Dead Man Walking

"I'll stand for nothing less
Or never stand again.
These are the limits when one's buried.
This body's left the soul.
Could we have known?
Never would I help to nail down...
Careful of drifting off
Now losing taste and touch..."
The Clincher / Chevelle
Okay.
So, Saddam was a cold-blooded murderer and dictator...all that I've heard so many times I'm sick of it. I've heard about AlDujail, all the tortures and all the killings. But what I also know is that he was president. What i know is that he is now a symbol of an Arab and Muslim leaderand that he is 70 years old. If he deserves to be hanged, he's not alone. 670,000 Iraqis have perished so far and it's all because of Bush,in one way or another. Now, I won't get into details of the war and the current events and the Shiites and the Sunnis and the fuckers. All I care about is that he was not alone...what about the Israeli gunlords? The death squads going about in Iraq waiting for a handful to kill every minute of our lives? Who will hang these?
Whatever happened to HUMANITY? Why should the whole world witness the details of his execution as if he is not human...as if the viewers are waiting for these horrifying moments to quench their need for revenge? At last. I'm watching an ex-leader being hanged right on the spot. I am so damn smiling. But I shouldn't be surprised...that's what they see all day long.
I wanted to wake up this morning feeling the blessings of the Eid, shivering in the morning cold as I come back from the Eid Prayer tinking what to do for the rest of the day. Which relatives to visit? Which friends to meet? Not to the face of death wrapped up in a coffin. Whatever happened to sanctity of the dead? And I repeat THE DEAD. I don't care if it's me or you or him. When we die, we deserve to be buried. Not have our pictures circulated around the globe like the whole world has become death freaks. That's what I know and that's what I'm fighting for.
No one's body should be disrespected. No one's.
He has been sacrificed at the time of dawn, on the first day of Eid ulAdha like mere sheep. Draw your conclusions.

A Maze

Something happens then I feel sick.
No no, I have the bout of illness when I'm angry.
No, I get angry then i get sick.
Or get angry because I'm sick.
I become silent then angry then sick.
Then awful then I hate myself.
Or maybe they hate me then I get angry then i become sick.
Or sick then angry then hated.
What exactly comes first makes no difference; the end is one.

To my fellow-sufferers

To every person who was molested or raped, I dedicate these words to you. Believe in them.
" But I won't cry for yesterday
there's an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find
and as I try to make my way
to the ordinary world
I will learn to survive."
Duran Duran, Ordinary World.

إلى كل إنسان تعرض للتحرش الجنسى أو الاغتصاب. أهديك هذه الكلمات. آمن بهم

لكننى لن أبكى على ما فات"

هناك عالم طبيعى يجب أن أجده

و بينما أشق طريقى الى هذا العالم

سوف أتعلم كيف أحيا

My experience in the world of stalkers

Words might not punish those who did me wrong, but I will talk.
Words might reopen wounds and memories I'm trying to hide in the back of my mind, but I have to talk.
I will talk so I wouldn't feel lonely. I will talk coz I don't want to bear this burden alone. I will talk to put the illness on display, maybe we can find a cure for it...
But where do I begin? Shall I begin at the point when i was 10? When I was ten, my mother sent me to buy some stuff from a backstreet, imagine me: a thin, little, innocent ten-year-old, wearing a plain dress, facing the ground as she walks. Suddenly she finds a fat, dark man wearing a really thick pair of eyeglasses, looking at her domineeringly, and she was naive; for she obeyed him when he told her: come knock with me to that building, my little nephews live in that flat and I want to surprise them...knock at their door for me. As we were going up the stairs, he molested me. He touched my breasts and butt that were not even full yet. I felt there was something wrong but I couldn't express it. I had just started my period, so I had a background about my sexual life. Still, I could interpret or understand what he wa doing. I apologised for not knocking at the door and went home, astonished.
I did not cry. I did not cry and I did not tell anyone. You are the first to know after eleven years. I swallowed the filth and hushed up. And this filth lasted for ten more years. For ten years, I've been molested, and I freaked out and didn't know what to do. Once in broad daylight with people around, another in the bus, if I'm caught up in any crowd, I find someone harrassing me like pigs. No. Pigs feel.
And so I grew up. Prematurely, yes, but I grew up and I knew the meaning of 'sexual harrasssment' and I understood what they meant by " you're so small!" Then came last year's incident.
I was twenty, and I had worn the veil, and the harrassments became fewer. I was walking in our nighbourhood (we moved out) at almost 9 pm one summer evening...the street was quiet. I found someone dressed in black runnign in the opposite direction. I doubted him. However, some people had just passed us by and the Military Police nutheads were only 2o metres away, so I thought like...he can never do anything. Of course, he pinched me and continued running. At first I yelled back. Seconds later, I ran to the nearest military policeman and told him what happened. I pulled his arm, cried and asked him to come catch him with me. And what was his response? "And what were you doing?" I stared ... then screamed at him and ran to another soldierwho happened to be walking with two others. We were on foot and my stalker was running and got far away. I gave up moments later.
I swear to you that I felt his hand was still holding me for a long time later. For the first time, I exploded; I told my mother, my friends who helped me be back on my feet once more. It was the worst experience because I was an adult then and I knew what had happened to me. I thought about killing myself and throwing away the years of my life in a moment of weakness, but I was afraid of God's torture.
Now, I walk in the street very causciously. Whenever I pass someone by, I'm very alert to all of his movements, to the extent that my friends call me a psycho. And I say, being a psycho is better than being humiliated as i become every time I walk down the street. It's tiresome but effective; to take good care of yourself, I mean from the guys around you!
As for the future, it may be better, and most probably it'll be worse, but I've only got a couple of things to say: The street is ours, and if you molest me, I'll cut your balls!

A tip

If you're smoking behind your family's back....don't forget to clean the butts away!
And if you're not, you'd better not even start!

