Tag Archives: understanding

Political games

Let’s wrap ourselves
in these political games
Let’s call it propaganda
and throw out blames
Let’s kill more people
and say it was a mistake
Let’s celebrate the spilling of blood
with coffee and cake.

Let’s take selfies
and watch little kids die
Let’s pray for forgiveness
while we burn you alive
Let’s divide ourselves
in these small little nations
Let’s believe in God
but slaughter his creation.

TIMES UP
Now pick up your bodies
and get out of our land
Just a peaceful message
hope you understand.

Sometimes the monsters we’re trying to kill are residing inside of us. We fear weapons of mass destruction will fall into the wrong hands, but how clean are ours? We act like we’re saints while the rest of the world is filled with sinners. I wrote my first book “The City of Saints,” to show that humans will find whatever excuse they can to start a war. It could be religion, ethnicity, skin color and in this case eye color. The protagonist of my book is a ten-year-old girl, Nuha Edel, whose trapped in a war her elders have started. She’s naive, witty and smart, but innocent. I wrote the book to show that history always repeats itself. The place, time and people are different but the events taking place are the same.

The robots in my book represent the oppressors, and how they’re exactly like us, but we see them differently because that’s what we’re taught. The robots or cyborgs are programmed to kill, but humanity gets the better of them. SAM (Specialized Assassin Military-bot) says, “I have a mind of my own, but I am not allowed to think.” It’s the concept of the “OTHER” and “FRIEND AND ENEMY”. Just because someone disagrees with you they’re considered you’re enemy. Just because someone is different they’re portrayed as evil and vile.

“We fear weapons of mass destruction will fall into the wrong hands, but how clean are ours.” Why do we see others as a threat when we’re no less of a threat either? If we all want peace, then why are we fighting. Maybe because we all have our own versions of peace. Maybe because my version of peace does not align with yours. Maybe we need a common ground.

I wrote “The City of Saints,” as a way to show that history always repeats itself; the people, time, place, and events would be different, but the end result would be the same because we as humans refuse to change. We’re all quick to play the blame game, but we refuse to take responsibility. Why? Why are we like this?

Finding Happiness

Do you ever have those moments where everything that could go wrong, goes wrong? Where you’re trying so hard to understand what role you had to play in this destruction, but you can’t seem to find any. Where the sky breaks apart, and you’re just standing there wondering why things are happening the way they are. The land beneath your steps shakes like an earthquake, and you plunge straight down in the core of the earth.

Everything you stood up for comes tumbling down. All the things you did in life replay like a movie, and you’re counting every single memory wondering if you ever did anything wrong to deserve this. And you find so many flaws and loopholes in this small life of yours that you accept everything that is happening because you deserve it. Because you’re an inconvenience in a world that is supposed to be perfect. Because you’re a blemish in the face of beauty.

That’s how I feel right now. Like a huge chunk of my chest is missing, and I don’t know where it is. Like there’s a hole in my heart, and all the happiness is leaking through; I can’t seem to keep it in no matter how hard I try.

Like water, contentment is flowing through the gaps in between my fingers and no matter how hard I try to grasp it, I can’t seem to hold it in. All I have are empty palms, and I keep looking at them in hopes that they’ll miraculously be filled. But they never are.

It’s this odd feeling of emptiness that takes away so much energy. Like you’re trying to create happiness from whatever source you can, but it’s time-consuming and it’s hard. It’s like forcing a lump of coal to transform into a diamond. It’s like forcing the sun to come out at night.

It’s hard fighting this emptiness, so you give in to this feeling of despair because the war you’re fighting isn’t worth the damage. But the most ironic thing is that no matter how hard you try to avoid being injured, you end up with wounds so deep that no salve can cure them. The war you’re trying to avoid is forcibly kissing you on the lips.

I guess life has a way of dragging you back to the starting point. Maybe because the road you were taking wasn’t yours to take. Maybe the victory you dreamt of wasn’t in your destiny. Maybe your whole direction was wrong, and life is trying to point you to a path that has your name written on it.

But we’re stubborn. We refuse to see what we can’t comprehend. Sometimes the only thing we can do is have faith. Have hope. Believe. Happiness is like a butterfly. The more you run after it, the more it’ll fly away. Just stay still. Be calm, and happiness will come to you, and it will settle down in between your palms on its own.

Photo by Murilo Folgosi from PexelsCopy

You will never be like her…

She’s a garden of solace
with roses as sweet as honey
but you will never be like her.

She’s the ecstasy of desire
with blind intoxication
but you will never be like her.

She’s the warm breeze
among harsh winds of winter
but you will never be like her.

She has the treasures of knowledge
the mind of a genius
but you will never be like her.

She has the perfect lips
that warriors would fight for
but you will never be like her.

She is the brightness of the sun
casting rays of hope
but you will never be like her.

She has the confidence
of a thousand knights- ready for war
but you will never be like her.

She’s an image of perfection.
A wish. A want.
But you will never be like her.
Never.
Ever.

Look in the mirror
and you will see a worn-out dream
layered in residues of storms and gales
you’ll see a monster with skin
as old as time
and hair as wrenched
as the erupting volcanoes
you will see wounds smothered in darkness
and smiles as fake as blackened hearts.

Darling
you are not her
and you will never be.

She is the crescent moon
and you are a blemish.
She is the purity of the ocean
and you are a stain.

But love, It is okay.
It is alright. You don’t need to compare
your rays to someone else’s light.

Your imperfections are making you stronger.
But what I don’t understand
is that in a world where you can be anything
why would you want to be her?

Photo by Chait Goli from Pexels