Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Rasha Omer Oct 2012
A while ago, I turned a table around
I stabbed a fork into its crooked leg,
And stood up for all the mice.

And, ever since then –
Everytime I walk into a room all the carrots would disappear
It’s like being in a bubble of tyres burning
And you’re trying not to scream
And you won’t be able to scream
Because you’re slowly suffocating under all the toxins.

One day I decided that I liked the rabbits more than the figs
And figs never smiled back at me.
And that was alright, because every fig I’ve met since then
Has had its heart rotten.

And who likes rotten figs?

I’ve had a mouthful of you, and your sister just last night
And, I think I’m not into the aftertaste
Of your plastic life.

I know that my memory's shortcomings
are directly proportionate to all the colorful vitamins
you've been shoving up my retina.

But, I think I just vomited half a stiletto
That’s been stabbing the inner cavities of my chest.

And, let me tell you – you’re a fool for not realizing
That I can’t help but hold your hands
And guide your never ending dwellings to the grave.
Rasha Omer Aug 2012
All I do is sit here and wait for the
Lightning to strike me down.
Not suicidal and just frazzled.
A bolt of electricity is all I need
To shake it up from the inside out
Through the frozen veins and these
Waves of sound.

Sounds on mute and mumbled words
Derived from the pits of our collective
Consciousness.

Strike me down, like I’m in trance of
A religious hallucination
Wake me up, now – from the midst of this thought
Tyranny – I’ve lain down upon my organs.
There’s a song within my lungs trying
Its best to sail and not drown
In this fabulous flesh.
Rasha Omer Jul 2012
Everything is a sweaty mess
Moving in abnormal directions and seeping into
The pores of the tiny imperfections
Between you and I.

It’s a good day to be enamored
It’s a good day to distill all of the fears
And just occupy these engraved spaces
With all that is subliminal and grand
It’s a good day to get lost in the alleys
Of all that is rugged and real.

All I hear is a rush of noise
Going up at a speed which I cannot comprehend
And all I see is a haze of burn victims
In sterilized spaces.
So **** bright.
A blinding brightness so unreal
And numbing in multi dimensions.

When are we going to realize,
That it’s all a game?
A lucky hand of plastic waste.
When are we going to antagonize,
The sheer disobedience of everything that
Is laid down upon our sensual existence?
A stimulating fantasy of an experience
Of being swallowed whole
And in parts of distinct order.

These words and sounds of these words
And the way we chew on
And on, until the bottom of our
Voiceless chants.

Everything is going astray
But hey,
Let’s rewind.
Rasha Omer May 2012
On this rowdy night
I’ve decided not to succumb into
The belly of my monstrous feelings.

I’ve decided not to let go of all that’s real
All that’s what at the basis
Of my loathing
For your flawless diction.

You’re perfect. You’re perfectly perfect in your demurely
Stigmatic allure.

Why is it so?

On this long and windy night
I’ve fought the urge
To run into the arms of a bottomless pit.

Who wants to jump off a cliff, anyway?

We are not race horses, straddled in fear
Sweating with desire to cross the finish line
Sweating with a pain to finally breath.

I am who I am,
And what’s going to be is probably
Going to be.

I am a dreadful mess,
A creative outlet for your inhibitions.
I’m a loud, piercing shriek
In a sea of muddled screams.

On this lonely, warm night –
When my keys can’t find the way to your door
I’ll wander outside your steps
I’ll dig in your backyard,
I’ll bring down your proud trees.

On this night of all nights
I will make my piece about us
And the peace will finally travel
The shrinking space between my exhales
And your silence.
Rasha Omer Apr 2012
Hello woman,
Don’t you think it’s about time
We take a minute and stop
Pretending like everything’s alright?

Hey woman,
You’re walking lines
And squares of chaotic affairs
Leading to nowhere and
When you’re in a daze
Can’t find your place
In this enigmatic craze
What is it that you’re going to do?

The lipstick stains are on your heels
A blind spot for luxurious feelings
And your frivolous resentment
For your beautiful mother.

Hey woman,
Let’s have a blunt conversation
Behind the fog you’ve left on this glass
Let’s have a blunt – and dance,
There is no fire exit
So why don’t we burn this place to the ground?

Hey woman,
Let’s pretend that this space is big enough
For the both of us.

Hey Woman,
What’s it your afraid of,
Your creases?
Your cracks?
Your subtly
Crazy demands?

Hey woman,
Let’s elevate
This doom into something
Magnificent.
Let’s race then erase
Our imperfections.

Hey woman,
I want you
I want you to illuminate and dedicate
I want you
To procreate all of those delightful dreams

I want you
I want you to win from the inside out –
Hey woman,

Hey woman –
It’s all going to be just okay.
Rasha Omer Jan 2012
Youngin's wisdom in spades
idiots hoping and hopping over
green grass.

i always knew
this heart was fragile
in metallic ice
melting the romance
burning shreds of dreaming
and fawning
all over your bleeding skin.

i'm tracing
the space
where everything began
to flourish
within your desperate *****
of belief and
hysterical magic.

i'm racing
my heartbeats
underneath these useless sheets
i'm shivering in my teeth
i'm marveling in the
glimpses of your novice
anxiousness.

i'm tightlipped
and about to break
this listless charm
into disposable
garbage.

youngin' love
and daydreamin' of heavenly explosions
within dreadful tunnels.

i've ruptured my lungs
screaming in
my bed
trying to reach through
and infiltrate
recreate
dance and intoxicate.

i'm tightlipped
and i can't seem to speak.
Rasha Omer Jan 2012
It’s in the wind.
The only times I ever feel
Always coincide with some semblance of a
Breakdown
Shakedown.
I think I’m in shaking in my boots
Eventhough it feels like 40 degrees in this shade.
Am I supposed to feel comfort in this
Desensitized sphere?
Cause all I feel is a detachment
From you from me
From the ground, up.
My roots are not existent.
All i want to do
Is burn the **** out
Of my eyes.
I’ve had enough of feeling
Like I’m walking on air
I’ve had enough of feeling
Like I always need to breath.
Next page