Dear MOM,

If ink was the blood you needed to live, i would have written the poem of infinity. If thoughts would bring back the smell f your cheeks, i would have rethought this entire existence a million times over. If prayers would bring back a sight of your glossy smooth skin, i would have prayed for each God ever written. If feeling you beside me is a simple crossover to another stage of being, i would have been there already. If keeping you in the living is freezing time as i freeze in my hardest forms, i would reinvent physics and science.

You were robbed from your being and i was robbed of meanings, as if you’ve invented them, as if you’ve ignited my life with ongoing heartbeat, as if you were my eternal language.

I can hear you in every music i play, i can see you in every place i reach, i can feel you with every sense i perceive, i loose you in every reason i try to make.

I recap my entire life over and over, each passing hour, as if this is turning into an ever looping time machine. As if my present is trying to talk to my past. As if the continuum of being has been shattered the moment i saw you laying on white sheets, stained from your loosing battle with life.

I try to wash you off with tears, but that is as if dark clouds tried washing earth’s mountains and seas.

How may i bring you back other then in my dreams? which alchemy, or sorcery, or perception of living can i invent? How can you be so present, yet non-existent, so alive, but yet not living, so loving yet with no senses to give.

I want to think that a piece of me was broken, but rather, i find myself struggling with the concept of me, without you.

Merry Christmas mom!

12-24-17- 10:21pm – 11:16pm


In the midst of chaos, internal and external, i see myself gaze at the noise around me, without any purpose or reason. Nothing is justified beyond my capacity to comprehend it with my limited sense of self and sense of consciousnesses.
I find my struggle for success or self sustainability contradicting. There are things i do that are driven by my hidden fears of failing.
I embrace simplicity. I embrace the magic out of which things happen. I embrace love, life. I embrace mystery.
I fear the layers i do not know, my objective truth, our human misery.

October 13 – 12:20pm

Anatomy of Death

Sunday – may – 21 – 11:39am

Where does one’s spirit go?

There you are, the person I love the most, I’ve idealized the most, I’ve crystallized into a goddess, I’ve engraved in my heart, soul, thoughts, deeds and every waking moment of my life. Lying there, breathless, soulless, smiling, sad, as if you’ve mourned your own departure of this world.

There you are but you aren’t. There you cross your arms as if you were sleeping peacefully, at last. There you are with the nurses handling your body as if there was no common feeling of sadness but rather part of a job description, a task of the day that rushed adrenaline through their veins while it rushed poison of sadness through the blood of your loved ones, my blood. It’s a new kind of sadness, the kind that cripples you for life. The kind that changes your belief, your presence, your future, the course of your life, the kind that changes you.

2:13 am, flying across the skies, pushing the plane with my fear of the devastating news. Each second seems like a year. As I attempt to close my eyes and push the envelope of time, here I am, awakened by a hard cringe in between my teeth. My cheeks shivered, ma saliva got heavy, my throat tightened as if something was speaking through me. As if you were trying to reach me and say: “ I’ve waited for you, but I have to go now habibi. Do not worry! I am sorry I couldn’t stay longer around you. I LOVE YOU!”
While I shake from hear and my heart trembles, I deeply hope my senses are mistaken. My mind is too weak and it is sending me the wrong signals just to prepare me from the worse. I wished deeply that this was pure biochemicals transmitting doses of fear causing a momentary brain panic.
I held on to hopes that this love I feel for you, the love we all feel for you, cannot possibly let you go!

The room turned moist from tears. Your body, holding on to warmth as if all the love you’ve given is still there to give. As if you did not want to go without leaving some heat of life around. Like you’ve never wanted me to go to school without lunch.As if you did not want to let me travel without your motherly, godly protection.

I feel your soft skin as if all the chemicals and the medicine they’ve loathly injected, couldn’t change the composition of your skin as if you’ve come back to the old you, the one that was healthy, the one that was radiating passion, happiness, life.
I cry, hoping my tears and my love will turn into a magic potion of life and get you back alive. I hoped magic existed. I wished the resurrection stories were true. I hoped the legend of the bible was real!

Mind is racing at an unprecedented speed, rage trying to squeeze and find room. Regrets starts to re-surface, but sadness is too big to leave room for anything else. Meanings turned into confusion. Fear transformed into uncertainty. Yearn turned intro deformed memories. Love crystallized into a useless god. Your voice turned into a dancing gypsy that swings and sways my nerves all the way from the deepest corners of my soul, down to my gut.

