Beirut - The Last time I Saw You

Even as
you fiddled with your phone and
avoided my eyes

Even as
you sat stiff on the edge of the chair and
didn't touch me

Even as
you swore you wanted to stay with me but
had to go

Even as
I hugged you with trembling arms and
you walked away

Even as
you looked away from me as
the taxi drove off

Even as
my mind screamed in protest and
my logic
squirmed in agony

Even as
my intelligence was questioned and
my sanity
was discussed

Even as
my eyes turned red
and my soul
shattered

Even as
Faith itself thought me a fool
and Fortune
laughed

I believed u loved me.

Bonfire

Bonfire

throw in shame
shame does not scream -
no
it only moans

loneliness?
loneliness isolates
each flame
to devour itself

anger?
anger spits
flashes, fumes
and perishes in a hiss

hurt?
hurt, oh how it endures
suffers
and slowly deteoriates

despair?
it gives in
quick
and chokes

loss?
it blazes
brightly then
disappears

worry?
it unfurls into
a giant balloon
and busts

hatred?
it burns
in scorches
then suffocates

and if i toss in love ?
love does not burn the fire
and the fire
does not burn love

Okay, so I sent this chain letter thing to 22 of my friends and I was supposed to get my wish today. According to the chain letter, your wish is granted 72 hours after you send the letter. It has been 73 hours and (surprise?) no wish. I even threw in an extra hour before I threw in the towel. Where does that expression come from? Throwing in the towel? I guess it means you are done with something, but I guess it would have to something to do with water-- a bath, a shower, swimming?

I don't feel like googling it. Google and I are not on speaking terms nowadays.

On the topic of these chain letter things (which I usually don't send because I don't live in la la land but god, I wish I did) what is up with all the people of FB who enter numbers or words to see a picture change? I mean, these pictures get tens of thousands of hits. I feel sorry for the people who do it. I feel like their names are being gathered into a database to track stupid humans.

Super grumpy today. Deprived of regular human contact and food. How much longer can this go on? I should sprout wings soon and ascend to heaven.

But even heaven
in all its glory,
still seems to me
a little boring.

Last lines of a poem I wrote a long time ago.

I still think about my friend in Syria. We are also not on speaking terms- no drama- it all ended with "not a bang, but a whimper". I guess that is the only way to end a thing like that, which I so don't want to get into here but have alluded to before. I have written enough about him. He was my muse, I suppose. I don't need a muse anymore, I can a muse myself.

would you have loved me ?

if i hadn't spent days in the sun
with my mouth open, drinking heat-

would you have loved me ?

if i hadn't spent nights under the moon
with my heart open, bathing love-

would you have loved me ?

if i had sewn my mouth shut
in jagged lines
with black thread

if i had sewn my vagina shut
in jagged lines
with black thread

would you have loved me ?

if i had sewn my ears
my eyes and my brain
and my heart
in jagged lines
with that same black thread

would you have loved me ?

if i had wrapped myself
in black fabrics made of black threads

would you have loved me ?

it is no matter my love

i need the sun
crave the moon
and cannot sew

and need myself
more than you

A love poem

I could tell you how you moved me to tears, and you did

Or how my heart beat fast at your words, and it did
Or how I have wished for a poet like you, and I have
For months, I have looked for you-

for that large stature made majestic since houses your big heart –

the heart of poet -

For months I have wondered if I deceived myself –

making mosaics from broken pieces

of my own mirror-

For months I have mourned for you –
for words bulging, with innuendos and lust—
for nights overflowing, with lust and passion –

I wondered why I didn’t tell you I loved you as we lay there –

even though I knew you wanted to hear it-

and I wanted to say it

I wondered why I couldn’t find a trace of you in anyone else –
with just one smidgen of your spirit,
one touch of your soul,
or one-tenth of your heart-

Was it an instant recognition of another poet that moved me ?

Was it the way you moved,

the way you talked,

the way you held me ?

Was it that I have missed you all my life ?

A man who knows the way to a woman’s heart

is the simple act of lying in her lap

and falling asleep like a child –

A man who  knows that a woman wants to feel passion

that is greater than just her sex –

A man who knows that a woman weaves webs as she loves - 

so she can roam free within gossamers of her own design -

Finally -- to write in stanzas to a man who can read the lines

and even between them -

To love in rhyming

and seduce in metaphors

and lust in alliteration –

To believe in life again--

in the divine,

in the mundane--

To believe in magic again.

