Aliaa MagdyElmahdy is an Egyptian feminist who recently published a series of nude photos including some of herself on her blog. She did this as a political statement to protest her right as a woman to live with freedom without being controlled by chauvinistic ideals and restricted by societal norms.
Her blog is called A Rebel’s Diary and the nude photos were shocking to many people.
She was walking
in Mishref
with a slight smile on her face,
swinging her arms,
as I drove past
I saw her light grey
bra strap
slip down her right
shoulder
and she adjusted
it.
How tiresome,
I thought,
being a female
who has
endured
rogue bra straps
of all kinds.
To be loved by a ghost…
Burying my face
into your furry chest
biting your nipples
emerging
delirious
pleasantly disoriented
after
inhaling
your mad-hatted
desire.
Succumbing to
moments,
only moments
and then the
wolf within you
becomes
the faithful dog.
candy colored rainbows
flying in the sky
like canes
and snakes
and puppy dog
tails
you will have none
you say
sushi is enough
I wipe a morsel
away from your lips
and try to sort out
whether your problems are
egotistical
chauvinistical
or simply
whimsical
I can’t say
I can’t say
but I haven’t disappeared yet
and perhaps that’s
a sign.
Candy apples
red
shiny
and hard
Share, you and me
on this long journey of
brief encounters
fulfilling nothing
except fears
and prophecies that
are no longer valid on paper.
Free me. And yourself.
Heightened security checks at the entrance to General Assembly building results in securitymen finding a bottle of Chivas whiskey and a red lingerie item with black polka dots in the car boot of a secretary to one of the members of parliament. Both items were in a bag. Some members of parliament tried to interfere and hush the incident but the items were confiscated and sent to the relevant authorities (Link)
white rhinoceros
you beautifully
antique
creature
I want to ride you through the masses
of red geraniums
in my garden
trample the pelagorniums
stamp through
rosemary and lavender
bushes
and then whinny with you
as you raise your head
with its short neck
and point your horn to the
moon.
I want
you
white rhinoceros
to sip chai
with me
in the fairy garden
little Darina will flutter around your tail
and turn you into
a miniature rhino
without the -ceros
for a while
while we contemplate
and adulate
and count how many seeds
the black ants have stashed away.
Tell me stories
my big white rhino with a -ceros
as we tumble in bed
with night caps on our heads
and little feathers
to tickle each other’s underarms
promise not to tickle too hard
and kick me out of bed
into the algae pond.
Sri Lassta has cast a net and
has promised to make me
his own special
meal
on a lily pad in the pond
with a giant white
blossom
for us to cuddle
and chortle
and tell
our little tales
White rhinoceros
impending graciousness
My love of life.
Raghad had read about the woman in the local paper. She was a mother of four children. When the father came home, the children told him that their mother had left them and gone to live in a flat in Salmiya which she had rented on her own. The husband apparently had no idea of his wife’s unhappiness, for she had to be unhappy to runaway from home. He informed his wife’s brothers that she had deserted the family home with no prior notification. The brothers learned that their sister had no real reason or grievance against her husband. She just wanted to abandon her life and start over. Her husband raised a court case against her to order her back home and won the case. But the woman still won’t go back.
Raghad continued to saute the onions in the deep pan and thought about the insanely brave woman. There is always the question of “What if….” What if she abandoned her husband, her children, and went off to lead a life of peace, of no obligations, no responsibilities, and no worries? To do as she pleased. To come and go as she desired without asking permission, without being accountable to anyone.
She thought about Hassan and how he would have been the perfect partner. But that was just it: he would have been. Their union again after so many years would be impossible. He had his own family and she had her own. Breaking free would just create chaos in both their lives. And even so, there were no guarantees that any union between them would flourish after going through family break ups. She would not be blind to the obvious facts. She must be selfish and enjoy her life.
No, thought Raghad. If she ever summoned the resolution to leave, it would be a departure for irrevocable freedom, a step into singular, independent and assertive living.
And immediately after she tossed in the chunks of chicken, she felt guilty for her ridiculous thoughts and asked for forgiveness.
The older your parents get, the more hugs they really need, even if they push you away.
A while ago I read an interesting article about a nurse who helped a disabled teenager deal with sexual tension by buying him a vibrating sex toy.
This is a controversial topic because there is a fine line between assistance and possible abuse.
Disabled teenagers are prone to the same physical frustrations that any teenagers go through and possible even more. I agree that there should be national guidelines that help caregivers deal with these often unspoken of problems.
If you had a disabled teenager in your care, would you take steps to help her or him out to release sexual tension?
Tonight I killed two mosquitoes with my bare hands. The first one I smashed as I clapped two hands around it. It wedged between my fingers. The other, I killed with my left hand, smashing it against the desk. This morning I was more merciful. The mosquito was buzzing around the window screen and I moved the screen open and gently waved it outside.
I’m not pushing it. I figure when the surge of creativity swells, there will be no holding it back. So I’m not really fretting. It’s a bit like taking time to do some weeding, while you’re waiting for your seedlings to produce flower buds. I am humming a bit out of tune, pretending to ignore the growing estrangement between me and my creativity.
Perhaps it is chaos. Or it could be I am standing in stagnant muddy waters. No ripples. No clarity. No reflection. Murky depths that I must trudge along through.
I understand but I also don’t completely accept my situation. It may be that I have turned myself inside out for others and not really turned inside within myself, to connect, to touch, and to explore.
The poems come to me at the worse possible moments. I lost three poems a few nights ago. They bubbled through my thoughts, overflowing. It was dark and we were in bed. I did not want to explain why I had to get up and write. I thought the words would wait to be noted down the following morning. But they were long gone.
