Future looks at you from windows
What makes future smile but eyes,
Like the eagle while the prey it follows,
And a cheerful mouth who smiles;

Storms will come tomorrow
And there will be tears;
Sick minds reign and fears,
The sour taste of sorrow .. تابع / more »

The start of the end, I thought. Like a flowering tree in a storm I was; the flowers fell and I was unable to express my feeling. I vomited it. I squeezed my eyes. Rivers gushed out, watering my dry and solid soul. A dancing music from within woke up the sad rhythm of my symphony. It saturated the foggy atmosphere of the room, where a vivid colony of ants went on bursting tears and hallucinating; mourning the loss of the Queen. .. تابع / more »

Into my dim and innocent chamber, she entered, without knocking. Even she didn’t speak one single word with me. She didn’t recognize my presence, but just came in! I didn’t care. I considered her not a whore, although every filthy detail suggested that. Who cares? She stayed there for a while and thoughts began to boil in my mind. Who is she? Where did she come from? Why did she come to me? O forget that! .. تابع / more »

After sunset, I sat down on the non-weaping rocks of the shore, looking into the deep, dark, and silent waters of the sea, seeing nothing but myself. I turned my eyes up unto the end of the horizon, I viewed the phantom of unexistence; no ships, no color, but only nothingness. Everything was dead; the light, the wind, and the waves. I tasted the flavor of harmony within my soul. .. تابع / more »

I haven’t been sleeping for 5 days. I came back home. I was dreadfully hungry. As soon as I entered the kitchen, I didnt find the piece of cheese I left on the table 5 days ago. But she was there beside the plate, standing carelessly, and staring at me. I looked in her eyes. She trembled. I could see that in her gestures. Who ate it? Nobody answered. I repeated the question. It was stunning. She licked her lips. Round the table she went, pretending not to hear me. .. تابع / more »

When insanity becomes a hobby,
When people get drunk on water,
When the white pigeon becomes the slogan of wars,
When vice strips herself and walk naked on streets,
When coyness stands on roof tops and announces it’s atheism,
When principles go back on it’s words,
When innocence becomes a suspect,
When freedom is imprisoned,
When words lose it’s meanings,
When death retires from preaching,
When love loses it’s sight,
etc …

To whom shall I write?
I will write to my mad cat !!
Oh! I forgot to say: When writers write to their mad cats.