تجاربى فى عالم الرجال المتحرشين

يمكن الكلام مايعاقبش الجانى,لكن حاتكلم
يمكن الكلام يفتح جروح قديمة و ذكريات باحاول اخبيها فى اللاوعى,لكن لازم أتكلم
حاتكلم عشان ماحسش انى وحيدة,عشان ماشيلش الهم لوحدى...عشان اعرض المرض ليكوا و ليه يمكن نقدر نلاقى دوا
بس ابتدى منين...ابتدى من حداشر سنة فاتوا؟لما كان عندى عشر سنين و ماما بعتتنى اشترى حاجات من الشارع اللى ورانا.تخيلونى و انا عندى عشر سنين كده...بنت رفيعة و صغيرة و بريئة لابسة فستان بسيط,ماشية و حاطة وشها فى التراب.فجأة تلاقى راجل تخين و أسمر لابس نضارة كعب كباية بيبصلها نظرة آمرة ناهية,و هى عبيطة سمعت كلامه لما قاللها تعالى معايا العمارة دى خبطيلى على شقة ولاد اخويا...اصل انا عامل لهم مفاجأة.و احنا طالعين السلم اتحرش بيا تحرش كامل...حسس على صدرى و افخادى.كنت حاسة ان فى حاجة غلط بس ماكنتش قادرة اعبر, كان عندى خلفية عن الجنس زى أى طفلة بس برضو ماكنتش قادرة اترجم او افهم اللى هو بيعمله.اعتذرتله انى مش حقدر اخبط على الشقة و رجعت البيت و انا مخضوضة.
مابكتش.مابكتش ولا حكيت لحد.انتوا أول ناس تعرفوا بعد حداشر سنة.
بلعت القرف و سكت.والقرف ده استمر لمدة عشر سنين كمان.عشر سنين الايدين تتمد عليا و انا بتفزع و مابعرفش اتصرف.مرة فى وضح النهار وسط الناس,مرة فى الاوتوبيس,فى أى زحمة ادخل فيها لازم الاقى اللى لابش فيه زى البهيم.ده حتى البهيم بتحس.
كبرت,كبرت قبل الأوان بس كبرت,وعرفت يعنى ايه تحرش و فهمت كلمة" يا عم يا صغير"اللى ماكنتش فاهمة يقصدوا بيها ايه...لحد السنة اللى فاتت.
كان عندى عشرين سنة,وكنت اتحجبت و كان مد الايد قل الى حد كبير.كنت ماشية برضو فى المنطقة عندنا,مع اختلافها عن بيتنا و احنا صغيرين,كانت الساعة حوالى تسعة فى ليلة صيف و كان الشارع هادى,لقيت واحد لابس اسود بيجرى فى الاتجاه المعاكس,انا شكيت فيه بس كان لسه فى ناس معديين قدامنا بشوية و طراطير الشرطة العسكرية على بعد عشرين متر مننا,فقلت مش معقول حيعمل لى حاجة,لكن طبعا لقيته مد ايده عليا و كمل جرى...الأول شتمته,بس بعد لحظة تفكير جريت على أقرب عسكرى من الشرطة العسكرية و قلت له اللى حصل,شديته من ايده و عيطت له عشان ييجى يمسكه معايا...عارفين قاللى ايه؟قال لى و انت كنت بتعملى ايه؟ بلمت,و صرخت و سبته و مسكت ف عسكرى تانى شفته بالصدفة كان ماشى مع اتنين تانيين...كنا ماشيين على رجلينا و المتحرش كان جرى و بعد بعيد.
لحظات و فقدت الأمل.
أقسم لكم انى فضلت حاسة بايده على جسمى فترة طويلة بعدها.لأول مرة انفجرت و حكيت لماما و صحابى و كلهم ساعدونى أقف على رجلى تانى.كانت أفظع تجربة لأنى ساعتها كنت كبيرة و واعية للى جرى لى.فكرت أنتحر و أضيع سنين عمرى كلها فى لحظة قهر لولاخوفى من العذاب.
دلوقتى بقيت ماشية فى الشارع حاطة عينى ف وسط راسى فعلا,كل ما أعدى جمب حد ابقى واخدة بالى كويس قوى من كل حركاته.لدرجة ان صحابى بيقولوا عليا موسوسة.و انا رأيى الوسوسة أو حتى الجنون أرحم من الاهانة اللى بتعرض لها كل ما أنزل الشارع.هى حاجة مقرفة بس فعالة...انك تفضلى على طول واخدة بالك من نفسك ,او بمعنى أصح من الذكور اللى حواليكى!
اما المستقبل بقى,ممكن يبقى احلى,و غالبا حيبقى أسوأ,لكن ماعنديش غير حاجتين اقولهم:الشارع ده بتاعنا,و لو اتحرشت,حاخصيك

سعار جماعى جديد!

واحد من طلابى أكد لى النهارده ان احداث التحرش الجماعى اللى حصلت فى وسط البلد اتكررت تانى امبارح فى شارع الهرم!

عبد الله - و أنا واثقة فيه - قاللى ان مشجعى النادى الأهلى اتجمعوا بعد الفوز على سيارة تاكسى كانت واحدة ست راكباها, و فضلوا يخبطوا و يرزعوا فى التاكسى لحد ما السواق دخل محطة بنزين و العمال هناك رشوا الجياع بالمياه و هربت الست بأعجوبة.
اكيد كلكوا بتفكروا فى نفس اللى انا بافكر فيه: لو كان المتحرشين القدامى اتعاقبوا, و المتحرشين الجدد اتلموا فى السجون, ماكانش المتحرشين الأجدد قدروا يتهجموا علينا بالطريقة دى, لكن ازاى... ده احنا فى بلد ديمقراطى! واضح ان الموضوع حايبتدى ينتشر اكتر بصورة مفزعة. انا و الله العظيم من ساعة ما قريت اللى حصل فى وسط البلد و انا حاسة ان المعاكسات بتزيد, مع إنى محجبة - عشان بس ما حدش يقول لى كانى و مانى. يعنى مثلا نبقى ماشيين أنا و صاحبتى فى ميدان العباسية فى عز الضهر و الزحمة, الاقى واحد بيقوللنا كلام سافل و بأعلى صوته! و فى الاخر يطلع بهوات الداخلية اللى بناتهم و مراتاتهم بيركبوا مرسيدس بسواق, يقولوا لنا كله تمام يا فندم! و ان مفيش قصور أمنى! مفيش قصور أمنى ازاى و نزول الشارع ده بقى كابوس لكل البنات فى مصر. كل بنت بتبقى خارجة من بيتها وهى حاطة كل الاحتمالات: من النظرة المهينة للاغتصاب!

