some minutes of memory

sometimes I disgusted of sex, why those people always talk about it as they are talking about something extraordinary ?! the sex is just instinct and it's doesn't worth all this talk ! I say enough, there are a lot of things worth our meditation and philosophy, the people who claim to be free see that the sex is a first thing must be a detached, as if the sex wasn't detaches someday ! the reactionaries are afraid the sex as if it's some ghost, and at the same time they are obsessed with it... hey people! the sex is a natural thing no more, sometimes you can fuck, sometimes I can fuck, sometimes all we can get the fuck, but not everyday, the life is so short, we must do everything sometimes if we want to do everything!

this is some scribble:

some minutes of memory,

I want body, I want love...

and in this street, I want more of burning rain

I want perfume, I want Oud 

I want courtyard where the white storks have meeting around its fountain

from the depths of my heart, I can say sorry !

and when the time is sunset,I want to see a dove

holds my words toward my princess's cloud...

this feeling fills me with love and longing 

that narrow long alley, that the old windows spread in its edges 

and the stairs of houses too

I climb up this stair, and get off of that, I continue to play...

like any angel was flying...

the sister and me, we were racing, and hiding among hedges

sometimes we were eating our cookies,

other times we were mimicking the sound of coo

we were brawling with each other,

then we were forgetting and going far away

we didn't tire, the memory still filling me with peace 

that alley was telling us about new house news 

that we will see in it some people like dews 

that we will eat in it some candy like the moon's face

that we will play between its walls the hidden game 

and some sweet melody flowing between the doors

it was stealing our minutes 

the night has come quickly holds the stars flame

it was holding us on the stories wing 

my grandmother was making us forget all the boors 

with her stories, I still hear them such as ring

and we sleep a long time until the morning 

away from the bustle of facts...

I dig in the memory graves, I find myself among the ally

I burned the stages, when I was looking for that sects

now I'm looking in its folds for harlot body

who can burn my ribs slowly

actually who can dives between my ribs and my affects 

for some time, I spat on me

before that I recover my trust

this is the life, like playing, like sex, like smoking

don't put many questions 

don't thing

you must be looking for another pleasure minute 

between the minutes...