If Jerusalem

If Jerusalem was made

From stone

I would have turned it

Into gold

Cause gold don’t

Rust or break down

Or get old

Gold is a man

Of steal that holds

Secrets of mines

And minds of slaves

And hearts of dames

If Jerusalem was a god

I would have crucified him

On a mountain of skulls

Cause no god deserves

To live among us

We

The lost souls

The damned

And the demons in human flesh

If Jerusalem was a virgin and she’s not

I would have told her

To go to bars

Find strange men

And make love to them

Cause there isn’t a knight

On a black steed who will come

And marry her.

Qatari

Holy Bathtub

Holy bathtub!

A window that shows Ram-Allah

A Jesus rests in a cold bathtub

Smoking his last joint cigarette

What it seems as a burned photograph

Of a woman with a white veil

Lies in an ashtray made of an old olive wood.

There are few crimson dry drops of wine

Spilled on the white fresh towel, next to the toilet

And a cracked statue of a dove hangs between the ceiling and the wall mirror.

“Are you done?” a voice of a young guy came from the outside with a gentle knock on the door

“No, give me another three minutes.” 

(untitled)

"We also sent Lut: He said to his people: Do ye commit lewdness such as no people in creation (ever) committed before you? For ye practice your lusts on men in preference to women: ye are indeed a people transgressing beyond bounds. And his people gave no answer but this: they said, "Drive them out of your city: these are indeed men who want to be clean and pure!"" (Qur'an 7:80-82)

the water ripples

like wrinkly skin degenerating 

like pilgrims violating each other

to get closer to god

how can I be

what killed the dead sea?

the water ripples

salt on nipples

your lips aflame

fire-red eyes

fire sweeping your taste buds

fire cracks your skin

how can I be

what killed the dead sea?

the water ripples

like angels fighting

over the throne

open doors to hell

there is an all-male orgy

under the rippling water

there is a gathering of diamonds

statues so beautiful hidden

in the world's deepest wound

Trading Places

Trading places....

Today I decided to trade places with something I hold dear to my heart and thus, this poem....

I, not the mirror, am your greatest reflection…
feel me and I spill all your secrets
dark
deep
insane
happy
or in love.. I watch your every move and grow….

On cold nights you hold me close under your blanket,
And each night you tattoo me…
Pierce my eyes and distort my vision
With names, issues, dates
“This is my best friend
That is my boss
Today was the greatest
I feel bad for letting him go…”

Every night, under a lamp, you insist on smudging my face
Burning my innocence, suffocating me with burdens your soul can’t take on anymore..
You share with me your all, and I give you my all
And though you leave me  the dust of memories, and pieces of news
I lovingly belong to you and only you,
Yes! your secrets belong to me
Seeing your face gives me comfort and my heart skips a beat whenever you near me

I wish I could tell you so many things
Whisper to you secret names you say when you dream
Or describe the gleam of your eye whenever I am around
But I do not betray my master
and I, I know you won’t listen
Because that’s when you will find me
Crouching between books, dreams and days
Close, personal, yours forever
Love xoxo,
Your Diary

More Than Flesh

A beautiful young woman

Swaying to the beat

Moving like a snake

Hypnotized by the drum

Her waist has a mind of its own

Covered, but uncovered

Burning hot in every color she puts on

Turning hearts and pulling eyes to every curve

Arrows unleashed, landing on her skin

Her long black hair

Her wide, wild eyes

She's the woman of your fantasy

I'm the opposite of ignorant

My spirit turns hearts

My body is covered, my mind is not

I don't dance, I run

Books and words hypnotize me

I burn to brighten the world

My long black hair

My wide, wild eyes

I'm not your fantasy

I am a daughter, sister, mother

I am a scholar, teacher, writer

I'm the roots of olive trees

And the wind rustling through their leaves

Beauty of a Cemetery

Row after row of quietness
And neat white gravestones.

You’ll find the much-missed tranquility
in our over-crowded city
Where family members never been closer;
Sharing the unaccounted passing moments.

The cemetery never speaks ill of the dead:
*a loving mother*
*a loyal husband*
*a hero*.
The cemetery won’t forget your birthday.
The cemetery is inevitable.

In a cemetery;
blessings drop from skies;
Prayers chanted all day long.
In a cemetery,
you’re never alone.
Between the sky scrapers and clouds of car exhausts,
Your world turns green
of trees, flowers,
And moss growing between the letters of your name.

Mad hatter and Don't Judge

Mad Hatter 

I am made of cards

Made of broken red hearts

In the queen’s maze I got lost

Once

Upon, my fate

A sentence was put

“off with his head”

The voice of red, shouted

And I ran into my looking glass.

I waited centuries in the darkness

And never got out

I waited for her

My savior in the blue apron

But, no she never came,

To wonderland. 

Alone, I spent days

And nights

Weaving

Hats, dreaming about

A forest

Where I used to laugh

A mad man, insane

They called me

A pervert

With a tea pot

And a missing mind.

Where am I?

Where are the real people?

