Down the road...

It is the simplest touch of hope that can force you choose your dreams. A mechanical approach to life means to see everything connected. Everything is one way or another related to us and our life explains the ingoing trust in an outer majestic force that moves us all. 

We are like men and women who push their lives down a long road collecting everything that they think they need in their live-carts. One day, I stopped in the middle of the way, pushed the cart in the river, and sat there, thinking. Do I really need to go on? What will happen if I die in the middle of the road? 

I even see monuments, wooden paths, houses, farms on the side of the road build by once-alive dead people. Some even paved it before they die to make it easier for us to reach our demise, why would they do so? It is a marathon, but some choose not to join the lunatic racing crowd. No worries the road can take as many racers as life is willing to offer. 

Oh, I can see some decided to wait for the rain, because they believe they might run out of water in the middle of the way, so they need to be prepared. But, if there is no rain, they might die out hunger by waiting there, strange. Maybe, they see me a strange person as well... 

This is the end, my beautiful friend

It was said by The Doors. Eyes are fixed now; mind as well. I keep wandering in life, a great place. Small intruding stars wait for more scenes. I hear voices, sharper than shrills of pain. Streets are war zones. A splendid war zone is still a war zone, I said. Have you ever watched a cat running down the streets of Alexandria like a lady who has been raped, ravished, but trying to keep the strong facade. Cats are smart, they step on their dignity to survive. What a cause! 

A snake never stops biting even when caught, never quits fighting back, a genuine warrior. It is the same conclusion that has been promoted in every age, it is either to die standing or live on your knees. To be life's bitch or death's man... 

This is the end, my beautiful friend... 

 

A demigod beholder

These white sharp arrows that rest up there, pointed at every single looker, beholder, wait there patiently waiting for my fall. No eyes, just sharp white gestures, pointed everywhere, only a fool counts them. The hand of god is white with many wrinkles, circular, large, actually massive. I wonder what would happen if it squashes us all one day. An intimidating scene of defiance and rage. I wish I can hold the bull by the horns, but how can I act as a demigod with my feminine human soft hands? I am a human, shoot me. I know you will do so sooner or later. I detest this dark blue scene at night...  

A Day, like any other day

A day like any other day kicks the door to introde in my life. A day like any other day. I see nothing different. Some may say, do something different.

When I went there, were trees stand, waiting, I thought about it, isn't it boring to keep standing like this?

If I was a tree I would not be amazed if I abandon all my green leaves. I will not find it shocking to let all my leaves die alone near my roots. What is wrong in that? We all will die... 

A day like any other day, slaps me when I say "I will make a difference with my simplicity". Educating me. A day. 

© Ahmad Magdy - 2011

11 February 2011

Tahrir Square spread the air of freedom all over Egypt. I can breathe freedom amid all the chaos due to the disappearance of police. 


I look now at the empty streets of Alexandria, where there is no action except for the tired cars who are back from celebrations all over Alexandria. I tilt my heavy head up to look at the dark sky. What I see is a dream. A dream of Utopian change.


An Egyptian, successful, peaceful revolution that gave me hope can turn to be magical. This is what I am hoping for. 


11 February 2011 is a great combination of freedom for Egypt.   

Egypt, a dying woman

I see doom dancing everywhere I look, looking defiantly back at me. It is the sense of loss. The end is near, but what shall this end be like? fire, death, shame, rage. Egypt is dying like an old woman, daggers slice at her thick skin viciously. Hyenas' eyes glisten as they gather to gnaw at her dying body. Egypt is collapsing. 


Where did all this anger come from? Like a volcano that ravishes everything. Die Egypt, maybe one day others with resurrect you, better people. Sane people. 


Long swords are ready to shed more and more blood. But, till when? At some point her body, Egypt's body will lose it all. Death laughs at every corner of the picture. Loudly. 


I am death. I am blind. Tomorrow is blacked out. Slowly, everything will end. Cry you hypocrites, shed more tears. Laugh you haters, with your red broken teeth. And me, Egypt, I am dying, slowly, silently.
  

Parasites with human smiles

Parasites with human smiles make me sick, do you know that they exist everywhere? These insects with human teeth, suck their way up the hierarchy. I feel shivers when I am touched by human-parasites. They have oily hands that seem accustomed to shake hands, kiss, favor, do all these socially accepted ways to conquer they way up, yet, I never comprehend that, I see them digging their way down. They cling to one at a time. I keep eyes in the back of my head as I walk my way down life's road. I hate them.