Empty Souls

Killing Silence

2006-07-18T10:29:00.000-07:00

Mothers suffer, fathers die
little babies not knowing why
are so scared and start to cry
and all you do is watch and sigh

Scary planes are in the sky
baby girl just stares up high
says look dad how fast they fly
and all you do is watch and sigh

who knows what will satisfy
evil’s thirst to kill and fry
frightful nights are passing by
and all you do is watch and sigh

In calm days you always pry
Poke your nose in like a spy
Suddenly now, you are too shy
And all you do is watch and sigh

Saying you care is big a lie
You see them dare to even try
to seize our soils, to occupy
and all you do is watch and sigh

We fight alone and we defy
With faith in God as our ally
triumph is here, you can’t deny
And all you do is watch and sigh

The Last Day

2006-03-17T08:57:00.000-08:00

All children have a favorite toy or something they are attached to and won’t leave home or even sleep without making it a crucial, probably the most essential part of their still too limited vision of this already frightening life they feel are about to lead thus finding in this familiar object a sort of a security blanket they tend to turn to anytime they feel troubled.

A child starts growing up and the picture of his path into this world becomes clearer but greater along the years with more difficulties and now becoming more obvious obstacles he needs to surpass using what he learned all through these years, feeling stronger and more confident all the while never willing to relinquish his affection and love to this companion of many years.

Parents or guardians usually intervene around this stage to help their son forget about his cushion or their daughter put aside her doll but all through a very slow step by step process fearing an abrupt retraction might traumatize their child, damage his sense of security and throw him into some sort of a deep physiological trance that will lead him to become either very apprehensive of or too hostile to his environment.

Unfortunately this is always the case but because the incident occurs at youth this consequent imbalance hopefully tend to disappear with time and age bringing most of the victims back to a more or less stable course of life and have others at least be categorized by society as people undergoing rehabilitation process for whom we should feel remorseful until the time they recover from this frenzy.

But what happens if an adult is facing this same problem, an adult who managed to remain attached to his security blanket all through the years or has recently found one thinking he has now reached utmost confidence and freedom in decision making to keep it but suddenly learns his possession will be snatched from him, his hands tied and there is nothing he can do about it except letting out a torn scream of pain...

“Please don’t take away my doll”

The Seventh Sin

2006-03-07T01:38:00.000-08:00

They went out again and she felt good
As if he knows to set the perfect mood
Candle dinner or maybe romantic food
A champagne bottle and burning wood

Facing her perfect body he later stood
He kissed her neck her breath accrued
His arms embracing her like they should
Looking from far you’d think they glued

Passion increased it became understood
That in few seconds there’ll be no hood
To cover her beauty from this bad dude
Who’s only interested in his mandhood

I thought and thought as much as I could
About what happened, and how it's rude
For him to have his pleasure when I would
Not even be allowed to glimpse at her nude

Love Thy Neighbor

2005-12-29T04:18:00.000-08:00

I know Ahmad from day one as my neighbor living in an awkwardly adjacent old apartment probably the most ancient in the center of Beirut with our bedroom windows facing each other absurdly too close making the only possible view our respective sleeping area and the inevitable "good morning Ahmad" a daily ritual one could not escape.

I know Ahmad from that old noisy and packed with awfully smelling children yellow bus where 3 years older than me he voluntarily acted as my guardian angel and defended me from those bad older kids who had nothing better to do than hit on younger frail students like me on that twice a day tedious journey to a hope for a better education and fro.

I know Ahmad from his sister Zeina whom at the age of 13 had already the looks, shape and assets of a young beautiful woman with whom I had experienced my first sensual encounter and simultaneously developed with the exclusive knowledge and consent of her brother our primary steps of lovemaking in a world where we both found happiness but sadly drifted like any two pure things eventually do.

I know Ahmad from the early days of civil war when my dad taking into consideration the religious conflicts that nobody really felt but all deeply feared decided it is time we move from our house of so many generations into a new area at the west side of the country where people of our faith now belonged and Ahmad was there to help pack, carry, load on trucks our possessions with apparent tears in his eyes and mine.

I know Ahmad from the long phone conversations we used to have when after we moved out I’d call in an attempt to hear Zeina’s voice again but end up enjoying a conversation with her brother telling me about the recent changes in our neighborhood, the new grocery store around the corner or some local basketball game that ended with the usual fight reminding me of our cheerful night walks back home after such a joyous event.

I know Ahmad from the red zone in the heart of the capital during the heaviest days of war where we both were but each from his side with sometimes less than 100 feet apart behind sandbags trying all day long to protect our so called beliefs and prevent one another from gaining more grounds, yet still stealing rare quiet moments between gunfire and shelling to shout greetings to those phantom voices we sometimes recognize.

