Things that disappear
She looks at her finger nails long with red nail polish, she wonders about the presumable filth beneath them, she has been cleaning and washing and sweating for a reason beyond her understanding. What is that all for now, no one will come, and she has bore the dirt for so long and only now she transfers that embedded dirt to herself. Under her finger nails at the bottom of her feet, the smell of sweat under her arm pits and…never mind. She sits on a chair that she detests so much being the same object that was the resting spot of both her mother and him. She tries to forget who held her on that same chair for so long and it was not him. He only rested his weight and hung his head and said some words that she didn't understand; he drank her tea, ate her cookies and touched her hands. He uttered the same words every time and she still didn't understand, beyond her tiny world, little existed and nothing made much sense. He was a different, difficult species for her, not because he was a man, sex didn't have a space in her recollection now; but because, he tried, he asked questions that she couldn’t answer. Plead for her peaceful heart to accept him, after all that has been and still she didn't understand. She had no reason to let him in, but something that same every Tuesday forced her to open the door and greet him leading his ambivalent path to the same chair. Every time she stood there not remembering where did she see that face; loving hands stretches for hers which she willing gives for few seconds feeling an up rise in her heart beat and wishes she wore her perfume; she slips her hands away and disappears in her own little realm for some time getting back with the tea and the cookies that she bakes every week for him not even knowing his name.
She lives alone, in that small flat… one bedroom, an entrance hall, a kitchen and a bathroom. One chair in that entrance where they sit… him and her mother. Her mother didn't last long like he did. She fell apart… she still pays the bill and sends her food and everything, but she just can't see her anymore. That sweet little girl, that once was the flower of her life and a youthful dream, she saw everything she wished herself could have done in that girl. She wanted to see her turn into a woman but that dream only lasted for as long as a blink of an eye. She has an ache, in her heart … in her belly where that girl lived what now is the most peaceful time. That mother says she gave it all and she probably did. But all the same, so what. It's not her who stays like a fried potato not capable of comprehending what the hell she is. She is a girl, that is pure biology but what is beyond that. What is left to her to feel, futile is her life that may seem. But her mother says she wants her to understand it is not her fault. It's nobody's fault…it's just fate or something like it. Does it even matter what happened. Would that make any difference? She just disappeared in her little mind. Nobody understands. She just left the world and all what they say glory and casted it out of her life. Things disappear and so did she.
That beautiful angel has disappeared leaving behind her a no man's land. Leaving a disgrace in the heart of those who don’t understand how it feels to be smashed out of your own life. And anguish in the heart of those who also don't understand but still wish they did, he wished he did and wished it was him and not her. He wished he could smell her hair ones more and get a grip of that fading smell but he knows… he is damn sure it would not be the same. She is not the same, not a replicate, not a memory but a shadow or a ghost. He wished she was a sleeping beauty, he would have woke her up with a kiss or a million more, but she wouldn't even let him touch her. He gets a touch of her hand every Tuesday but that s all what he is allowed. A touch a week with that newly learned habit of baking cookies that he does not even like but mow with them crushing in his mouth just because she smelled, touched and looked at them. Even her tea is not the same; she puts too much sugar as if sweetening his time with her. They don't know why he comes every Tuesday. They used to hate that day, but everything is nothing anymore. Every dream and wish is turned against its will in means of figuring out a meaning or sense in what is nothing but nil. He comes on Tuesday and that is the only day she feels him. The rest of the week is like a long sleep for her, although… she never sleeps. Nobody knows that or what she spends her time doing, she does not know either. Leaving the wide allies to narrow streets of hazard dreams wishing things were a little easier, that the duplicity of sheer beautiful innocence and the disdainful meanness would make sense. He thinks she must be thinking of something… maybe she just does not love him anymore, but she does, she must do. Even if she doesn't know it, it shows, she has an aura around her that glows when she sees him. But so what, he doesn't see her on any other regular day and she doesn't know it.
