forget it

from the heart
I write my lines,
they have no art,
they carry no lies,
except for the wish
in me
that's never to be

just forget it

those who do not see
where they went
so terribly wrong,
how on earth will they,
they had never bent,
always sold their wrongs
as the solitary right as
they reaped, marched along,
protected their stance
with all their might,
shown how they're united,
strong, the delinquents,
the real cause of all the
wars will forever be defiant,
blame Tolstoy, Hori, and Rumi;
albeit their measures
o those terrible
white elephants
lost in the overdose
of blowing their trumpets,
their verbose rants

they will never be
an inch away from
their painful position
so naively staunch;
we might talk about
a shift a myriad times,
new humane methods
we may launch, but the
change in the standoffish
language they blabber
will never ever unchain
to let an alternative way
come into fruition 

The law of the world

The laws of the lands
violating since donkey’s
years
the law of the world;
the destruction hides
without shame
behind the horrendous
blame game;

safeguarding the world
should now wittingly stand
front and center;
not blunder with a
delinquent banter,
an insipid gesture
as it were, to overpower
the neighbor;

no, as 'neighbor'
is but a word,
it cannot be paged,
nor read, without
the flawless world;

all the countries, not
a handful of a kind,
should unite and band
to put at the helm
the law of the world
hitherto undiscussed,
unheard,
above all the selfish
laws of the lands;

none should exercise the
right to impair the soul
of the soil, to pollute 
the air, the pristine water, 
flora and fauna, 
the goods of the star
molested by the nincompoops,
the flibbertigibbet, the fools, 
to be tutored in a holistic, 
a well-founded school, 
notwithstanding their coo;

to not dismantle any
construction that hurts
the earth so forgiving, cool,
to be delivered as the 
sole ground rule. 

What's up?

If you're feeding the
victims with weapons,
what are you doing
my friend? Wars all
over the place, killing us
from end to end;

if you're keeping the
strife alive, when will
the monsters, the
warmongers die!

All the countries of the
world? Unable to stop
one? So powerless?
Helplessly delimited by
rules? Still listening to the
laws of the lands, when we
should obey one law, that
of the world? Can't we hear
the wailing of the soil?
The refugees, the soldiers,
and those discombobulated
stakeholders?

When our knees are
in pain, we’re biting our
elbows, in vain, all in
vain; we're unable to
unite and desist the
deadly deal;
if countries fight,
how on earth
will the world heal!

Beyond impression

I can hear her footsteps

on the stairs, in the kitchen, 

in the garden, in her bureau; 

I can listen to her, 

a hummingbird, strict

with the kids, their father, 

and the pets; 

I can smell her, 

a melange of food, 

continental and local, her 

signature trace, and 

that of Christian Dior, 

Angel of Thierry Mugler, 

Hugo Boss;

If I try hard enough, I could 

even figure her sitting beside 

me, talking to me, overlooking 

my insanity and the world of

disparity;

my eyes could ignore

the celebration of 

family pictures 

hanging on the walls.

--- yesterday ---

  

I tried to let my yesterday go,
it followed me like a shadow,
a redundant tail attached to me,
as if it were a delinquent monkey;
I had it tagged a day ago,
I have it today, for sure
I'll have it tomorrow;
its pains and pleasures,
deadly treasures
it engages me every day
beyond measures,
as if there wasn’t a today
unless it died, as yesterday.

I fail, I fall, I feel so low,
I wake up yet every day
from the daydreaming
nightmare, but the bed
of the past, with pages read
with its scarlet agonies,
those wounded hurts
that has my world torn apart,
I try to breathe, but in those
irrelevant stories, I drown,
I find myself dead.

I will keep trying nevertheless
to correct my losing deed,
I'll resurrect indeed
from yesterday's mess,
I'll win and succeed, when
my yesterday will be gone,
in my mind, I will be reborn.