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Feb 2015 · 1.5k
The Plague
MAJD S Feb 2015
Swallow my sentences
With the touch of your lips,
Let my words tap dance in the hallways of your throat,
Play music with your vocal chords,
Drown like Jack Dawson in titanic-
Be titanic.
When my words hit your heart
Do not push them away;
Embrace them,
Like they came on a wave of Bob Dylan vinyls
Like they were lyrics
The Beatles have been searching for
For so long,
Like they were the last scene
From a movie soundtracked by Jimi Hendrix
Like they were the notes
For whatever Jimi was playing;
Embrace them,
Like they were mine.
Know that they are.
Know that my frail heart will accept your kiss,
But also know that my mind
Perceived how your right hand
Was resting on the side of my seat,
How your left swiped on my neck,
The way surgeons dot lines
To mark the areas they are going to slice off;
Know that I’m afraid.
That I’m a bomb defuser without his suit,
That I’m a racer without breaks,
That I’m Evil Knievel without a helmet,
That I’m swimming with sharks;
But the only cage I’m in,
Is the one I’ve built with my fragile hands,
Is the one that could be pulverized by yours.
I’m afraid of letting you in.
Because one day,
That bomb will go off,
That race will come to an end,
Those sharks
Will get hungry,
And I’m too tired of being the bate.
MAJD S Nov 2014
I should get up and write.
Write about our present,
And how unlikely is our future.
Write about the scars on her left wrist
Which you saw only because her bracelet slipped.
Write about how she never gave up,
And how you never gave up on asking;
Maybe I should get up and write
About the shackles in our stomachs,
The chains on their chairs,
The change that is so hard to anticipate
When your fainting eyes
Read news of homicide every night;
When your voice fades away in reason,
And not in volume;
You often find yourself talking loudly
Only to realize that the echoes of your sound
Is amplified by the emptiness of what you’re saying
So why speak?
So why speak, when you can’t get her to listen,
When her eyes shift between your glances
To look for someone she actually wants to hang around;
When her fingers do not point at your words,
But at her favorite photos
Which she goes over 10 million times a day.
So why speak?
When your vocal chords
Are replaced with rocks and stones,
So you throw your messages away
Hoping you get them straight to the heads
So why speak?
When words rattle cages
But tyrants
They live in mansions.
But we’re still alive aren’t we?
Our blood runs
Through the wired compartments of our brains,
Like rivers rushing with ideas,
And I fell for the oceans in her eyes.
Our heart still beats
Quicker at winter than it does at spring,
And I guess it gets chilly every time we meet.
Our bodies still believe in music,
We could still challenge the world
By spiraling against it,
By jumping upward
Downing motions of the rain,
By looking at the horizons
And still believe
There’s a lot more for us to see.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yMjem_VhIeI&html5;=1
MAJD S Sep 2014
You forgot your pictures
On forgotten bed side tables
In the back of my brains.
I was supposed to sleep two hours ago,
But I was busy tracing the tracks
You’ve crossed with your fingers on my skin;
And when I reach the end of the map
I don’t find a treasure
Instead I find your dead cells
Lurking on my shoulders
Like dust lurking on my book shelves,
Like tanned blondes stretching on the sea shore,
Like red and blue highlights that you’ve kept for so long.
I found your sea shelled bracelets
And 3 fingered rings exciting,
I found the simplicity of you wearing no necklace soothing,
But I knew that I was at the peak of a roller coaster ride-
When everything slows down,
When that loose feeling of safety
Tingles up your spine
And stays long enough
To amplify the shock of falling suddenly.
I picked up a flower shaped safety pin
And as soon as I brought it close enough to smell
Your grenades exploded in my face.
Instead of shattering,
I blew up into a thousand words
That can make oceans of me ,
And instead of you swimming
You learned how to drown;
Avoid my words,
Swim through the sharks and create jewels out of my sea shells
Till I become just another
Pendant from your arms,
Or glitter on the corners of your backpack
Where you hanged memories you force outside
Because the demons inside are not on good terms,
Because the demons inside of you are screeching
But you don’t want the world to hear;
Yet you left your pictures on my bed site tables,
And you meant to keep a retraceable mark of you on my hands
And you want me to come back,
But your mines were too dangerous.
Your mood swings
Flew me over the bushes,
Your cigarette smoke, filtered in my lungs
Made it hard for me to breath out the words “I love you”,
Your eyes are my only solace
But sometimes,
It takes less effort to exit home
Than to stay in it.
MAJD S Jul 2014
Stare at your father,
At the cornered sweat
Zigzagging between the Grey hair
Left on the borders of his skull;
At the spit
Exiting from the white bars
That once kept his words unsaid.
Stare at him,
While he repeats the same sentence
Over and over and over
Until the words curve spaces
At the back of your ears,
Till all you can hear is
“Keep your dreams in the depth of your pockets,
Dreams can float once your pockets are full”.
But my dreams are like plants
They need light to grow,
And my pocket is not exactly
The place I was thinking about.

Stare at your Facebook homepage;
The girls left an imprint.
The imprints were coded
And the codes became a covenant
Of which-
You gave yourself;
And every time before you go to sleep
You repeat the same sentence
“She is not the one.
You love her because she is an image in your head,
She is not the one.
The one reads books
And books have been written about her,
The one plays the right music,
The one creates scenarios in her head
And asks you to act them with he;r
The one loves you back
The one loves you back.”

Stare at the circles you’ve been forming;
The words you’ve said
That you now take back-
Pull strings on your intestines
Till your up chuck reflex
Kicks in and you start
Jotting them on paper;
Who knows?
Maybe one day you’ll even write a poem.
This is a poem i wrote about 6 months ago...But i just found it so i wanted to share it with you guys!
MAJD S Jul 2014
My Facebook page is a cluster of
Saturday nights drinking-
And Gaza.
The fusion of blood and alcohol
Created a fierce dichotomy
That shouldn’t exist;
My bed is a crimson clover field,
With big dreams
Attached to every leaf,
Hidden in pockets of brand new shirts
That I bought
Just to grab your attention.
My mind is doing jumping jacks
Over the thoughts
Of rebellion
And fighting for the dead youth
As opposed to-
Enjoying my own.
My head grew muscles,
As their feet
Grew tired-
Of running at night,
When the dark hinders their sight
Till they get confused between
Rocks-
And skulls;
But they run,
And dodge,
And jump,
And crack broken bones
As long as they are still alive.
In Gaza I die.
Every day,
Reading the reports ,
Calculating the number of deaths
Over the number of minutes spent
Surfing web pages
Jumping from one link to the other
Hoping that I would find
Something to hang on to;
In Gaza I die.
When I see mothers
Flustered and desperate,
Trying to cheer up their children
In a hopeless case;
And nothing would cheer a child up
Like a piece of cake,
But they have nothing left-
So they bake them a cake
Out of their broken limbs,
They gather the tears
They’ve cried on white cloth
To make them soup.
They chip a piece of their heart off
Every other night,
Because that heart will hurt
When they call their children
And they seize to answer,
Because that same heart will shatter
Like rockets in a Palestinian sky
When they prepare food for Five
But there would be no one left to eat.

In Gaza I die,
I was once four years old;
In Gaza I die,
I married your mother when I was 16,
I brought you and your sister
Before I was 25
In Gaza I die,
Yesterday he looked at me,
In the shelter,
I smiled
But not the smile that shows that I’m infatuated
But definitely interested!
In Gaza I die,
She is so into me
But
In Gaza
I wish i could just
Live.
MAJD S Jul 2014
I watched a movie the other night and a scene reminded me of you ;
There was a lonely sailor on a fluke
That had a lantern on its far end.
The fluke was delving into a heavy night.
The mist veiled the sailor
Till he looked pious enough
To have the faith to fight the sea.
It reminded me of you,
Because when I observed you fading away
It was like observing parts of me
Sailing the same fluke I saw,
Leaving a fiery trail behind
So when I go back in memory
I could remember that those parts were once there.
They were parts of me,
Before the touch of his hand-
Caressing the bumps on your neck
Suffocated,
Till all you can breathe
Filled only the volume of his grip.
Before your glances became stares-
The myth says,
If you look medusa in the eyes
You will turn into stone
And so you did.
I watched him killing you
Slowly,
Dying,
Blacking out…


I extracted pieces of you from my veins;
It took me a while
To clean them
From tight corners in my vertebrate,
But you were doing the same;
You pegged two hooks
Onto your heart,
Attached to a rope that he pulled hard
Only to make sure
That every piece of me vanquishes.
But in the process you lost yourself
And so did I.
Every time I look at you
I try to scan for left overs of my past-
Instead I find his finger prints.
And every time I hear your voice
I think about the songs
That we never sang
But it would’ve been awesome if we did.


I met a sailor the other day
He was and old frail version of me
With tired eyes
That grew land marks on the way,
With a  wrinkled face
Like dry land with no signs of water;
On his chest I saw two scars
That bend like a tiger’s claw
And curves like 2 poorly implanted hooks.
I asked him where have you been.
He answered,
“a true sailor always finds his way back home”
Jun 2014 · 1.5k
Blaze:
MAJD S Jun 2014
I want to come up with amendments,
But my brains cannot function
Because I have spent the last 8 hours
Trying to memorize the  2 “I’s” of Lebanese history
Irony and Ignorance.

I want to fix the world
But I was never the handy man;
I once broke my mother’s phone
Trying to wipe the screen;
And frankly,
I don’t really know what’s wrong with it.

I want to patch my mother’s heart.
The bullet in her son’s temple
Burnt a hole in her arteries,
So every time she inhales
She could taste the lead
Between her husband’s eyes;
Because before the stars collapsed
They were just scanning the shelves for skimmed milk;
His daughter suffered from diabetes,
And before the sun exploded
At the bend of a thumb
She was hanging from his arms,
Jane trying to swing her way
But in this movie
She never meets Tarzan.
His daughter was only 3.
A car bomb
Can conflagrate
From 9,000 up to 27,000 feet per second
Both are multiples of 3.
A wired van
Can carry up to 12,000 pounds
Of explosives
Also a multiple of 3.
On her 3rd birthday
She blew 3 candles,
And 3 candles were lit-
Every night,
In between the white roses-
Over her grave.