She is a fairy tale. But can she speak for herself… can she say how she feels, that she is not a she-wolf and not a vampire or a slayer, she is not looking for heaven, not even mercy.. She knows what it means to rest in peace, but she is in peace, she does not know where pain comes from or why or even when. She misses the woman who used to come here but only on Wednesday the day she used to come in. Maybe if they knew how the days made sense only when they come they would have made an effort to make her happy. But do they even understand happy. She is not sad, because she doesn't have these feelings anymore; she is on eternal drugs of nothingness and she … she well she probably knows it, deep down inside her, she must must know it.
What if she does not, what if she is suffering? What if this ignorance of the world around her is not a blessing but a curse? She once said that aiming at the world is much of a curse as a blessing. What if this nihility is a curse? Would she know it, does she suffer, he would definitely want to know, her mother would definitely want to know too and her unborn child would wonder where she is when they take it away. She screams that is for sure only so her oval belly like that entrance would crack out of her sensitive voice. But she does not know why she screams. She falls down, down, down, and gets up dizzy, but not angry, tired but not for herself, for it that is inside. She feels it but doesn't understand, she never did. She touches her belly and feels it; she smiles but forgets it when it burns the pee. How will they get it out of her they don’t know, she doesn't even understand that it needs to get out. Why don’t they just keep it in. if it was her choice she would have stayed in. But is it a nice thing. He doesn't talk about it; he doesn't even look at it. He fears it actually. He knows it's his but what should he do with it. Give it away maybe or raise it up or come and stay with her.
Enough with the baby they thought but they would not take it out of her, they thought it might restore her back to sanity. Does she want their sanity back, they probably would never know. She is not dead, not dead, not alive but not dead. She is breathing but she does not sleep and merely eats when she feels it's hungry. She does not perform the exact act of prayer but she has an art of praying a humming mantra that lulls it to sleep. She probably has a certain feeling towards it. The beauty and the beast. She feels it and it does make her happy; sitting on a corner rocking herself and touching her belly. But she would forget about it if or when they take it out. She might rock herself and touch herself, but without any recognition that there was something beyond her physical reality out there to share her world.
Leaving an absent minded girl wouldn't make a difference in anybody's life but hers and her child. He and maybe her mother's would maybe suffer, but still does it matter, they suffer for her and she does not even know them or herself; would it make any difference, she should forget about them and even her Tuesdays would get back to nothing beyond cookies making even if he didn’t come, she would be alone but wouldn't even care about … she has always been alone. She finally did it; she did it and died; giving it to them. She lost all touch with the world the curse and the blessing. It is over, she is no longer there. They took it away and called it after her. Hope.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The One that Resides in Me
The One That Resides In Me
“NO Lucy…well I m not sure, maybe”. “Nadia we can never be on the same track”. That might have been the last utterance between me and Lucy a couple of days ago. But now she is sleeping with me. She said, I said, but for some time nobody took a serious action, not even a mild one. Songs were traced in the train of thought between us – that is because we are a lot alike- I m not going to act out of cliché and say stuff like Om Kalthoum…or even Sinatra – those being the favorite of my father- the figure of pride and jealousy between Lucy and myself. Assem, the man of every girls dream, music notes come on mind now as I try to express how I – us- feel about him. Tee rara rara ra …. I was from Egypt while Lucy was from Spain; now we are from the clay of Assem. Our father, the renounced translator cheated on the both of us and our mothers. Now Lucy and I live alone in a very green place, but sometimes when he comes to haunt us back it turns caramel like the color of his skin. Although when I saw him bathing naked he was white as the peas of a guava, his skin was always soft by olive oil, the same color of his eyes. BUT he was an Ostrich. Now Lucy and I feel like we can never belong. We now have no place and no home but the arms of ourselves since we are cast out of him.
“I love you Lucy”…silence, the same time we talked a couple of days ago. But I feel ambivalent about how she feels about me. We shout, we scream. AHHHHHHHH…” now I got it out of my system” said Lucy, “now I can love you back Nadia”. Why does it have to be this way? We asked and we answered because regardless of our loneliness we are a camouflage. “But of what???” She answered “God damn it Nadia…how many times do I need to tell u… of him of the man who said he loved us”, kiss me Lucy; kiss me like he never kissed us before. And we cuddled, and then came peace.