"الصامتون على الجرائم التى ترتكب فى الشوارع أشد جرما ما الفاعلين." سيد على - جريدة الأهرام"

الأهرام عن تحرشات وسط البلد

أخيرا"اتكلمت أكبر جريدة مصرية (بتاعت الحكومة بس ما يضرش) عن تحرشات وسط البلد, طبعا" حاطين كلمة "اشاعات" فى عنوان المقال بالرغم من ان جسم المقال متضمن شهادات من بنت اتبهدلت يومها,و لقرفى الشديد...بعض الرجال اللى اعترفوا بانهم اتحرشوا بالبنات...و قاللوا:
"أنا شخصيا"أفعل ذلك كل يومين تقريبا ثلاث مرات. و غالبا ما تضحك الفتاة أو تتجاهلنى و قد تنظر لى باحتقار و تمضى و الجريئة منهن تسبنى,و إذا فكرت أن ترفع يدها أباغتها بالسباب, و إذا تجمع الناس حولنا أهرب بسرعة كبيرة بعيدا و أذوب وسط الزحام."
يعنى المحترم واخدها هواية,يا مصريين اهانة البنات و الاستمتاع المطلق بيهم أصبح أمر روتينى فى حياة الرجالة,عقبال الاغتصاب.
و تقول د ص:كنت أسير مع ثلاثة من زميلاتى بعد خروجنا من السينما و أمامنا فتيات أخريات و فجأة انقض هؤلاء الشباب علينا و تداخلوا بيننا يتحرشون بنا. و قد امتدت أياديهم البنا بصورة أكثر بشاعة مما يتصور أحد فى شارع مزدحم! و من كانت منا تحاول دفع الأيدى عنها بيدها أو بالصراخ كانوا يحاولون جذبها من ملابسها"
أما بقى وزارة الداخلية فقد نفت حدوث الانتهاكات تماما و قالت فيما قالت من استحمار:
"ان اللقطات الفوتوغرافية التى تم التقاطها وعرضها على الموقع الالكترونى لا يوجد بها تحرش جنسى و إنما زحام كبير من المواطنين من بينهم سيدة تبتسم
!"
بعض الأصدقاء اللى ناقشت معاهم المصيبة دى قالوا لى "دى مؤامرة متدبرة",طب متدبرة من مين ضد مين يا اخوانا؟ لا يمكن تكون لصالح النظام لان اى نظام يسمح بانتهاك اعراض النساء بالصورة الحقير ة دى بيحط نفسه فى موقف محرج.انا ماصدقش انها مؤامرة لكن ممكن جداأصدق ان البلطجية دول عارفين ان مفيش
حد حايلمهم او يعاقبهم فاستحلوا أعراض البنات لأنفسهم.
مكتوب علينا نفضل حاطين عينا ف وسط راسنا طول ما احنا مش فى بيوتنا,ولا حتى جوه البيوت!مكتوب علينا يا ربى,بس ليه؟
للأسف سؤال بأفكر فيه و مش لاقية له اجابة...ليه ربنا بيسمح للتحرشات(و كل أنواع التعذيب النقسى و الجسدى) انها تحصل؟

تحرش جنسى فى وسط البلد

(تحذير: تدوينة قبيحة)
قطعوا هدومى فى الشارع.
قطعوا هدومى و انتهكوا حرمة جسمى و شدوا و حسسوا زى ما هما عايزين.
إذا كان بهاء طاهر بيقول فى روايته "الحب فى المنفى" إن مقتل أى طفل هى جريمة بحق كل أطفال العالم, يبقى من باب أولى,إن اللى حصل فى وسط البلد لبنات بلدى حصل لى أنا كمان.
قبل الكارثة دى أنا كنت فاكرة ان البلد حالها فى النازل. دلوقتى أقدر أبشركوا إن احنا خلاص متمرمغين فى الطين.
خلاص وصل بينا الأمر إن العشرات و المئات من الرجالة يتحرشوا بالبنات... عينى عينك فى وسط البلد و لمدة 4 ساعات... طبعا من غير تدخل من الشرطة, إن لم يكن بإشراف الشرطة.حتى فكرة الاخصاء اللى دونتها قبل كده ما كانتش حتنفع,تخيلوا العشرات على بنت واحدة.ده يقطع و ده يشد و ده يلمس. حاجة تقرف. هو ده اللى حصل فى المحروسة, أول أيام العيد, و فى وسط البلد.
فعلا مش قادرة أفكر ولا أقول أى حاجة بس عندى رسالة صغيرة نفسى أوصلها للمتحرشين: روحوا المسوا نفسكوا يا حيوانات بدل ما تمدوا ايدكوا على بنات بلدى, حتى حتحسوا بإشباع اكتر...ولا أنا غلطانة؟
ولسه عندى نفس الرسالة للبنات: لو اتحرش, خصيه. لا يمكن يكون الاستسلام و الصمت هو الحل. انا مقهورة و مكتئبة على البنات دول لدرجة انى بافكر أغير رد الفعل ل "حنقتلك".
بالنسبة بقى للناس اللى بتقول البنات هما السبب, اهو يا روح امكوا بنات لابسين عبايات و محجبات و محتشمات جرى لهم كده... و بيجرى لهم على طول على فكرة, فى الشوارع و الحوارى و الأوتوبيسات و المترو.
الكلام قليل على اللى حصل انا عارفة, بس مفيش كلام فى الدنيا ممكن يوصف احساس انسان تعرض للانتهاك الجنسى.
"مصر ماعندهاش حاضر, عندها مستقبل محتمل" كلمة قالها أحد الضيوف فى برنامج العاشرة مساء.
شهود العيان:
www.malek-x.net
www.misrdigital.com
www.speaksfreely.net
مالك بيدعوا كل البنات اللى اتعرضوا للتحرش الجنسى انهم يكسروا حاجز الصمت و يجمعوا شهادات يقدروا يقدموها إلى من يهمه الأمر.
خلاص...حاتكلم

Ode to my Cigarette

It is at times like these when I need you the most…
When random thoughts come streaming through my mind…
When I feel I'm breathing through a pinhole…
honey it's not your smoke
it's not your poison
it's not your cancer
it's mine
so let me breathe through you and vent out all of my frustration
let me burn with you bit by bit
for I can burn for you if you may…
slip through my fingers and be my date for the night…
let me wear your blue smoke…
be drenched in your aroma
and do let me burn for you if you may…
hear my silent screams and take them all away
puff by puff
Touch my lips...and speak right through me
take another look at me with those fiery eyes
Quick! Before they come
Quick! Before I'm all burned out…
help me, comfort me
Come, dear cigarette, come.
For I am to man like you are to angels
Hear them not say "You piece of hell
For, dear cigarette, we are both wild and free
leave them to their mates and friends…...
and come with me, come for me…
and let me be your date for the night
Dear cigarette...a world without you is as lonely as hellwith no one staying here by my side
to unleash the tiger inside
Dear cigarette..it is my last breath now
and I can feel you burning inside my mouth
drying up before I can ask...
Have I burned well all through?

Have I introduced myself well?