I want to breathe
Burning tires,
I want to bask
In blood,
I want to think
In exchange rates,
I want to feel numb;
If this is the only way…
Is this the only way
To survive?
MAJD S May 2014
She approached me
Tiptoeing from across the room,
Although no one was asleep around us to wake;
I watched her lower lip bleed
From biting too much,
As she deciphers the DNA codes on her hair
With her fingertips,
Stroking the life out of it
Up and down-
And up and down again.
She said don’t get me wrong
But I found myself;
I found myself lurking underneath the light of your words
Bending with your o’s and standing straight with your I’s,
Because I
Got lost;
I got lost in the stories you wrote
About the girls who broke
And they felt just like me-
Dazed
By the love poems you cried down for her,
And I wondered how beautiful she must be.
I got flustered
In the blank spaces
That you chose not to write in,
And it felt like I should cut parts of myself
And add them in the vacancies
But I just don’t know what to add.
For every time I rest my soul
On the tip of a pen
I feel like I’ve said too much,
And every time I scratch my words
Throw away my being
Behind
Unread books and dusty light stands
I believe I haven’t said enough
For I could give more,
Be more,
If only I could start over,
And you
You seem to know me more than I know myself;
You have built bridges
Out of my paper shreds,
Tunnels out of my unexpressed thoughts-
You have created your haven inside my brains
And settled down in my heart.
You’ve managed to make me chew your words
Like breakfast
Was a poetic meal to be served
At all times of the day;
You’re an image,
I re-create you in my mind
Before I sleep
After asleep
And even during I sleep-
The thoughts of you never quit my head
Like a gamer would never quit
A game of Warcraft
In the midst of hunting season”
She took off her glasses,
And I could see the marks of them
Being there for too long.
She closes her eyes
As if she was about to take a leap of faith,
But instead she leaped two steps into my arms
And that was when
I got to ask her
What her name was.
And that was when I realized
It didn’t even matter.
May 2014 · 1.7k
Synthesis of disbelief:
MAJD S May 2014
She asks me “what do you think of me?”
I stop;
Reflect upon what just happened,
When a complexity of a girl
Asks a simple guy
What he thinks about her.

She asks me “what do you like about me?”
I’ll tell you what I hate;
I don’t hate your eyes,
Like round circles we used to make
With our dancing bodies
In preschool playgrounds.
I don’t,
Hate your lips;
They could be traced
From a million miles
And they curve so beautifully.
I don’t hate your smile,
The semi grins you keep
Before the flashes,
Before the posts;
I don’t hate your eyes,
Like bullets entering the soul
With an insertion of dopamine.

She asks me “do you really think I am worth your troubles?”
You are not.
You deserve my delight;
You deserve my green days and blooming flowers,
You deserve my watering mouth
Nourishing the vines underneath your tongue,
You deserve the sunrises in my playlists
And sunsets in the warmth of my jackets;
You are not worthy of my troubles
I am not worthy of my troubles.

She pushes me away,
The walls are too tight
And the stares,
They scrape on our throats.
The girl is lonely,
Her social circle spreads wide enough
To leave a gap;
Her friends walk next to her
And not on her side;
Her smiles-
Electronic cigarettes that look genuine,
But the smoke never rests
On the teeth,
Just a vapor that fades away.
She’s anchored to her reality
Her ships are not meant to sail
Just yet.

She asks me “what do you think of me?”
You’re a concept;
You’re a fusion of vivid elements
Wired with secret buttons
Hidden in your desires.
You’re an emotional rollercoaster
That we ride
You and I,
When I think of you
You’re just a white canvas
That whispers into my soul
The true meaning of art.

She asks me “is this your real answer?”
She ask me “is this your real answer?”
MAJD S Apr 2014
Dry tears accumulate
On the corners of my sleepless eyes
As my thoughts circulate
In my brains
Like old sweaters in washing machines.
My spirit is knocking on the doors of my mind,
Peeking through windows
Trying to get a signal,
Trying to do something
Screaming
“What the hell are you doing!?You’re going to **** us!”

It’s raining,
Inside me it’s raining;
Droplets of infuriated thoughts
And angry manifestos
Declaring that I’m unpleased with this world,
Unpleased of how it’s too small for my dreams,
Too tight for my overflowing self
And too narrow for my vision.

I’m a social claustrophobic,
Desperately attempting to get out of my social class
That is made out of four walls
Hate, prejudice, fear, and socio-economic dictionaries
That are set to define human beings.
I’m a lost pilgrim;
My compass is lying somewhere
In between the sand castles
Our father’s built for us
In this country on the shore;
In this country that drowns
Every time the moon decides to push away the water to its surface,
That clenches,
To the air that’s given to it
Split seconds after the moon changes its mind.

I can see the sunset;
But when the mind is not clear
One can never find clarity in a cloudless sky,
I can smell all kinds of spring,
But the scent reminds me of what I’m missing
Rather than what I am to find;
I’m busking in a starless sky,
I’m rotating around my words
Trying to avoid the meanings
Jumping over my reflections
Only thinking of one thing
“How the hell do we get out of this labyrinth?”
Mar 2014 · 1.2k
Latin Simone
MAJD S Mar 2014
Here’s to the poets;
Here’s to the lives
That started and ended
In short sentences,
Hiding behind the words and the commas,
In between the lines
There is a space;
There is a space for poets
To dream and dissect dreams,to
Examine the heights of their rationale
And the depth of their emotions,
Like teleporting from the tops of Adonis
To the bottom of dark alleys in Hamra.
Here’s to the artists,
Here’s to the works of art
Forgotten on sharp corners
Between the margins in a copybook
And light emerging from their classroom windows;
Here’s to the scribbles
That created life, when living
Seemed impossible.
Here’s to the outcasts,
Here’s to the girls
Who read comics
About super heroes
Hiding behind
Kashmir scarfs and ripped jeans,
Reading 6 words at a time
Because the area of a flashlight
Covers just enough to get her wondering,
To get her to forget how
Her tight jeans left scars on her untouched thighs,
And how her feet were painted red
Before and after
She had to wear twin towers to walk in.
Here’s to the jokers,
Here’s to the unappreciated laughter
To whatever happens after
Here’s to the grand stages you formed
Out of two desks put together
And a pencil/eraser microphone;
Here’s to us,
To our shattered talents and lost souls
Here’s to our oppressed minds
And distorted comprehension of ourselves
Here’s to us
And who ever falls in love with us.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PecHjYQPt5o
Mar 2014 · 793
A Poem For Merry-go-round:
MAJD S Mar 2014
She froze;
Not because of the cold weather,
But the stares burnt a hole
In her nervous system
So she froze,
Not because of the lack of blood circulation
In her tightening limbs,
But because the world felt like
It has to stop.
Some believe that,
If you breathe slow enough
You can hinder time;
She stopped time
For she was tired of twisting,
Carrying humans with her hands
Lifting their weights on her shoulder blades;
It was too exhausting
For her to be a carrousel
So she decided to become a rocket ship instead;
She -
Opened her arms wide
Creating sharp edges
To break through the wind,
With feet straight together
Like the rulers she used
To underline her name over every assignment
With little drawn hearts on top of the i’s
And circles over the e’s -
For her tendency to be perfect
Was a result of her fear of failure.
She was ready to be a rocket ship,
But she had no fuel in her gas tank
So she froze.
Feb 2014 · 1.7k
Inner Jerusalem:
MAJD S Feb 2014
I’m crucified on the cross roads of doubt;
My heart is in the middle of all this,
My head
Is tilted downwards,
My eyes are shut;
Inverted,
So as to look upon my past
Because some time
Some where
There is a missing link,
That if I find
All this would be clear.
I’m in a Jerusalem of my own
In it,
There is no, wide spaces of sand
And camel-descending romans
Trying to stab me with nails;
Instead,
There’s real people,
With real nails;
There is hope,
Now lighter than sand granules,
And sand castles
Crumbling down,
Leaving enough space
For a flower to emerge
In an Arab spring
Fertilized with corps
And watered with blood;
For Lebanon is running out of water
Like the Lebanese are running out of faith-
Running into walls.
Jumping over obstacles,
Over explosion debris,
Jumping way in over our heads.
I’m in a Jerusalem of my own,
One I call home,
With windows that open
To reshuffle the air particles
In a room that has enclosed upon itself,
With doors that creek
For the scars of the past
Still haunt them,
With walls
Painted with portraits
Protecting the memory
Of the ones I loved,
With walls painted with portraits
Picturing poetic illusions-
Ones that never left my brains,
Ones that tell me,
Every night I lose myself
In her pictures,
That we are getting back together,
One day,
Somehow,
Somewhere,
There is a missing link
That if I find
All this would be clear.
I’m strumming out of tune questions
On guitars that carry my stories,
With strings that need to be changed
And necks that grow long
As the path
I still have in front of me;
And though this is not a problem
For a Hendrix and a joint,
I’m just an ordinary man
With a pen-
I wear ordinary clothes,
I feed up on
Ordinary capitalism,
I ***** up my notes
Of which I never took any;
Jerusalem fell apart,
But my Jerusalem did not fall yet.
On my crucifix,
There’s a writing that says
“There’s always a piece of you in people,
As much as there’s a piece of them in you.”
I’m just a man on a crucifix
But writers can never be tamed,
For they live through the people that learn from them;
And those people,
Maintain they live forever.
Its good to be back.
Jan 2014 · 1.0k
One Day we are here:
MAJD S Jan 2014
We are fighting faceless ghosts.
Our fists fit the image
Of flying rockets
Directed to the unending mist,
To the obscure silence
Seconds after the shock wave of a bomb,
Before you wake up to a world
Screaming over your shoulders
Corpse being carried by corpse to be,
While you lie there,
Voiceless, powerless;
While you lie there,
Realizing that a day’s sweat
Is now mixed with your blood,
And a night’s dream
Is overshadowed by engine steam
Till the image becomes so blurry
You forget why you were working in the first place.
Four people martyred next door-
The neighborhood fell broken,
Four people silenced-
Hundreds have spoken,
Sending their condolences to a country that died
Before it ever lived,
Sending their condolences to cognitive abilities-
To the lack of them,
Sending their condolences to a heart
That was shattered by theory
Before it got shattered by physicality,
To a soul that was lost
In the dark realms of marginalization
And thought of light
As flammable substance;

Sending their condolences to a mother.

