I travelled to the homeland
to reconcile with my past.

I flew over miles of identities
to find my own.

Against layers of western pop and soulful jazz,
I find myself yearning for the sound
of traditional music
These ears know well
the tune that reminds them of home.

My blood dances
to the thumping of the tabla,
the melodious clash of castanets
and plucking of strings on leathered guitars.

Traditional music is the voice
of my silenced ancestors;
and the treasure that is the legacy
they have left behind for us.

Each night I will remind myself
of the beauty of Algeria
and the sound that vibrates its fertile soil
and resonates in my heart.

Reaching out to hold the hands
of those who came before me;
we stand united by the melody
of our anthem.

She woke up helpless and had no clue,
-What time it was- or what to vainly do,
She could never see, but hear their steps,
Chime in that vacant dark hall,

She wanted to speak it loud, to scream,
She couldn't wait seekinga  light beam,
She wanted to know any whereabouts,
She wanted to **** all wonders and doubts,
'' Where am I?" said she.

She knew everything but what was happening,
She knew everything, but all was vaguely dark,
This **** food she shared with a rat,
Which, she ironically named and jack,

Jack, he, who happens to be full of romance,
He, who happens to be a charming prince,
He, who happens to come on a white horse,
Recklessly swinging his sword cutting their heads,
He who used to passionately kiss her lips,
Making her heart melt within a glimpse,
He who happens to be a lover never seen again,
They took her soul when taking him away,
She was a mere corpse, already dead.

Suddenly,
the door of the cell was slammed in a burst,
Voilently opened erupting the floor's dust,
They were there, executioners and a grumpy priest,
Light has made her blind, that beam of light,
Which she has always  eagerly sought,
She went blind, for a while, until she reached the mighty blade of the guillotine.*

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UNSPOKEN

Late, she came that morning,
And next to him she sat,
Towards him she was leaning,
Her perfume he could scent,
His heart blended a feeling,
That he could never forget.
She spoke to him so little,
A sweet voice, a gentle fiddle,
That made his heart twiddle,
As a dance or a romantic riddle.
He had to keep it for himself,
Unfold like a book on a shelf,
-Eagerly, lustfully written,
  Secretly, silently hidden-
He went further to dream,
A non-sense fictional stream,
Imagining what would seem,
Like a fancy illusion to deem,
His fate of having her for real,
But soon all of that would steal,
His attention to notice a gleam,
Of vivacious sun rays that beam,
Her skin light as a glittering cream,
With pink sublime shaped lips,
So elegant, heavenly made ideal,
To which his wicked desires kneel.
For every artful kiss on the cheek,
Went a feeling sensual and deep,
Till their eyes were meant to meet,
Exposing what he thought in secrete,
"Alas! a fool I am to conceive,
Such beauty into such conceit,
It shall never happen."
Cowardly, he said inbetween,
Fake glances of his childish deceit,
In a futile trial to hide and conceal,
What he thought to be absurd conceit,
That could be a fairytale so sweet,
She felt the same, he never knew.
A secret tale by a heartbeat,
He kept it untold; unspoken,
Between the lines forgotten,
Thus it is, a fairytale incomplete.


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The meaning of life
What does it mean

Does it mean to love another
or
To make history

Everyone’s gifted
In their own way

So take your talents
To find the right way

Meanings besides us
Meaning we have

Learn from your past
And
Your meaning will last