Monday, April 24, 2006

What of Beirut


 

My fifth trip and it's still impossibly painful to leave. Impossibly painful to tear my heart off this tormented piece of mountain, river and tree we call Libnen. Libnen and its fluttering heart Beirut.

What of Beirut
My thousand loves
My thousand muses
My only muse
The perfect body
The naked body I abuse
What of Beirut
My darkest fear
My death is near
My life
My strife
My sin
My only living, barely living next of kin
My plunging root
My torn and rotten glitter suit
What of Beirut
My evil god
My devil saint
My drunken whore trying to faint
What of Beirut
My thousand loves
My only love
What of Beirut
My prostitute

14 Comments:

Blogger hashem said...

It's Beirut ya Fouad...
Beirut...
it's our life...
our smile
our song
and our akhhh..
thanx for sharing Beirut's nostalgia...

1:07 AM  
Blogger Mirvat said...

i had forgotten how beautiful your writing is.

2:50 AM  
Blogger Rampurple said...

*sigh*

3:20 AM  
Blogger Delirious said...

*Ditto*

6:03 AM  
Blogger laila said...

great combination, almost perfect :)

6:11 AM  
Blogger hillz said...

....

6:33 AM  
Blogger Delirious said...

I hope this wasn't inspired by the songs I sent you :P

8:16 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

so did u have fun with your prostitute??

8:40 AM  
Blogger Ghassan said...

beautiful

11:58 AM  
Blogger Mar said...

It is a prostitute because we spend our savings and rare vacation time to get a glimpse of its beauty.
You return with chronic dissatisfaction and longing for more because you simply can't get enough or was so abnormally quick, if you know what I mean.

8:19 PM  
Blogger [ j i m m y ] said...

very nice fouad! as mirvat said, i -also- had started to forget how beautiful your writing is. thanks for sharing it with us again.

one last thought about beirut: i was away for the past weeks too and i was -unusually- longing to be back. then, the moment i stepped back at home, this 'normal' feeling of being home just overtook the longing and the passion that i've been living in...
it's weird how undescribable the concept of 'comfort' is, and how unnoticed this feeling gets once you're home again. i guess the 'home-sick' feeling is more related to the people we miss, to the past and nostalgia (back when we were young and careless) and to the security we are in once at home, than to the place itself. could this be true?

11:58 PM  
Blogger Fouad said...

No place is just a place Jimmy. It has the soul of the objects it holds and the people it cradles.

Yes mar. Absolutely.

No it wasn't deli, but I can see how it could have :)

Thank you all for reading and coming back..

12:30 AM  
Blogger DA said...

Wonderful, it is amazing how strong childhood feelings are imprinted..

2:56 AM  
Blogger Fouad said...

It sure is Dimitri. Always a pleasure to see you here.

10:25 PM  

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