I know Ahmad from June 8 1987 when after extensive bombing to secure the area my commander ordered our troop to attempt a takeover on what was left of a building strategically situated not so far in the enemy zone to which we entered ever so fiercely and I took up my position waiting for a movement for about the longest 5 minutes of my life until suddenly a shadow passed and a scream of agonizing death followed my rifle shots.

I knew Ahmad, he was a friend, a brother...a casualty of war

Lido

2005-11-11T13:51:00.000-08:00

Where do I begin

To tell the story of how great a love can be

The sweet love story that is older than the sea
The simple truth about the love she brings to me

This was the song used right in the middle between the huge water fountain that appeared out of nowhere and the half naked guy doing his acrobats on a white bed sheet hanging from the ceiling maybe trying to depict what life would have been hadn’t Eve eaten from that apple tree making these two scenes probably the finest but still mediocre in this tedious show called the Lido.

If exquisitely beautiful exposed women and a great expensive technology were put together in an attempt to create in less than two hours something enthralling to a desperate middle aged audience, an ugly to say the least lead singer coupled with a bad seating arrangements and definitely an enormous lack of imagination came to ruin it all.

With a varied selection of animals ranging from a Wooden Elephant a tiger woman and the this time real horse, to guys and girls dressed in cats and dogs and maybe wolves depending if this was intentional or just a make-up blunder of some sort on a couple of dogs, to even a cockroach passing by our dinner table, the only differentiation from your basic yearly home town Circus would be the additional 94.5 euros entry fee and some tits.

This made me wonder where my 100 euros went so I started counting how many dancers are on stage and to ease in my disappointment decided to equally divide this sum on them after eliminating the vocalist whose contract I’m sure was made benevolently unless we live in a sick society who would think that a heavy British accent with a very high pitched squeaky voice fucking your ear drums can be sexy.

Suddenly and again thanks to impressive technology a somehow suspended plane came over our heads to the center of the stage and without landing just stopped in the air to disembark its only passenger, no one else but you know who, and give me for a split second the hope of escape I’ve been longing for imagining I could just jump up to this flying object and disappear with it out of this suffocating place.

But this didn’t happen. Instead I silently waited in the dark corner of my seat sipping what was left of my champagne bottle, closed my eyes and drifted in a creative dream of a better show filled with my own immense imagination for the remainder of the fifteen minutes after which and if you were at the Champs Elysees you could have seen a bunch of crestfallen people getting out from beneath a neon lighted sign of what should be the best show in the world.

Where do I start…

Die Until Death

2005-10-11T18:10:00.000-07:00

She came to this world to serve a purpose just like in my beliefs everyone else did except that hers is very obvious to the point that the word “Apocalypse” is written on her forehead for all to see and know in a matter of second the danger she carries and is keenly capable of inflicting on others for no reason but the mere pleasure of watching them suffer.

A lovely smile beneath her big shining eyes captures you in an instant and throws you into this transcendent hypnosis taking away bit by bit all the rationale you have worked so hard to build in your early days reducing you to an insignificant devotee amongst a massive herd of men she already has as her own.

Willingly or against your better judgment you find yourself unreservedly controlled by a power so overwhelming to resist and yet you will think too charming to want to let go, by that obliviously becoming her number one assistant in a fatal sentence she inflicts on your existence as a respectable human being in a society now too distant from your vision to life.

Your soul sinks deeper than the titanic killing altogether none other than what was left of your already dormant ego thus finishing off any spark of hope that might have resisted her evil nature encompassing your every earlier attempts to escape what you now consider as a heavenly trance you are so fortunate to have and worship.

Unofficially dead, this is when you cut all threads to life and become unconditionally focused on her every command with nothing more important to you than obeying and pleasing her in any way she wishes hoping you will somehow be rewarded with her mysterious beauty by allowing you to feel the softness of a skin your whole life depends on.

Instead she decides just like that and out of the blue that she has had enough of your despicable presence behind her on your knees all the time and chooses to just let go of you and so she does dropping you from as low as you already are to an even lower level you never thought it existed until this very long second of clarity that comes between the time your head hits that place and death.

It Was Only a Dream

2005-08-24T16:35:00.000-07:00

This was just a dream. This is what I do; I provide people with dreams that would last much longer than your basic one hour vision you are allowed to get every night during your sleep. Mine goes for weeks, maybe months depending on how naive you are, how much you are willing to believe what I tell you or maybe just how bad deep within you are in need for this.

I don’t do anything you are not expecting me to do, and I don’t say anything you’re not dying to finally hear. All I do is look at you, study your feelings, understand your desires and offer you, even if not for eternity and so what if it’s only a big lie at the end, what you have been longing for your entire life.