1) I really am totally harmless, except when it comes to me.
2) I think Pink Floyd is not just a band…Pink Floyd is a tune. Pink Floyd is a drug. Pink Floyd is a passion. Pink Floyd is a life.
3) I am a feminist .Sad but true.
4) I love wildly, savagely…and roughly.
5) I love people so much. You can say this is my weak point.
6) Black coffee is…. Umm…read “Obsession”!!
7) I don’t think I’m ordinary…although there’s still nothing peculiarly special about my life.
8) One of my dreams is becoming a script writer.
9) Try asking me a question…and I will never give you a precise answer.
10) I think I’ll die an awful death. A violent murder or something.
11) I hate technology. Sometimes to the point that I feel I can’t live without it.
12)I have no problem with gays, lesbians and bisexuals ….
13) I cannot bear weakness.
14) I am a rebellious bomb just about to blow up.
15) I am still haunted by a picture showing a woman’s body torn in half…during the Bosnian Genocide.
16) It is not that I daydream a lot; I rarely even visit real life.
17) Among all love songs…The Moody Blues’ “Nights in White Satin” just sweeps me off the ground.
18) I have suicidal tendencies. One thing you should know for sure; if I ever get raped, that will be the end of it all.
19) I have a passion for deep voices…the David Gilmour type.
20) I am the resurrection of Sarah Kane.
21) I love the mystery, the selfishness, the mere look of cats!
22) The longest time I can concentrate on one thing is 20 seconds.
23) I am sphexophobic.
24) I subconsciously hold my breath when I see Angelina Jolie.
25) I think keeping some of your secrets just to yourself is fishy but amusing.

مصر-مبارك

توفر مصر-مبارك لأبنائها الكرام خدمات فريدة لا يستمتع بها المواطنون فى البلاد الأخرة.
من أبرز هذه الخدمات تنوع طرق الانتقال إلى العالم الآخر...فإذا رغبت فى السفر بالطائرة...فمن الممكن أن يستهدف طائرتك صاروخا فوق المحيط الأطلنطى فتتفشفش ميت حتة, و تبقى أكبر حتة فى جثة سعادتك لا تسد رمق الأسماك الصغيرة...
أما إذا كنت لا مؤاخذة فلوسك على قدك,و قررت أن تسافر بحرا...فتوفر لك الدولة بواخر سوبر لوكس وتلف بيها تغرق بيك فى قاع البحر...فى الظلام الدامس...و لا مين شاف و لا مين درى...
طب و الجثة؟
مش معقولة يعنى الدولة حتنسى حاجة زى كده...ده انت مقامك غالى...لذلك تقدم الدولة جثتك أشهى وليمة لأسماك البحر...و يساهم الكالسيوم المتوفر فى عظامك فى تكوين الأعشاب المرجانية...تخليدا لذكراك الزفرة.
و قد تكون أيضا من محدودى الدخل الذى تولى مصر-مبارك عناية خاصة بهم...فتضطر أن تستقل سيارة أجرة فى السفر,و بينما أنت مستمتع بصحراء مصر الشاسعة أو حقولها دائمة الخضرة...تسمع صوت ارتطام و تطير بك السيارة يمينا و يسارا و...تنزلق رأسك بين أسياخ الحديد و تنفصل عن جسدك حتى تريحك من عذاب الدنيا إلى الأبد.
ألم أقل لك إنك محظوظ!
و قد تكون عزيزى المواطن هذا أو ذاك...فتختار أن تسافر بالقطار. فى تلك الحالة, فإن الدولة تتفنن فى إسعادك بشكل مبالغ فيه...فمن الممكن أن تشتعل النيران فى عربتك...تنظر حولك فلا ترى أمامك سوى الدخان, تأكلك النيران شيئا فشيئا حتى لا تضطر أن تذوق جهنم مرة أخرى, فإن مصر-مبارك من فرط حبها لك تريد لك الشهادة.
و ممن الممكن أيضا أن يصطدم قطارك بقطار آخر, فيمتزج لحمك الثمين بالكتل الحديدية مرة أخرى, مسجلة أروع ملحمة فى حب مصر...مبارك.

حملة:يللا نخصى الرجالة

كعادته كان علاء ثوريا عندما اقترح فى مدونته ان تقوم كل فتاة تتعرض للتحرش الجنسى بوخز الجانى "بابرة تريكو" فى خصيته!!...ليس فقط لأنها أكثر الأماكن حساسية فى جسم الرجل,بل لإشعار الجانى ان بقاء جنسه على وجه الأرض فى خطر.

بصراحة...ما اقدرتش أخبى تأييدى للفكرة,و كمان اقترحت ان الانتقام يبقى فى صورة بوكس أو شاللوت كحل أسرع..
الواضح فعلا إن الحلول السلمية مش نافعة فى أى مجال,عشان كده لازم ناخد حقنا بإيدنا-أو برجلينا..أصل جريمة زى دى هتتثبت ازاى,لازم يكون فى شهود,و للأسف معظم الناس-ان وجدوا- مايعتمدش عليهم...ايه اللى حايدخلهم فى سين و جيم...هى كانت من باقية أهله...وأشياء من هذا القبيل...و الشتايم و الصويت لو كانت نافعة كنا خلصنا من الخنازير أم أيدين و رجلين دول من زمان.
علاء عنده أمل إن لو رد الفعل ده انتشر,حوادث التحرش الجنسى حتقل بكتير...
يا بنات:
ماتسمحوش لاحد انه يقلل من قيمتك و يتحرش بيكى,خلاص بقى كفايانا مشى فى الشارع بنتلصص حوالينا من الخوف كأننا إحنا الحرامية,أرفعوا راسكوا ودافعوا عن نفسكوا...
كفاية احساس بالذل و العجز.
و بما إن إننا نخضع جميعا لقانون الغاب,فليحيا الانتقام الفورى.
و مرة تانية...خلينا ايجابيين!!! إيدكوا و رجليكوا معايا يا بنات

Let's work together

I'm surprised music can still make some sense among the ruins...
"Don't just stand there watching it happening

I can't stand it

Don't feel it

Something's telling me

Don't wanna go out this way

But have a nice day

Then read it in the headlines

Watch it on the TV

Put it in the background

Stick it in the back

Stick it in the back

For the beautiful occupation

The beautiful occupation

You don't need an invitation

To drop in upon a nation

I'm too cynical

I'm just sitting here

I'm just wasting my time

Half a million civillians gonna die today

But look the wrong way!"

"The Beautiful Occupation" by Travis

Ever since the Israeli aggression on Lebanon started...many of us have been wondering what we could do.Some of us even decided to do nothing out of sheer despair.But if you think about it...you can do much:

• 
  Pray!
• 
  Blog about the FACTS,reply to the comments of the brainwashed ....
• 
  Contact the Lebanese embassy in Cairo: 02 738 2823Account number u can donate money through: 156 156 6002 (BankMisr).
• 
  Send an e-mail to the ministry of Petroleum and Energy...saying NO to exporting gas to Israel(funny,our money is killing the Lebanese people."We're all criminals...we're all victims!" One of my favourite quotes from the movie "AlKarnak"). E-mail:contactus@petroleum.gov.eg Subject:"لنوقف الآن وفورا الصادرات المصرية من غاز وبترول إلى اسرائيل فلا يعقل أن نستمر فى إمداد قتلة الأطفال بحاجتهم من الطاقة" or,according to my humble translation;"Let us stop exporting oil and gas to Israel IMMEDIATELY.It is illogical that we provide the children-killers with their supply of 'oil'."
• 
  Send a short message of appreciation to Chavez! E-mail:Letters@VHeadline.com Subject:Arab People are grateful to Mr. President Hugo Chavez, for his courageous and human actions. We support his actions, thank him, and wish that Arab people and people of Venezuela can cooperate in different fields.
  
