Airport Emotions

There is something
devious at arrival
lounges; the way
people hang their
hearts out on sleeves
on recognition
of a familiar face.
It is the combustion
of recall, memory,
even love; welded
in an embrace; public
happy, teeth. A threat
to outdo love even.
And so it begins the
dominoes of feigning,
the war of love, as
one display
outdoes another.

Airports should be
heaven. They facilitate
the emotional capitalism
of humanity, of bonds.
Alas, ephemeral creatures
create fleeting images
of themselves; to serve
selfish, runaway impulses.
That is why heaven hides
well the differences we
choose to ignore. The
ones, stepping out of
heaven, expose.
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Warid.

The Philosophy of Busy

Tiredness is not
the signature of
a life. It is merely
the illusion that
something is
being done to
justify existence.
Productivity
is the measure
of work; it is
not, as we believe
in the afterglow
of reward and
achievement, the
path fulfilling life.
It is the deadening
of soul; the
numbness of
imagination as it
drunkenly smacks
against its own
mirrored reflection.
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Warid.