Music notes, always music notes, and then a performance. She acted to me that other night, she danced and danced and sang and then drank all the wine. The wine in the fountain, I say in the fountain and not from the fountain because she goes into the fountain and drinks and come out crimson, and then I cry and she cries and we dance ballet. Modern of course and not classic because we don’t like classic. Everything classic reminds us of him. The one and only man. How many times did he come to us and held our hands and walked with us and the land becomes velvet on the music of his violin. Oh yes he was a man of great talents and so were we. We were of every color and every texture. Now we have no one to brag on but ourselves. That’s why we fight a lot but then and again we love ourselves I mean each other… but we both cry at night in the darkness of the hollow space that is between us and yet we don’t listen, we crave. and long and yearn and we are tired. We are exhausted.
“You know what Nadia; I think he loved me more. He always gazed at me in this needy way, like he really wants me with him”; “then why did he leave you here with me”; “because you stupid he didn’t want you to suffer”. She looked at me in anguish and as if she concurred herself, something which ultimately annoys me, “because he loved you too, but me more”. I hate her when she says so, which made me say what I always resent myself for mentioning; “Lucy, you know that u came by mistake, accept it, it was always ME”. Quarrels, firm grips, then soft gestures and then finger nails gently touching each other causing a shiver. We then make love. That is not wrong in our land. We are one, try to understand Assem. We can never be totally yours, you left us and the land has rules. We have to love each other. We have to bond. We are not like you, we don’t cheat and we are desperate and tight. Very very tight. But we do we hurt each other; when we are made of the same clay Why when we feel so right together? We don’t know actually, we might never do.
Then what, what happens to us when we grow old, when our bodies yearn for warmth and our souls long for tenderness.
We fell in love with him and then with each other. Time difference is long, I remember times when he used to sleep between us. Me one leg over his belly and Lucy has an arm around his neck. We used to fight over his very being; who would hold the more of him; who would feel his breath. But he left us. He took us on a journey, the last time we had a chance to look in his eyes and smuggle his beauty into our memory. Then we became so one with each other. We maneuvered around each other. Who would sleep under the shed and who would watch out for the beasts? We became so slim, though we were fat before. That is because daddy loved his girls chubby. He loved us full and round. We thought we betrayed him when we changed so much, when we became fairly beautiful and all the more attractive. When I used to cry for such betrayal Lucy used to comfort me saying that at least there is no one around; that the beauty is held between us. And that’s when we start kissing. Full rounded lips full rounded arms and legs all in one entity; all together. But I tell her no and she says yes. Other times I say yes and she says no. We never settle for the same thing.
The first time we had our period the whole place turned red. The ocean turned gloomy. It whispered his words; you are no longer my young girls. Now I want you. We got very scared. We got used to the female scent and voice and touch. But the blood was so strong. We bled we bled and we bled. We needed medication and no one turned to help us. We were threatened but we did not surrender. We decided to tell our own story. We dressed in white. We walked, and then ran then we stopped to breath; then again and again and again. Our clothes got torn. Our hair was cut by the branches of the huge tree where we first landed. We took it as a bad sign. But then we flew. As our path got longer so did our arms and legs. We were wingless, yet we flew. We touched the sky and we then landed on the top of the mountain. We entered from top to bottom. It was all that contradictions could ever bear; cold and hot as a furnace; intimate and distant as a cloud. But we were met with one wonder that almost knocked the hell out of us. There were portrayals of the two of us in every crack of the deep mountain. There we were smiling and dancing and swimming all, all of our memories together. It was… bitter sweet. We were looking at us from afar from images of the past from mellow rhythm of a loving past. Oh how much did we want it to last. Then again we heard the wild ocean whispers his words, “if troy surrendered to me would not you!!! My dearest and most loving creations. I am your Achilles, the one and only” Out of the blues we directed our long arms and legs that stretched to itch at the cravings on the mountain and reached the bottom of it.
