They were all around me

willing to fix me

they covered my cracks

with recited promises

they convinced me that

life is supposed to be hard

it must be your fault, they said

for your frantic look

is not listed in our book

Hushhhhhh, they whispered

bleed in silence

don’t dare to break the grid

don’t shake the eyes open

your pain is to be tamed, they decided

with another promise here

and a cushion there

they handed me the camouflage suit

passed down through generations

a tradition they were proud of

when you wear it, they assured me

all shall vanish

the nudges, the confusion, the swollen tumors and the buried pain

I trusted them

The suit wasn’t my size

my body shrunk to fit I couldn’t breath

I rehearsed their words

“life is supposed to be hard”

I looked at life through their vision

and numbed my eye

their sun looked different

pale and cold it needed a sun

there were no swaying trees

no lady bugs

no sacred liquid no luscious hives no orbs

I now know

where they come from

my voice betrayed me

or did I betray my voice

hands shaking, I took off the suit

in fear in rage I couldn’t tell

I ran


wild and raw

towards the wilderness

where witches salute my aroma

where silence

is the opposite of absence

I shed tears

burning tears

but the many sunrises ahead

were pulling me I couldn’t resist the light

I am I am

I declared

to Existence

celebrating the return of my voice

I gave birth to a new star

M. R.

Futile Bargain 

The distance between us is paved with pretending.

We step towards each other slowly, on the expense of losing parts of ourselves with every step.

Only to discover while arriving that we entirely turned into shadows in the full-of-denial-quest.

And that we couldn’t give what we no longer have.

Compromising is dangerous.

It’s Raining Parts of Me

And I mourned, let not the rotten watch my fall, for they’ll hang oranments on doors.

And I mourned, 

the eclipse of buried dreams..

the places I’ll never go..

the lips I’ll never kiss..

And I wept,

what never was..

the yearning for the never-ridden star, and never-started fire..

the longing for the unwritten poetry, and the unwhittled hunger..

Oh soul behold! 

Let the sorrow in, but not despair..

for water no more absorbs salt..

and seeds ache for ripeness elsewhere.

Growing Crazier..

And then you realize, that growing up has nothing to do with living in the mind, with stiff face muscles. It’s all about enjoying your craziness, every bit of it, to dive in your own depth, and develop your intelligence. Growing up; is to be a child once again.


Don’ts And Do’s For Men.

By Majd Radwan


I’m a defiant spirit, unruly and hard to handle, rebellious fire against all parrot-like behaviors.
The words system, authority, control (and sometimes sharing) make me nauseated and alienated. I may look normal, but if you stare long enough in my eyes you’ll get burnt. Don’t try to tame me with boring normal rules. What makes me furious or content is hidden in the last sources you’d expect.
You get to choose to stay around my storms or leave peacefully to your favorite comfort zone.
If you expect the below list to include words such as love me, hold me, I need you, I’m sensitive, don’t make me cry, then you live on Earth and I on Mercury.
* Don’t bring me half-dead innocent flowers. Let’s just sit on a bench outside, contemplate the same flowers swaying lively with breeze. Now this is romantic.
* Don’t hush me if my voice helplessly rose. Get your soul closer and never say a word. It’s all about the distance between our souls.
* Don’t buy me lingerie on special occasions, for you’ll be only gifting yourself. Bring me your true self, with few warmhearted words, and your name on it.
* Don’t seek perfection with me, it’s boring. I’d rather spend the night talking and laughing about our small and big flaws than worshiping our ultimate achievements.
* Don’t tell me you feel I’m too much for you… for that will make you not as much for me. Seek my empathy, not my pity. Remember: you’re my man.
* Don’t frame me with adjectives such as delicate and romantic, for wilderness and wildness are my two main hidden characters that may make a glowing rainbow of me. Dig in deeper.
* Don’t take off your clothes in front of me on purpose… the intention to act sexy without spontaneity is not sexy at all.
* Don’t sit in the very same room with me because you have to sit in the very same room with me. Go find your passion. Follow it. There is no rule but one: there are no rules.
* Don’t take me for granted, for edges and cliffs are my passion.
* Don’t read books about Venusian women. It’s individual. Know that I feel humiliated if you keep telling me how beautiful I am.
* Leave out the pointless concepts of domination, possessiveness, and expectation. Ban them from roaming poisonously between us. They’re no relatives to love, they’re its worst enemy.
* Don’t drag me to pointless conversations. Take a 10-minute rest before judging the situation, let calmness sweep the air around, and peace shall be found.
* Don’t ask me to show you all of my sides, for each moment comes with its own emotion. Give up the flashlight, and plant a seed of love instead. You will definitely be showered with warmth.
* Don’t judge me by my short skirt or hot lipstick. Take a glance at my library. Watch me while I’m asleep, or hugging my child.
* Don’t try to shape me. Take me wholly, a package of transparency and mystery, advantages and flaws.
* Don’t ask me to wear pink because I’m a woman and I’m supposed to wear pink. Embrace my differences. I shall be more feminine in blue.

Chers men, they may come as clear as the sound of a bell, or disguised as a dark shadow of a good act, an unintended letdown, small gestures of yours that may have a negative effect on your woman, especially if she’s one of those accurate observers of details and echo-feelers.
Here’s a hint that it’s happening: read your woman when you say or do something for her. Pay attention to this empty smile, blank look, opaque tinge on her face. These signs happen in a fraction of a second, then comes her thoughtful reaction followed by a long silence.
They’re so different from her reaction to a wonderful surprise, just so different. This is it — the nudge, the alert that you’re coming across poorly, a quick wave of disappointment is spraying her up, even with your good intentions.
If you feel the burdensome responsibility weighing your shoulders about this whole thing, then read again.
You must have missed that all it takes is a big bunch of your mindfulness to turn her back on.

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