A mother of a 16 year old boy,
A mother of a man,
A mother of a woman,
A mother that lost all what’s left of her
In a world
Which once was a heaven
Under her feet,
As she walks
The earth breathed her scent
Until the day the earth became asphalt
And the asphalt was covered with blood;
Until the day our papers got shattered
Our books, torched,
Our thoughts buried
Our mothers worried;
I write this poem
And it might be my last,
All is left of me is paper,
Like water transformed to water vapor-
Droplets of me lingering on the edges
Of the universe,
Until one day I write dense enough
To become rain,
Heavy over our heads
Reviving the grass roots of our thought
Growing flowers
Before wars;
The same flowers we used
To honor our dead.
The same white flowers
They’ll use
To honor us.
Jan 2014 · 1.7k
Dear Martyr I Saw in Stone:
MAJD S Jan 2014
A bracelet of blue upon her hand
Made it easier for me to imagine
The way they loved each other;
I saw his eyes in every rock,
In emotions solidified to glistening bits;
I saw his attachment to her soul
Like pendants hanging from her arm
I saw his eyes in every piece of stone,
Now cracked;
In the midst of the serenity in a glittery blue gem
I saw collateral damage.
I saw hope in her eyes
And dry tears accumulated on the side lines
For she decided that, that is where they belong;
She clenched to a cup of tea
Like they were his arms,
Warm as always,
Soothing as usual,
Just the way it was when he was around.
I saw his imprints on her fingers
I saw him fiddling with her words,
Although they weren’t much,
For some words she decided to keep for him
Some words are just between them…
And those were the words that mattered most.
Dear martyr I saw in stone,
They wrote your death sentence
But I wrote you sentences on my bones,
I dreamt of a country for you
I dreamt that you would be in it
But all that’s left of you is stone.
Bracelets cuddling hands;
Hands that wrote on papers
The future of tomorrow.
Dear martyr I saw in her eyes,
You are safe there;
But it is very dangerous in my mind.
You have drowned in her tears
Rested upon her eye lashes,
You swam your way in between
Her wavy hair,
You have held her hands
With mugs of warm tea.
Dear martyr I fumbled on my papers,
My papers will not fade away,
My words will collapse on buildings
Destroying walls they have built to hide the truth
Unwiring bombs they have planted
As they try rewire our minds;
My voice will be ours
And your voice will rest.
For your place is in the vacancies
Between every piece
Of a bracelet
That had you
Written all over.
Jan 2014 · 1.8k
And She Was Called Society:
MAJD S Jan 2014
I met a girl who couldn’t keep eye contact for more than three seconds;
She puts her palms in front of her face
A bit higher than her nose
So she could see you through her fingers,
So that
Her voice
A bit dim,
Can bounce on the walls she now builds
And reflects back to her,
Giving her time to rethink her words
Over and over and over and over
Until she makes sure that
Every type of person surrounding her
Would not blow bombs under her white sheets
Destroy her heart,
And shatter her soul,
Till she has no strength to carry her hands
And hold her palms as barriers for her protection.
I met a girl with red brown hair,
She had two thin lines of blue under her eyes
Because oceans could draw attention
To their beauty,
And under beauty
Lies her mess,
The doors could open a gate way to the fire that’s inside
While she only reveals sparkles
In the split seconds between every word
That she rambles on,
Because if she stopped talking
It would be silent enough
For her to listen to her inner voice,
And her inner voice is never pleased.
I met a girl with a wide smile and a sense of humor,
But she apologizes after every joke
And freezes after every laughter,
Thinking of how many mistakes she might have made
Thinking of how to fix them
Thinking if anybody noticed
No one ever did.
I met a girl with a silent giggle,
Her bangs strategically lie over her eyes
To cover the curvature of her emotions,
The lines she creates on her forehead
And inside her mind,
The shy lyrics that she sings alone
Swaying her body to a jimmy Hendrix
That broke her security systems
And unchained her
Till it was possible to move.
I met a girl,
Who knows a lot more than she needs to
Who works a lot more than she has to
Who loves a lot more than possible;
She lifts up the world around her
So she can forget how far down she lies,
She runs away from herself
To hide under buses and trains
Making sure everything was okay;
Everything is not okay.
I met a girl,
And she was called confidence
I met a girl,
And she was called insecurity
I met a girl,
Who was called social consciousness;
I met a girl
Who was called society
And that girl was a killer.
MAJD S Jan 2014
As I walk down the street
That looks nothing but normal,
With pedestrians walking on the sides
Mothers calling sons after school,
Teenagers writing their dreams with sweat pants and converse shoes
Trotting down the pathways with their personalities
Compressed in their back packs;
I like to play a game called
“What’s behind the steering wheel?”
A bomb;
A wired representation of defeat
An open gate to oblivion,
A flower with pedals of fire
Pollen of political tyranny
With ignorant humans for bees
That “spread the word”.
“What’s behind the steering wheel?”
A kid reading a book
Forgetting the world outside
For the worlds in fairy tales
Seem real;
And as soon as his eyes start rolling
He envisions himself a leader of a striking army
A great protector of truth,
Or even a little girl dancing her way into the forest;
Busy being a child
She never thought about the monsters waiting on the other side;
And all those characters are despised,
In a world where innocence is put aside
Where dreams are confiscated
Like phones in elementary schools,
Where minds only follow
And hearts are black;
In a world,
Where reading a book becomes a threat
Only terminated by something louder than life
But nothing is louder than words.
“What’s behind the steering wheel?”
Afraid tyrants,
Calculating their reign
In seconds
And seconds are all they leave us
Before we leave us,
Before we start making martyrs of our names
And memorials of our pictures,
Before we write elegies
Before we write poems of anger
Before we cry down our thoughts
Screaming the names of those we lost;
Afraid that one day,
No one will remember those names
Afraid,
That one day,
Our name would be among them.
Ow martyrs who left us a world to fix
Our hands are tired of typing,
Our eyes are drowning
For the more we write down your names on our souls
The heavier are our tears;
Our thoughts are crumbling
Into posts and statuses
But who are we posting for, if all of you are dead?
Ow martyrs who left us with more spaces to cover
We cannot cover all this by ourselves.
Our trials are self-destructing,
Our memories are filled with images of you
Hoping that our memories stay memories
As we revolute towards our future.
Our flowers are wilting,
Our candles are too close to burning out
We have read all the prayers that we know
And as the journey prolongs
I ask myself…
“What now?”
Our rage is dormant,
Our eyes are open as we observe
The post traumatic epilepsies the world is coming about,
Our minds,
Once fooled
Are now base lines for our attacks;
Our hearts are filled with images of you
In an open chamber
Easy to access
For one day
All these images will appear on the surface of us
And that is the day we avenge you

Ow martyrs who left us,
You left us with a world to fix and a nation to create.
MAJD S Dec 2013
To the young lady that tends to lose her track;
Your eyes are not for tears,
Your eyes are to open portals for my thoughts
To transcend their limitations
And step into your worlds of wonder.
Your face is not to frown,
It is for the people like me
To find the clarity they once lost,
The warmth they crave,
And just the glow they need to light their way into a better perhaps.
Your hands are not for clutching,
Not for
Creating wide spaces to cover the diameter of your face;
Your hands, are to wave in between threads of air that
Hold my love and send it to you;
Your fingers are to unleash the senses
Of those whos bodies are numb
Those who have never experienced your touch.
Your soul is never for anger
Your hatred is untrue
Your energy lies within
You just have to extract it.
You are not to cry,
You are to set free torrents of emotions
Trapped inside a cage with golden bars
A brunette with beautiful wide eyes;
You are not to breakdown
You are to dissect your existence and reshape it
To better represent
Your essence.
You are the gem that loses its spark
When the dust becomes so heavy on your soul
Until it starts burning your eyes;
But shake the dust.
Shake the dust and rise
Be the young lady I know you keep inside, the young lady I love.
Be the savior,
For you do not want saving
Be the hero,
For strength is dormant in between your eye lashes
Be the elevating voice,
That rescues us from our pits
Be the young lady I know you keep inside, the young lady I love.
MAJD S Dec 2013
No one can love you the way that I do.
I can,
Decipher the codes on your finger nails
Never painted
Because you can be beautiful without it.
I can,
Make you laugh
When you’re too close to crying
And you have no energy left
To lift you back up.
I can make heaters out of my hands
When you are cold,
And lyrics out of my love
Because no one can love
You the way that I do.
I can make you feel comfortable enough
Until you realize
That you should’ve felt insecure.
I can, give you promises
That will cut parts of my heart
And I will keep them
Because I like my new heart
Even better that way;
I can talk to you.
I can talk to you.
I can talk to you until we run out of water
And fresh juice
To nourish our mouths
And even then, I would still have more to give,
I can talk to you
At midnights and early mornings
Until our eyes
Are but seeds
Watered by the burning droplets of rain
Over the oceans of emotion over flowing between us.
I can listen to you,
I can hear your words
Like your heart was tapping
On my inner soul
And my heart opens the door
And tells you
“I know what you mean”
I can listen,
To the silence in your eyes
As they speak to me
I can listen,
To the depth of your soul
I can listen to that burning fire of yours.
That vividness.
That rage.
That triumph
That fervor
That love
That pride,
That vulnerability,
That, and all that aside
No one can love you
The way that I do.
Dec 2013 · 1.4k
To the Days I Felt Safe
MAJD S Dec 2013
To the Days I Felt Safe:
For those who
Tie knots around their necks,
With words they once heard
Sound fancy enough they choke upon their diction
You do not belong.
For those
Whos hands wave
And voices shiver,
To cover the emptiness of their words
You do not belong.
For those who-
Sit in corners
And draw airplane in their minds,
And create universes
So that their little airplane can find
A reason to fly;
And by the end of the day in school
They would learn that,
Black holes are never darker that the pits of our day dreamt creations,
And moons cannot reflect
All the rays of imagination
A little kid dives in,
Each day,
Sitting in corners,
Inspired by the spirals
On the edges of his copybooks
Because what’s in the middle of the page
Was never his concern;
He did not belong.
For those who paint their dreams
Red blue and green
On the back of their veins
While their skin is dead pale
You do not belong.
For those who find difficulties reading,
And find haven in short words
And in pauses after sentences
And in deaths after paragraphs,
And find heaven when no text book is open
You do not belong.
For those who can love
Hard enough to call it love
You do not belong-
I do not belong.
For those who are tired of their deafening surroundings,
The fruitless noises
Of teenagers who forgot how to think,
Their voices that shatter
Like ultra-violet rays
Hitting ozone layers;
Who are tired of loved ones that fail to realize,
That the beauty of their souls
Rises and falls
Twists and turns
And burns to the core of my heart,
Till it bleeds
Verses of spoken word poetry
Of words unspoken,
You do not belong.
And belonging is relative
And death- is partial,
For social circles squeezed too tight
That it’s too hard to breathe,
And our egos grew too wide
We forgot who we really are
Although we’re full of ourselves.
But our imagination; takes us away
Till we realize
How far we are
From who we could be.
MAJD S Nov 2013
What are the reasons for death? Crime, cancer, car crashes? Sickness, sun burn, sarcasm? Gun shots, gas pedals, gaming consoles? What are the reasons for death? What makes death something we don’t experience every other day, like drinking coffee or smoking a cig. What if it is something we experience every day but on certain levels? Think, think, you’re running out of time, partial deaths are coming to you. Partial deaths are coming when she looks at your soul and discovers the flaws and uses them as a tool for hers. Partial deaths, are coming when he decides to return every ounce of care and infatuation of hers with indifference and insensibility of his. Partial deaths? do you think that in the upcoming years were going to have health coverage for that? “YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN IT HITS, MAKE SURE YOURE COVERED WHEN IT DOES manly voice for more information about partial death insurance contact 01000000”. All the zero’s in the world…the round hollows of infinite curvature and as soon as you think you’ve reached the end of your misery you’re going to start all over again and again and again, and again. And again. The partial deaths become more complete, the, heart strokes become heart stabs, the kisses become bites, and everything else is just raised up a notch, and a notch becomes a whole new level like never before. Day dream while you can when you can’t because that’s when we usually get our great ideas; the math class won’t end and it extends, like minutes were lifetime in her eyes as she walks up and down the trail of my thoughts and sideways on the horizon of my vision and inwards through my heart back flipping on my arteries and summersaulting on my veins leading her way to destroy my brains. My brains, that sounds odd. It sounds odd because I never located it really, at least not its functional capabilities because it is definitely not what I use to think. I think through a blank page that provokes me till I write, I think through  staring screens and flickering lines, I think through a round table that affectionately carries my black coffee, I think through my black coffee, I think through pink Floyd playing in my ears and the other voices that are not mine.  I think there for I am, but the more that I think the more I realize what I am not.
MAJD S Nov 2013
I apologize if my eyes,
Tend to wander into your worlds.
Penetrating the walls you’ve built,
To get a sneak peek into your last nights
And next years
And what are you doing todays.
I apologize,
If my ears air-waved into your waving dictions,
Dropping tones,
Dimming voices,
Dictating the peace you want yourself to attain
Through the side conversations
And the cocktail effects
Attending, to what you’re not aware of.
And I wasn’t aware that you are going to treat me that way;
I gave you my heart over dinner
Last night; under the table your family was sitting on-
As we put on our decorous smiles
And threw our shy giggles;
Cracking up with strong inner laughter within,
Because the same
Lost, upset, wild
Shoot first ask later couple
Are pretending to blush over “grown up” jokes
Made by our fathers
To test our inner surfaces;
I gave you my heart over dinner last night,
And that was
THE last night;
Because my heart and yours
Stopped exercising their vividness
On a Tuesday morning.
They, stopped writing musicals of us,
For my heart was executed
And yours got shattered-
Nowhere to be found;
Martyred in between the lines of a political message
They wrote with your blood
Forgetting about mine,
They carved their letters
With the nymph in a black sweater;
And the river that she used to own,
Took her away
Before anyone can see,
The disfigured goddess now list in the sea
Of blood-of my thoughts and reflections.
My voice,
Now layered into dissimilar tones;
The lowest, is the one I use to constantly pray for you
And the highest is for me to scream for your fallen eyes.
I stand steady
Against the tidal waves
And write on the walls
The poetry I kept inside,
The walls you’ve built;
The walls everyone builds
And I try to penetrate
To get a sneak peek
Of their last night’s
And next year’s
And what are you doing today’s.
Because my walls are destroyed
My pillars are demolished
My life is but a living memory of hers,
And my eyes are nothing but thieves,
Staring their way to steel the words
From the faces in the crowd
In order to write something
That can get me to forget
That I am mourning;
That in my head plays a sad guitar,
With a silent base
And a lost drum beat.
I apologize for writing this,
For letting your eyes conquer these papers
For letting your ears hear those words.
I apologize for feeling the urge to apologize
But that’s what I grew up on
And no one can seem to get rid of their bad habits…
Here's to the fallen martyrs of our mistakes.
MAJD S Nov 2013
Whats the value of a kiss
When we don’t kiss
We just play bumper cars with our cheeks
~Check that girl out bro~
Whats the value of a hug
When we don’t hug
We just enjoy the spontaneousity of our arms surrounding our lost souls
Ow god… look at that thing go…
Whats the value of men
who shape nothing but testosterone
And images of money;
Lets take images of our money
Flaunt them around
And round will be our days
In that cycle we call the dyslexic arrogance of higher class
*Dude did you see that!?
Nov 2013 · 823
Damage Control:
MAJD S Nov 2013
The deadly fumes become her perfume being able to consume a heart and I assume you know that feel