God alternates by giving you two kinds that are usually derived from your inner subconscious. Some are translated into nightmares after which you wake up all shaky, sweating and ever so glad it’s over while others are good dreams from which you wake up with a smile on your face yet a bit kinda sad it’s over wishing it would have lasted longer.

The reason he does that, the reason his dreams are always varied and with an awfully short span of time is that he is very smart, extremely considerate to my taste and knows how feeble you are, thus tries to protect you from getting too much attached to this heavenly hour so that when you wake up, this slight feeling of regret you will have does not affect your entire real life and is soon forgotten.

The similarity is striking as I am also aware of the effect of too long dreams and I know very well how despicably weak of a person you are with the only difference that I may be the most heartless person you have ever met and I have no consideration whatsoever to the aftermath of my present to you. If you suffer after having my dream because it was too long and beautiful I consider that to be entirely your fault because you have decided to have it this way.

Now Wake up…Your dream is over

Holy Matrimony

2005-08-12T01:57:00.000-07:00

When I got there she was already dead

She was just lying there naked on the bed
white sheets around her slowly turning red.

I couldn’t believe my eyes and when I held her head
sadness I did not feel, it was anger instead.
Angry for what she did, left me alone and fled.

She was my only hope, she was the only thread
that keeps me hanging on and now alone I dread
the years I’m going to face, all this time ahead
Is useless without her, she was my daily bread.

I stood there in silent tears, from the bible I read
the passage where it says with you I’ll be wed
I married her right there and I knew where this lead

I lied there next to her and with my knife I fed
Two stabs to my heart, closed my eyes and bled.

When they got there I was already dead.

Apartment For Rent

2005-08-09T16:47:00.000-07:00

An old wooden faded color door half open on one of the oldest streets in the area and right below a bridge leading to an old port is the entrance gate to the building in which she lived for a while but now is leaving and therefore decided to rent the place and move on to Jail.

The gate squeals open to a dark empty hall giving you at first impression the immensity of the place and its age too old that you can actually smell the antiquity giving you sudden flashbacks of a pervious life you may have had.

A big black key is used to open the only small door on the left side of this hall leading to the inside main premises of the building too narrow that it barely encloses very steep stairs covered with small red broken tiles and held together by rusty black fences you need to grip upon to help you reach your intended floor.

You literally escalate to the third floor where her apartment is after passing old furniture and broken bicycles seemingly abandoned at the corner of almost every space available between each two levels with spider webs protecting them making you wonder if the owners of this garbage are still alive.

Reaching the third floor with whatever breath you still have your heartbeat reminds you that you should quit smoking, give up drinking, eat healthy and start looking for some sports activity that will put you back in shape for the now abruptly becoming few remaining years of your life.

Albeit you can’t help but feeling a sense of pride when you realize that the only thing between you and the truth now is that small yet all steel volt like door you’re facing but still need to regain some of that lost strength before you can take out the key from your pocket, insert it in its hole, turn anticlockwise and open the gates to heaven…or hell.

Once inside you’re greeted by a cat longing to be cuddled waiting in a middle of a very long corridor more like a bowling alley with the exception that what you strike here are maybe empty bottles of champagne lying there most probably from the night before at the south end where that tube stops and a kitchen begins.

A red bicycle announces the beginning of that kitchen well furnished with the essentials of culinary life or any life for that matter from ice cubs to appetizers to more this time still full and chilled bottles of champagne screaming to be cracked open and you can be sure they will be opened every night. .

At the other side, on the right wing of that never ending corridor right after a small bathroom door and through dim lights is the huge living room decorated with two comfortable couches facing each other with a low square table in between providing you one of the coziest mood you may ever experience.

Separately behind the couches, serving as a bar, a barrel she smartly painted is set right there in front of two big windows giving you while enjoying your rusty jack daniel’s the ultimate sight of the Mediterranean waters that you can depict from either above and below the bridge or through passing cars.

A third window with the same breathtaking view belongs to an adjacent bedroom equally dimmed this time to accentuate the serenity of the space and to give ultimate respect to all the rituals performed inside on that altar of a bed gracefully welcoming all men and women sacrifices equally.

The unlit fire place adds to this sacred room a sense of reverence so powerful that it suddenly gives you a crystal clear meaning to a bunch of paintings indifferently thrown there on the floor each conveying a story too deep and strong that will make your bones shiver with fear and climax.

You will either love or hate this place depending on who you are….It's an apartment of personality and I loved yours.

Great Ass

2005-07-06T18:45:00.000-07:00

It came to my attention recently that girls are so obsessed with having a nice ass as if they have finally found after long years of extensive research the ultimate tool that will make guys crumble.

