open your eyes ...

open widely your eyes...
as my opening heart ...
to see my feeling's words ...
through within my heart ...
which wrote by blood ...
and runs within all veins ...
as a perennial vine ...
never ever die ...

open your dreamy eyes ...
get it's reality instead dreams ...
as my clear shown dreams ...
with a big seine contains love ..
to see me as i am ..
as the love which i hold ...
with no dreams running ...
only virtual great love to give ..
as this great sea and it's depth ...
never ever to hide ...

open you eyes sweetheart ...
to see me ...
to see the love ..
and the feelings ...
that i hold from years ...
yes my sweet bird ...
it's me ...
it's not a strange dream ...
it's the reality of our feelings ...
which melted into each other ...
since our eyes met at the first time ...

yes babe ...
open your eyes ...
to read mu words ...
to see the love ...
which i keep inside ...
to realize soon ...
how much i love you ...

hazem al ...

What does it take to feel alive?

The hug of a mother? The pull of a trigger? A new high to desire?

The social networking of this world has lost its true form and art. The mouth is not for lying rather for cleansing.

Honesty is a form of quenching.

You'll never lose the people and things that truly matter, those are the artifacts and tools to feel alive. Life itself.

Describe yourself. Describe this world. Describe a tree. Describe an iPhone, a dung beetle, a circling vulture, a pill you swallow daily.

Things, millions of things, are occurring simultaneously around us and it is up to us what we decide to describe as note-worthy.

We mentally decide what is praiseworthy.

Strive to describe only that which is worthy, when we are surrounded by so much that unworthy.

I live in a den in the land of the dragons,
A place where the sunshine rocochets off of every surface and monsters are the most human beings around.
I stalk the woods and do not shy from battle. Even dragons have turned from me.
Unseen in the shadows,
Eyes of liquid gold,
With a silver tongue trapped behind sharp teeth.
I could talk my way out of trouble,
But honestly, where's the fun in that?

Mediating throughout my body is a shivering cold, the winter is here and snowfall is now of old, yet I continue shaking in a blindfold.

Wandering aimlessly in these woods of life,
trying to fixate and aim and not ***** the competing wildlife.

My one chance to make it in this forest,
I must listen as though I am this woods leading aurist.

All of this preparation for one shot at a "happy life",
a cookie-cutter form of "what to do" with your knife.

As a twig snaps beneath me and all is spooked I suddenly realize,
I now hypothesize that I must revolutionize my own "happy life"

I sprint through from and away the woods without a second of regret or care of the startling noise I paraded through these sacred woods, the bright moon leading me to all that I wanted...happiness.

We can never
rewrite history
and the future
is impossible to pen.

When the present
bears only anarchy
in the darkened,
tainted hearts of men.