There it was miraculously and insanely beautiful; a piece of the greenest heaven ever to be crafted by the hands of the mighty being. I must be stuttering to the magic of the smile. My God!!! Is that really you, here with us? Our legs and arms shrank at the sight of the mighty HIM. We rolled ourselves in each other’s arms and crawled at his feet. We closed our eyes and whispered a prayer with confidence that nothing would harm us.
Dear lord, may we never separate from the loving company of each other. Please keep us close to the eyes of the sun and the shadow of your moon. We dare ask you to fill our hearts with comfort and satisfaction. I love me because she resides there with you. May I sleep in an eternal dream of ever gentleness of her touch and never let go.
We slept like newly born babies and never were to wake to the whispers of the one and only man, our dearest father.
Nawara Magdy Belal
19-6-2009
“NO Lucy…well I m not sure, maybe”. “Nadia we can never be on the same track”. That might have been the last utterance between me and Lucy a couple of days ago. But now she is sleeping with me. She said, I said, but for some time nobody took a serious action, not even a mild one. Songs were traced in the train of thought between us – that is because we are a lot alike- I m not going to act out of cliché and say stuff like Om Kalthoum…or even Sinatra – those being the favorite of my father- the figure of pride and jealousy between Lucy and myself. Assem, the man of every girls dream, music notes come on mind now as I try to express how I – us- feel about him. Tee rara rara ra …. I was from Egypt while Lucy was from Spain; now we are from the clay of Assem. Our father, the renounced translator cheated on the both of us and our mothers. Now Lucy and I live alone in a very green place, but sometimes when he comes to haunt us back it turns caramel like the color of his skin. Although when I saw him bathing naked he was white as the peas of a guava, his skin was always soft by olive oil, the same color of his eyes. BUT he was an Ostrich. Now Lucy and I feel like we can never belong. We now have no place and no home but the arms of ourselves since we are cast out of him.
“I love you Lucy”…silence, the same time we talked a couple of days ago. But I feel ambivalent about how she feels about me. We shout, we scream. AHHHHHHHH…” now I got it out of my system” said Lucy, “now I can love you back Nadia”. Why does it have to be this way? We asked and we answered because regardless of our loneliness we are a camouflage. “But of what???” She answered “God damn it Nadia…how many times do I need to tell u… of him of the man who said he loved us”, kiss me Lucy; kiss me like he never kissed us before. And we cuddled, and then came peace.
Music notes, always music notes, and then a performance. She acted to me that other night, she danced and danced and sang and then drank all the wine. The wine in the fountain, I say in the fountain and not from the fountain because she goes into the fountain and drinks and come out crimson, and then I cry and she cries and we dance ballet. Modern of course and not classic because we don’t like classic. Everything classic reminds us of him. The one and only man. How many times did he come to us and held our hands and walked with us and the land becomes velvet on the music of his violin. Oh yes he was a man of great talents and so were we. We were of every color and every texture. Now we have no one to brag on but ourselves. That’s why we fight a lot but then and again we love ourselves I mean each other… but we both cry at night in the darkness of the hollow space that is between us and yet we don’t listen, we crave. and long and yearn and we are tired. We are exhausted.
“You know what Nadia; I think he loved me more. He always gazed at me in this needy way, like he really wants me with him”; “then why did he leave you here with me”; “because you stupid he didn’t want you to suffer”. She looked at me in anguish and as if she concurred herself, something which ultimately annoys me, “because he loved you too, but me more”. I hate her when she says so, which made me say what I always resent myself for mentioning; “Lucy, you know that u came by mistake, accept it, it was always ME”. Quarrels, firm grips, then soft gestures and then finger nails gently touching each other causing a shiver. We then make love. That is not wrong in our land. We are one, try to understand Assem. We can never be totally yours, you left us and the land has rules. We have to love each other. We have to bond. We are not like you, we don’t cheat and we are desperate and tight. Very very tight. But we do we hurt each other; when we are made of the same clay Why when we feel so right together? We don’t know actually, we might never do.
Then what, what happens to us when we grow old, when our bodies yearn for warmth and our souls long for tenderness.