You transformed into ME!

I waited for you

May-18-2017 – 6:05am

In bed, head deep into a dream of inverse reality. I waited for your smooth sway in the house makes up my oxygen to stay alive. I waited for your soft voice that song the eternal remedy for my life despair. I waited for your soft touch to tap my shoulder and wake me up, as if some mythic goddess, never praised enough, never unproven by science, paid me a visit. I waited for the look of your smile that put perplexity at shame and gives me daily fuel to make sense of living and carry on my engine of life.

I waited for your first words to me as if you invent love with each word that leaves your rose lips. I waited for your hug as if I was a prisoner in chains, shackles and needed your hug to be deliberated from the pain of not living. I waited for you as if I’ve never learned to wait for anything so precious or divine as you. I waited for you as I’ve waited for my first meal of the day, prepared by the best cooks of Eden.

I waited for your goodbye as I walk through another page of my life as if you were the fingers that flip my book each day. I waited for you as I was away from you, I counted the moments I get a glimpse of you like a fetus waiting for his first day. I waited for your presence around me as if you are the only reason why my timeline had a present.

I waited for you to walk into my room like an audience awaits the play of their lifetime in a presidential theater. I waited for you to inspire me each day as if I was mute, death and blind without you. I waited for you to get better, as if you are so divine, nothing can touch you or take you away from me.

I waited for your pains to go away as if pain had no business being without you.
I waited for your silence when silence was the only energy needed to keep this earth a spin.
I waited for you to approve my every single move, thought, action, reaction, as if you are the judge and the road to guidance, which shows me right from wrong.

I waited for you every waking moment of my life since I opened my eyes and will continue to until the unfair course of living stops. I waited for you to slow down my clock as if I was never there unless you existed in my moment as if you moved my clock. I waited for you to share my love for things as if I never loved anything we did not share together.

I waited for you to open your eyes for me and tell me one more time: “ Take care of yourself habibi” as if I lived in a world of savage uncertainty and your words made it safer. I waited for your call as if your words transmitted telephony. I waited for you as I walked through the alley of the unknown as if you are my guarantee to keep living. I waited for you as I ventured on a new path as if you will be there to catch me anytime I fall.

I waited for you

– 6:24am

On Startup Culture

What is the most important investment you should make in your startup before launching?
Office? Computers? 401K? Bean Bags?

How about this! COMPANY CULTURE!

the most critical and undervalued asset that can lay the foundation for the growth of your startup. ESPECIALLY if you are working in remote teams.

Because it is proven to:
1-    Increase employee engagement
2-    lessen employee turnover
3-    Better customer satisfaction
4-    Helps make sure everyone is working towards same company goals
5-    It can actually Increase company value
You don’t believe me, look up companies like Zappos, google, facebook and other big names startups.


1-    Define the company culture based on your own values such as leadership, hardwork and success
2-    Founders must ENFORCE this company culture at all cost. Meaning, even if you have to let go of employees that are opposing it
3-    DO THIS before you even hire the team. Remember it is always easier to enforce things from the get go and not at a later time.
4-    you must live by it.


Don’t overthink it, just Start small and add as you go.

Here are 6 changes you can implement and build on immediately into what you can refer to as “Your Startup Constitution”

1-    Identify the company’s main purpose and values such based on your own as a founder ex: personal growth – professional growth and team growth
2-    Create at least 2 activity that engages the full team together: ex: your own book club – pitch practice or even video game day
3-    Define your online or in-person meetings routine
Connect all units of your company by sharing stories, ex: support stories
4-    Humorize the experience by having your graphics person create short funny videos or graphics of the weekly team progress
5-    Try to measure the progress of the culture points routinely to see the impact it has on the team as a whole
Because I love you guys, I am sharing with you our original Vbout culture that we crafted, you have my full permission to use it for your own, in return, like us or follow us, wherever you are watching this.


Rain and Her

The bell rings, the light drizzle of rain slowly massages your cheeks while cleaning your pure guilt from tormented passions. You walk fast as the rain gets heavier and the bell is about to finish its cycle, and there it is, one beautiful piece of existence, sitting on the side of a curb staring at the magnificent view of the gloomy horizon over the bluest sea.

Her face shines as if the rain cannot get to her and the sun is above her as if it was born just to warm up her shadow. Waves of the waters mimicking her gentle smile and with each breath she takes, the clouds dance a beautiful tango. Her hair blowing lightly as if the dust of the universe caresses her head while playing the strings of a guitar made of the milky way.