The great vibes become a tribe of interlaced emotions sharp and strange like miserable happiness recruiting martyrs from mankind

A sharp look into the eyes of death and you’ll fall in love

As it takes you away into the dark enlightened shadows that represent nothing but a simple phrase of “I love you”

Angels of death called upon her as the queen of astonished souls

Supposedly surprised for they did not expect

That the beauty that lies behind her eyes was lethal

And lethal as glory, joy or pride I lay mine aside

And succumb to her ways that lead to intersecting war crafts and arsenal

Bombs of existential hypothesis like never before



And just like our earth governed by mass murderers mallesting our most intimate yet extrovert part of our body which is our minds

She is not the one causing damage

But I’m the one that lacks a damage control
In memory of our romantic martyrs...
Nov 2013 · 1.3k
The Graveyard Man
MAJD S Nov 2013
I was walking one day
Past the city
Into the shadows of our smoke;
The fumes of our cigarettes covered the trail
Until nothing became clear for me to see.
I bumped into an ancient looking man,
With green eyes that turned pale
And a wrinkled face
That was about to crumble;
I saw him cleaning up
A newly placed tombstone.
He was a graveyard man;
I look at him and suddenly
I felt the urge to ask him,
How is it like? Talking to dead people.
He didn't answer
But I continued anyway;
How is it like to look at solid stones?
And envision her tender eyes looking back
How could we mark he territory of the dead?
As if soil could surround our spirits
How could it suffice?
To point out troubles getting no advice
Questions with no answers,
And as you speak
You don’t know if you are being heard
But you continue anyway.
How is it like? Talking to dead people;
Salute the rocks under the carves,
Knowing that underneath
Lies not wood
But a person who couldn't as much as you could,
And even if he could, you don’t know if he would- come out and talk to you,
Because maybe he’s fed up?
Maybe when life takes too long
The sweet becomes bitter
And our friends
Become but anchors attached to our hearts
Pulling us down
Marking our spirits with soil;
Maybe he’s ashamed
Of the blood stains on his folded flag,
Of the- lose knots in his piece of cloth
And you’ll never discover that
But you still continue anyway
Asking your questions;
How is it like? Talking to dead people.
How is it like talking to anti-change institutions?
And, people with no purpose in life
And, violent illiterates who seek to ****
Because death should be passed on
How is it like talking to people that will not listen?
To the governments that will not bother
To the public blinded by the minor majorities
To the children stuck in their melodramatic attitudes
Over crowded with the propaganda of teenagery
To the hypocrite schools that teach but not educate
To the mothers who give birth
To a fruitful seed, but will not cultivate;
To a father that’s always late
To his son’s birthdays
Because his job appointments
Pointed in the shape of earphones
And circled in the shape of speakers
So it’s neither him listening, nor him talking
Its them.
But nothing will change,
Yet you continue anyway
Asking your questions,
Not for the dead,
But for the resting voices
Leaving you the space to think;
To answer within
Or decide to disregard,
Leaving space for you own voice to emerge.
And as I look back at graveyard man
He was gone;
As if his body de-synthesized as soon as I finished
And the newly placed casket;
Bared his exact size,
And the tombstone
For a second there represented his eyes,
And it didn't take too long, for me to realize
How is it like; talking to the dead.
Nov 2013 · 2.5k
Belonging (A lyrical prose):
MAJD S Nov 2013
Everyone is fighting for something, and the people that listen most to the music of the universe can feel the agonies of our nature and rescue something of our earth before it’s too late… he can smell the soil he left in his drawer next to his immigration papers, he can envision the cold breeze of a summer night in one compartment of his soul and one area of his land, he forgot the keys in a back pocket of some Armani suit or some other pretentious outfit he had to put on for him to fit in the lifestyle of a multinational uprising genius. His wife feels the floors are just the same, she can read between the tiles the little lines their feet drew as they neglected their steps towards oblivion, little sentences of regret they left behind the trails along with burnt gas and crude oil. Their child always belonged, their child always belonged. The moon gazes on its universe, it sparks thoughts upon dreamers and induces muses upon reflecting sons and daughters that are willing to fight and are willing to belong at the same time. The moon looks at the misplaced societies, the Armenians within the orientalists, the Africans within the airheads, the leftists within the empty minded pocketless, the empty minded pocketless within the land that took his freedom and replaced it by liberalization and stole his freedom of thought and gave him freedom of speech no more, no less. My tips write on a keyboard that lost its touch, it was supposed to be made for those who fight for a cause, not for those lost between the many causes, it was made for those who change societies, not for those who think of that as an understatement, it was made for those willing to calculate their losses and their profits, not for those who have no capital except the pens and papers they keep aside their beds, and no revenue except the little comments they get on artistic nights in the underground. I write not in my mother language, I write not with my mother, blasphemy is not a tool for me to be heard nor a sound for me to use. I write not with my mother language,  I write not with words, I write not with grammar, I write not with language, I write with my feelings and my thoughts and my falling doubts. Falling. His head was falling as he laid it on the ground, for the gunshots are too loud for his ears, and the bullets are too hot for his face, and the missiles are too striking for his vision, and the care packages that never come may not be needed when his final rest place could be achieved by falling. His head was falling as he laid it on the ground, thanking God for his graciousness, for allowing him to leave the country, praying to God that it all ends soon, knowing it won’t, fighting. The women were fighting, over their children’s corpse, over their enemies swords, over their broken houses, over their husband’s illness, over the broken rocks they used to lure the enemy out. Fighting. The women were fighting over dresses, over the last pair of shoes, over their grandiose wedding cakes, they always belonged, they always belonged. Belong. A child belongs to a family, a child belongs to a house, a child belongs to his innocence, a child belongs to his laughter, a child belongs to a holy land, a child belongs to the smiles. Belong. A child does not belong to ******, a child does not belong to blood, a child does not belong to hunger, a child does not belong, a child does not belong in the holy land. Everyone is fighting for something, but not everyone belongs…everyone is fighting for something but not everyone belongs.
MAJD S Oct 2013
I woke up on the wrong side of the bed,
Thinking to my self
That falling off of it was much better;
I picked myself up
And threw myself back into the bumping walls of life,
Thinking to myself
That not picking myself up was much better;
I opened my eyes to a father’s concerned eyes,
Which reminded me of how wrong things are going,
His vocals in twine with the air he’s blowing
Shattered the rhythm of a morning
And scratched the record of a sunshine to give a beat
In the back of my head
Heading towards the doors of my anxiousness,
Opening the gates
For yet more things to wait,
Like the sat scores that never come
And for the first time I actually want them to…
Thinking to myself
That bumping into the vigorous walls of life was much better;
I walked down the street,
Tapping my feet to the concrete
Figuring out that the solids of our creations
Belong to the solitudes of our nature,
And creatively I wrote it on the back of my hand
For there are alotta things that I wanna write
But I just forgot how to,
Alotta things to fight for
But I can’t seem to figure out where to start;
And I am falling,
I am falling through the new beginnings
That open up a door of ambiguous smiles,
Walks down iles
Of a mind that spaced out for a while;
Cups of warm coffee with just enough water in them,
Pens that wrote poetry
That had just enough imagery in them,
Women that wore beauty
With just enough humbleness in them;
And I hold on to those thoughts
And I keep holding on to the invisible waves of hope
That keep crashing my sunrises,
And crushing my heart,
And crucifying my objectives,
And circumstancing my dreams,
And crunching the little crumbles of unattended paper
That I once wrote on,
The poetry that I can no more write
Because I stopped feeling
So I should go back to learning how to;
But loud enough as I speak
My feelings stay silent
Vibrating through my veins just to make sure that they still exist
But she made sure they ceased to
And they did
And they did.
Thinking to myself
That  listening to the manly morning voice of my father
Was a lot better;
Shape shifting from thoughts to spots
And corners that burn
With the acid memories that turn
Round the tables and square the chairs;
The cigarette buds that now exist
On a once so holly place
Mock my words
And word my mockery,
Reminding me of how wrong things are going;
Reminding me to stop
Because I am running out of breath;
I am trying to lift the weight of the world
And the weight of my figure
And figure out the depth of her soul
Aligned with the depth of her eye liner
Now fully covering the beauty in her eyes
Because that’s how she runs from the world,
Jumping over social obstacles
And exes exiting her doors from the walls,
So every time someone walks out of her life
She has to renovate the bulwarks  of her heart,
Skipping through side conversations
Because causality is fatal;
As I skip through the words jumping over stanzas,
The poem that wrote itself
Wrote itself-
And I shall let it be,
For if it wasn’t personal enough for you
It ispersonal for me,
And if you couldn’t find a savior in my words
An enchantment in my lines
Then maybe poetry wasn’t made for me to save you;
Maybe it was made to wake you up
And maybe I could wake up as well
And this time on the right side of the bed,
For the sheets are strangling my neck
And the woodwork is creaking
So as I tried to fix it
A voice in the background booms
Like the sound system of a teenager
Saying
“This cannot be fixed my friend
This can only be enjoyed”
Sep 2013 · 966
Looking for Mortality
MAJD S Sep 2013
The sweet texture of her skin,
Gone,
The curves from her hips to her legs,
Destroyed;
The hands and hearts in twine with the beauty of a perfect soul
Now lies and in a double layered wooden cabinet
That holds not our dead, but our fatal fears,
Forming mosques out of our open hands
Praying church bells ringing,
Like phones vibrating passing the immortal message of death.
And we look at each other,
Every night
Before and after I got to sleep
For when I sleep,
Although lacking luxurious spaces
I lie next to her in that doubled layered wooden cabinet
That becomes not a casket
But a space shuttle;
We fly and hover
And discover the lover I've loved and still love
But can't be loved back, because
The double layered cabinets
And cab drivers that took us from point A
To Becoming what we wanted to dream
Block our audibility;
And our tongues still tangled from when we last kissed
So I can't talk and neither
Can she- hear me?
Through the escalating winds
And multitudinous vibrations of living corps,
Cropped the days out of a memoire
And pasted them in an internal time shifting memory
That'll last a lifetime until we get to begin again;
The pen that frightened the writer,
The writer that wrote
And brought misery to the readers
As her read through the green in her eyes,
The silk in her hair
The failures in her tries
And the sobs in despair.
I declare, ware upon my enemies
Love, death and my loud conscience,
For none of them brought us good perhaps
And none of them gave us what we need
And none of them were as benevolent as promised to be;
For you promised to me,
And you promised;
But the promises could not be kept by the dead
And the dead are those living in a waiting hall
And the dead, that do not keep promises
And the dead looking at their watches
Counting backwards…
As we all claim dead
Some of us are looking for mortality
And some of us become immortal…
I owe this one to john green.
MAJD S Sep 2013
Heads revolving around topics and unanswered questions,
And questions about a lonely fan
Staring at us, revolving its three pedal shaped figures,
Not creating any new air,
Just transcending what we already have to us
Which I find pretty ironic…
But we can’t live without that fan can we?
I lost track of time not because I am lost, but because my phone died on me
Along with all the other people around ;
The unity between material and man…
My coffee, is black
And so is her sweater now half wrinkled half folded over,
Because she can’t seem to figure out a way to sit,
A way to think
A way to sink in the thoughts of the whole universe within one glace of her beautiful eyes-
Bumping into mine;
And our eye contact couldn’t stand longer than two seconds,
But in those two seconds,
I met her,
I got to know her better,
We went on our first date
I created a whole scenario about us living together and having a child running to me saying
“dad, how did you meet mommy” but child I never did…
Smiling faces, joyful faces
Shape the vibe of the coffee shop that has been my sanctuary for the summer;
The summer of “enchanter”, blue silver and white lights
Long walks on the shores of my chores,
And thoughts that were once yours
Until you sent me those messages
And from that day I realized I am alone.
I am alone for when I met you,
You told me the story of how once you were a child
Growing up between warheads and air headed brothers,
And fairy dust brushed off of the VCR tapes from your favorite movies
Which are now nothing but old 90’s classics.
When I met you,
You talked to me of how you want to become a fashion designer,
And visit france and sleep in paris
Stopping time right at the moment when you find your prince charming,
Because if time passes by and you grow old
You lose track of things and time and not cause your phone died on you
But because you are lost.
You are lost in space and time for when
I met you, you told me about past crushes and crushed hearts,
Future plans and undiscovered parts;
But you never told me about you now…who you are…
As if it was my job to discover that,
As if I was obliged to read the signs in your desperate eyes
And come up with a full analysis of the thing that is you
On a white sheet, same as the one I was writing on
