Damn it’s been so long!

Maybe my skills are gone.

Maybe my mind’s gone dumb.

Maybe the future’s done.


But man, I haven’t tried.

But what is it to try?

I’ve fucking tried to try;

To try to try to try…


Maybe I ain’t built for that –

Pushing, I get pushed down

And just fall down flat.


It’s time to learn the lute

To strive less and shoot

Not far for the stars or moon

But for my mind; to get in tune


With now.



لا مكان للخوف وكبت الشوق

فالحياة منادية تلبية غائبة

a free man

some say he’s a smoocher ‘cause in their culture

only the lazy don’t work for money

and only the crazy have no home.

but others who’ve chosen to keep their minds open

see a saint who shares wisdom with all;

a free spirit not afraid to fall.


Bloudan (2010) بلودان

Two milky mountains rise above

These peaceful little towns,

And to the left it seems as if

Snow floats above the clouds;

As if a wise man stands on guard

Whose whitened hair extends

Down from the clear blue sky, down from

His proud head that ascends

Nine thousand feet into the air,

And just a little more

Away from two majestic lands

Of bloody strife and war.

I feel this scene’s serenity

And wonder silently-

What do the war-torn villagers

Across these ridges see?

A chain of graceful, virgin peaks

To gaze at and adore?

Or cold, strategic battlegrounds

For settling their scores?


يعلو جبلان من اللبن فوق هذه الضيعات الهادئة

وعلى اليسارتطفو الثلوج فوق الغيوم

كأن شيخاً ينهض واقفاً وحارساً

وشعره المُبيَضُّ ينحدر من السماء الزرقاء الصافية،

من رأسه الفاخر الذي يرتقي تسعة آلاف قدما في الهواء

فوق أرضين من المجد لطّختهما دماء الفتنة والحرب.

أحسُّ بسكون هذا المشهد وأتساءلُ

ماذا يرى أهالي القرى ما بعد هذه الجبال؟

سلسلةً من القمم العذراء والبهية؟

أم ساحاتٍ للقتال, باردةً واستراتيجية؟