Some memories
Tap-tap-tap
At my brain
Like a bird
Hammering
With its beak;

**** on my
Window sill.

A pale homemade dress hung to dry in the blazing sun;

It's original color not quite clear but presumably purple.

That stain that never faded, a spot of innocence...

I closed my eyes and remembered the night she wore it,

Childlike with that smile of hers.

He threw promises of love and eternal bliss;

She believed his words and followed him to the train-yard.

An invisible moon hovered over them as they entered

An old rusted cart, abandoned for years and years.

He didn't bother taking her dress off,

She couldn't wait to feel loved.

Right there beneath a dark sky, a man stole a girl's innocence.

But how can love find it's way through the Cairo Slums?

Where human lay on top of another, like cracked bricks;

They bleed.


A grayish sleeveless undershirt hung to dry in the blazing sun,

It's original color not quite clear but presumably white.

That rip that was never mended, a tear of hope...

I closed my eyes and remembered that morning he wore it,

As he maneuvered through downtown traffic

Trying to make easy money, as ordered by his jobless father.

A child of seven or eight running around with beads of

Sweat rolling down his tiny face.

Mr. Policeman grabbed him by his shirt, slapped him around,

Beat him to the ground for approaching Mrs. Businesswoman in

Her air-conditioned car.

But how can this child find hope for the future in the Cairo Slums?

Where human lay on top of another, like cracked bricks;

They bleed.

Let me take you down to the Cairo Slums,

Where people are animals in their nests

Of carton-paper, waiting for the big bad wolf,

To huff and to puff and to blow their lives away.

But soon you'll realize that evil's not born but raised,

That hate is brewed, and money is everything.

Let us disregard this urban jungle under a glass jar,

Let us use them for advertising or marketing our products,

Products they could never afford.

O' what irony, what strife.

The girl and the child never had a chance,

but they deserve one.

They bleed.

They bleed.

So without further a adieu,

Welcome to the Cairo Slums.

And so the children danced by the seashore

At the break of dawn with

The sun not quite up,

But its radiance illuminating

The sky in a breath-taking

Blueish hue, that one could not

Distinguish from the tone of the

Infinite sea beyond the horizon.

They held each other's tiny hands,

Soft, for they were never

Exposed to the hardships of life.

Tender as silk with hopes and

Dreams of a brighter day.

The children jumped from puddle to puddle,

Splashing around the residue of yesterday's rain.

One girl with golden curls and a long

Sleeveless red dress danced around

In circles, stomping her feet in the water,

Her laugh sounding more like a squeak.

One boy with short brown hair and

Nothing but his underpants on

Leapt in the air arching his back

Wearing a glee-filled smile twinkling on his face.



The children heard a noise echoing

From afar;

They turned their heads to the source

Of the sound, and saw a bird in the distant.

"One, two, three, four birds!"

The girl counted on her petite fingers.

"Five, six, seven, eight birds!"

The boy yelled, showing off.

The birds got closer, but the children

Only knew how to count till ten.

They looked up with eyes and mouths wide open

As the huge metal birds roared past

With their giant wings and blasting sound.

The children froze with their hands

On their ears watching curiously as the birds began

To drop dark objects, hundreds of them.

The objects hit the ground where

The children stood, blowing away

All hopes of a better day.

O' the age of innocence is long lost.

She could've been an artist;

He could've found a scientist,

But greed got in the way,

For the fate of these innocent children

Lay in the palm of some fool's hand.



But dry your eyes my love,

For our children will hold hands at

That same spot someday, one day.

They will dance and splash,

Laugh with joy for there is hope.

There is hope in the resurrection of

The age of innocence.

I am,

Nothing more,

Nothing less.

This force is eating me up inside,

Pushing me deep down into an infinite trench.

They say beware of self pity, for it ***** the

Life right out of you, leaving you an empty

Shell of a man, lost and weary.

Am I sad?


I strive for attention,

I just cannot help it.

Every time you look away from me,

Every time you disregard me;

I die a little inside.

Let's do drugs and be happy,

Let's forget about our empty lives.

Maybe this is a call for help.

Am I sad?


I was too busy trying to

Collect friends and acquaintances,

Like one would collect souvenirs

From distant lands just to show them off.

Too busy that I lost the one person

That mattered the most.

She walked out because I was too selfish,

Leaving a deep well of emptiness in my soul.

Am I sad?


I lay through sleepless nights,

With thoughts falling like

Shattered bricks inside my head.

I dream of the day I would finally unleash,

The thunderstorm manifesting within me.

Contemplating the scars on my right arm,

The razor blade I held in my trembling hand,

And the blood that oozed from teeming wounds.

Am I sad?


Or am I just human?

In a sleepless dream,

I wandered through the abyss of my mind.

The traffic clustered streets spread like an epidemic

For miles and miles in every direction.

I wished I was dead.

I wished I was dead.


The cars honked. Honk! Honk!

That sound made me want to shriek,

How could I fall into a deep sleep

Amidst all that chaos, that madness.

I wished I was dead.

I wished I was dead.


I saw my dear ol' mother ingesting herself with a fix of insulin

As if she was a *****, all droopy eyed and sad.

But unlike a raging *****, she did not choose

To be enslaved by her incurable illness.

I wished I was dead.

I wished I was dead.


My father stood by the crossroad, old and weary,

Staring into my eyes that looked much like his,

With  sick thick smoke seeping out of his nostrils.

He held his chest with a wince, and fell to the ground.

I wished I was dead.

I wished I was dead.


Faces fell from a sky, unlike any other sky seen by mortal eyes,

A sky of gruesome yellow, and grotesque green.

These faces fell upon my head like rain,

Their naked eyes stared at me, judged me like they did before.

I wished I was dead.

I wished I was dead.


For at least these thoughts would finally perish when I am dead,

Relieving the world of their wickedness.