We fell in love with him and then with each other. Time difference is long, I remember times when he used to sleep between us. Me one leg over his belly and Lucy has an arm around his neck. We used to fight over his very being; who would hold the more of him; who would feel his breath. But he left us. He took us on a journey, the last time we had a chance to look in his eyes and smuggle his beauty into our memory. Then we became so one with each other. We maneuvered around each other. Who would sleep under the shed and who would watch out for the beasts? We became so slim, though we were fat before. That is because daddy loved his girls chubby. He loved us full and round. We thought we betrayed him when we changed so much, when we became fairly beautiful and all the more attractive. When I used to cry for such betrayal Lucy used to comfort me saying that at least there is no one around; that the beauty is held between us. And that’s when we start kissing. Full rounded lips full rounded arms and legs all in one entity; all together. But I tell her no and she says yes. Other times I say yes and she says no. We never settle for the same thing.
The first time we had our period the whole place turned red. The ocean turned gloomy. It whispered his words; you are no longer my young girls. Now I want you. We got very scared. We got used to the female scent and voice and touch. But the blood was so strong. We bled we bled and we bled. We needed medication and no one turned to help us. We were threatened but we did not surrender. We decided to tell our own story. We dressed in white. We walked, and then ran then we stopped to breath; then again and again and again. Our clothes got torn. Our hair was cut by the branches of the huge tree where we first landed. We took it as a bad sign. But then we flew. As our path got longer so did our arms and legs. We were wingless, yet we flew. We touched the sky and we then landed on the top of the mountain. We entered from top to bottom. It was all that contradictions could ever bear; cold and hot as a furnace; intimate and distant as a cloud. But we were met with one wonder that almost knocked the hell out of us. There were portrayals of the two of us in every crack of the deep mountain. There we were smiling and dancing and swimming all, all of our memories together. It was… bitter sweet. We were looking at us from afar from images of the past from mellow rhythm of a loving past. Oh how much did we want it to last. Then again we heard the wild ocean whispers his words, “if troy surrendered to me would not you!!! My dearest and most loving creations. I am your Achilles, the one and only” Out of the blues we directed our long arms and legs that stretched to itch at the cravings on the mountain and reached the bottom of it.
There it was miraculously and insanely beautiful; a piece of the greenest heaven ever to be crafted by the hands of the mighty being. I must be stuttering to the magic of the smile. My God!!! Is that really you, here with us? Our legs and arms shrank at the sight of the mighty HIM. We rolled ourselves in each other’s arms and crawled at his feet. We closed our eyes and whispered a prayer with confidence that nothing would harm us.
Dear lord, may we never separate from the loving company of each other. Please keep us close to the eyes of the sun and the shadow of your moon. We dare ask you to fill our hearts with comfort and satisfaction. I love me because she resides there with you. May I sleep in an eternal dream of ever gentleness of her touch and never let go.
We slept like newly born babies and never were to wake to the whispers of the one and only man, our dearest father.
Nawara Magdy Belal
19-6-2009
agression
Aggression
Humble and greedy
Sensitive and pervert
Sexy and psychotic
That is you and not me))
Passionate and possessive
Sincere and insecure
Pandora and neurotic
(That is me and not you)
A story that started before we met
Ended before we part
Even before it began it is over
Over… over … over
Sex, drugs, alcohol
Always a step away from addiction and abduction
With no encounter, there was a string
That thin red line between day and night
You and me
What you might and I might not be
A game, a struggle, an aah
Aggression resentment and departure
Aggression …
Sweet sweet aggression…
Love, aggression
Hate, aggression
Craving, longing, needing wining
Aggression
Depression!!!
No… aggression…
Smashing and crushing
Bonding and biding
Barking and howling
Aggression
Mellow, hard,
Up and down he goes
On the back he lays
Tender aggression
By him on him to him
And me
Aggression
Whispers, silent screams, I … fall
Down, down , down
Aggression.