  Boycott the all-US products(yes,again).Only be careful it's purely US,so you would not lead an Egyptian worker bankrupt in the way.At least this is how I see it.

Don't ever say it doesn't work,for who knows? Get over all feelings of hopelessness and let us work together.Be positive! Be hopeful!

اللوحة

جلسنا ننتظر دورنا لاجراء مقابلة روتينية مع مدير شركة لا أعلم عنها شيئا....كنا نتكلم و نضحك كعادتنا حتى جاءنا صوته الحاد موبخا..."انتوا جايين لشغل يبقى لازم تقعدوا محترمين"...
تجادلت معه قليلا...و تركنى أنتفض و أنا أفكر فى مصيرى المجهول...حتى رأيتها.
كانت معلقة على الحائط بإهمال...يختبىء جمالها وسط صورة للرئيس و سقف قبيح..و صمت المفاجأة.
و كما ساد الصمت فجأة...علا صوتها فجأة...نفر من الأحصنة يجرى وسط الحقول الخضراء...أكاد أرى الحشائش تتمايل مع الرياح التى أحدثتها جلبة الأحصنة...ها هو الحصان الأبيض ذو الشعر الذهبى يتوسط اللوحة...و ينظر إلى نظرة المودع...يجرى نحوى فلا يصلنى أبدا...أحاول أن أهدهد عنقه الجميل فأرتطم بالزجاج العازل...
"حناخدك الأول تدريب لمدة تلات شهور...."
ولا يزال الحصان يعدو نحوى...أكاد أرى الدموع تتساقط بطيئا من عينيه الواسعتين...أسمع صوته ينادينى و أتمنى أن أعود إليه...أمتطى ظهره الأملس فيأخذنى إلى مكان بعيد لا يعلمه سوانا...مكان ترتوى فيه روحى , أنزوى فيه وحدى بعيدا عن الناس وعن العمل و عن المدير و عن الواقع المرير!
"وداعا أيها العالم القاسى...سوف أتركك اليوم.."
و تركت المكان بخطى ثقيلة و لا يزال صهيل الحصان ينادينى...

Nothing missing

"Maybe someday u'll wake up...and barely conscious you'll say to no one...isn't something missing? You won't cry for my absence I know...you forgot me long ago! Am I that unimportant...am I so insignificant...?"
What kind of hell is that?
What kind of hell is that when you know you won't be missed...when you know that you are simply a face...a couple of weak eyes in the memory of a somebody...
How painful is it when you know that all of your suffering,all of your pain..all of your secret smiles amount to nothing but a faded memory..a disgraceful past...to someone..
and you spend your lonely nights thinking...knowing that you are nothing to someone.Yes.Wake up.Kill yourself.Kill yourself.You are a nothing to somebody.
"Isn't something missing...isn't someone missing me?"
In just one moment all of your life diminshes into a drop of rain falling to the ground....a dirt under people's feet.A drop inseparable from the soot and dirt and dust and disease of time.A nothing.
A nothing.
But you won't kill yourself yet.It will only make you a weaker memory.It will only reduce you to a couple of lines in someone's diary...a handful of dust in earth's hungry mouth.A handful of bones crushed by a mountain of grief.
"Am I so insignificant?"
And now you're left to gather what is left of you...turning and twisting among more and more people who only make you a less and less significant memory...
Am I so insignificant?

!لو أنى فقط أتلاشى

I wouldn't live my life again if I could...only that I would love to study -again- the works from which I hand-picked these quotes!

"The world is sometimes just."
Maxine Hong Kingston,The Woman Warrior

".......:I only wanted to relieve my mind
By telling someone what I'd been concealing.
........:all you wanted was the luxury
Of an intimate disclosure to a stranger."
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party

"There's no memory you can wrap in camphor
But the moths will get in."
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party

"What is hell?Hell is oneself,
Hell is alone,the other figures in it
Merely projections.There is nothing to escape from
And nothing to escape to.One is always alone."
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party

"It no longer seems worth while to speak to anyone!"
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party

"Can we only love
Something created by our own imagination?
Are we all in fact unloving and unlovable?"
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party

"Disillusion can become itself an illusion
If we rest in it."
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party

"Rose:What's it like out?
Mrs Sands:It's very dark out.
Mr Sands:No darker than in."
Harold Pinter,The Room

"It is a thousand pities never to say what one feels."
Virginia Woolf,Mrs Dalloway

"(He):No man sacrifices his honour even for one he loves.
(She):Millions of women have done so"(!!!)
Henrik Ibsen,A Doll's House

"Most of life is so dull that there is nothing to be said about it,and the books and talk that would describe it as interesting are obliged to exaggerate,in the hope of justifying their own existence."
E.M.Forster,A Passage to India

"O untimely death,death."
William Shakespeare,King Lear
By the way is death ever untimely?

"We are such stuff
As dreams are made on."
William Shakespeare,The Tempest

"O,that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw,and reslove itself into a dew,
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter."
William Shakespeare,Hamlet
Everlasting:God
canon:law

"I wanted to find a hole in the ground and hide myself in it forever!"
Tennessee Williams,The Glass Menagerie

"You can't eat the orange and throw the peel away - a man is not a piece of fruit!"
Arthur Miller,Death of a Salesman

ما معنى أن أستمر فى هذه الحياة الكذبة؟..من أكون..و لم لا أنزل الاّن فى جوف النهر.أرقب من قلب الماء بطون ذلك البجع الأبيض الرجراجة وأصلى أن يحملنى التيار بعيدا جدا,بعيدا عن البجع وعن البط و عن الأشجار والجبال وعن البشر -- بعيدا ألى فجوة مدفونة وسط الصخور أندس فيها و أنزوى ثم تغمرنى الطحالب والنباتات والقواقع و الأسماك وتخفينى إلى الأبد؟
لو أنى فقط أتلاشى

بهاء طاهر,الحب فى المنفى

"But man is not made for defeat....a man can be destroyed but not defeated."
Ernest Hemingway,The Old Man and the Sea

Nobody is NOT perfect

My greatest sin,however,is that I always try to fish for the meanings behind the songs I listen to. I was listening to Bon Jovi's "Welcome to wherever you are" when I reached "remember that you're perfect,God makes no mistakes."
WHAAAATTTT!
I'm perfect? So what was all this talk about nobody being perfect...the same old cliche we repeat whenever we want to justify any stupid mistake we have done?
I mean,no one can deny that God makes no mistakes!
So what could Bon Jovi possibly mean? They didn't sound like they were simply writing an uplifting note.They sounded like they were joining a revolution of some kind.
If there was a sin called 'too much thinking',I'd probably excel in it.
What do they mean?
Ok.I give up.But at least I'll tell you how I see it.
Every one of us can find a way to be perfect.If you give people all the love you have,you're perfect. If you stretch yourself to the limit and push yourself further and further to achieve what you want,you're perfect. If someone considers you their best friend...you are perfect!
Find your own way to break the cliche...!