Say goodbye to big colored eyes, long blond hair, perky nose, maybe a good tan and even well shaped pair of tits and make way for the great asses of the century that are now coming in different sizes, colors and shapes.

Possessing a life of its own, an ass can walk, talk, please or tease, totally controlling his admirer yet perfectly controlled by his bearer using it to give signs maybe not of her personality, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, but at least of her mood at a specific moment and probably her intentions during the coming hours.

Now we all agree that having a nice well shaped ass is great but by no means having a “great” ass is nice unless we put a clear definition to this utterance to avoid any confusion between great as usually intended to mean excellence or perfection and the literal meaning of the word as in huge, immense or enormous thus ugly.

You have a Great Ass.

B.L.D.

2005-06-21T09:25:00.000-07:00

She’s caught a terrible disease that crippled her in many ways that she is now incapable to do anything without having this fear of failure haunting her every move to success in all aspects of life from the simplest of tasks to the most complicated one passing by love, profession or any other daily bustle.

It is the most dodgy of all diseases I’ve ever heard of and the worst thing about it is not only the fact that there is no cure but the actual disregard and virtually zero percent research done worldwide on finding any.

I agree with researches who consider this not as an illness but a normal part of life and hence close their eyes to any serious study leaving the whole thing to the entertaining world of astrological science only when it’s a once in a blue moon or even more frequent but still occasional turns of events.

Albeit when it becomes as in my friend’s case a non relinquishing hurdle on her daily errands we have to put aside all possible coincidence hypothesis or fictional theories and start searching in earnest for a more serious scientific elucidation placing the whole matter in a completely different now risky zone called “Incurable Diseases”.

In that case the best you can do is offer a shoulder to cry on, be supportive and present no matter how long this aliment will linger and never fear close encounter as the only good thing about this illness is the fact that it is not in any way contagious and your being there is like the morphine shot that in a way appease some of this pain and suffering.

If any of you readers is a physician or has his weight in the scientific research field please consider this desperate cry for help, reach out for my dear friend and many other people with similar cases and pull them out of this very rare but truly existing misery by assisting us in finding a cure.

To a flower infected with the incurable "Bad Luck Disease"!

Time To Kill

2005-06-03T14:30:00.000-07:00

He wrote a blog ladies and gentlemen, actually a few, but the one I got the courage to read and read fast I might add, not thinking about and actually facing the inescapable feeling of boredom that everyone gets while going through his lines is about a cosmopolitan night out at some local bar with people from all around the planet except a small country by the Mediterranean called Lebanon.

Yet he managed to mention this small piece of heaven and its habitants at least twice in his not so long epilogue maybe to make it more interesting or simply because the complex of inferiority his people have toward us is now spreading overseas searching for even more compatriots one might think have escaped this epidemic disease.

Citing it once in a very respectful manner could be allowed even to an ignorant who is he if head is down and bowing to show reverence to the word and all its meaning but twice or maybe more, because to be honest the tedium really got into me that couldn’t finish the whole thing, bluntly and in such an insolence is simply unforgivable.

He formulates a statement casually enough through his words thus passing a global judgment to his very few readers, insinuating we have definitely developed some sort of Freudian anomaly through time leaving behind the fact that this feeling of superiority we have is only natural if one looks at the sheer inanity surrounding us geographically and to which he belongs.

As a friend and you know how much I estimate our friendship, I implore you not to convey messages when their depth are so unknown to you and their meanings way beyond the simplicity of your mind especially if these messages relate to an origin I am so proud to be of and very complex for you to understand.

No offense…I just had some time to kill.

She's Back For More

2005-05-25T13:00:00.000-07:00

Tears in her eyes she came back imploring for forgiveness feeling very ashamed and disrespectful to her master never swearing never to commit this atrocity of leaving his caring wings and always pleading always to remain protected by him praying he will take her back in.

This was a long shot she thought and her heart was pounding like never before from both the fear of being rejected and from the long late night run she just endured to get to this familiar place she always found to be peaceful despite the very strict rules implied to which now she is more than ever willing to abide.

She remembers the day she left after a big fight with him, her owner but at the same time provider of peace comfort and serenity, after he simply and casually enough asked her to do this one chore that triggered in her a sudden repulsive gratuitous action which allowed him to show aggressiveness in its most crucial way yet.

Something that for the first time and despite her welcoming submissive nature she could not tolerate or keep up with and instead of taking her usual position at the back dark end of the bedroom corner where she normally awaits her now becoming daily punishments and before he could tie her up, she found herself heading to that open door that leads to the unknown outside world she thought called freedom.