Humble and greedy
Sensitive and pervert
Sexy and psychotic
That is you and not me))
Passionate and possessive
Sincere and insecure
Pandora and neurotic
(That is me and not you)
A story that started before we met
Ended before we part
Even before it began it is over
Over… over … over
Sex, drugs, alcohol
Always a step away from addiction and abduction
With no encounter, there was a string
That thin red line between day and night
You and me
What you might and I might not be
A game, a struggle, an aah
Aggression resentment and departure
Aggression …
Sweet sweet aggression…
Love, aggression
Hate, aggression
Craving, longing, needing wining
Aggression
Depression!!!
No… aggression…
Smashing and crushing
Bonding and biding
Barking and howling
Aggression
Mellow, hard,
Up and down he goes
On the back he lays
Tender aggression
By him on him to him
And me
Aggression
Whispers, silent screams, I … fall
Down, down , down
Aggression.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
creeping
Creeping
One silver charming night
It came along creeping inside out
It, he , she … came along creeping
With an antique brownish book on the shelf
It came along creeping
With a copper medallion on her breast
It comes creeping
With the glamour of her being the other woman
It will come creeping
With the disgrace of him being the other man
It creeps.
There is a shadow behind the show
There is a show behind the star
And there is a star behind the woman
But the star has it creeping inside
She saunters with a stuttering echo
Saunters rosing her entrance
But still it creeps
Inside, outside and all in between
She is so seductive it shows she s not real
The creeping absorbs her till she is not her
She is not
Is no
Thing
When he enters that gloomy heart of his
He tries to un-write their story with
Tainted reded pain
He unleashes her forbidden existence
But it creeps
Every single atomic being creeps
He know how she scented his soul
While painting his body
Still it haunts him creeping
They walk an un-padded ground of ambivalence
They creep over each other's lives
Leaving a scare on each witness of their love
They creep head over heals
They kiss, love and denounce the world creeping
In a dark alley of a dark beauty they fall
Apart, sending a hello so instant it’s a goodbye
He kills her creeping with a blatted knife
Caressing her dead body with a creeping kiss
He unsealed her life and creeps away
Creeps into his own nihility
Creeps.
One silver charming night
It came along creeping inside out
It, he , she … came along creeping
With an antique brownish book on the shelf
It came along creeping
With a copper medallion on her breast
It comes creeping
With the glamour of her being the other woman
It will come creeping
With the disgrace of him being the other man
It creeps.
There is a shadow behind the show
There is a show behind the star
And there is a star behind the woman
But the star has it creeping inside
She saunters with a stuttering echo
Saunters rosing her entrance
But still it creeps
Inside, outside and all in between
She is so seductive it shows she s not real
The creeping absorbs her till she is not her
She is not
Is no
Thing
When he enters that gloomy heart of his
He tries to un-write their story with
Tainted reded pain
He unleashes her forbidden existence
But it creeps
Every single atomic being creeps
He know how she scented his soul
While painting his body
Still it haunts him creeping
They walk an un-padded ground of ambivalence
They creep over each other's lives
Leaving a scare on each witness of their love
They creep head over heals
They kiss, love and denounce the world creeping
In a dark alley of a dark beauty they fall
Apart, sending a hello so instant it’s a goodbye
He kills her creeping with a blatted knife
Caressing her dead body with a creeping kiss
He unsealed her life and creeps away
Creeps into his own nihility
Creeps.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
smoke
I m losing myself to him. I am losing the essence of my being, I feel like a turbulence has taken over me and there is nowhere to go..no place to call home or even a refuge. He is so Manchu he can eat me up and leave the pieces to lay on the side of the road for everyone to see my remaining and what I once was. It's like I m fading away. I no longer AM. Maybe a creature of the underworld with no substance, with no entity and I have to break free, I need to escape his presence for what I am becoming…Smoke. Grey and wavering. I m not filthy, believe me I am pure and as they say there s no smoke without fire. Now I m not lost, I sneak around and maneuver my way. I feel whole again because there is no vacuum that can sustain me. Now I can experience a lot and say a lot and be a lot. I feel free and out of the mundane reality that everyone seems to be so stuck on. I preferably am a cigarette smoke. Every time someone puffs from his cigarette I circulate around her creating an aura of livelihood and a new kind of existence so vicious, so surreal and yet so true, you can try to touch me and yet I escape u to a present in another medium of another time. I was thinking about myself lately and I feel I m hot all the time; but the best thing about me is that I m not sticky. I am a lala rhythm especially from a cigarette where you can find a moral. I am created by someone who has a mood so intense he probably needs to get me out of his system. I reveal a different layer of truth and lies. I m created by a self destructive decision, yet so appealingly relaxing and independently stunning. I am the star of the show, never un-needed, never un-appreciated and usually set free to roam around the world without any idea of being belittled or smudged. I hate being smudged. And even when it turns dusty I AM again. I feel so original and worthy. From ashes to ashes and dust to dust. I am the ESSENCE. OH Gee, I am a master piece.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Dearest Goddess of the Earth
Dearest Goddess of the Earth
Sorry my little girl for not being around as I should…
Sorry sweets for forgetting about your needs
Sorry honey for not holding you in my arms
Sorry …please forgive me, I really need you
I need to feel alive again,
My youth is turning against me
Where shall we meet for reunion and nostalgia?
