Observation of a lost soul Blog

Notebook #25

observationofalostsoul — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 01:30:11 +0000

Brandy …coffee…a chandelier…breaking light…shattering the inner rainbow in me..in you…your body…a suitcase…carry me in it..live in your hotel.

Notebook #24

observationofalostsoul — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 03:37:47 +0000

A musician and his only fan is a farm dog…a farm dog…seriously a farm dog…what a town … A musical Sahara

#Notebook #23

observationofalostsoul — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 16:55:45 +0000

A snow flake dropped into my eyes and clouded my vision for a few seconds.. i was lost in my own street for a few seconds.. i passed my door and didnt know i did…i ended up knocking on the neighbors door..

#Notebook #22

observationofalostsoul — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 06:20:25 +0000

There is a forever… id close my eyes and listen to ur voice on repeat and time would stop..freeze..pause..and the only voice would be yours.. and at that moment in between the letters and the comma or the period and the next line…lies forever

#Notebook #21

observationofalostsoul — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 06:25:34 +0000

Figure-less silhouettes enter the cafe.some with foggy glasses and thick coats..the arctic ice meeting the internal inferno..hold my hand cries a patron after she slipped over a step and was on the edge of falling face down on the wooden floor. Silent business transactions taking place around him…sounds..noises..shouts and laughter..but his eyes are fixed on the poster..one poster..the over-exposed image of Marilyn Monroe..her silhouette covered on black fabric..velvet or jersey..asymmetrical..a smile..was she really happy or just faking it in front of the world..how cruel was the world to her..cut her into bits and pieces..shredded female on the face of flashing bulbs and cannibals in coats.

#Notebook #20

observationofalostsoul — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 07:01:54 +0000

من كان يصدق أن عمرالذاكرة أطول من عمرالجرح؟

Ghada Samman

On an uncharted sea..the sea demon lead the way..the blind man followed…no stick in his hand.. and his eyes are as white as snow.

Two of the strings are cut..one is left..will it be cut..or will the crazy scissor stop ?

Can we name the stars after our miseries…insecurities..disasters..back-stabbers…enemies and fake friends.. and wish that the stars would burn .. in a dance around the fire.. a fire of anger.. pain and a cry for solitude.. a 7 year solitude.. a hermit in the mountain.. thou shalt find peace.. said the burning bush… the bush burnt and nothing happened.

#Notebook #19

observationofalostsoul — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 03:57:44 +0000

A madman on the sea of tranquility…that who I was… a pariah.. a man … a fragmented human being…a shell of my former self..who fell from grace.. My name is Adam and this is my story..

Would you like this opening sentence?

#Notebook #18

observationofalostsoul — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 06:27:36 +0000

Is the question.. who are you.. or is it what are you?

An eternal question bordering on the fourth dimension

What is your guilty pleasure? Britney Spears..Spice Girls…Back street boys… Chick Flixs…tell me …confess…whisper into the confessional

Allen Ginsberg once said the best education is done in bed… do you agree with him??

I wanna be published… i realy do.. I am not kidding.. i wanna see my words in print..in a paper form.. i wanna write and write … i dont want to stop… do you think I will succeed.

#Notebook #17

observationofalostsoul — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 04:08:48 +0000

She was laying on her bed ..white sheets..purple cover…huge turquoise pillows…her white Macbook on the bed…colurful toenail…cloudy weather…an English evening…her headscarf next to her…more like neatly on night stand..she liked the vintage italian silk scarf she got …down at Portobello Rd…the one with the green and beige and some brown patterns..an abstract yet well-tended garden…

Will he answer…message..ping…do anything…who is he..what is he…where is he from…just some numbers and letters..a stranger from the cyber world..but he is never creepy..maybe curious..inquisitive..a bit flirty..nothing harmful i suppose…he never knocked on the door..he barged in..but one can only smile..

Maybe he completes my sentences..thoughts..ideas..share moments..build bridges..grow hope..shelter a candle in the wind..take me away…away from reality…from bitterness and from pain….

She closed her eyes…

A message

She looked philosophical almost merry, twenty feet of chiffon scarf flung over one shoulder….she looked a beauty in a tempest…not any tempest…but a tempest of the heart.

She re-read it…

Sigh she whispered and left the room.

Notebook #16

observationofalostsoul — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 02:53:18 +0000

Why are your women always undressed or lounging on the bed ?

I never thought of that before. Maybe liberate them from a bondage..release their inner self. Make them one with the world.

She disrobed at midnight..black silk robe..huge magnolias on the back of it..magestic..regal…inviting..lounging over her red bed sheets..

He sat there, smoking a mahagony pipe..filled with aromatic tobacco..a slight vanilla..something relaxing, yet inviting…reading her poetry..Keats Ode to an Urn …or was it Salt or maybe Pepper..it was something she never heard before..she wanted some Blake…but that did not happen today.

His voice enveloping her..the flowery wallpaper..the striped couch he sits on…the crystal chandelier hanging from the 6 ft ceiling…her room..her kingdom…her private space..her fragile bubble…the private weekly audience ..worthy of a queen

Would you like some cream tea? Night is young, and tonight’s selection are done..rising from the bed..striding to the chair..tea is ready..a bite or two from a freshly baked biscuit..hold the cream..I’m rather fond of my waist…

He ate in silence..only their eyes spoke..in a language seldom spoken..of admiration and respect..

He stood up..bid her goodnight…she stood at the door clutching her robe against her breasts and closing the door with her right arm.