I wish to pray again for a god

But all what I found here

Are caterpillars on mushrooms

Smoking shishas and rabbits drinking wine. 

________________________________

Don’t Judge!

Don’t judge me!

God is a man

Man is a god

And men kill

Their gods.

“I have visions”

This is what I was told

When I saw God smoking

Volcanoes

And sipping cold shots

Of oceans

I am an Atheist

I don’t believe in this life

My only religion

Is a goddess

Who makes out

With shepherds

And deer

I may be complicated

But I am simple in the

Way I speak

I don’t sleep with mortals

Deities are my pleasure

And life.  

A new start..A new poem

For an enthusiastic start....

 A start

To start somewhere

You must simply end something else….

It is a perfect equation for normal balance;

To get a tree to grow, you seize to be a seed

To catch your flight, open your wings

To embrace a shadow walk through the light..

To live…..stop dying.

Change

Shift

Move

Vibrant to the beat

For you are the residue of your thoughts by the river and your tears over blank pages ….

Ideas form your body and words sketch you on a hard cardboard called "life"

Talk hides everywhere for and from you;

On a bench

Behind the tree, on a tongue .. even in a grandmother’s lap..

It just bends upon your request !

Whiteness causes no fear..  

Diversity is always the key to success..

A rush of emotions and a light overhead push you out of your own way

Start writing…write.. write.. write..

To start writing

Stop slacking and use a pen …

Screamed a voice in my head…

Confessions of a Lonely Woman

I slept on the edges of single beds

Night after night

Leaving enough room for you

To hold me in my sleep

I longed for your body heat

And ached for the delicious sensation

Of your body weight on top of me

Holding me down

Protecting me from monsters under my bed

Your breath on my neck kept me up at night

And future memories of a bear hug

Haunted my day dreams and my waking hours

I drew images of affectionate intimacy

In the smoke of my cigarette

And pictured you a dark shadow around the corner

Hand on my door knob

Twisting my heart open

You were my last thought before sleep

The first in the morning

And all in between

I can write a book on you

Your every habit

And give aways

Your hoarse voice

And the way you say my name

But still I’m waiting for a coincidence

The moment we cross paths

The fireworks

Eyes meet..

deathpeom

Not every cloud has a silver lining

Some are black to the bone

There isn't light at the end of every tunnel

It isn't darkest before the dawn

These aren't my words

This is my soul.

I wrote this for all my mornings and nights

I wrote this for all my mournings and knights

And I will recite this prayer

Every time I stand before an open grave

I wrote this for all the time

This is my soul.

I wrote this for the thick white fog

That is heavily wrapping Jerusalem

Like a Muslim cadaver

like a fresh mummy

I come from the city of ghosts

I wrote this for you, death

An attempt to satisfy your impatience

Here, have my soul.

I have mourned too many people

to believe in life

after death and this is a note

of gratitude from all the other orphans

I breath

Life is a burden that not all can carry

A gift that not all deserve.

silver moon collection

I. Rape 

When the first virgin of unicorns

Opened the box

I

The evil inside

Was released

I had the form of a god

Made out of roses

I raped the virgin

And it stayed the same

Untouched

Holy

From my poison

I.                  Mirage

He roamed alone

As a wingless moth

Searching for a drop of honey

In a lion’s mouth

The oil well refused to give him

Treasures

And his western mind

Refused to believe the lie

A mirage

A dream

Of Eve as a belly dancer

And a camel

Speaks Urdu

And wears

Dior Show black-out mascara

II.               Sipping Nescafe

A single star is shining

A space ship

From NASA

Watching

Me

In my house

On my bed

Sipping my

Nescafe

Watching T.V

As a white man

Watching porn

With the curtains

Closed… it’s the globe

That we are living in

Circling in fog

And throwing out

Us as rotten food

In a homeless tummy 

III.            I am

I am the woods that were cut

The high tip tops of pine and palm

I am the wind that was shut

Jaffa and its oranges

يافا و بردئانها

I am the streets with its sluts

I am the bars with its mini skirts

And I am a hooker from above

A holy sinner

A right holder

With cheap lipstick

And dry lips

I am a teenager

On a cross-

 road

Tall hair?

Short…

Piercing in the belly

Piercing in the tongue

Piercing in the whiteness of my eye 

And piercing in my lust

I am me

A depression

A knight

In shining armor

A fright

A fried fries

With nuggets

And gummies

Cola

With chips

And a bunch of lost kids

A bottle of mine

Empty, but still has the smell

Of night

A wet shirt

Wet pants

A new bottle of

Nail polish

Spilled on the floor

Of my second floor apartment

IV.            Yaffa

Yaffa from the sea

And the horizon looks close

An acre of moon

An acre of juice

A house of stone

And stairs of rosary

The smell of sea shells

And voices of sirens

Calling sailors

For free outdoor sex

Sand mingles in my ear

And makes me hear the sound

Of the furies

Gun shots and SNAP

A soldier coming from the corner

Thirsty for blood

And I used to think that vampires

Should be invited to come…

. My name

My name sounds as I want it to be

Fragile

Weak

And ends with a silent e 

Innocence