Before I cried poetry upon it;
And poetry becomes fire when in contact with the air I breathe,
And so I choke on ashes every time I see you
For the poetry I wanna write could not be spoken so I just keep it inside;
I just keep it inside and choke on it…
When i wrote this...it was actually on a white receipt in a coffee shop...
MAJD S Sep 2013
Two lost souls in a fish bowl;
Staring at each other desperately not knowing whether they are meant to be
Trapped in that circular globe,
A circular globe that rains every two weeks,
And the rain is hard enough to replace all the existing water
Adding new milligrams of nothing new;
Just the same characters,
The same water,
The same artificial sea shells that do not belong to the portrait or the background
And surely the same exact lost souls in a fish bowl.
They’re so lost, that each time they try to get out
They cut distances and miles,
Stop talking for a while,
And strike a smile as they see each other moving away;
And as both of them reach their dreams
And destinations not destined to be distinguished by any of them,
They run through a wall they didn’t create,
They run through glass so thin it is a part of their atmosphere
A part of their daily life,
A part of their routine;
Until the day in which they couldn’t live without that wall,
The hedges upon edges of predetermined scenarios.
They swim back,
Two lost souls searching for console
Asking each other questions
Knowing that both of their answers will be satisfying;
Because if I fall you fall with me
And if you don’t I will pull you down,
Down into my phony arms
And tell you that I love you
Over and over and over
Till it becomes all you hear, all you speak
All you see and all you seek
And all that matters
Till your dream shatters
And we go back to what we were
Nothing but two souls
Two lost souls in a fish bowl.
Sep 2013 · 885
Silver Linings
MAJD S Sep 2013
I've been trying to read signs
Because life aint easy without them.
I've been trying to search for her in every chocolate bar I open,
In every cake I eat,
In every frenchfried burger and a piece of meat-
A piece of me,
A piece of you; in ever jewelry in ever earring
In every dream I built, with every boat I drew;
With every rain drop that never existed
But still was able to tingle down my eye lashes
And come down on my cheeks
Those are not tears
Those are rain drops I swear…
She asked me…do you still care?
I used to walk around her house
Wait downstairs
Just a moment of her eyes
I cannot bear to see myself without her,
But next to her was even worse;
She asked me,
Do you still care??
With every step I take or theory I make,
Sitting on lonely chairs
Of wood that'll break;
And broken my heart was when I used laptops as solace
And suns as my sight
Moons as my wisdom,
And words that fly within a glimpse of an eye
As why would I try
Why would I cry;
Those are not tear drops
This is the rain I swear…
I swear with every stomp on flimsy grounds
I pause and ask myself…
What if that stomp was made by two?
Would it be heavier for me??
Or lighter for both of us??
And both of us know the answers but our egos became our virtue;
And virtual venom grew,
What wasn't clear to me; wasn't existing to you.
The images, the pictures, the rocks I threw
Upon daemons that scream
Upon daemons the skew- words and ***** with our brains just to make us believe
To make us believe that this us, and this is what we knew…
I suspend in between the silver linings of earth,
Laughing at the irony of life;
And what's ironic
Is that iron is kinda silver
And silver is silver
And silver is what made me cry.
Those are not tears
Those are rain drops I swear…
Aug 2013 · 1.4k
A Midnight Farewell
MAJD S Aug 2013
The blood runs through my veins
Along with the bloodshed;
The vigorous signs my heart used to deliver
In the form of messages passing through my fingers,
And fingers that bend in order to send
Those messages in details I could not comprehend,
Are gone with every bone broken
Back bending beneath buses
******* embezzling banners;
I believe today would be the day I stand out,
I stand out with every outline; the structured harmony of my soul
I stand out with every sound I can compose; the music played by my brains
I stand out with a rush of blood rivering through words, for dry are my veins;
And lines that recount history and history that repeats itself
And selves upon shelves next to staples and pens
And ***** with hens holding hands called humans;
Humans that **** humans,
Humans that save others waiting for the day someone saves them
Humans that **** humans,
Humans that speak the truth, the truth that I found in a misguided princess
Humans that **** humans,
And humans that get killed just because they chose to buy a popsicle stick listening to pop music
Not knowing that the only sound that’s gonna pop
Is the explosions beneath buildings penetrating fortresses built on fake pillars.
The killers,
Pressing buttons to **** generations and creations,
The million situations. Stressed upon hallucinations;
Stations for minds hidden beyond and between internet waves,
That cave upon a lost child who decided to misbehave
Upon an anarchist who took the pledge and determined to conform
Upon a mother who realized her place was in the arms of another man;
Manhandling my personal opinions
You took the power into your hands
Swirled and twirled with blood of women that hurled
Earrings and purled; necklaces.
The lost child of destiny is not scared he is offended;
The hometown of teen aged memories,
And discoveries
Of body parts and surroundings become but a threat;
A dept,
He has to pay, for his "ancestors" decided that tax money is not enough.
He stood there.
Opened the door to a lethal mind
With not so lethal thoughts,
Grabbed a pen and a paper and cried down
What had him tied down
To the knees;
The degrees of love he found
Within a lovers bound,
The sound of bombs
Blocked his vision till he hears no sound
And suddenly it all darkens
And suddenly it all lights;
And suddenly the wheels of everyday labor
Become grim reapers and hospital sweepers;
The girls who thought those guys were keepers,
Couldn't keep their heads attached to their bodies
And their bodies flew along with the flowers they blew-
Off when they were children saying
"with this flower goes my wish
And with this wish I will grow up to be a flower".
The flower that died with no roots,
The roots that were never attached;
In a country that exploded,
In a country that died
In order for them to live.
So let's be Shakespearean and claim immortal on ink that will sink in eyes that'll blink
For the tear drops that will descend burn,
Let us be Shakespearean and live forever
On papers that will never die…
I lost hearts...today, i lose a country...
Aug 2013 · 1.3k
Defining us:
MAJD S Aug 2013
Lost;
Between dark thoughts like jackets worn back in the days,
With white ropes dangling from shoulders,
And zippers that close upon secrets
Hidden under napkins that wipe nothing but tears;
But terrible memories wrapped around
The round bounds we set a circle,
To circulate upon our hearts heroically you stop it.
Sensing my not so suitable mind set
You destroyed what was left of my heart
And realized my fear;
Forgave me of my sins by giving me away.
The trophies we collect,
The lives we detect-
On radars of truth,
The calm realities of personalities
Beyond images you created
In square shaped frames framing a ******
Forming victims of dichotomy,
Dictating souls with duality,
Dealing with the princess of dirt
And the devil with disturbing diligence;
Detecting my flaws in display
To deduce dismay.
Too many d's in one poem
But believe me death is not a D-lettered word.
Death is not the blocking of blood
It’s the back bones of one beautiful lady when turned to you;
Death is not the submission of bodies
It is the bodies that decide not to take part
In a life that starts now;
In a life that I decide to
Start now,
Along with rage the age presents
Not the years spent,
Yet the years I am to spend
Spectacular speculations upon my soul
Saying :" why does this kid bother at all?"
Why does he work for a fallen kingdom
Ruled by a misguided princess;
Sesame opened for certain people but I decided to create a new cave;
To carve my name on walls I haven’t seen
To clean the scene where a lost child of destiny lies
On grounds prepared before persecution;
Wounded and defeated,
Devalued and mistreated,
Hands on broken ribs,
Ribs ripped before a stomped heart;
Hearts under a jaded mind.
But I don’t mind,
I don’t mind;
No I don’t mind because I chose to start now
And if you are reading this I chose to start now
And if you are hearing this I chose to start now
And if you read between the lines
Passing through words , jumping over similes and rhymes,
Climbing the lyrical ladders
Following the beat in twine with time.
While you dive in illusions of fake happiness;
The tardy laughs you gave me before you stroked my heart with a battle axe made out of unfulfilled promises,
But I promised and I fully filled the gaps
You caused with applause
On my beyond and being;
I'm seeing, the new figure I figured out last night
Without you and it's gonna be okay.
Lost between dark thoughts like jackets worn back in the days
With magazines stuck on belts
That make walking heavy,
Talking impossible,
But killing each other an occupation
For the blind and deaf.
Defining us
Defying our purposes
Defining us
Defying our morals
Defining us
Defying our so called personal obligations for the strands of chemistry stratifying from CO2to H2O become but heavy air on our lungs when we belonged together I couldn’t breathe
Defining us…
Aug 2013 · 1.1k
Ow Lover of Roses:
MAJD S Aug 2013
Ow lover of roses,
I can't sweep through your phone
Because your phone is full of thorns
Ow lover of roses,
I can't sweep through your phone
Because your phone is full of thorns
I can't look into your screen,
Find eyes that are not mine; next to yours
Not in twine.
I can't look at texts and hearts
When hearts take us back to starts
Of what we had
And what we have
And what we will have
Is nothing but post modern art;
Little bits of writings
And rhymings that don’t rhyme because my heart cant keep a beat
And my beats cant keep up with your schedule.
Ow lover of roses
I can't see the red in your pedals
I just envision me pedaling away;
I can't see the red in your tender touches
I witness the tender touches caressing the redness off of someone else's eyes;
I can't;
See you and me in a room,
Talking about nothing
Yet infesting in void conversations about the nothingness of what we got
I can't;
See the tips of teeth when you smile
I can see the tips of teeth when you're truculent;
Trucks,
Exiting and transiting
Through my arteries
While I'm sitting
And spitting
Lame poetry
As you snap chats with shots of nonchalant lens-like tentacles,
Rapped round around the sound of dust
My heart is echoing
Following a path you've set.
Ow lover of roses
Cried the lonely man
In a so lonesome night,
As he looks at the stars and moon
Realize the missing lines
And the misinterpreted patterns
To pattern Saturn with Venus and Mars down to earth;
Proving pitiful love-like lures
Luring man since birth.
Ow lover of roses,
Roses in the shape of smarties or sandals
Or chocolate cakes with no candles
I cant handle,
The scent you send with roses that bend
To fall in my hand
And end up plucked in the end.
"Ow Lover of Roses" is initially a song by Soumaya Baalbaki an Arab singer, yet covered by a yet more modern artist "Mike Massy" which led to this peice. Song link here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BrorD54jHVw
Jul 2013 · 1.4k
Misguided
MAJD S Jul 2013
Look far beyond your nose
Imagine the wording prose your mind recites despite the fights between the lights;
Stand-back to back with your enemies
And believe that you are safe,
A mistake;
Craving knowledge of everything from your existence
To your beliefs
I believed I was falling down the trail
And all hail the misguided princess;
She's so misguided the North Pole becomes south
And the south;
Exiting from her mouth
With a flow; the beautiful candles of her heart.
The beautiful candles of her heart
Those that lit stormy fire inside mine
Those that lit up the dark pits of something I forgot about,
And all about my whereabouts
I see the signs of inconclusive doubts
Over my forehead, reflected upon people's faces;
And eyes look at me with non-empithetical sympathy
The symphony of eyelashes flapping over a lost identity.
I'm lost.
All those spiritual stoppages
Are causing my hands to shiver
All those figurative speech as she caresses her words
Preparing mine to stutter
Are making my eyes darken
And my faith to dismay;
I may,
Or may not be the person you want to find
But I find you the person I was never looking for
Yet I still crave the carves you carve on my hands.
The snapping bones of anger;
The cracking knuckles of regret;
The apprehensions preconceived with the threats;
The young man lost his track
The young man lost in the wild
With ideas even wilder
And actions that do not convey his messages
For the circles of bees become limits to his being;
For the frontiers of fighting lions
Become barriers to his block,
That upper corner in dying arteries; hidden
Way over the Mediterranean seas forgotten,
That young man is creating chaotic cancellations,
Phones typing messages of hesitation,
Brains articulating pieces of his own creation,
A salutation be upon my buddy
The young fellow who got lost facing everybody,
And everybody cheered as they watched;
His being stepped on, and heart being stabbed
The chats between the minds
Become cramps
The cramps in his existence become fatal agitation
The agitations in his life become psychiatric misinterpretation
For he got it all wrong
Everyone got it all wrong
But does that stop him?
Let alone
Does that stop all the fake men who built their empires upon forged pillars?
Killers,
Of characteristics;
Followers,
Disciples and students
To a dark lady
Typing her last words of goodbye
Over a phone that’s found in her palms
Yet lost,
In a young girl's heart.
Jul 2013 · 1.9k
I See Rocks:
MAJD S Jul 2013
I see rocks,
Not at the beach where sand becomes solace
And solace becomes soul
I see rocks,
Not in a forest where trees laugh at the depth of man;
Not in a jungle where lions are afraid of humans
Humans that see rocks
So do I
I see rocks,
When the night sleeps and my eyes are still wide open
To the thundered thoughts of rain on my parade,
That single lost love that sings;
That foolish feeling of appreciation
For a misguided princess
I see rocks,
Where thoughts of closure are far beyond
Farther than the distances between us
You're five minutes away by car
But between us
I see rocks
I see hills and mountains
And dull fingertips typing the lies we tell to comfort our obligations,
Those chores we have during the rendezvous of life.
I freeze,
When I sense the breeze,
Of her cold death approaching my so vivid mind;
I freeze,
When I feel the texts become more of carving lines, than of flowing letters;
I freeze,
When I fail to see that spark in your vision.