I have been very nostalgic about u for a while now
Remembering how u used to hold the world in your hands
And pamper its mysteries as if they were your own
You were very adventurous even in your own little mind
I can see how much I need you to get back there to the streams,
The well of my existence,
The shelter of my spirit
And the beautiful anguish of my soul
I know I regain you from time to time
Sometimes taming my wilderness into womanhood
Others leaving me to lean forward to the dangerous spasm of my youth
Now and then betraying you into stagnancy and stiffness of my fears
You treat me so well dear…you set me free only to come back to you
I spin round and round like a threat on a needle in hay but then and again
I feel your beauty creasing my every cell of joy and pain,
You are such a goddess in disguise you bring me down and lift me up again
You fool me into the danger of being me but I love you for that,
I love you, I love you and I love you more,
I thought I can lose myself to the world but I open my eyes only to lose it to you
You are my every fear and my dream and the deepest secrets of my desire
Thank you so sweetheart for loving me that much,
Setting me free only to regain me in the end,
Thank you sweetheart for cherishing me in your womb,
It might be just words but I give in to you so easily I m scared,
Protect me mama from myself,
Mama,
Sister,
Beloved,
Daughter,
Myself,
Dearest goddess of earth.
Sorry my little girl for not being around as I should…
Sorry sweets for forgetting about your needs
Sorry honey for not holding you in my arms
Sorry …please forgive me, I really need you
I need to feel alive again,
My youth is turning against me
Where shall we meet for reunion and nostalgia?
I have been very nostalgic about u for a while now
Remembering how u used to hold the world in your hands
And pamper its mysteries as if they were your own
You were very adventurous even in your own little mind
I can see how much I need you to get back there to the streams,
The well of my existence,
The shelter of my spirit
And the beautiful anguish of my soul
I know I regain you from time to time
Sometimes taming my wilderness into womanhood
Others leaving me to lean forward to the dangerous spasm of my youth
Now and then betraying you into stagnancy and stiffness of my fears
You treat me so well dear…you set me free only to come back to you
I spin round and round like a threat on a needle in hay but then and again
I feel your beauty creasing my every cell of joy and pain,
You are such a goddess in disguise you bring me down and lift me up again
You fool me into the danger of being me but I love you for that,
I love you, I love you and I love you more,
I thought I can lose myself to the world but I open my eyes only to lose it to you
You are my every fear and my dream and the deepest secrets of my desire
Thank you so sweetheart for loving me that much,
Setting me free only to regain me in the end,
Thank you sweetheart for cherishing me in your womb,
It might be just words but I give in to you so easily I m scared,
Protect me mama from myself,
Mama,
Sister,
Beloved,
Daughter,
Myself,
Dearest goddess of earth.
Friday, September 3, 2010
m nt an asexual creature
Round three years ago, i was almost dying...i had to have a surgery and i was 40 kilos unable to move or talk or even sleep without having my back straight up.