My deadly sin: Wrath!

Greed:	Medium
Gluttony:	Low
Wrath:	High
Sloth:	Medium
Envy:	Very Low
Lust:	Medium
Pride:	Medium

The Seven Deadly Sins Quiz on 4degreez.com

I knew it!

You Are Amy Lee!

Gothy, expressive, woman-in-painWho looks damn good in a corset"When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tearsWhen you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears"

Who's" Your Inner Rock Chick?

Promise me!

Now I know why this song is my absolute favourite.It's not because of my childhood memories that have been pent up within its melodies....not because of the deep,thirsty voice of David Gilmour,the sound of the bells that move my soul or the mystrious lyrics(for I love mysteries).
Oh....you voice that are so dear!! Sing to me...
"Beyond the horizon of the place we lived when we were young
In a world of magnets and miracles
Our thoughts strayed constantly and without boundary
The ringing of the division bell had begun
Along the Long Road and on down the Causeway
Do they still meet there by the Cut?
There was a ragged band that followed in our footsteps
Running before time took our dreams away
Leaving the myriad small creatures trying to tie us to the ground
To a life consumed by slow decay
The grass was greener
The light was brighter
With friends surrounded
The nights of wonder
Looking beyond the embers of bridges glowing behind us
To a glimpse of how green it was on the other side
Steps taken forwards but sleepwalking back again
Dragged by the force of some inner tide
At a higher altitude with flag unfurled
We reached the dizzy heights of that dreamed of world
Encumbered forever by desire and ambition
There's a hunger still unsatisfied
Our weary eyes still stray to the horizon
Though down this road we've been so many times
The grass was greener
The light was brighter
The taste was sweeter
The nights of wonder
With friends surrounded
The dawn mist glowing
The water flowing
The endless river
Forever and ever"
This is always the way I feel when I have to leave people I love,when my life rapidly changes by the change of faces and places...it's like you have left a little bit of your heart with each and every one you love and then you go home not finding enough strength to go on....!!
But forgive me,Gilmour,for I'll fight the force of the inner tide that sleepwalks me away from my friends and colleagues.Even if this world is consumed by slow decay,I prefer it than a world where I can't see those lovely faces ever more!The faces that made my grass greener and the light brighter in my eyes,in my life....

يا أصحابى وزمايلى و حبايبى,

حاسة إن حياتى حيبقى مالهاش معنى من غير ما أشوفكوا كل يوم زى ما إتعودت بقى لى أربع سنين...يا لو الزمن يرجع تانى و آخدكم بالحضن و أقضى معاكوا كل الوقت اللى عايزاه!أنا قضيت معاكوا أجمل سنين عمرى,بس صداقتنا و حبنا لبعض مش حيضيع بمرور الوقت...وعدتكم فاوعدونى!

No page with this title exists

"و على الأرض كانت الجثث و الأشلاء فى كل مكان,و بالذات حول المخابىء.سأشرح لك شيئا عن هذه المخابىء.كانت حفرا فى الأرض مغطاة و مبطنة بالأسمنت,و كانت تصلح الى حد ما ضد الغارات الجوية,لأنه ما لم تخترق القنبلة السقف مباشرة فان المخبأ يحمى من الشظايا,و لكن مع المدفعية الثقيلة التى كانت تدك البيوت و الأرض تحولت معظم هذه المخابىء الى مقابر لمن لجأوا اليها,و كانوا يتكدسون بالعشرات أطفالا و رجالا و نساء فى هذه المخابىء,رأيت واحدا منها و كان قد تحول الى بحيرة صغيرة تطفو فوقها رءوس و سيقان و أذرع و أستطعت أن أحصى من الجثث الطافية..."

دى شهادة حقيقية رواها بهاء طاهر فى روايته "الحب فى المنفى" عن المجزرة اللى حصلت يوم 16/5 /1983في مخيم عين الحلوة للاجئين الفلسطينيين...طبعا مفيش داعى أقول إن كالعادة الضحايا كانوا إحنا و"كالعادة" المجرمين كانوا إسرائيليين. حسيت بالغضب و القرف و الذل و المهانة لما قريت السطور دى فحسيت إن ابسط حق للابطال دول عليا إنى أعرف الظروف اللى ماتوا فيها...دخلت على ويكيبيديا أحاول ألاقى أى معلومات عن المدبحة...مفيش! طب أكتب "Ein ElHelwa","Ain AlHelwa","Ain Al-Helwa" أى هباب أزرق...مفيش! يا سلامNo page with this title exists"

و الله ما أنا عارفة ايه هى بالظبط اللى مش موجودة...المعلومات...و اللا البنى آدمين اللى عندهم شوية إحساس....الناس يموتوا بالمئات...بالآلاف..يموتوا خايفين..جعانين...عيانين...كلها كام سنة و ينساهم الضمير الميت.كلها كام سنة و يتحولوا لمجرد أرقام فى لستة عريضة...كلها كام سنة و تفتكرهم بالصدفة واحدة زيى و تكتب عليهم كام سطر...الفكرة إن أنا كنت عايزة أكتب عنهم من ساعت ما قريت الرواية بس كنت مشغولة بفستان حفلة التخرج...بالمناسبة,تفتكروا أعمله أحمر وللا دهبى...طب أدخل فيه لونين و اللا أخليه سادة؟طب و حاجيب فلوس الصندل منبن؟ مش عارفة أصلى محتارة أوى...المهم إنى أكتشفت فجأة إن خلاص ذكرى المذبحة بعد تلات أيام...قلت ما بدهاش بقى...أكتب عنها يمكن اللي يقرا الكلام ده يفتكر اللى حصل من 23 سنة و يعيط و اللا حاجة...