My chest is heavy to hold you, my love

Pride

Hungry for love,
I eat what you have left me -
like a hungry child who was sent to bed
without food -
who scurries under the dining table to find
a tiny morsel to wet her lips -

Hungry for love,
I swallow the tiny pieces whole-
and wish pieces would satiate me
my belly grumbles-
I am too ravenous for crumbs
but too proud to beg for more -

pride is a lonely place for a woman -
a woman
should
laugh at insult
smile at despair
love at nothing

My heart -
broken
for a million years
entered thousands of temples
that were only
stables dressed as temples

My eyes -
tearing
for a million years
etched a revine on a face
that was only
masked in stone

Hungry for love,
I remain a proud woman -
and all I taste are
the feelings I swallowed -
bitter sour tablespoons
dried of syrup

Hungry for love,
I stand with my crown -
although it
claws my head with thorns-
wraps my body with vines
holds my heart in a vice

Too proud to be freed.

My Epic of Sadness

I sit writing words into a space that does not know space, singing songs to men who have plugged their ears-

So easily enchanted by the promise of love,
I have either surrendered myself too quickly or played coy when I was ardent -

So is the deception I have placed over my own eyes.
Like a scarf made of the most brilliant colors, the softest silk and the most enchanting fragrance -

So is the deception I have planted in my own ears.
Listening to music made from echoes and poetry written for the daughters of kings -

So is the deception I have voiced from my own throat.
The croaking of a poet wanting to be loved but whose voice repels the very one she calls-

A siren would never know my sorrows.

I have loved in vain -- the most vain act a human can perform --  but I will not allow shame to burrow into my breast -

Shame belongs to those who do not love but only give the appearance of love-

My heart is pure and my conscience is clear -

My love does inspire stanzas written from a man's heart, strewn with rhymes about my lips and my eyes and kindled by my spirit -

But even if those verses never come- from any man's heart-- I am whole.

I will twist myself in the love of universe, mouth open- drinking stars, ears open- hearing silence, eyes open- seeing light-

If I am silent, quiet, and see only light, how can another injure me?

http://allpoetry.com/poem/8526799-The_Epic_Of_Sadness-by-Nizar_Qabbani












    

Free Fallin'

I am on the Paleo-diet. The cave-man diet. Thus deprived of sugar (and sex, but that's another topic entirely and not really part of the diet because I am pretty sure cavemen and women had a lot of really hot sex after the hair dragging) I am not in a particulary good mood.

I have not had a trace of sugar, including fruits or even bread, for about 4 days. I have not had a trace of sex, including kissing or even handholding, for -- well, months.

All I really want to do is club people but who lets us do that this day and age? Yes, most of them are male but there are some women I wouldn't mind hurting.

I want to do my own kind of clubbing. No music required. Just blunt objects.

I am a ray of sunshine.

Smudge

From the day when we were gods

I accepted your invitation and pretended
that I was that girl, the one who could part her legs
without blinking an eyelash
-a girl with a steely heart
-a girl who smirks at promises
-a girl who turns heads but scorns hearts

I wanted to be that girl, the one you said
would quicken your pulse and feed your lust
I wanted to be that girl, the one you said
you would drain until she was dry

But my desire grew rivers and you dried
like the desert.
Your footsteps in the sand (the sand you hate) do not even
dignify me by trailing away-
Even those blew away at the first sign of my tears.

I remember the 4 inch heels
I wore that night when I tried to face you squarely.

You pushed me up against the wall, in passion--
I look at up the smudge of eyeliner, rouge, blush-
and remember
the night I was a goddess
and remember
and that you remain a god

I stumble on your poems
and I realize that it is not that you do not feel
it is that you do not feel
for me

Message in a Bloggle

Google looms before me, smirking, and demands: "With most of the knowledge in the entire world at your fingertips, what do you choose to read about?"

Sometimes, I close the browser-- you see, Google's smirk is too big and my fingers tremble at the challenge.  Other times, I venture in with my thoughts- my heart on my sleeve.  I look for reassurance.  I look for connections. I look for wisdom. Seldom found, but always coveted. With Google, I am vulnerable even though I am scared.

Here I am, writing to you. I call it my message in a bloggle-- a mix of a blog and a bottle. A modern day attempt at finding a connection in the online ocean. If it lands at your feet, do you read it? I have been read before and those thoughts have been used against me. I will never stop trying to be understood, and even loved, in this vastness.

My dearest friend is in Syria. More than my friend, a soul mate. He told me yesterday that he almost died at a checkpoint from gunfire. The tears didn't stop.

I didn't tell anyone but you.

Small Furry Animals and Rod Stewart

I attached a small furry animal to my head yesterday at the salon. I am in Dubai-- and when in Rome.

No longer the girl with the short hair. I am the girl with the small furry animal glued to her head. Sounds almost as sexy as the girl with the dragon tattoo. Feels almost as sexy too.

