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Rasha Omer Dec 2013
The shields and the mellow
Borders passing the time
In our tantalizing memories
Of running and falling apart.

In the riots off the pavements
And the times I passed out
Floating atop of perfection

In the decisive turns of token
Relationships and the despair in your exhausted exhales.

I toss and turn in inflicted bliss
As I slowly decipher the exquisite dalliances all around us.

I sit uncomfortably whilst I twitch in the famished dissonance.

In the pauses and the gaps. In the strides and the tirades. In the flights and the clauses.                  

I sit back in the deja vu of the night.
Rasha Omer Jul 2013
Under the bright lights, the car parked.

"Is it wholesome?"

"What is?"

"Just like the canaries on the roof. They lean on each other so helplessly yet so beautifully"

"...like a movie?"

"A play."

"Why not drive again?"

"I was driving slowly, but I strayed away when a sudden moment of painful retention appeared in the rear mirror."

______

2. How long has it been, since we’ve flown three and a half kites across the black sky?

“I sought refuge within a shell.” You once said. “They wouldn’t buy your jewels.”

“I lost my sandals, in an ocean.”

“In our ocean?” You hushed. “You weren’t wearing any.”

“The sounds of the battle, has cost you your sight.” She laughed. “And, your insight.”

_____

3. What makes the world go ‘round? (1)

“I left you a note, seven years ago.” You held your breath. “Have you not read it?”

“The sports page?” Her face is aglow. “Your beloved fluorescent pink marker? How could I miss?” She closed her eyes. “Your cotton-candy, and your umbrellas? Have you never known me?”

_____

4. The shooting stars never fail to disappoint.

“Our fates intertwined” You’re half-asleep. “So did our shambles.”

“I’ve waited on you.” She’s made a sandcastle. “I’ve swum through a thousand knots.”

“Yet, you’ve lost.”

“After I’ve tried.” Her wings in bubble wrap.  “I’ve been to the closure and back.”

“They’ve shot my heart down.”

“I’ve taken my pieces.”

_____


5. In harmony we detained our secrets, and cremated our bones.

“They told me of stolen years.” You wonder. “Where have they gone?”

“Many a lie consumed breathing air.” She swallowed her tears.

“This gift is worthless, if you can’t break your wings.”

“Derange my world?”

“Drown your life.” You sighed. “Save mine.”

“Your heart, my jewels, your shell, my wings, your notes, my sandals.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”
______


(1) Al Green.
prose from years ago.
Rasha Omer Jun 2013
I'm only happy when I write,
But the words only mutter their
Way out of my palms
When I'm downtrodden in the alleyway of self-induced tragedies
And the infinite pool of senile smirks.

I'm only happy in my utter love of despair
And despite all of the sweetness pouring out
Of my deranged pores
I'm only perfect when I write.

And when I write the syllables expose every fresh wound wandering with the whiff of sunrise.

I'm not sure how to transcribe a smile
Even when the hilarity ensues from within the depths of every over excercised drama lesson
From every corner of the televized reality.

I'm only happy when I write
Even when the soundtrack is overhyped and autotuned
To its very small inch closer to the grave of sanity.

I'm only happy when I write
Even when the wine has dried and morphed into a need to quench a thirst from a well of burnt tears.

I'm only happy when I write
On the overtime commute between
The verses overjoyed with the  euphoria of making the perfect pun for all what is faulty with the theories of competence and competition in elation.

I'm only happy when I write,
But I only write when the darkness of despair grows thick and wild.
Rasha Omer Jun 2013
We are all heads floating in a tunnel,
For split seconds on ends, our shadows fit perfectly with the holes,
In the walls.

Let us cheer to the sweet decay in
our childish dreams.
Turn up the volume and carry on
Stuttering, sulking, seducing,
Snarking or just swim against the current with all of the baggage of the
Morning still crackling through your eyes.

Hold onto the rails, and dance across the nightmare of endless consumption
Sandwiches upon sandwiches within
Sandwiches.

We are all shadows in motion
To the gods of gravity and brevity
Our lives on hold a midst the commotion of gasoline tanks whirring
And, the forthcoming shortage of ambition.

The war is marching on
But who's got time for war,
In between the decadence of these slime-y streets?

Who's got time for war,
When you've got to put the kids
To sleep?
Rasha Omer May 2013
Some seven months down the road
Your thought would be an afterthought.

You would be like the morning haze when my eyes are
Wide open and my comprehension is lacking.

But for now, you are the every thought which
Shadow my most vulnerable encounters
With this thing we like to call affection.

I have been out of touch
With the ways of our sentimental misconception of life
And my faithless love affair with your notion
Of perfection.

I revel in my self-inflicted misery as if
It was my most polished skill.

But when you start gazing down my throat
I lose all the will and all the power and I’m nothing
But a vessel for your sanctioned whims.

It’s within your whims that,
I feel like I've never felt before.

And when you gaze right through me
I begin to wonder if there is an equation
I still need to learn.

But when you have lost touch
With the simple nuances of romance,
It’s really **** hard to catch up.
Rasha Omer Nov 2012
This Halloween I’m going as a bad joke,
I’m going to enunciate every breath
Until my rib-cage explodes.
This eve my words are lubricated,
Like a clan of degenerates from
The midst of your all-consuming filth.
This eve, I have arrived at my destination
And I realize now that our common senses
Collective – have been brought to the light
By our mutual appreciation of *******.

This Halloween I’m going as the killing joke.
I’m going to let my claws breath,
And oh, I’m going to gorge on
The purest of your infant thoughts.

This eve, I’m going running in the emporium of
Your disillusioned euphoria.
I’m going to look you in the face
Like I’ve never seen the revelation
In the blackest of your eyes.

This Halloween, I’m going as an inside joke
I’m going to engrave the laughter
On the back of your head –
Then I’m setting out in my decked
Out camp of,
Beautiful nonsense.
Waiting to confide in an apparition,
Of all that should’ve been.
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.
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