For the first time on her own she was wondering in this small dark alley not knowing where to go, a strong smell of fear coming out of her filling the air and triggering the interest of night watchers from five blocks around, all slowly gathering closer to her now shaking silhouette, drooling to the sight of their new found helpless prey.

Raped over 17 times in one sinister night she woke up and jumped out just before the yellow truck picked up and threw in for smashing the contents of the garbage bin in which she was dumped a couple of days ago.

Garbage stink, beer, piss and semen soaking her, now replaced the smell of fear and gave her courage for the first time in her life, courage to pick herself up or what is left of her and run and keep on running until she’s back home whishing only that all this was a nightmare and she will soon wake up in the comfort of her usual corner.

I am home looking at some pictures after two days of search when I suddenly hear a bark outside my door. I rush and open, Lassie jumps at me wiggling her tales and licking my face like never before. I hug her in despite the filth she brought with her.

I’m happy my dog is back.

It's All About You

2005-05-03T16:30:00.000-07:00

Shocking how blogs are the perfect example of human vanity.

I have been surfing member’s pages for a while now and all I read are stories people post about themselves, what they like or dislike, things they did or planning to do, opening up like never before to this unlimited completely unknown public exposing their personal life on the internet killing altogether any sense of privacy they might have.

No limits as to what they can tell thus exposing the naked truth in all its meanings just like kneeling down in front of a priest in a confession room with the exception that this time instead of telling their sins and beseech forgiveness they set off in a eulogy of heroic performances they dare to call daily life.

Some often start with insinuating being in a bad situation, the worst you can ever imagine. Surrounded by evil they become victims of a cruel life they are fiercely fighting to overcome, something they always manage to do otherwise what is the use of writing about it if not to constantly come out a winner.

It has become a pure advertisement site where the majority of the writers post their CV-like personal achievements as if all big companies will scan here to find potential candidates for higher managerial positions they might have available.

The remaining very few others, those with a lesser imagination but still would like to participate in this race to fame and fortune end up writing their most boring daily activities usually focusing on the bad luck they have unknowingly divulging how pathetic they are in real life.

They tell you stories about accidents they had or their now dead dog, heartbreaks or their dear ailing relative, expecting from you some sympathy on the matter wanting you to be on your toes, finger crossed following the daily update of this sad event and hoping with them for a good ending for someone you have never met or seen in your entire life.

Come on people, making it more motivating is a challenge. Keep your personal lives to yourselves and maybe some of your close friends and start looking for something better to write about, something that would not bore to death this massive number of fellow bloggers reading you.

Anything that is not about you…

Story Of a Geisha

2005-04-28T18:30:00.000-07:00

Testing 1, 2, 3…The test could either go through or fail and we move on to another task at hand. It sounds easy doesn’t it? This is so widely know and everybody does it without even giving it a second thought.

Exactly what our friend did here and failed…

So what?
Who cares to read about this?
Who in the first place has a dull enough life to actually write such a story?

Well the writer is me, I am guilty as charged because and for those who know me would understand, this has been killing me, like a wrath deep inside making me eager to comment on what triggered this feeling but the space allocation for this purpose is way too small for what I have to say.

And if you have made it so far, the reader would obviously be you. Not that you are a bored and an boring person, don’t worry about that, but simply because this testing story gets more interesting if you just add a child to it.

A child to it? I am confusing you? Well let me start all over and tell you what I mean and exactly how our friend actually tests love very efficiently I might add simply by throwing the world “child” to our well know Testing 1, 2, 3 method…It goes like this:

Testing child 1, child 2, child 3…Nope this is not love…I’m out of here!

See, you have someone in your life or you think you do, or in our hero’s case she feels she doesn’t but she wants to think she does so she fights for it God damn it because she was born a fighter and she always gets her way.

So she thinks what the heck, I’ll get pregnant, offer him a baby. Not that she cares about children but this would make him love her through their shared newborn or at least respect her 9 months long with-child situation.

This seemingly very genius plan failed and ended in miscarriage, because probably she couldn’t take the thought of a creature even so pure and sinless deforming her beautiful body.

Testing Child 1 failed!

She should have left right there and then but on second thoughts decided to buy more time for herself and what’s a better and cheaper way to buy time than using children currency especially that no risk is involved now that her once intact shape has been shattered

This time she is determined to go through with it to the end. This time she will deliver a child and the child will deliver his dad’s love to her. Sure enough nine months later or maybe seven the tool was born. Beautiful, sweet and very soft yet despised from the first second for the damage and pain it caused its bearer.

Disappointment and hatred followed when this now 2 years old child did not serve its purpose as the father’s love meter to his wife did not budge but instead moved to serve the child himself creating jealousy on top to the point that many times the thought of strangling this noisy little devil crossed her mind.