She stands and start walking your way like she was drawn to you by a magical force of attraction. As she gets closer your eyes come to contact, and there it was, the answers to every love you have ever looked for, every mystery that ever baffled you, every story that did not have an ending, every theory science could not proof, every moment that leads to you being there that moment.

Then she passes and never turns back, neither do you, as the magic of something sacred that passed is followed by a must feel regret to be felt until the moment replicates itself in another existence.

The Question Dilemma

What are you creating? moments of happiness for yourself, for others, things, energy, power, time. It does not matter. The essence of things is not what you think it is, it is in fact the complete opposite of everything you ever thought it was! If you ask how and why, existence will tell you not to question it!

Think about that moment that you anticipated so badly and thought it will make your heart and senses align, and once that moment happened, it became an old decaying addiction you wish you can grab at a whisper of your thoughts, thus your heart and senses starts to wander indefinitely in a sea of tsunamis.

Have you ever thought that you will make something so great, and you will succeed to the degree of euphoric extremity felt only by the Gods? But once you got there the dictator self in you kept diminishing your greatness like a greater thing is still there for you to seek, so you wish what you made was written by a different pen, paper and poet.

Have you thought of those in your life that your heart cherishes and grasps its existence around, but then they vanish between distance and death leaving your existence justified by the clutter made of a dark shadow with a grin smile and an unjustified bad intention.
Have you ever thought of yourself as the king of your own story but with each turn of a page you feel like your life is a memory buried under the years like the magnificent scriptures from the book of nothingness.

Have you ever saw the things that matter the most to you shift with every page of your life, every loved one, every achievement and every moment to become absolute like a sculpture you worked so hard on but it is simply a still molded rock sitting your living room without life or character.

Why everything is made to change this way? i always ask, and i get the same answer, don’t question it!

The Grin

Let swim the grin, across your chin, and the one thousand sins, you wish you can tint, behind your words and your hints, quickly become a weapon, a flint, you stab your chest with then sprint, at the splinted weak heart to leave your footprint, but there is no space for another trace, so you chase the shadow of an old place, that once left a grin on your face, and you cannot replace, with a thin glaze of a Taizé.
Let swim the grin of an untouched conscious, of a sole self master, of a slave with thousand lashes, of a disciplined pastor, who prays for buried ashes, to resurrect into a living emotion, that will always exist even after the last light flashes, and darkness passes, through your heart with a grin.

She and i don’t exist

As i sit here, staring through the window of infinite opportunities, i reflect about the unlimited possibilities that escaped my existence; then i realize that i am simply haunted by time.

I walk through the garden of my mind and i see me looking back at a person i wanted to be but is impossible to be!
I sing the song of eternal yearn and love but my heart is an empty cup of life and death.
I walk some more and i see myself hodling her hand, but she does not exist, she is a memory that never happened but haunts my life.
She is dressed in a black veil, smiling but tears are falling through her rose cheeks, like water flows around the glossy skin of a mermaid. But the mermaid dives deep into the abyss, the veil falls like leaves of one dying summer.

She leaves and i hysterically fall into moments of panic & solitude as if i was an instrument that was struck once by a master player, but then the master vanished! and while the dust gathers in the rusty edges the echo of the first symphony still repeats.

But i break the shackles of mental disability, i swing a deadly arrow at the laughing soldier of fate and go running through the godly feast of freedom and non-stirred fortunes

As i look through the window of eternal opportunities, i see the lights escape me while drawing the last words of goodbyes in the black beveled clouds, like a kid with a chalk, an empty board and a formidable pure imagination.

Homesickness- It keeps on coming back

Each time i’m alone, soul tired and mind intoxicated by the prolonged dreams of progress, it hits me, like a withdraw from a bad addiction or a strong headache after a bottle of cheap scotch.
Shame on a country that separates parents and siblings, friends and memories, loved ones and chirpy feelings of soul surrender to another. But the world goes on, people grow apart but missed, feelings undergo metamorphism and the secret tears become more rare but heavier then the unforgotten lost moments of memories that could have been made if one would have stayed back home.

Trickle down the boredom stream

Plotted against myself i find it difficult to gather the inner crush i had of the person who touched and changed my nucleus. The despair of a fear, and the dread of a bloody tear, the yearn of a smile and of attention i have had for a while, are caging me behind invisible bars. The invisible shackles have bled and bled until they turned into old rusted memories of a lonesome man. But the beautiful face of a falling star shines and sweeps the colors of darkness from under the dead trees, then blows a kiss at the lonely heart of the heartbroken to awaken emotions only felt by eternity when marrying death.

