a house?

Poverty is a multifactorial problem. Nevertheless, the result is very uniformly: corruption. An old says that absolute power is absolute corruption, so how come powerless people to become as such as scam? In an early blog, I discussed that human beings are worse creatures as they have the capability to justify and fulfill their needs regardless the consequences. Back to the foundation, the consequence for a hungry man in his pursuit for food is very sore. The impact is very massive.

I invite you to take a look for the big picture:  a father, a mother, and nine children are composing a poor family. This unlucky family main theme is neglecting. The father is either/ both spends all of his time seeking for money or/and cursing the unfortunate life. He may, often, express his anger toward the community in his children. I would like to call those poor lads: a pressure cuff. The mother is the safety valve, which at one point may explode, leading to many results. The most probably outcome; she would kill her husband, herself, and/or her children. This happens only in classic movies, as in reality she would simply transfer into a negative and passive observer. She is the witness of a harsh process of demolishing her sons and daughters selves-esteem. No need to mention that the parents may alternate in rules.

Poor self-esteem in poor people is really devastating. The 9 children outcome may vary shockingly; I would take each one of them individually, but I know my beloved readers don’t have enough time. Therefore, the main flow is characterized by uncontrollable compensating methods to fulfill inferiority thoughts such as religious attitude. That approach may be explained as turning to absolute power, because they’re completely helpless. Anyway, back to the means the children may use: violence, crimes, community hatred, and easy money like drugs and weapons.

I passed closely to that family by one of the daughters. One of them is 22 years old, she just started her college life a year ago. She is a bit late to be college girl, but after many years of failing in school she reached this point, and that’s good by itself. Significantly, she expresses her destruction desires in boys. Lust and horny boys just fly like butterflies around this beautiful flower. Literally she utilities them as condoms; she uses them once and then discard them. I know this may go either ways, for the girl or the community. Nevertheless, I don’t feel sorry for the boys, they’re jerk, whom I am in pain for is the girl. Since, none of us could tell the consequences. 

Paperwork

Friday, October 08, 2010
Fever


Was it for real? I can’t believe surviving for ages without a beating heart. I had been kept against my will watching the elements of the world moving, changing, and reacting, all which in slow motion, turtle slow. Every time I try to resist the captivity, a wave of preserved energy shocks my body to leave it shaken and confused. I was paralyzed, stunned, and fully awake. It’s a bit unfair. Since they kept attacking and ramming my fences, until I became unarmed and unprotected. It’s unfair as I can’t pay back, and next time they come, I would be weaker. Then, they invaded my inner chamber, the forbidden room. They steal every treasure they could find. Imagine, a police man inside my head! And a police man is a thief.

I don’t write because the fancy of writing and making big deal of little things. It’s the need to write that drives me coming here over and over, without any control. It’s an urge, exactly like urinating, and hopefully my urine is not that nasty. A guy with ill functioning kidneys may die without dialysis and blood washing/cleaning. As many bad elements accumulate in the blood stream. It transfers into poisons. So, too many ideas may cluster in my brain driving me crazy. Each idea may transfer to a man, woman, police man, venom, potions, tree, or entire universe. I have a whole population inside this tiny ball. Therefore, I have to go through brain dialysis, at least once a week.

How to make me sick? They forced me to stop, and shut down. They voided my eyes from colors. Living in a grey area is not as pleasant as you think. It’s like a curse where there’s no meaning for yes or no. A liberal man is stuck in the middle. Always it has been said: a wise man holds the stick from the center, this time ladies and gentleman, I’m the stick, and I’m been hold from the middle. How to release myself? I reached the stage where life was a huge boundary for living. Breathing retains enough energy to open my eyes, yet to handicap my hands. All I need to do is stop inhaling. It’s giving away a little from this life, for a lot in whatever coming next.

For too long, I’ve been walking behind the illusion of success. A journey for ages is without achievement. And my pathway stops at some stations of clubbing and lights to distract me. To give me the hope, that tomorrow would be my great day. Still, what is the meaning of success? Is it self-centered, people centered, god centered, or pines centered? Lovely! So the last was the missing piece in my successful. Never mind, I think a man can’t judge his success until death. The presence after death is a successful rate. Life is short, and that what I’m missing. 

The previous few paragraphs show clearly the self-guilt, suicide thoughts, and justification for what I have been through and what I plan to do. Yet, I consider my life to any given standers is a great life. I have great family, good friends, 6th year medical student, and I’m socially involved to the extent I want. I wish for nothing more. So what factors did contribute to my current status? To tell the truth, I don’t know. But probably over dose or insufficient chocolate is the reason. I would like one day to do more researches, cacao wise, to be gives IV for acute depression episodes.

And when you are depressed time passes very slowly. Recently, I went to the theater where my high school graduation ceremony took place. The event was in 2004, yet I can’t understand how time passes too quickly. Really the last few weeks were a bit longer than the 6 years I spent in Riyadh. Still, is aging process passing equally given same period of time? And in Arabic literature, a hard time is a good reason for white hair.

Hopefully in next few weeks we’re going to discus:
1.        Agriculture and civilization.
2.        Crying great men.
3.        Labor market.
4.       Some poems.

And until next episode, I’m back.


All the credit for the picture "Fever" goes to my friend here. The picture link