Testing Child 2 failed…

Situation is worsening; life is getting insufferable with her companion, no passion no love, treating her like dirt when she once back home in Osaka maybe, had a life of a princess having everything she wanted delivered on a silver plate to her pink bedroom with pink and white bed sheets.

Selfishly enough the idea of a third trial pops out again. Only now it has a revenge factor in addition to maybe triggering the love she longs for. Two in one and for free is good odds so why not try, once more not for a second giving a damn thought about the result of producing a life and the consequences of her actions on these poor little ones.

She's the worst...She's asian...She's a gaisha trained not to be human.

Sure enough the third comes along even more beautiful than his brother with a smile like you have never seen before. An angel from heaven came down to earth to release this woman-like self centered creature from her agony....Or at least this is what she thought.

This third was so nice and pure that she actually started to have feeling for it to the extend that she wanted to give it a name by herself, something that she never thought for during her previous two trials. Good but not enough to make her forget her main purpose in life...Revenge if not love.

Things evolved very rapidly and the thought for lovethat did not come was immediately swipped off by the taste for revenge. Something that she is too weak to do on her own.

Testing Child 3 failed...

A couple of month after the birth of this angel, she calls upon a savior, her dad, the utmost responsibilty of bringing her to life and asks him to cross the ocean for help. Come save me and my child she says threatening to just drown the baby if her call for help was not answered.

He came...she left...took the baby...kept the older one...forgot about the abortion...and now lives a happy life with no love, no feelings, just like nothing ever happened except three lives down the drain.

An asian...selfish, heartless, irresponsbile, yet ignorant and happy.

The Strongest Weapon Of All

2005-04-21T18:00:00.000-07:00

I just love it when people actually try to get you mad just so they can get a piece of your work dedicated to them even when it’s nothing but a sarcastic description of their dull lives. Just like getting naked in front of a famous painter for a portrait is fine but doing the same for a man whose only brush is his manhood is appalling.

These are people who can’t live without actually being trashed by their peers from time to time but they are too shy to admit their submission that they are always on the look for an excuse to get this punishment they’ve been longing for. They need a purpose.

Some call it bravery to stand facing a very strong wind ready to blow but I say this is sheer stupidity especially when you do not know how powerful this wind can get or maybe how sweet of a breeze could be sent instead to sweep you off your feet into a gentle erotic feeling you’ve never experienced before.

It’s damaging both ways…

You see a peaceful beehive on top of a tree with bees swirling around minding their own business, trying to secure a serene atmosphere, protecting their ever so loved queen and all you think of is throwing rocks at it, getting the attention of these beautiful yet fatal yellow and black striped insects in the hopes that they will finally sting you.

The bees are disturbed; they attack forming an arrow in the direction of their aggressor all with nothing but the same thought for revenge. 10 feet away from the prey, speed is increasing, sharp needles pointing forward with pre-poison leaking out bringing a deadly shine to their edges.

Ready for the kill two inches away they stop…I stop!

Enthralled by a fragrance so delicate that in one second was able to paralyze all hostile actions, the killer bees now becoming love bugs one by one and after replacing their swords slowly landed on this nicely strange aroma capturing bud, carefully smelling the tip and sucking all its magical nectar getting closer to climax with each breath I take.

My aggressor is a flower…how can I be mad

Thank You For Your Concern

2005-04-20T05:55:00.000-07:00

Your soul is not empty and he says it with such a confidence as if I’m the next door neighbor’s kid he grew up with, went to school and college with, shared uncountable packs of beer with while making passes at girls walking by looking for such an opportunity to be hit on by the two most handsome studs on the block but then see him, get scared and leave.

It’s very easy to be judgmental, without even laying an eye on him I just made him ugly and repulsive just like he decided to fill my soul only after reading a few stupid lines I once wrote on a rainy day that apparently allowed him to think he now has the right to interfere.

An injudicious comment on my wellbeing from a complete stranger trying to penetrate into my unconsciousness, clearly depicting an evil even I did not see and extending his both hands to me for a chance of a better world he thinks he only knows it exists. Thank you not.

He goes further by teaching me how all humans, all of us humans as he puts it thus immediately making himself safe as being part of a big happy group, need each other merely as a tool to get away from our lonesomeness not caring about any other negative effect that such a family-like get together might trigger on those weaker hearts.

Join us he says, talk to us man we know you’re here almost if not all the way on his knees imploring me to hear and talk to him because he and his seemingly psychologically trained mind have decided I needed to before it’s too late.

It is too late guardian angel. I am now way beyond your caring gentle almost saint reach and pull back to earth approach you oddly have for strangers and I ask you to keep your comments as shallow as my writings are without diving into the deep mysterious labyrinth I am so proud to call my brain.

