I think the world needs new protocols:

Current ones suck.

You stand on stage and thank the man

Standing to your right or left.

Then he gets up and says, “Thank you,

You were great as well.”

Protocols suck because who do the job

Are kept in the back, or in the corner;

Kicked out of the frame, are not in the picture.

Because there are protocols which we must obey,

People’s time just goes to waste.

A well-known man delivers a speech

The same he delivered sometime last week

But he changes the names of the men

Sitting to his right or to his left.

Then follows the man with another recently modified speech

And the audience impatiently waits.

Every grain of boredom runs in their veins

And the famous man keeps delivering the old modified speech.

People on stage know it;

People backstage know it, too;

The audience, impatiently waiting, knows it, three.

But protocols are protocols so sit back and read.

“Listen, you mean?”

No, read.

Because while the voice of the man echos,

You will be on facebook, instagram, or twitter

Or if, by good chance, your bff is close

Pieces of papers and pens fill the floor.

Everyone knows it but says, “It’s the protocol.”

We need to realize it,

Protocols were made to be broken.

Don’t waste my time once more,

And do it right for the sake of mankind:

Say what you want to say and sit down,

No need for an hour or two of wasteland.

Our time is money, and that sums it all

Speak, sit, ruck and roll.


Breathing Under Water


Move back!

I’m a child.

Drop your bat.


Enough with the beating;

Enough with the swearing.


You dragged me from my bed,

You kept me in a dirty cell,

You broke my fingers,

You beat my arms,

You sprinkled my ankle,

And tore my heart.


You locked me up

In a small grave,

Made me smell your horrible breaths,

Made me eat what dogs would hate,

Made the dogs eat me instead.



I am a fourteen year old;

You know no mercy,

You are ice cold.


You slap me 10 times per hour,

And show me you got strength and you got power,

And leave me in the dark for days:

With no food, no light, no moon, no stars, no sparkles, no air;

You wish to turn me to a savage.


And yet lying on the floor:

Covered in blood

In your cells

I am the winner:

For no matter what you do,

It is my land, I am a Palestinian.

Because at the end of the day,

You are the oppressor,

You are the criminal,

And I am a fourteen year old Palestinian.

Whether you like it or not