I guess your vision ends here
To perpetually allow mine to darken…
I see rocks,
I have no vision but I see rocks
I see bulks of human attitudes and snapping fingers;
Rolling eyes of misunderstandment;
Scratching noses backed up with false words.
Lying wasn’t enough
Lying under your falsehood wasn’t enough
I see rocks,
Whenever we don’t argue about our fights
I see rocks
Whenever we don’t fight so that we never argue
I see rocks
When the sun fades away
Disemerging from the clouds
The night falls upon my soulles self
And I see rocks
I see a rock of man
I see a rock of me
Carved by the solid tips of a chisel
Held by you
The biggest rock i see...
Jul 2013 · 1.5k
Explosions in the Sky:
MAJD S Jul 2013
Explosions in the sky
That certain rush of words covered with ideas I am not so afraid of
That simple touch of a pen poets picture as their current heaven
And heaven lies within the lies where real people exist and in-concrete dust flies
And flies surround the inner spaces between my heart and yours
Those inter dimensional cracks that keep us alive together
Yet those same cracks cause the
Explosions in the sky
When a million thoughts tremble under shattered glass
And glass becomes rain over a nation
That had no occupation
A station
Where all the emotions find a leak
Where all the leaks lead to leisure
The flood of blood narrated to form a spring out of Arab's fall
And freedom is attained with the sound of
Explosions in the sky
When betrayal becomes the living scenario of a very normal human being
Who believed that his sanctuary is in unison with his sanctions
Strategies structured his not so subtle approach
And after that he fell into her
Explosions in the sky
When a man loses his vision upon a mild smile
When a cry for help becomes an invite for suicide
Come…help me be the
Portrait of clay you'll form with your delicate hands
Shape my image
And imagine a shape for my form
Form a set for me to follow
Follow my moves for if I fall of your track
Track me back to the first point
The playstation of life saves checkpoints
Yet my life is full of glitches…
For when I look at you
I am supposed to be looking at you
But all I'm seeing is
Explosions in the sky
When a trouble-free man becomes the complex notion of a firework
Those little pieces of fiery smoke
Grabs it
And smokes the last buds of life out of his people
The governor governing the covers he created
To alienate the truth
I found in your eyes
And I shall never be mislead
Instead
I shall be steadfast and ready
For you
I shall be ready for you
And your
Explosions in the sky
When a poet has no words left to write
In the right time
Literally the speaker is speechless
He's too busy wondering in total observation
The explosions…
The explosions we create
The skies that unveil
And that little feeling of satisfaction
With the last bits of an ink written
Poem.
Jul 2013 · 1.2k
And A Bit More Than That
MAJD S Jul 2013
Why can't I be a pair of scissors?
Cutting my way through unneeded pieces of paper
Creating shapes of something I hide inside
And even if I don’t pick the colors of my forms
I form a voice of the colors shaping my opinionated margins
yes
my margins are opinionated because if the side lines weren't there
The court would not exist would it?
And if the benches didn't exist
Well you wouldn't have a team would you??