The Self-Torturer

"Irritable bowel syndrome,right?" She asked with a stupid smile on her face.
"Yes." He answered with a more ridiculous smile.
A gush of hot blood rushes to her face as she pics up her bag and the bitter residue of a once healthy and strong little girl.She tries to hold herself together and face the eyes that meet her but it gradually becomes too hard with the tightening in her throat and the tears that have sprung in her eyes despite of her.Tears that have jumped to her eyes,slided over her lower eyelid and drew a couple of glistening lines on her face,brushing out her despair.Tears,tears: do I fight them...do I hold them back?
And so I took my way home,dying for some rest,someone to care,and I try to hush her,I try to stop her but she would just seize my eyes and maim my heart and ruin me all over.
Syndrome-hospital-pills,pills,pills,tons of poisonous pills,forever-forever! in hospital all your life-no-think you are weak-weak-weak-check into hospital every weekend-weak-bowel-nervous-those nauseous yet fulfilling pitiful eyes-colon-irritable-irritated-be strong-forver weak weak weak
She is not ashamed anymore of others seeing her cry.She crosses under a shaking fly-over.
I pass by my favourite collection of flowers,their amazing colours still glowing in the dark-fuscia,
royal purple,charming wisteria,with their sweet smell actuallytaking over me and filling up my hungry soul inch by inch...
She finally reaches her house....heads slowly to her room and shuts the door.
Silence reigns
.......................
You have done this to yourself.You have brought it all on your sick head.You have burdened yourself with the miseries you have invented and now they have appeared from thin ice to haunt you all over.You are disgusting.Look what you have done to yourself.And all of this for what?For that pigsty of a world?Becoming angry,then mad,then fuming,pretending to be too kind to hurt others so you dry yourself up instead.Look at you sucking your own blood you fool.
Drip....drip...drip.
She pours tons of blood into her hungry mouth and it does not make her sick,does not quench her thirst.She watches her skin as it slowly sinks between her bones...and the blue helpless veins trying to find a place to survive,but they are squeezed gradually between her blue skin and white bones...that they get too thin,too leafy themselves to stand thier own grounds.
I am going to be patient,not a patient.I won't let an illness beat me.I know it is much easier to express negative emotions...but I am just grateful for everything You have chosen for me.If everyday provides its own gifts,my illness is a gift I will make the best use of.I will not break down or step back.You must ride over misfortunes,not lower down your throat to be slit open...
"Open the door!"
But they cannot hear her in their ivory worlds...she closes her ivory door upon her forever waiting,waiting for it to lie down with all his weight on her frail chest and grab her soul right out of her nose with his strong grip.
waiting....
"Open the door!"
ha-ha-eh-ah-ah-eh-ah-ah-he-ah she gapes as she brings out her last breaths...but they cannot see her through her ivory door,tearing out her own dry skin with her protruding teeth..they cannot see her munching her flesh...enjoying the bitter taste,tearing out her colon,"Now,you will never get the better of me!"
"Open the door!"
How I love the touch of warm water as I splash it on my face,how it freshens me up and brings me to life...how it makes me see everything clearly,eases my pain as it gently strokes my cheeks..I will live with it.I will stand my ground.
And finally the huge,ivory door is pulled down...and now all the miseries,all the depression,all the grief 'one life contains' are brought out to the open.
Too late!
But nothing has changed.They turn away from the stale,stinking air she has left...They don't realise it is her at first-again.All they see is a pile of bones...with swarms of flies buzzing all around them...and the fat white worms eating slowly into her brain.
"Shut the door!"
I turn away from her as I wonder if she had any chance of escape..and I draw out a sigh of relief,reaching the conclusion that has for so long pervaded my mind...

By Midnight

I saw Sarah today...
Yeah she is real.
She came around and smiled faintly as I jumped off my seat and wrung my arms around her tiny waist...for she is my strength and she is my weakness...she is my illness and she is my misery...she is all that I am.
As she stood before me,her defiant eyes focussed sharply on mine...she did not tremble,she did not cry,she did not fall apart,but I did.
"How are you doing my dear?" I murmered.
What a fake question! What an utterly fake world we're living in! Where has your piercing imagination gone now,Noha? Where has the pen gone? The pen that would-
God,take my soul by midnight!
Here she was,standing before me,full of life,full of hope,whereas my eyes were wandering everywhere ...my mouth was half uttering half broken sentences..."I hope you are better now"
"he'll get the punishment he deserves" "the most important thing is that you're ok now"
"I'm sure you have become stronger"...........
Utter cliches!
Where is your powerful pen and passionate short story now? Where is your skill at making words? Where have your mighty words gone when your protagonist stands all flesh and blood in your reach?
Why are you now shocked,broken,trembling?
Have you made a protagonist that is more of a heroine,more of an artist than you are?
Sarah vanishes...and all I am left with is a fancy of her red shirt still leaning on the wall.
And now all the tears and all the screams are suffocating in my throat waiting to be released..forever.

حنظلة اسمى

حنظلة اسمى
حنظلة اسمى
فلسطين وطنى
ولدت فى الخامس من حزيران 1967
و لكن لا يزال عمرى عشر سنوات!
مرت على سنوات طويلة من القهر والحنق و الذل...

ولا يزال عمرى عشر سنوات...

اشتعل الرأس شيبا ثم تساقط شعرى...
شعرة...
شعرة...
و لا يزال عمرى عشر سنوات!
تجعد وجهى و ضاقت عينى...
و هرم القلب و وهن الجسد...
أمسكت بالحجارة أشق بها صدر العدو
أمسكت بالقلم...أكتب ما يجيش به صدرى..
و روت دموعى الحارة أرض الغربة الباردة
و أنبتت نبتة جافة...
و ترعرت وأصبحت شجرة حنظل
آكل منها فتتجرح لسانى و يتمزق حلقى...
وأتجرع كئوس دمائى المرّة...
مرت على السنوات...
ولا يزال القلب شاردا فى بلاد الغربة...
يصبو لجبل النار...
يصبو لأشجار الزيتون...
يصبو لحجارة أخرى أهشم بها رأس العدو
مرت على السنون و ما عدت أشكو همى لأحد كان...
ضاع الوطن و غاب الأهل...
و غابت الشمس وراء ضباب بلاد الغربة
أعيدونى إلى وطنى...الآن
أعينونى على أن أمسك بالحجارة...
أقذف بها على العدو...
.....................
فتخترق ذخائرهم جسدى النحيل...
فتتفجر ترسانتهم العتيدة فى عنقى...
فتتحطم...
فأختنق...
فأحيا...
و لكنكم انصرفتوا عنى إلى أموالكم...
انصرفتم عنى إلى تفاهاتكم...
تركتونى أتجرع الحنظل فى بلاد الغربة...
فأدرت لكم ظهرى إلى أبد الدهر!
لبستم أفخم الثياب
و تناسيتم قدماى الحافيتين
و ملابسى الرثة...
فأدرت لكم ظهرى إلى أبد...أبد الدهر!
و لكنى لا زلت أحلم كل ليلة...
بالحور العين و الثياب الخضراء...
بما لا عين رأت و لا أذن سمعت...
بالعيون النضاخة و الأنهار المتدفقة...
بصحبة العينان السوداوان...
العينان الحبيبتان...
الشريفتان...
فى حياة لا موت فيها و لا مرض...
لا يأس فيها و لا حزن...
لا بؤس فيها و لا شقاء...
و أتنبه.......
لأجد وسادة مبتلة...
و ليل طويل قد تشققت عنه السماء المظلمة...
و تبددت فيه السحب المتناثرة....

