دقّت الساعة

دقّت الساعة و رنّ الجرس
وكل صوت ملعلعِ انخرس
وبعد عرسِ صارخِ مجلجل
صار الضجيج يتسنّح الفرص

أفل القوم وتشتت الربوع
وشطّ الكحل عن عيون الجموع
سقط الطرطور عن رأس المذيع
أعزل هاجمه الصقيع
فهو قد خلع ثوب فشله الذريع

الأرض والسقف سيّان
إذ اندثرت الأنوار و خيّم الأمان
ليزحف الظلام ويجتاح المكان
حتى صدى الكؤوس اعتراه النسيان
فالصمت ساد وتحكّم بالأزمان

شرّع جناحيه وابتلع المحيط
من غيره يجرؤ على اغتصاب الشيّيط
فرض لونه على الكل من حواليه
فهيهات لمتمرّد أن يفلت من بين يديه
أحكم الخناق على كلِّ ضحاياه
وإذ به يلفُّ كل من يرثي صباه
إنه الجلاد والحفار في آن
مسرحي كان الأول فهل من ثان

Happy Eid Everyone

عيد سعيد و ينعاد على الكل انشالله بالخير والبركة

I hate him

Why does he have to be so beautiful, why?
Why does he have to have those deep blue eyes that make my heart melt like a fine chocolate in a virgin's mouth, why?
Why does he have to have those spiky, frizzy, blondy hair that I love?
Why does he have to have this hairless firm inviting macho six-pack stomach? Always tanned, always shiny, smooth and silky.

Why dear lord, why did you make him so gorgeous. There is no way I could look at him and not imagining myself plunging in his chest and thawing in his arms. There is no way I could look at him and not forget how he sucks in bed and keeps letting me down and pushing me away again and again and again. God I hate him, no no, I wish I hated him. I hate him, I hate him.

I was running down the aisle to catch Lina at the laundry before she closes for the day. I need a clean uniform for tomorrow and I always suffer with uniforms when I’m doing night shifts. Anyways, I was running down the aisle between the laundry and the cafeteria when he stepped out of the x-ray suite. Gorgeous as ever, when he saw me, he made sure that I hear him talking to Alfred. Doesn't he know that it's over between us? Well for me it's over between us, for him, there were never us. For him, there was his girlfriend, then another girlfriend and another girlfriend, and of course hundreds of girls left right and centre waiting for him everywhere. Stupid me and i thought I was special. But enough three years of deception, it's enough, let him drop dead.
Strange how whenever I pass by, his voice tone goes higher, his steps get slower and he grows 2 inches taller. Why is that? Like a peacock, like a rooster in front of a house of hens he goes bragging around and around. Like an Allan Poe’s poem, like a Da Vinci’s painting, like a Mozart’s piece, he runs into my veins, my blood, my soul. I hate him.

I made sure that he was invisible to me, put my head in the ground, and walked as if I’m alone on the floor. I hardly could make it to lina’s, hid behind her door in the pile of the hanging uniforms and tried to catch my breath. God, please, make me a rock, right here, right now, make me a rock. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.

10 days

10 days now since I opened the subject with him, and my fire is still the same.
Should I give it more time or should I do something? What to do in any case?
What fire am I talking about? Where is it coming from?
Well, I’m sad and I feel hurt, not that he hurt me, he didn’t….
Did I hurt myself? Maybe I did, but what the fuck, I have to stop avoiding being hurt!

I don’t know why I’m crying all the time and I don’t know why I’m so sad, but I know what made me feel hurt: “you want the I love you, I miss you…the cute feeling that I got you and you got me. We are not lovers….” I was offended, felt so bad about it, and the fact it was the truth, made it worse.

Did I love him?
I don't think I did, so why the fact that we are no lovers hurts me? Didn’t I know that?
Well I knew that we are not lovers, but I wanted to be lovers, and he took this dream away. What’s worse than losing a dream?
Maybe that’s why I don’t dream, I only have plans, no dreams, if the plan doesn’t work, I change it, but dreams if you lose them, that’s it….. So I just don’t dream, it’s safer.

You know, I didn’t print his emails when I went to Cairo, not that I didn’t want to, but the printer was down, and I couldn’t reach them while there, but they were in my mind, repeating them over and over again, without knowing why I’m still on fire.
I cant act as if I’m ok, and even if I can I don’t want to, I want to stop pretending that everything is under control and it’s fine… I cannot control my sadness and I’m not fine, I was acting all the time in Cairo, and in my brothers wedding I had the largest smile on my face, was wearing the most beautiful dress and acting like a princess, I didn’t stop dancing although I didn’t feel like and I didn’t want to, but I love my brother more than being different on his wedding, so I was the Nada everybody knows, flying from one table to another welcoming people, checking if everything is fine and inviting them to dance. I enjoyed the look on my younger brother’s eyes, how proud he was, how happy that his brother’s getting married and he’s got a cool sister who was all the time dancing with his friends, how could I take this from him, his happiness is all what I got.
Cairo was beautiful, I had to see my friends, and we had to talk about everything and I had to got to restaurants, coffee shops and night clubs, I had to, but deep inside I just wanted to reach bed to start crying and whenever no one is there to catch my tears, they just jump and I pretend that the mascara hurts or it’s too smoky…
Didn’t have any feelings to the city, or the Nile although I'm quite romantic about it and you know that. Even when I came back, it was the same, as if nothing happened, so neutral…

I want to talk to him, but I don’t wanna say anything, I can’t talk to him about people, life, society, when I feel deep inside that I’m not ok, when I feel that I’m still hurt. I don’t know what to do….