Why can't I be the voice of truth
Roaming around people
Perpetrating through human voices
And righteous leaders now fail to exist…
And existence would be simple
And simple would not be impossible
For your complexity drives me through alleys of doubt
And routs
I take for a mistake
I'll never love you as much as I do now…
Look at me
He says to the slightly misguided princess
Now rubbing the dirt of her red converse
Conversing here and there,
Diverse attitudes thrown upon her face;
Like she's delightly unpleased with you
And jovially laughing upon her anger
And angry as I be, I cannot but look into those eyes
On phone screens
And wallpapers
Creating walls of papers
For my heart shaped scissors to cut through
And create a notion of change ill never arrange
But what would be the master conductor of it all
Is my deranged heart

Why can't I be just another teenager
A stranger
So as to say she would never get to know me
And I will just be feeling the exact same thing I am feeling now
Why can't I be just another teenager that is fooled by politicians?
Consumes the blooms of colerly glooms in rooms
Posters and fumes of dark metal flumes
Like the night wasn't enough to empty rage reflecting upon stars

The product of man
The lifelong process of spending money to get money
Call this the circle of life, the cycle of human beings
Creating asylums and cages and pentagons
To get out of their own
I build my empire upon your thrown
I breathe the last exhaled strokes of oxygen you have thrown
I conclude whatever you hypothesized
And size doesn’t matter
For matter scatters when the seed is not firm
A seed becomes a tree
And a tree becomes me
And I become this land
And this land is not free
Farmers affirming formulas upon frightened fortune tellers
Fortune was never destiny
Fortune was the future fought for
Lets fight ow man…ow trees
Lets fight

Why can't I just be her eye lashes?
So I could stare into her honesty all day
Prepare myself to contract and kneel to protect her delicacy from dust
Open widely as I represent a sense of her pleasure
And shut when my heart shatters on her melancholy
As my tender touches console her frail eyes

I don’t want to be just another majd
Another shidiac of the family tree
Those existential moments embellished with a thought of her smile
Sponsored by a scent on my hands
I hand out the clarity she hands out to me
I unknot the ties you created with a simple smile
The grins are so thin with the upper lip of nonexistence
Yet the content descent upon thee
Like the holy rain that has never been experienced by the uninvolved
We humans do not experience
We humans create experiences
Expressions show upon our faces as we agree upon our work
Or decide to disregard
Disagree with the outcome of thoughtless days of planning
I plan to be something more than what I am
I plan to be something she wants me to be
And go passed that to something bigger
I plan to be the savior of my earth
Yet be the only earth that could give water to her smiles
I plan to be the director of revolutionary wars
Yet the warrior under the flag of her eyes
I want to be whatever she wants me to be
In twine with what I plan to be
And a bit more than that…
And a bit more than that…
Jun 2013 · 1.1k
Night Visions
MAJD S Jun 2013
The darkening lights
Just keep flickering my mood
Leaves me curious
Wondering if those Millie seconds of darkness
Could bring me what I have lost in those long days of light
And what if those days of tranquility where bad for my health
And healthy as I be; I lay down today with nothing on my mind
But all the answers I cannot find
And on my way to perform my daily errands
I realized that you have become one of them
Like them pills my grandmother pops every two minutes
Or else she'll suffer from back pain, headaches, seizures and heart crashes
My medication is necessary…

My medication lies between your wondrous eyes
The dazzling looks of a challenger
A challenger to the world
And if not the world in your heart stays and survives
Then the universe in your eyes sure looks up to me
The dormant universe
The dormant world and when did we become this arrogant?
And when did we become this inconsiderate of each other
The fear just keeps on evolving in our minds and hearts
Till were ripped apart
The part I'm talking about
Is not the part I want to refer to
It's like I'm preparing
My life for sharing stocks
And stock markets just keep coming through
Hello, my name is Majd
And I came to the world from the world
And I can't fix either..the source or the being
My being is when I exist through papers
And papers exist on her tongue
Bumping into lips of eccentricity
I'll show you nothing of my flaws that’s my biggest one ever
I'll show you nothing of my flaws not because I'm in love with you
But because I'm mad
I'm different types of mad
I'm mad when my mother wakes me up 30 minutes earlier
I'm mad when my school is not my school yet it becomes a thing I go to every morning
I'm mad when my friends are not my friends
But they become a part of me
And you are a part of me
And this is the type of mad I am about you
I'm mad because I can't be whatever you want me to be whenever you want it
I'm mad because I can't be your entertainment, your consolation, your girlfriend, and your brother all at once
Though I try
Though I try

I came across a golden gem today
The ones you leave behind in my mind
But this time it was different
This time it wrote:
If you found a crystal keep it"
Care for it and seek its guidance
Do not turn it into a ring or jewelry
And don’t let your little urge of turning it into something it's not get over you"
So I did
I'm not in love with you
I'm just mad
I'm just mad that I cant be whatever you want me to be whenever you want it
But I try though
But I try…
May 2013 · 975
Death On Paper:
MAJD S May 2013
And nothing falls into the hands of women
But ensured self destruction for sure
God grant us the power to endure
Find us a cure
She doesn’t pull the trigger but she assures
That you have your finger squeezed nice and tight
And nothing falls into the hands of men
But realized not secure
The governments the politics the men that walk at night
The fights the cars the soldiers out of sight
The bad comedy the music and whatever products we have produced
Become but a threat
A lethal playground for lunatics
Lets say the lecturers of our legacy
Legalizing death
Men and their mess-ups you know…
And nothing falls into the hands of women
But women grab what they want
And from upbringing to mood swinging
The bees stinging
The queen laughs
As she gets drunk on honey
And honey! Am home
Shouts the masculine mishap
Mistaking his mistress from his real wife
And his real wife doesn’t exist
Prepare the food and strike up a conversation
About the sweat on collars
And the choreographed tv scenes we call news
She looks at him
for man is malleable
And change is an outcome of ignorance
Or being too ******* desperate
And nothing falls into the hands of humans
Except death on paper
Perpetually becoming social ******
Murdering the men and women involved in societies
That defy human formalities
Since we are co-existive
But whatever that word is I don’t feel it
Because men want to **** women and women want to **** men
But the same goes for love
And the same goes for caring
And whatever complexities of corruption
Computing the loses a man and a woman compete about
But losing is a final solution
The institution of life…and presumingly we all get to have the striking sense
Of death on paper .
May 2013 · 1.1k
The Irrational Poem:
MAJD S May 2013
It’s a box full of green dots destroying what was once called my self esteem
You wanted me when the lights were out
And guidance was my enlightened words now not found
I picked you up
And shoved myself instead of you
I picked you up
And tired as I be; after I think and feel and believe and disregard all at once
I laid exactly at that railroad of crushing trains
Striking so furiously my heart
And each time that train gets closer
My insecurities become like the forsaken minorities
Of the land waiting to avenge their vanquished souls
Wanting revenge on the land lord
And the land lord is lured into lowering lives of dislexyical comments like leaves leaving a tree not because they have to but because they have the power to self-destruct
It’s not us that we fail to continue
Its our ability not too
Our will to stop
Our moments of clarity
In which nothing is clear
And clear is the day you come up to me and explain the complexity that is your affect and the regret that is my whole existence
And clear is the day in which I find the answers to life wrapped in papers fallen on grounds of religious beliefs with my name on top
A note for majd
A majd for all the notes you keep inside in the ample spaces between your teeth and total loss of diction
Like dictating decimations you strike words of explosions
Like nuclear weapons it’s not the fall of reason that kills me
It’s reason that eases my falling
And I fall into senseless diversions
Diverging through divisions of disintegrating poems
Determining what we don’t know
And knowing what we cannot determine
All words are not words but simple signs
Of my breakdown
And all breakdowns are not breakdowns but mere stimulation of the senses; a kick start …
A letter to the dearest to my heart...if only the world can reflect...
May 2013 · 1.5k
TO THE PEOPLE UP THERE:
MAJD S May 2013
Sophisticated creations created in sophistication
Humbly stumble your rocket ship upon us
Show us the ways of wisdom
The gears to greatness
Greetings from above…

Indescribably intuitive taking part of our tuition
Relaxing everybody with your percentages
Because everybody loves your mathematical mysteries mingling with minds mistaking us monitoring the minutes of our total misguidance
You guide us through that too…
Tactically tyrannical, democratically demonizing our demands
Demanding our demons
Because without the demons dictating our lusts as districts for us to be in
You are but a simple voice
Maybe so inhumanly loud and annoying
But incompetent
Powerless…that freaks you out…
Notorious nuzzles nurturing our children
Not so new of an idea
Because were used to getting
Tips of our rights smuggled through the windows you chose to open
Then smile and wave from up there
Because being like us is too mainstream
Becoming like us is an impossibility possible only when you become wood
Stiff wood
Moving around on shoulders
Standing in line on
The borders
Of dirt and human form
Following your followers with flowers on top of you facilitating your families fascinations that yes, youre gonna be alright down under
Flashback to the fudemental moments of your life
And you’ll realize
It’s when you killed the father
Suffocated the mother
Ripped the brother apart
And told the son…hey let me help you
But this is when you die…
If we all **** you in our minds youre dead
And only then…would “up there” be nothing but a shameful figure
Rather than a worshiped emblem of total *******
And only then…would we gain life…
Apr 2013 · 2.3k
Black Blueberries:
MAJD S Apr 2013
Black blueberries buttoned by *****
Black blueberries buttoned by *****
This wasn't yours to loose
Nothing was yours to loose
Black blueberries backed by bench men
Bench men that sit on side lines
Thinking
When will the golden moment be
To break through; proving themselves
Worthy of the benched boxes they be in
Everyday
Because
They believe in benevolence
Black blueberries  busting through my *****
Black blueberries busting through my *****
Better than bullets
Better than bullets
Better than bombs and turrets
Better than ballistic knifes and skillets
And arsenals of ignorance bettered with bills
Bills I pay to ensure my life is ready to die
Is it a matter of  our collective thoughts?