When death pulls you down!

At an unusual instance, my eyes shut, my body drifted, and my mind lost itself into a 15 seconds of a state of semi death! As  i laid on my bed, breathless, eyes open, unconscious, my soul felt an unusual pull towards another state of existence, or a state of non-existence. Memories did not seem to matter, the dark night lit by the shimmering moon seemed sad enough to grief any passing soul. And while mine was torn between giving up or coming back into its earthy state, all the power and the weight that my thoughts and my realization have acquired over the years pulls me back and leaves me with a signature: When your soul leaves you, all your past life stays on earth, and you transcend into eternal sleep where time has no meaning and it flies in years, decades, centuries and even millennium while it only feels seconds to you.

Three dimensional dream

Dreaming of a memory of a dream that never came through.  Light years are closer to destination than a lost memory of a dream that was forged through inspiration, irrationality, materialization and weird emotional undecisiveness.  If castles are built for kings by overworked and underpaid slave workers, dreams are made for one’s soul by the substance of underdeveloped rational, unreasonable ideas and incoherent thoughts. How many castles never lived to be completed and all that human factor disappeared in the universal shredder of existence like nothingness. We are trained to dream, so that our essence is diluted between the can and cannot, between life as we see it and life as it really is in another dimension we will never attain or get a glimpse of. We are so good at dreaming that we do it well when we are not doing anything else, involuntarily. Dreams are imposed on us, we don’t choose them or make them, but they interlink in their unrealism throughout our lifetime to tell us one thing, how ignorant we are in our journey of subconsciousness.

My holiday tips:

  • If you had a goal in 2012, keep pursuing it in 2013. Never quit!
  • If you have a problem with someone, bury the hatchet! life works against you when you hate
  • Eat healthy, work out
  • Maintain your sense of humor, life is prettier this way
  • Last but not least, appreciate the quality people in your life, they are the ones who define who you are

Sneaky Cripples

Corrugated by the explosive character in me, i propel changing the signs that cross my thoughts once a second to transform itself into an obsession of an unsanitary characteristic of a mind held behind bars, begging for freedom i ought not know how to handle. A crippled man who know how to want to be free but have no concept of freedom. The sole concept stuck in the mind of eternity is timeless endings, senseless death, ultimate confusion of the nothingness, but the vast amount of space that hover over our lives is nothing but a full bucket of sorrows and undermined soul concussion!
Vocabulary don’t matter, it is the sole mean of self expression but the self have no expressions left but the who what when and what about the freeZom! so i let the stars guide me through my journey that has taken a lifetime of journeys that are upwards, unparalleled, unprecedented but fully expressed by the underlying cooked ideas of succession and restlessness. I would like not to be bothered one day by myself, my mind and my shuffled imagination, but they come pouring down like a waterfall of rubbish covered with honey and cream. Not to mention the nonsense that surrounds me every passing moment of every day of non-organized life that is riding an infinite bus of voyeurism, that is of our naked souls trembling against existence thus religiously believing every bit of non-sense and confusionism and contradiction that one mind can ever imagine, thus i surrender!
1:39 am


The ticks of the clock falls from the flow of eternity and breaks, awakening the deep worries buried within the deepest corners of the ignorant soul.

The consistent tries to make thing work in a fascinating way has turned into an effective tool to craft lines on the present so that tears find their ways to the murky waters of deception and self torture.

No thought is pure enough to surface the mind and break the door that locks the real spirits within the one spirit. A whole world locked within me is ready to fade and become one boring lonely speck of nothingness. So why there is 33 spots i cannot locate in my heart? are they the dwindling lifespan on my human spiritual progress? or is the self timer about to awaken me when i am in my deepest state of infused anesthesia?

Dreams are blackened by the happy moments that are drawn on the window of soul indulgence and crippled satisfaction.

There is no ending to my train of thoughts that flow through my brain to leave me paralyzed with bits of imagination that realty envies so much that it dreads and fears.

Born addicted, then became addicted once more to the beauty of unattainables.

The body rest in peace while the mind goes into a deep stage of epiphany about unseen unreality.

I am loving it,


The water does not choose its course, gravity does. And so we are coursing through our lives as chosen by time and the ultimate master of creation; maybe the masters of creation!