Caring hearts are hard to find but easy to take.

Hit Rock Bottom

2005-04-13T15:45:00.000-07:00

There is this agony I’m feeling deep inside
It’s not willing to go no matter how I tried
I can’t seem to fight it, now I just want to hide
From this feeling for a while, just put it aside.

I just wish that some day I can forget my pride
And ask someone for help, let me out of this tide
Put me on the right track, help me take a ride
Down a safer road, where people who died
Did not regret their pass, one that was so wide
With possibilities all along wherever they stride.

I’m dying here god damn it, my hands are just so tied
I can’t move anymore I’m paralyzed deep inside
Is this God judging me because I one day lied
Or is something in my head that is making me slide

I now reached the bottom end, in hell I will be fried
You cannot help me now, nor can the virgin bride
Satan just bought my soul; he placed it on his side
I surrendered all my thoughts by his rules I now abide.

This is just not fair, I think it is too Snide
to be down that hole when on top I should reside
But I lost all my stamina, and those I hurt will deride
my now pitiful situation, feeling like a lost child.

All Around Me

2005-04-08T12:45:00.000-07:00

A picture of two kids posing in front of a camera is what I look at all day long not realizing that the world around me is changing, people are moving on and even these two youngsters are no longer what they looked like few years back inside this metallic fiberglass frame I once got at Ikea.

Through the window the harbor hides behind hideous rain strangely pouring down in this spring day where in the south of France sunshine is generally very generous at this time of year with its heat softened by the nice regular breath of a north wind called Le Mistral people first accept and later on after experience learn to appreciate.

I stop and look around wondering if anybody is working….

Fatty bitch in a midst of a phone conversation with her mom…

Heckel and Jeckel sitting face to face both concentrating each on a screen trying to figure out how to tackle today’s five messages or less but still it’s not easy serving customers and finding their hidden boxes…Sounds like a true treasure hunt this where is my box that I wonder if they have maps with X marks on them…..What a mystery!

Another mystery lies right there within the name of the cross trade department where only those who can solve the riddle of why this is a cross trade can enter this service which explains the exclusivity, privacy and seclusion of this clan who’s head has been idle there for too damn long to even remember the correct answer in the first place….What a crowd!

Fatty bitch still with mom…

Inttra is busy as it’s moving day today yet nobody started packing all taken by this sudden sadness to leave the 7th floor down one to the 6th as if being demoted. This worries even me but only because I keep on wondering who will fill this void inttra is making not that their presence made any difference….What a dull bunch!

I was wondering why global account sales are not here until I suddenly realized that I should be with them at this conference someone is giving in the auditorium about modernization of shipping and the like….What did I miss?

Tender people are quite the opposite of what their name insinuates. No soft individuals in this group all being born to kill, ready to attack, working day and night to secure a quotation for some big account client who will eventually ship around 5% of his business with us making his volume even less than any other not so big regular client each one of us have….what a waste!

Fatty bitch talking to her poor old hubby.

Behind tender, I recently noticed the existence of two or maybe three individuals sitting there in the warmth of the far end corner maybe sharing the same desk I think not knowing who put them there and why and if they do I don’t….what’s their names!

Another back up for global accounts, this time the funniest of them all, is this CIA couple not far from where I sit but far enough to not interfere in these dangerous and risky spying games that only such two brilliant minds when set together to create a small yet very effective secret service organization with an organization within an organization can accomplish…Seriously now…what do they do?

Fatty bitch now shouting at her hubby for being a bad boy…

Sitting the closest to me almost in my lap though one of them once actually did, is the crème de la crème, the very highly thought of, the mostly helpful of the many planets assistance orbiting around a big sun called Global account. I’m talking a service securing 24/7 customers assistance, after sales follow up and on a continuous search for a better service we all hope they will come to develop some day but in vain…What’s the after hours service?

Fatty bitch left for lunch at 11:30 after a very hard working morning…

A Schizophrenic Birthday Celebration

2005-04-06T16:54:00.000-07:00

On the third day of the second month of the year nineteen hundred seventy AD at precisely three o'clock of a cold morning, heavy rain and thunder led by a strong wind came to announce the great happening of an event that changed history, marked our present and will forever shape the future of mankind.

Aware or not on that very specific day, a young maiden went into what was called the most excruciating labor of all times in a hiatus of three long hours of agonizing pain and suffering after which and at the stroke of three was heard a baby's cry and a father's scream of joy "the child is born”.

The young man’s words although genuine and sincere were also erroneous as on that third at three, the born child was not alone but a well hidden unique complexity of a good a bad and a crazy third, not to the eyes of the family but to those of Freud.

