Tag Archives: life

Observations of a fragmented flight

He is back again to the east of his youth.. The giant hollow metallic bird landed at the end. It crossed endless miles, nine time zones, more than three dozen countries and culture, a barrier of languages, customs and stories.

The flight, one of those saturated with babies in diapers waiting to be changed in the bathroom. One of those flights that echo with the shouts and wails of youngsters craving attention or a candy. One of those flights were alcohol is consumed in abundance by those who are said to be religious.

One of those flights were flight hostesses strut in the aisles like models carrying the latest gadgets from Tokyo, the latest perfumes from Paris and the finest cigars from Cuba. A decadent capitalist flight.

A dog eared book ; Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar; a sordid tale about 6 months in a twenty something girl’s life in the Big Apple .. his only companion other than the unpleasant forced company of a chatterbox that took the form of an obese sweaty man that recited 400 words a minute.. a human miracle.

The food was mediocre at best.. bland, pre-packaged .. picked up from various international markets.. bite size food.. never finger food; enough to feel that you are chewing on a piece of processed meat or proteins.

Yet, he is home. Home is where the heart is or so they say.

He was away from home for years, by choice never by force. A solitary man up in the mountain of love , peace and understanding. A world of oneness .. a facade.. an escape from the horrors of reality, war, death and the big bad wolf.

It was a life secluded and delicate like a fine bone china teacup.. eternal and fragile. Life among books, letters, music and hope made him a hopeless case of a human being.. a chaotic romantic.. a cynic and a drunkard on the nectar of life.

Yet, here he is. Among the past. His favorite card in a tarot deck is death.. the call to cut those pieces in you that hinder progress.. that call you to play in the playgrounds of the past.. among the relics and ruins of childhood. How can he restrain from running into that?

The non smoking sign is still turned on. A large red sign staring at him from the ceiling. Agitations run in him.. shivers of withdrawal.

“Welcome home.” said the mass of fat sitting next to him.

“ Thanks. Same to you”.

The passengers are in line.. prisoners awaiting the call of freedom.. the cries of children, the sweat, the smell, humidity and the heat from the rubbing of bodies on starched carpet.

The line is moving slowly toward the exit.. slowly.. each step closer to the light.. closer to the ladder… away from any snakes. Smiles being exchanged among strangers.. brethren for a few hours.. strangers for eternity.

The light is just a few steps away.. one step closer to salvation among the heathens. The last farewell from oriental hostess.. a Greek plane captain.. his Scottish co-pilot that reminded him of Moby Dick.. and finally the exit.. five steel steps.. and a flood light on those steps.

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Another Eid

Another eid , another river of blood, another slaughter. Another eid, another celebration, another sacrifice and yet another sacrilege. The sacred and the profane. The ebb and flow of the human race. The cry of death from the east, yet tender bones are being crushed.

Another eid, another shouts ..cries..cemeteries drapped in black , red, white, doves, bits and pieces of used to be homo sapiens.

Another day .. the spectre of death ploughing the land of the living .. welcome to Hades..join us on the river Styx.

The sun stopped rising many fortnights ago, the eyes of him red as spinel embedded in his black skull..the fire in his eyes and his machines …sprouting …blazing …burning ..stopping at none

Yet in death may they find the joy of life ..bodies intertwined ..inseparable..entangled on a journey of burned self discovery.

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Fragment #2 The Wall

Rain rain rain
Pouring down, knocking on my door
Surrounding those who left
Those who refused to come in from the cold.

The strangers who left that morning
They ran under sheets of rain
Ran to the wall for their meeting

Me.. the only one left behind
The burden of waiting
The burden of time
Aging till the wall calls me

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Sad Reality

The genocide of a nation is a statistic … The death of one man is a national tragedy. #story #sadthough #reality

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Life

Life_____
In the fast lane
eye blink speed
One day you are on all four
Another day on two
The next day you are wheeled around

Sega
Nintendo
PlayStation
iPod
iPhone
iPad
iNeverRead
iAmNothing
iMustDie

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