I should have known better than to Skype my brother this morning in the States-- he is dead honest and spent more time laughing at me than talking. He was the first non-salon person to see me. Not a good start.

My brother told I looked like Rod Stewart-- referring to this:


 I looked like this when I woke up this morning. Joy.

My brother cruely asked me to shake my head and took a screenshot of me to laugh over later with his wife. I am sure that picture emphasizes the newly keratin-ed straight bangs on the top of my head and the curly animal below.

I wet the small animal and the top of my head, tied it back, and carefully placed my sunglasses on the top of my head to hide the plugs. Life is good my friends.

So if you see a small animal burrowing out from my head, don't worry, that is just my hair. I wish I could say the glue damaged my brain but I made the decision pre-glue.

You see, I haven't mentioned my weight or lack of a soul mate because I made myself a new problem. This is the key to happiness. Distract yourself with self-inflicted issues to subtract from the issues you have little to no control over (like a slow metabolism and a bunch of unenlightened men).

Genius, no ?

Shedding Self-Consciousness and Counting Blessings

***Trying to shed the shade of self-consciousness that comes with an awareness that at least 2 people read by blog.

I had a grand meeting scheduled with some angel investors who were ***interested in my idea for digital fashion accessories and the patent I filed. Worked myself into a frenzy for the meeting-- albeit unconsciously because my conscious mind rises above such frivolity-- but I lost the opportunity because I left my place too late. (Yes, there was a traffic jam on the highway because of a disabled vehicle and I had built in an extra half hour travel time, but I still didn't leave soon enough. If I had really cared, I would have camped out in front of their building at 2am the night before. It's not like there aren't tents in Dubai and I would not freeze.)

If I were a guru, which I certainly am not, I would say that I was self-sabatoging. How I hate this idea of self-sabatoge. If I were so good at sabotoging, wouldn't I be able to sabotage my attempts at self-sabotage? Think about it.

So what is secure in my life ? What have I been successful in securing?

My own bed.
My own cigarettes.
A big butt.
Numerous ex boyfriends.
Stalkers.

Wow. Counting my blessings outloud like that has really shown me the silver lining.

Overlapping Happiness via Venn Diagram

What is my secret, you may ask-- ? Stay tuned.

****interested : 1.defined loosely as the way investors act when you are passionate about something and then think maybe you are smart enough to not get totally excited about a completely dumb ass idea but they are not really sure-- 2. imagine you naked

If I had an anti-gravity bra, I would be happy

Woke up this morning thinking about anti-gravity bras. Hello tech people. Do something useful for God's sake. The moon is nice and all but what about boobs on earth? As usual, the man neglects the girl at home.

Not in a better mood today.

Had weird dreams about the blisters on the back of my feet being so much worse because of my smoking. Doctor said so in my dream. For those of you who would agree with this, please get a life. I just need better sneakers. And I need to quit smoking.  Unrelated.

I have a long email I used to write to myself. I called it "Letters of Unrequited Love". I still have it. I tore parts of it out for my novel that is: a-not being read-- b-not being liked-- c-so brilliant that everyone is speechless. I like to go with "c".

When I get to be in a better mood, I will be sure not to write. Aren't you lucky?

Bitter Fat Tired Old Bad Mood

I have a massive splitting headache. I don't know why. I had my daily intake of caffeine, sugar, and tobacco. For those of you who don't touch any of those things, or even just one of them, get off your high horse. I am happy for you -- so be happy for me.

In a really crappy mood, in case you didn't notice. So don't mess with me.

One of my friends recently irritated me with a post on facebook. Sometimes, I truly wish there was a dislike button.

She posted a pic of an outline of two women. The first was a thin female figure filled in with carrots, oranges, lettuce, and other vegetables and fruits. The second was a fat female figure filled in with donuts, cakes, bread, butter, and other carbs. Caption was something like -- 'you are what you eat' or 'put down that donut, fatty' or 'look at me, im skinny'--  or something. I obviously don't remember the caption. The image is burned in my memory because it irritated the hell out of me. No, I am not a fat girl. I am not a thin girl either, but I can tell you that I could eat only fruits and vegetables for the next 20 years and I may lose 2 pounds -- and I exercise daily, really exercise daily with sweat running down my body. Some of us are not meant to be thin because we have thyroid disorders and our metabolisms don't burn fat. I don't want to hear about how I eat junky food because the truth is, I don't -- not any more than some of you very skinny girls. I have seen you thin girls wolf down plates full of pasta, cakes, and chocolate and then complain if you gain a few pounds in a year. If I ate like that for one day, I would gain that few pounds over the next few hours.

All true.