"ولدى حنظلة,
لقد كنت أنت الأيقونة التي تحفظ روحى من الانزلاق... نقطة العرق التي تلسع جبينى اذا ما جبنت أو تراجعت ...ولدت فى العاشرة في عمرك وستظل دائما في العاشرة من عمرك، ففي تلك السن غادرت فلسطين وحين تعود الى فلسطين ستكون بعد في العاشرة ثم تبدأ في الكبر ، فقوانين الطبيعة لا تنطبق عليك لأنك استثناء ، كما هو فقدان الوطن استثناء.
حبيبى حنظلة....لن تفنى بالرغم من فنائى...بل سأحيا بروحك...حبيبى...."
ناجى العلي

و يبقى الشعر....

"خسرت حلما جميلا.... خسرت لسع الزنابق
و كان ليلى طويلا.... على سياج الحدائق
و ما خسرت السبيلا...و ما خسرت السبيلا...
السبيلا...."

محمود درويش

Obsession

I'm standing in a crowd...
people giggling...some frowning...others shattering...
the misfits!
Then I smell a familiar perfume...
and my imagination sways far away from this life...
could it be you again...?
can I resist the temptation this time...?
Cuddling me...inviting me...seducing me...raping me...
can I resist your temptation this time?
And you lead me to your world though I know I'll be locked in forever...
there's no turning back now!
Soon enough...your black...black eyes....appear at a distance...
NO!
Please don't pull me back to this torture again...
but then I grap you by my very own will...
my fingers scratching your hard skin...
I grab you by the neck and pull you to my lips...
and you welcome me with your bitter taste...and your hot,black saliva...
as you touch my lips...you're too hot but it only makes me more helpless...
you cross your tongue across my lips ...scratching me..hurting me...bleeding me...
but it's ok....
you reach my tongue and a shrill goes down my body
You reach my throat and I start to choke...
and I'm still grabbing you closer....!
Are you my sin or my salvation?
Are you a saviour or a poison?
I thought you wanted platonic love!
But how can I resist your temptation...
You lean down on me and I hold you till we can't be any closer...
I take more of you....you take all of me...
I've dried up your mouth...but still I'm thirsty for more...
and as the last drop is twisted between our tongues...
I step back to look at you...
You can stand there and wonder at my desire....
what do you even know of my desire?
your black eyes fading....your perfume still intoxicating me....
you turn away to be filled again...
with hot...bitter...black...black coffee.

Perverseness
Why are you all staring at me?
What do you see?
Do you see a beautiful young lady....a calm face...an inviting smile?
A pair of tired eyes?
A broken heart?
......................
Now,where is everyone?
Where have you gone when my eyes just won't dry up?
Where are you when I hold the knife and have violent tendencies?
When I bite my tongue till it drips with blood?
But I still haven't figured out what to do with my skin...
Perhaps I'll start with my wrist...
I'll cut it in two...don't worry,I love the sight of blood
black blood flowing from two intertwined veins..
drip...drip...drip...
Or perhaps I'll go head down from our balkony...
and reach the ground with a thud and a broken neck...
Are you all having a nice time?
Are you riding your fancy cars?
Are you eating a bunch of mouth-watering grapes?
Have you heard a skull being smashed against a wall?
Guess what.....it's mine! Surprise!
"I'll say goodbye to all my troubles"
Or...I'll stand by the road...trembling and relieved
I'll wait for this or that car...I'll jump
I'll be saved.
But you know what's the best way...seriously?
I'll carry on living.

Vengeance

"God,when am I ever going to die!"
Tears streaming down her face,blood gushing from her vagina,she picks up her torn clothes and tries to go home.
Her knees are trembling,barely able to hold her sorrow...the world is spinning..the world must be going crazy.
"If you tell anyone,I won't even kill you...I'll kill your own mother and father.You wanted it to happen to you anyway..umm...I can even feel you having it..."
"Help!Somebody help me!Somebody!Please have mercy!'
"Huh,have you heard that?"
.........HELP!.........
"...whatever can we do to her anyway?Let's go!"
She drops down in a swoon..a thin line of the sky comes closing down upon her...can't breathe...can't see...
"Leave me alone! I want to die!I have to die!"
Hours pass..one.two..three...
"Honey,what's the matter?"
Silence...
"I'm still waiting for the tea!!"
Aaaaaaaaaaah!
What if God had not created tears?
How could she have survived that night?
She recoils to a dark corner in her dark room..."should I tell them?"
A pair of glaring blue eyes is staring at her from among the sheets of her bed...
"If you tell anyone..."
Like a compressed something that has suddenly been released...she sobs...grinds her teeth and pulls off her hair...
The wedding ring...the dark,mysterious man who would come to her from among the mist taking her hand..the white dress...the smile of her child..."all done!all gone!"
The phone rings...how long have I been here...and how long has my mother been knocking at the door?
The deep...comforting voice of her best friend streams on from the wires...oh...if her voice could be the music of my ears till the day I die!
"My dear...u don't sound ok to me...what happened?"
Silence...
"If you tell anyone..."
....months pas....
"Sarah! I believe in you.It wasn't your fault.If I could lay hands on him-"
Drip...drip...drip...
"My dear,don't keep the hurt.If you tell me how you feel...you'll divide your burden in half...a half is so much easier to bear..."
"......"
"Sarah!Wake up!It's already 7:00 pm."
"God!Don't tell me it was just a dream!He seemed so real-" she touches her delicate fingers..."that I can stiil feel his touch...his grasp...his heat...his pulse...
"Let me stay..where the wind will whisper to me...where the raindrops as they're falling tell a story..."
Sarah...how are you doing now? asks Deep Voice.
"Getting on...I thought about what you told me..I'll talk..I'll talk..."
Years pass...
"Dear Diary,
I can't help wondering if he's still alive...
If so...I don't wish to see him in jail...
I don't wish to see his decaying remains...I only want him to see how I've become..."

Hey everyone.....everywhere...I'm a new blogger on the block :)
I'm.......
you'll know as days go by.