You are invited

The iftar today is Moghrabieh.

You are all invited, 6:00 PM Dubai time.

(I’m getting really good with my right hand, who said I need two arms to cook???)

On the menu for tomorrow, Beef Stroganoff

Be there...

الرحيل

الجو رطبُ والهواء عليل
والنسيم يخفق وقت الأصيل
السماء تزهو بأسراب الطيور
إنه وقت الرحيل

شمسُ معطاءُ تعلن
للملأ للكلِّ بفخرٍ
أجل أنا الملك المتقن
افرح امرح سلطن

ما همُّك لو أن اليوم هو آخر يوم
ما همُّك لو أن الليل استغرق في النوم
ما همُّك لو أن النهار ضلّ وكثر اللوم
ما همُّك
افرح امرح سلطن

أراك تذهب ولا أدري إن كنت ستعود
والقمر يقول لي إءت بنايٍ وعود
غنّ دمدم أطلق الوعود
عش حياتك فالهم لا يسود

ما نفع عيناك ما لم تر الأمل
انطلق ارم وراءك كل الفشل
ما أبهاك تعود للعمل
ما أشهاك تحترق بالقبل

بحبٍ بعطاءٍ بزهاء
افرح امرح سلطن
فأنا بكلِّ فخرٍ أعلن
أن رحيلك لأملي مُشعِل

Keep Walking

I fell of my horse on Sunday morning. I don’t remember how it happened. I guess the horse was going really fast and refused my pleas to slow down, so I fell. The 5 seconds or less from the moment I got off the horse’s back till I hit the ground were the longest ever, it was a Johnny Walker moment indeed. I did my best to fall in a proper way, I mean to avoid injuries. For some reason I thought that my shoulder could take it. I was wrong. I fractured my left shoulder, and I’m left handed. I don’t know how the “sliders” manage to jump from one world to the other without the slightest pain!!!!

It could have been worse, everybody around is telling me about how superman lived the rest of his life in a wheelchair from a horse injury. And I remembered Maya’s question in her “seat 13 D” post “Are we free of our decisions? Or are we slaves of fate?” I don’t know, but I guess the will to live is what get us going, the instinct.
I did survive a number of deadly accidents in the past; the first I remember was around the age of 8 when I managed to throw a huge, 250 kg plant pot over my head. I thought it was a part of the wall and I pulled it very hard, I was happy that our neighbours in Beirut, who were spending summer in Chbenieh, will spend the day with us in Bhamdoun. I also survived an electric chock (traumatised for over a year though), falling off the Portemelio Hotel stairs in Kaslik with pointed metal high heals (for those who know the stairs, they are really scary…), a car accident (I was not driving), a desert motorcycle accident (guilty, it was me) and now the horse.

What makes us survive? I guess it’s the will to live. I’m not done with life yet, no not yet...

بيروت يا بيروت

بيروت يا بيروت يا قصة بصندوق فرجة كبير
بيروت رح بتضلّ للإيام عروسة الأمير
رمضان ع بابها
الاعياد ع جنابها
ومزيني البواب بالتوت والعناب
فانوس بيضوّي عليها و عل الأحباب
بإيد واحد دفّ
والباقي بصوت الكف
صوت الكف صوت الكف

مرحى مرحى جيبوا الطرحة
جيبوا الطرحة لبيروت
مرحى مرحى خلّوا الفرحة
تملّي الدنيّ من بيروت

بيروت يا بيروت يا قصة بصندوق فرجة كبير
بيروت رح بتضلّ للإيام عروسة الأمير
الخضر ع بابها
عم يكتب كتابها
مطرح ما بدّك روح
بيروت هيّ الروح
كل ما تناديها
بحرا إلك بيلوح
غنّي عصوت الدف
غنّي عصوت الكف
صوت الكف صوت الكف

مرحى مرحى جيبوا الطرحة
جيبوا الطرحة لبيروت
مرحى مرحى خلّوا الفرحة
تملّي الدنيّ من بيروت


بيروت يا بيروت هي غنّية لأحمد قعبور بيغنوها اولاد دار الأيتام الإسلامية. ما قدرت أعملها بوستينغ لأني ما بعرف كيف
Needless to say how beautiful Beirut was....