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# I Long For My Mother's Bread

I long for my mother's bread
I long for my mother's coffee
I long for her touch...
That feeling grew since childhood
One day upon the chest of another
I still love life 
Because I fear that if I die
I would make her cry. 

# Green Flies 

The scene is the same, summer and sweat
And an imagination that fails to see beyond the horizon 
Today is better than tomorrow
The ones who get killed, are reborn every day
Whenever they feel sleepy, a murder takes them away 
Into a sleep with no dreams, no numerical value, no one 

Asking for help from someone
Voices searching for words in the wild 
And echo returns with a clear tone: No one
But, there are those who say
"A killer has the right to defend their killing instinct" 
As for the victims, they are too late in responding
"A victim has the right to defend its right to scream" 

The sound of prayer goes louder in my city, echoed with sad sighs
Prayers at funerals are the same
Coffins raised in a hurry and buried in a hurry 
There's no time to finish all the rituals 
There are other victims on the way coming in a hurry 
Carried away from another siren, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups
Or a family that is gracious enough to leave behind no orphans
A grey sky, a grey-blue sea
As for the color of blood
It was blocked from being captured in the camera
By swarms of green flies. 

# I Wish I Was A Stone 

I don't long for anything 
Yesterday doesn't go away 
Tomorrow never comes 
My present neither moves forward or backward
Nothing happens to me!
I wish I was a stone - I said 
I wish I was a stone 
Hopefully, the water would shape me 
Turning me yellow or green 
And I would get hung in a room like a sculpture 
Or maybe I would be used for a sculpting exercise 
Just any material for the necessary to emerge out of the absurdness of the non-necessary 
I wish I was a stone 
Just so I would long for anything 

# Further Than Identification 

I sit in front of the TV as there's nothing else I could do
In front of the TV, I find my emotions and see what happens to me
The smoke goes up through me
I extend my disconnected arm to gather my scattered parts
My parts that were made of many bodies 
I can't find them 
And I can't run away due to the exaggerated gravity of pain.


I am surrounded by land, air, sea, and language
The taxi from work took me so I could sit in front of the TV
So I could watch the remainder of my death with millions of people
Nothing to prove I exist when I think with Descartes
And when the oblation in me awakes 
I enter the TV along with the beast 
I know it to be stronger than I 
But I have gotten addicted to the heroism of metaphor 

The beast ate me without a bite even 
So I came out alive, more than once 
It was my soul that flew out like a ray 
Out of me and from inside the belly of the beast
And it went on to live in another body 
One that could be weaker or stronger

I now don't know where I am 
Am I in front of the TV, or inside the TV
As for my heart, I see it rolling around like a pine cone
Rolling down from north to south of Iraq.


 



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