there's a lot going on
tell me what we're holding on to
tell me it's wrong...
but have they spent some time
thinking about it?
what if they are all wrong?
what if no one's that strong?
and it's quite alright to be
ok to live life
free, happy
what if love is the greatest thing
but without so many rules?
who defined the rules?
you say it's God, but tell me the truth


Half As Much

Half as much
what it is, what we think it is
Living on assumptions
Hoping for redemptions
Trying to reconcile
what we think we know
with all we simply don't.

Someone should have told me long before
to check my fear and hope at the door
the weight of Love only One bore
and other feelings we should ignore

Half way house
on my way there,
still far from destination.
Traveling my own routes
Treading my own two boots
Try to reconcile
where we think we'll go
with all our baggage in tow

The Questions We Ask

The questions we come up with
asked time and time again
redefined by respondent,
shaped by experience,
slanted by perspective,
accepted, rejected, refused--she pleas the fifth.
Restated, pondered, addressed with the utmost care.

We ask them, like a knock on the door
of enlightment and truth.
And while answers may change, they
can provide a snapshot of someone's
understanding and thought.

And we ask them of each other
as an expression of the values
we place on what that person thinks,
and ultimately, means to us.


Merci, Paris

Here, a little story of romantic adventure
I've fallen into heart space
the look of her lovely face
Paris, you glow
winking your flirtation
smiling your style.
In your garden I breathed air of joyeux
in your alleys I felt l'esprit du vieille ville
You're black and white with cherry lipstick
You're secret whispers in lover's ears
You are that beauty who knows she's being watched,
adored, desired
who never turns her head.
I sit up on the third floor looking out and down
the sea of arrondissements, slow moving pedestrians,
and chaotic roundabouts.
The spirit of a non-defeatest, adamant to her passions,
sultry in her affairs,
living for freedom of soul and human expression.
I want her--to be part of her
to have her blanket me in her love and liberty.

My Bed Bug Afternoon

Pile it on
loads of laundry
purging of infest furniture
itching of swollen little bites
Season is ending, season is starting
housewarming, homecoming
urban hiking, beach combing
Affirmations are unnecessary
Save your little pills for those in need
Though I miss my City and my Lebanon
I am grateful for my home sweet home
Follow me into the adventure of all the things
that I might
And don't worry if the bed bugs bite


High Tower

You watched the ground break
Steel shard upward to the sky
Giving shape, creating form
Intellectual design
and environmentally sound
An art piece to the community surround
Of what can rise up of dust
Of what we can and what we must
You said the words to make it happen
You gave it vision, and breathed its life
You gave it all you got
But all at what cost
In all that you build
One sight you lost
And now beguiled with guilt
You could build your High Tower
but you never managed to build a meaningful connection
You had yourself, but you neglected the Power
She lead her life within herself
While you celebrated the success of your wealth


Drawn lines

Something will set it apart
You'll recognize it in the moment
it will speak through your heart
but I'm weak now, from sloth and lack of pursuit
waiting for a sound, but the echo is mute
Something's supposed to take hold of me
but the hold is ill-repute
Let's take up to the rooftop and watch for shoot signs
and let the sun fall down and the night unwind
in silence so much is spoken
so much revealed
i recognized it in that moment
and in that moment i was healed