I do like my curves but I don't like how the camera makes me look bigger. Why are cameras like this? Shouldn't there just be a setting in a camera to automatically reduce a person's size by 10 pounds?? With all of this technology, why has this not been done yet? Do something useful tech people. I am tired of technology just driving web pages. I don't want a better screen on my computer or a better iPhone. I want an honest camera.

What else?

I got a massage yesterday and went to two yoga classes but still manage to spew venom the next morning. Am I desperately unhappy or unhappily desperate? I think both.

Whoever planted that car bomb in Beirut should be shot. I hate you Beirut-car-bomber.

I love the lyrics to Temptation, the song by New Order -- one of my all-time favorite bands.

Here they are -- you can hum along : (or I can)

A heaven, a gateway, a hope
Just like a feeling inside, it's no joke
And though it hurts me to treat you this way
Betrayed by words, I'd never heard, too hard to say
Up, down, turn around
Please don't let me hit the ground
Tonight I think I'll walk alone
I'll find my soul as I go home

Each way I turn, I know I'll always try
To break this circle that's been placed around me
From time to time, I find I've lost some need
That was urgent to myself, I do believe
Up, down, turn around
Please don't let me hit the ground
Tonight I think I'll walk alone
I'll find my soul as I go home

Oh, you've got green eyes
Oh, you've got blue eyes
Oh, you've got grey eyes

And I've never seen anyone quite like you before
No, I've never met anyone quite like you before
Bolts from above hit the people down below
People in this world, we have no place to go
Oh, it's the last time
Oh, I've never met anyone quite like you before
Oh no, I've never met anyone quite like you before

[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/n/new+order/temptation_20099921.html ]

So I mentioned how I am looking for a divine mate. Do I really believe in that stuff? I know I do believe that some people probably have more than one. Chances are, someone took mine. He is probably in the sack with her right now.

Being facetious, I think.

It just seems that I have never known the feeling of mutual love. Someone who adores me equally to how I adore him. Am I doomed not to know it ? I want to balance this equation. Since we are on the topic of the unrequited -- let me ask you (myself) the following questions:

Q-What do you do when you feel someone wants more from you than you are willing to give? Do you hang around and absorb all of their love and admiration into your ego or do you let go ?

A-You let go --

Q-Is there another option?

A- I do not think so. The relationship becomes toxic. Simply, the love/admiration, if not returned, goes awry, disrupting equality.

So, this is how I have loved, my whole life -- unequally. Either I adore, or I am adored, but I have never know the feeling of mutual adoration. I don't know how it feels to look all gooey-eyed at someone and have them look the same way back at me.

It's what I want folks. Shoot me.

I wrote my novel with conceptions about how love should feel. Love kicked, love judged, love hated, love criticized. By the end of writing my novel, I realized all of those things were not love at all. Love was compassionate. Love was freedom. Love was beauty. Love was happiness. Love, well it just loved.

I am still looking for that love. For that divine mate who will be mine and I will be his. Someone who does not demand me to be someone I am not and someone who I do not want to change. Someone who loves me for who I am and someone I love for who they are. Someone who is kind, compassionate, soulful, intelligent, funny and sexy. Someone who responds to every part of me without judgment. Someone who will play with me and let me play with him but not in a mean-spirited way, but in a child-like way that allows our spirits freedom from the adult world-- from what is expected of our expectations, from what is hoped for our hopes, from what is deemed worthy of our worth.

I wonder if I will find it. I think it would be just that I do. After all, I have been so very patient. I know the Universe responds to patience and to faith. I have both even though I get sidetracked from time to time, mistaking loneliness for permanent exile and un-ending despair. I am sure you all know what I mean (all 0 of you) reading my blog. It doesn't stop me from writing. In my world, trees that fall in the forest are heard, even if no one is there to hear it.

Why are you blogging, Rima ? (Answering my own question w zeal.)

At the risk of alienating most of my audience (all 0 of you), I started this blog for cold hard cash. Yes, you read that right. I don't have a political platform. I don't really care much about the fate of the environment. I don't even really know my history that well and don't ask me to find Slovenia on a map. I don't even like money that much but the truth is, I just really need it.

I couldn't care less if you like me or hate me. I have learned to like myself enough not to care.

So, the deal is that I have to blog for a few months to be paid for my blogging. If I am going to bore you with this blog -- if anyone actually even reads it-- which I doubt-- I may as well not bore you. Yes, I am going to be considerate of my audience but not because you want me to but because it is my nature.

See how lucky you are ?

So I had this harebrained scheme to move to Dubai thinking that the big buildings would shield me from myself. It turns out all they do is shield me from the much-needed wind under the hot blazing sun. A lot has happened since I have moved here-- most of it pleasant in an objective sense-- but very unpleasant in a subjective sense. More to come... I suppose inspiration has to strike me but I can write just as well without any, which you have probably just figured out.