أنا ولا شي

أنا ولا شي أنا ولا شي، عم أفنى ولا في بالجيب مصاري و لا حتى دولارات ما عاد عنا أراضي و لا فيه ممتلكات تعي نهاجر بالمي يا محلى هالمي حاجتنا حاجة خطَي أنا و لا شي، عم أغرق أنا و لا شي ساعديني و لحقي ولادك قلب قارب المهربين كلهن على ما يبدو هالك

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كلماتٌ حائرة

ماذا أقول لك يا سيدتي فقد عجزت كل أبجدية
وقفنا جنباً لجنبٍ على طرفِ وادي التَيم العذيّة
تحلق عيناي المغمضتين معكِ إلى مخيلةٍ ثرية
نمشي معاً يدً بيدٍ على شطئان الأحلامٍ الوردية

A Flashback

After spending few minutes suffering from the few who decided to protect planet earth by saving on the use of shower and deodorant, I was standing between two flights of stairs separating two of the colorful rooms at Powell’s Book. There were some shelves displaying some of the best sellers. I was browsing George Carlin’s book “Last Words”, when

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Late Autumn

The trees were long fed up with their color and the last leaf was falling to the ground. She was also fed up with her loneliness. But what she was afraid of happened exactly. She left alone, and in the way she always feared. Even worse, the people who came late to help were the

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