The way things are made in this world is to keep going, as stars race through the black skies, the wind travels through the trees, the water flows from stream to stream, nature dies and awakens, bla,bla,bla…. we are made this way, biologically we keep going from the moment our lucky eyes see the light of the world, until we close them for the last time, we never stop going!

So why does some waters hit a swamp and become murky, filled with insects and rotten plants? why does space looks still? why does the mind seeks a state of boredom and stagnancy? why does moments come to a flowing brain and goes, what part do i play in any of this? what makes me existent under the concept of humanity but non existent in the scheme of master creation? is this point of thoughtful confusion part of us, part of our brain? a thin line that dilutes what’s real and what is more real? is this state of stagnant thoughts, dormant desires is part of the other side of our existence?

but unlike still water that goes back to the skies, or space that travels on an immense volume we do not notice, our minds give up and go back to the temporary state of non-boredom!

Twilight of a nightmare

Bare naked, faked emotions dress the dark gloom that hovers over the silent lover who awaits seldom moments of seclusion infused with random omens of beauty which escaped its meaning and dwelled an unparallelled existence that attaches itself to parts of humanity to only shine when we can’t define the crying of nothingness which we turn into an intense glance of an unexpected specs of life.

My dreams cannot define my reality so they hinder my ability to create a world that is defined with characteristic definitions of failure that exist with success, so i see the twilight of  nightmare, misunderstood like my rhymes!


Time is running away.  Souls are crippling with burdening sensation of inadequate illusionary responsibility. All fades away except the responsibility of stripping our angry ignorant spirits in front of the undermined amazing creation. Escape to the ends and corners of the desired lost fate while your present becomes unrelated to a state of confusionism and  hate. i cannot relate …. to myself…this innate ambiguous thought of masquerading an emotionless escalating unknown character. It is a mere love of pain that stops me from loving!

The swing

The mind dissolves in a deep state of misconciousness when it stares at the depth of time and the depth of our lives. Time is deep enough to bury the unspoken secrets of the lonely spirits and our lives are a short breeze that caresse the cheeks of existence after it drank out of our struggles and our long lasting, desperate prayers.

3:13 am

sat 9/4/10


What’s happened!

Feel as if the world has lost its meaning withing the depth of materialism and every day life struggle. And we are a part of it. We cannot escape the fact that we are stuck, stuck, carried, affected, infected with the latest contagious material objects. Back in the day, an idea will make you stay up for nights thinking about the dimensions of it, the effect it has on you, on the world, on life. Now, we stay up for even longer hours, our questions doubled, if not tripled, but only unlocking the features of a new techy device that have no depth in  our lives whatsoever!

Is it that we previously had such an inconvenient life that we need to organize it in bytes, flat screen tvs and  e-readers? Were the ideas that moved us so shallow that we do not yearn for them any more.?

Maybe the world is being tailored for a master scheme to keep it from unlocking the secrets of life? Whereas the secrets are not only in new earth like planets or another alien life, it is in the way we get in touch with our inner thoughts, feelings, ideas, soul, past, future and present.! these are the things that gets us by everyday. take any of those out and we will cease to exist! So why do we ignore them? why do we take for granted the things that shape who we are as human beings?

This is not a complaint about what we are doing at this era in time, but its is a warning about what we will be doing if we lost ourselves in a word full of convenient electronics.


Friday sept/3/10

2:06 am

My First New Post

This is my first new post on my new site!

i love writing!  there is a substantial experience that typing can never replace. When your pen touches the soft, blank paper that is dying to acknowledge the true spririt behind you, without casting a judgment or correcting mistakes that could only be a reflection of a confused state of mind. Pen and paper has been my ultimate companions since my childhood, and while each person, at the end of the day, have nowhere to go but his own tortured thoughts,  pen and paper is the closest something or someone will ever get to you. Will digital replace any of that exclusivness that those tools have on us? maybe some, but not for the most part. A paper belongs to you, a digital paper does not, it is a concept, the physical aspect of it has no direct link to it whatsoever. A hard dive will never mean a diary, or a book! you are never scared to write on a paper, as it is private. A private post on the net exist only in the minds of those who are confused between the realities of the world we live in.

At the end of this, and just a welcome note and a commitment that i will make to myself, and that is not to be afraid to write every bit f thought or emotion going through my ” mind”, i will also try to leave some the mistakes that came from a an unconsiouc state of logic flow. Or simply a word that i will always confuse: unconsciouc…….