Those black blueberries are buried
And not because I am becoming a black blueberry I say this
But because life begins with black blueberries
Who all turn into nothing but pale *****
All conformed
Not to natural laws
But to the cognitive bacterial infection
Called education
Turning us to blue blueberries
Blue blueberries
And grand building bannered with *******
Black blueberries are bored
Black blueberries are right
Black blueberries are always right…
MAJD S Apr 2013
She Waited for me
On the corners of life
And all the other destinies we have yet to reach
She waited
While taxi cabs of time
With flashy lights
Of forced fake opportunities
With horns of loud disturbance
Like musical madness
Mandatory for all the people
Stopping by
Waving hands of rhetorical questions
With cigarettes of flying ashes
Like the sand boxes that measure time
Upside down
But she refused
She refused because she was waiting for me
Her eyes so sincere
Like poems of honesty
Long lost in humanity
With a laugh of a million stars
Colliding to form a mirage of happiness
Mixed with a sense of existence
Like no other…
She waited for me
But I never came
Her delicate soul
Lingered her impatience a little longer
Her urge to be vivid
Was tamed by the desperate dullness of my presence
Her circumventing vibe of light-like energies
Were hindered and toned down
Just to feed my egoistic
Patriarchal sense of self
Lacking the properties to be a proper man
She waited for me…
As I struggled through
The worldly matters
Breaking glass of shadows
Fighting sin of forbidden years
Destroying fear and respect
With a sense of anger
Clutching knuckles of regret
Proliferating rage
But she was waiting for me
So I fought
I fought for her waiting
She waits for me to fight
And all of a sudden I realize
That I was waiting for her
I was waiting for her all along…
She represented the life I never lived
The decency I never had
The courage I kept within my words
And the light for shadows I lurked behind
And the light for the shadows I now could not seem to find.
Apr 2013 · 15.7k
The "Whatsapp" Paradox:
MAJD S Apr 2013
I whatsapped you through my nokia
And is it your existence I crave?
Or does my mind order
What is beyond the border
Unseen like the little light bulps in the sky
I whatsapped you through my nokia
And is it your fingertips I need?
Spending minutes on
Semantic and hours on our news feed
And high lights of our day
See my days are all the same
I ask myself questions and I find answers
In the shape of instant messages
Vibrating through my phone;
And as if it’s exhaling some deadly poison
It rings and rings and rings and rings and rings and rings and stops…
I whatsapped you through my nokia
Asking you
“you there?”
But you never answered
Because your iphone cannot show any whatsapp notifications
Coming from hopeless thinkers trying to figure out the typed mysteries of life….
Because your blackberry
Is too black to turn into a satisfactory vision
Of what your future should be;
Because your android
Is practically messy
And willingly complex
Like meteor showers hitting your phone
Every time the truth vibrates
In the shape of unanswered questions
For the answers are there…
But our phones are so smart they hide it;
I wahtsapped you through my nokia
Asking myself
Is my nokia a primitive technology?
A shameful scar on the scale of science
Like syringes ******* all the blood from the unstoppable sweet rush of statistical knowledge
I whatsapped you through my nokia…and all this comes out
Is it me being silly, or us being shallow?
Please do not whatsapp me the answer
For am tired of green screens
And boxed spaces
I need clean streams
Of fine faces
And eyes that glimmer
Rather than phones that shiver…
I shall remind my phone
To remind me
That I don’t need it anymore…
Mar 2013 · 2.5k
Take me to a pub now:
MAJD S Mar 2013
Take me to a pub
So I can drink and get drunk
Forget all my sorrows for five minutes
And after the five minutes are gone
I shall grab the phone
And shout my anger with similes and curses
And melancholic poetic verses
Take to me to a pub.

Take me to a pub
So I can drink and get drunk
Then drive my tombstone of a car
And empty my rage in shifting gears
Of crashing death
A representation of the life
Of advanced products of simple humans
Dumb enough to die
Take me to a pub

Take me to a pub
So that I can meet some girls
And maybe go back with them home
And smoke some ****
And ashes
Of the dead people of the past
Which has now become a part of my mouth
And in my mouth
Mixed things
With either a sharp taste
Or a sharp color
Or a sharp texture…
Like multicolored knives entering my veins approaching my heart
To rip it apart
Take me to a pub…

Take me to a pub
Where I can die
Under tables and cups
And bartenders
And miserable people trying to laugh
With eyes that are not theirs
And faces that are not faces
Like animals unstrapped for one night
And once they wake up the more impossible are the braces
Shaped into bubbles that are suffocating
With no hope for air
That it becomes unfair
Take me to a pub
And then blame God
For my torment and bad hangovers
Saying why God!? Why did you let me go to a pub…


And after I wake up for reason
And logic, discover my flaws
I go back to my illogical ways
Because you are taking me to a pub
Television takes me to a pub
Politics takes me to a pub
Consumerism takes me to a pub
I feel like I’m the hot girl of the night
Because everyone is taking me to a pub
Grab some beer
Some *****
Mojitos and some Absen
Leave my mind unaware
And my thought absent
Take
Me
To
A pub
Now!
Mar 2013 · 984
Accept my lies:
MAJD S Mar 2013
And she talks while my hands shiver
She’s a lie
She’s a lie
She’s a live representation of untruthfulness
A great portal of unworthy in-transparency
A grand stand of podiums and microphones
Flat screen tv’s
With radios and horns pumping your blood to your brains
Blocking your sight
And vision
Rocking impure notes
Of Dead metal
She’s a lie
My love is a lie
My love is a lie
Shedding tears on what she stole
Breaking my heart and taking it all
Spring time flowers and I fall
Beneath the trees

of beautiful regret
And powerful surrender
Trees that I used to climb
To look at her window
And see the angel of death never so beautiful
She’s a lie
My love is a lie
My love is a lie…
She turned out to be a democratic state
A hypocrite dictating my heart
Controlling my thoughts and my work
My wild imaginations…

Deciding my past
Exiting my present
Ending my future
She’s a lie
My love is a lie
My love is a lie
All the big people we are
And we accept our lies
The created trickeries
To satisfy our needs
To be taken care of
While we take care of our own commonplace matters
And one of them is you
Because you’re a lie
Everyone’s a lie…
Mar 2013 · 862
The people of whatever
MAJD S Mar 2013
Sliding his hands to his face
Looking into fear
And whatever
Climbing shadows, beasts
And battles he cannot possibly win
But whatever
Storming like a king
While he's nothing but a peasant
Believing in the glory of the name and cause
He fought for death
Not for your applause
And smiling as death passed by everyday
Taunting his every move
Crossing names of his lists
Names that resemble compassion to the living and potential company to the dead

Creating a fusion of fury, fear, and fine intellectual fundamentals
He climbed up his mountains
And hills that were once a barrier to the blocked
And but a long distant impossibility to the optimistic hopefuls
That lack incentives as long as they lack the money

He looked force with eyes of peace
And never blinked for once his eyes are shut
They will claim their judicial rights of attaining his cognitive abilities
But he never noticed anything
But the outer reflection of inner anxiety
Caused by his deformality
And un-abiding ways
That posed a question
To their minds
"are they waking up"?
He answers with words that do not speak
But can be heard
Flying fistfuls of truth
And hovering rationality
Long lost…
He steps in
And systems down in front
Of the lines of pens and chairs
Declared intellectual war
Courtesy of bad media and corruption
And the total inducement of indifference
In the people
The people of whatever…
Mar 2013 · 728
WHERE DO YOU STAND?
MAJD S Mar 2013
She stood there…eyes covered with hope and buried with sheer zest of a normal teenage girl
She stood there… as I tried to swiftly move my hands across my face and rub my eyes
She stood there… left me astonished; I tried to adapt to her figure, but her beauty defeated my tries
She stood there… with eyes of blue and the red hair so smooth I can see the rays of light reflecting into a spectrum of fervor reflecting her inner sweet
She stood there… as I glanced once and smile twice
She stood there… an image so soft of all the goodness in the world and everything nice
She stood there… she stood there and I cried like a lost deluded son of man
She stood there… facing my not so mature mortality
She stood there and smiled
She stood there in the corner of the room and waved without her waving, greeted without a gesture or sound
She stood there and I knew… my love becomes of today, a limitless entity a feeling with no bound
She stood there and I wish she was closer to my breathless heart and the dragons disguised as butterflies in my chest
She stood there and the night went on as I forgot the rest
She left…
She left…
She left leaving me no clue, no trace, and I believe we will meet
We will meet in another world when love wouldn't be so discreet
And I will stand there, holding roses of my words and bouquets of my soul to carry on the burden of my heart
I will stand there, dreaming of the day I stand there, dreaming of the day I got a new start
I will stand there, covered by desperate cries of regret and motivation to move mountains and tame beasts and fight dragons for this is where I want to stand
I will stand there with a simple note written on my hand
A note that says: you waited for me and I failed to agree to your expectations
Now I stand here awaiting your answer with a certain sense of being and a moral complication
For I may not know you, and you sure are not familiar with my cognitive creation
But I stand here for you; for once you stood there for me
I hope…
I truly hope…
Jan 2013 · 1.0k
The Difference Long Gone:
MAJD S Jan 2013
On a Sunday it was dark; girls infatuated with attention
Consuming on facebook uploads, and hashtags that have no explanation for your comprehension
I stand alone in a world, a total suspension
From the societies of fake likes and relationships and self pent up tension
I had faith in you, but your beliefs are not worthy of my mention
For the things you lived for, the mundane delusions that causes your detention
For you are detained in your self- created stress and your feverous passion that is derived by convention
You are stuck in a world not yours, and once I tried to liberate you from it you couldn't stop clinging and clench'n
To your false priorities and you call this a life… you call yourself living when your hollow ego and pride has out shadowed your repention
And sin became a right, and good became a privilege, all this in the world craving attention…


Souls like me are buried, embodied by peace we have with our existing forms
Free thinkers; attached to our beliefs and religious rituals yet deviated from your filthy sociological norms
And values we have created and you chose to forget
And destinies we work to change, yet your destinies are set
For sheep follow each other into circles of indecorous confusion
And every one of you follows what he thinks is fun, or cool or the trendy illusion
We have reached a time when we follow people, not thoughts, material not ideas and we demand respect
How could I respect clones? For their values become lower than that of an insect...
I trusted you were different, but I grew beyond that thought and realized you're the same
You just yearn for the spotlight, live on opinions, and follow your low life leaders into a path of misleading fame…
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