A start of a new era that will eternally impinge on humanity, not equally amongst men and women with an obviously more radical sway on the latter given the well known taste and predilection of the troika immediately depicted at birth when one small hand’s first finding was the blonde nurse’s breasts.

The Good was crushed by his brothers in the aftermath of a devastating war in which all three took part. The Crazy outlived to tell the story of all stories of how his bad brother managed to get drunk all 35 guests at his 35th anniversary to which you are all cordially invited on this day of 03/02/2005!

RSVP....

Looking For Something To Do...

2005-04-05T18:50:00.000-07:00

Amazing how a Friday afternoon could be boring
You can almost listen to people actually snoring
They can’t take it anymore all this stress storing
Another week is gone and soon they will be scoring

To stay awake doll and I make fun of mop
We name him Suzy and we both think it’s top
He’s like our dog now except he doesn’t hop
And keeps on barking until we tell him to stop

We also laugh a lot at this ugly fat bitch
She thinks that she’s cute, oh that is so rich
She talks about people, calling on their glitch
She’s HD’s assistant but she's mostly his snitch

We talk politics too, we both want Syria out
Just leave my country assholes to 10000 I shout
Doll wants the same and she knows what it’s about
See she liked a Syrian once but now she’s in doubt

Now someone just gave her to do some work
I don’t know who it is but I’m sure he’s a jerk
She’s not his maid you see, she is not his clerk
And she’s not even for that going to get a perk

Now she just got busy and I ended up alone
I don’t even feel like talking on the phone
And if you didn’t see that yet from my raging tone
I REFUSE TO WORK TODAY so let this be known

So to pass this empty time and now this is true
I wrote out this small poem just for me and you
But now it’s done already and out of the blue
I’m back to where I started looking for something to do

Talk About Sex

2005-04-05T17:45:00.000-07:00

Well sex is Gender. For example you are a male, others can be females. The difference between the two is the erection.

Erection: When you wake up in the morning and there is a certain increase in the size of your penis due to a lot of pee that you have stacked there all during the night. A phenomenon a female gender does not have.

Penis: An area in a male's body right under his bellybutton, dangling between his legs and has a form of a dildo!!! Used to evacuate fluids rejected by the body, and usually comes attached with a sack containing two round shaped balls stuck to each other, hence the name "balls" for this add-on.

Dildo: An expensive device with the shape of a stick usually made of rubber for flexibility purposes but could easily be made of any other material. Comes in different sizes and colours, some with batteries to run a small built-in motor that will allow the stick to vibrate and provide better service. Used mostly but not exclusively by the female gender to insert it into their vaginas and extract pleasure!!!

Vagina: a hole between a female's legs. Has the same functions of a penis with the additional fact that it contains pleasure that can be extracted with the help of a dildo (See above)

Makes you stop and wonder that since a dildo is expensive and has the shape of a penis, why doesn't a female use a male's help to extract pleasure from her vagina by using his penis instead and save money???

Well no, they still prefer dildos!!! So go pee.

Pressure: A method penisless bosses use to extract pleasure of working away from their employees by using a dildo. Same as above with the exception that in my case the dildo is inserted in my asshole due to the non-existence of a vagina

Asshole: Bosses and vice versa.

Blog...Reason or Result

2005-04-05T16:35:00.000-07:00

The world evolves.

Everything your ancestors lived or lived for has changed. All what you see or hear will soon die out and vanish from existence only to be replaced by a state of the art substitute conveying still an identical meaning and having the exact same purpose merely altered to satisfy an equally renovated human brain.

Climbing the ladder to modernization is the process but it’s not as simple as it seems.

The utterance of this expression plainly evokes to a sane mind looking to undertake a sound approach for reaching the top safely with no broken bones that one’s foot if not both, have touched the first step, got comfortable with its environment grasping it to the fullest and taking in all its meaning before moving on to the next.

Yet when many of our grandpas’ questions remain unanswered for we still break the above stated rule of sanity changing the form to climb up the ladder simply satisfied with just surpassing the mystery that lies there on that specific step.

This reckless and foolish act though it helps us satisfy our greed and carry on our very much enticed for evolution creates an even worse dilemma with the same purpose of its unsolved original but filled with even more high-tech generated complications making the whole thing even harder to crack.

An obvious result we keep jumping over this obstacle while it keeps on growing in our way unrecognizable because of its always modern changing look we unconsciously bring it yet still unanswered until the day when it just blows up in our faces giving a stop to a useless race for evolution, breaking the chain and opening our eyes to reality.

It’s a growing wall of reality.

As is my first question Blog…reason or result to its original who’s first chicken or egg form!

Remains unanswered….