A couple of weeks after i finished my senior year at college i was hospitalized...one of the worst experiences i have ever had is that i had to stay on solutions injected into my intravenous and because i used to have so many shots eventually they had to inject me in my central line in my neck...i stayed in the hospital for a couple of weeks and then i had my surgery and after that i stayed at home for another couple of weeks in bed again i didnt eat or move and i had to steal cigerattes and bottom line it was a nightmare ... but truth is that i was alive and thankful I WAS ALIVE.. nobody i know appreciates this simple fact until something major happens to them or someone they love.
Maybe thats not relevant to some to what i m about to talk about but it definitely is relevent to me...six months before that i had just broken up with my boy friend because i had a severe depression and he could nt handle it... six months later again i met another guy whom i told him to his face that he s more likely a sex addict so for a whole year i was lamenting guys. A year later i was overweight, gaining and gaining weight because i have an eating disorder...that made my love life a huge problem...
i wanted so much to fall in love, date, have a stable relationship, kiss and stuff and eventually get married..
yet i had troubles with my sexuality...but i m not an asexual creature.. i had troubles identifying my needs, i had troubles thinking why i needed a man in my life... was it pure pleasure, the need to belong to someone, or just because that s the course of nature.
I had troubles thinking about what a man should be like with me...or what i should be like with him... should i be agressive, should i be sentimentale, i m very careing by nature more of a motherly figure, so i had troubles especially after gaining so much weight to identify my role in a relationship... can i have desires, can i be sexy...can i be wanted.
In the last couple of weeks i have been out of Egypt...Kenya and Canada.
I have started to feel alive, I have started to feel as a female I have started to be a sexual creature...specially that i have a special friend, someone who treats me as a girl, someone who needs me and welcome my needs, someone alive, sexy in flesh and blood.
I have lived through a lot and much more and i am ALIVE...
again after three years when i faced my death i feel alive... i am a girl , a woman , a needy clinging bitch , doubting as he says, will not stop until i get what i want... i am a sexual creature.
A couple of weeks after i finished my senior year at college i was hospitalized...one of the worst experiences i have ever had is that i had to stay on solutions injected into my intravenous and because i used to have so many shots eventually they had to inject me in my central line in my neck...i stayed in the hospital for a couple of weeks and then i had my surgery and after that i stayed at home for another couple of weeks in bed again i didnt eat or move and i had to steal cigerattes and bottom line it was a nightmare ... but truth is that i was alive and thankful I WAS ALIVE.. nobody i know appreciates this simple fact until something major happens to them or someone they love.
Maybe thats not relevant to some to what i m about to talk about but it definitely is relevent to me...six months before that i had just broken up with my boy friend because i had a severe depression and he could nt handle it... six months later again i met another guy whom i told him to his face that he s more likely a sex addict so for a whole year i was lamenting guys. A year later i was overweight, gaining and gaining weight because i have an eating disorder...that made my love life a huge problem...
i wanted so much to fall in love, date, have a stable relationship, kiss and stuff and eventually get married..
yet i had troubles with my sexuality...but i m not an asexual creature.. i had troubles identifying my needs, i had troubles thinking why i needed a man in my life... was it pure pleasure, the need to belong to someone, or just because that s the course of nature.
I had troubles thinking about what a man should be like with me...or what i should be like with him... should i be agressive, should i be sentimentale, i m very careing by nature more of a motherly figure, so i had troubles especially after gaining so much weight to identify my role in a relationship... can i have desires, can i be sexy...can i be wanted.
In the last couple of weeks i have been out of Egypt...Kenya and Canada.
I have started to feel alive, I have started to feel as a female I have started to be a sexual creature...specially that i have a special friend, someone who treats me as a girl, someone who needs me and welcome my needs, someone alive, sexy in flesh and blood.
I have lived through a lot and much more and i am ALIVE...
again after three years when i faced my death i feel alive... i am a girl , a woman , a needy clinging bitch , doubting as he says, will not stop until i get what i want... i am a sexual creature.
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