Social display ... social suicide..

Dear Social Media User (aka Twitter expert, aka FB Kings and Queens, aka Twitter drama ...)

Characters forms words of persona's
admired, humored, engaged,
politically enraged and even emotionally sustained
in ideals and forms
in boxes and letters
that brings forth
meanings of truth or illusion
of light and darkness
in faces of individuals
lived with
and never seen
in spaces
open
vast
and unlimited
for anyone
or some.

Who you are
arranged in syllables of
rhythmic notions
dressed in illusory fragments
of I am .. or my this... and all by myself(s)
for whom?

Social display of
fraternities of we follow you
and we shall follow you back
if only you are part of a herd
meant to entertain
and engage
the self
or others in return
of words
characters
symbols
fitted neatly in
formats limited (thankfully)
to expressions of
what sometimes
should be kept within.

These contemplations of intonations
are merely submissions
or rather defiance
to committing social
suicide
to the self
for what is unsaid
is sometimes greater than
what is already spilt.

And while there's no use crying
over spilt milk
grab the mop
and move along now...
the show is almost over
thanks for allowing
such static to fill through you.

P.S. Please filter your water ... twitter followers .. and your comments ...

The Politicization of Emotions

Split into who's who we,

are divided into subjugated souls

moving everyday to satisfy our obligatory

duties, responsibilities and positions.

Those who are subordinated,

those who subordinate,

those who stand aside in silence

watching

a divide unfairly splitting the minds of people

into those that say

and those that don't.

And while anger seems satisfying

in the moment where we position our Selves,

in front of other bodies,

questioning, judging and tearing through our

characters, to further define, refine and align

who we are with

who they are.

A split, incessantly breaking our backs

for the pleasure of their high chairs,

watching down,

thinking low,

fragmenting any possibility of an interconnection

to homogenize flesh

into spaces stationed in classes

masked faces of sophistication

cushioned in warmed-up stations.

Individuals marked in name tags,

of Hello, my name is ... never heard

unknown, and unacknowledged

in anonymous faces

cloned to mirror

plastered billboards of

materialized fabrics to squeeze

into sizes too small to fit all.

Flipped the Channel

Today I turn off Al-Jazeera,

Moving away from symbolic

revolutionary images that overwhelmed

the streets of al-Qahira..

The people, in absolute unison

moved in a scattered orderly

disorganization

shaking off the cold

from their faces

through smiles

chants

and unstoppable

hope.

Today, I couldn’t watch any news,

weak

and frail

to images

of strong sisters,

and brothers ..

Today, my mind wanted material

entertaining reels of

irrelevant fictions of pretty lights

and glamorizing colors..

Today, my mind cheated,

it took a break

from moments

that continue to overwhelm

the days

and brittle nights

of Egyptians

camping

standing

chanting

singing

and persistently fighting

in a struggle that continues

to overwhelm their

hearts

over their bodies

of mind over

any feelings

left weakening

any doubt and

hesitation to cease

in their protests at hand.

Today, I flipped through channels,

looking for another sight,

looking for a moment,

at other stories,

only left daydreaming of

the illuminosity

of Tahrir Square

glowing even

in the un-silenced

darkness that

surrounds their bodies,

protected

in guard

by their

collective order.

Today, after hours of flipping through,

lost in slow

tics on my clock

I passed time

baking

dessert that would only be hovered

with burnt sides

of fires

blazing miles away

in a country

I do not call my own

but hugs the sides of

my distant land

carried heavily and

rigidly

the isolated

precarious soils of

Rafah,

Qita3 Gaza

Khan Yunis,

for a history,

to wide to speak

of now..

Today, as I

spoke to my parents

over Skype,

I realized

in their sedated tones

in the 16th day

of continued protests

they busied their days

with political reports,

over sweet hot tea

steeped in Maramiya.

My mother tells me

she hasn’t left the house

in over two weeks,

not because she doesn’t support

the struggle of the Egyptians,

but of fear that Mubarak’s thugs

will curtail her intentions

falsely and

harm her ..

“We’re not Egyptians..”

she says,

“there’s rumors saying

they’re attacking foreigners..

and they don’t care if we’re Canadian ..

or Palestinians..”

Identity over reason..

Today,

I later went back..

to Nilesat

channel 167

to Aljazeera International

to listen..

awaken

and swallow

the sorrows and

struggles that continue

to carry their

demands up high

in banners

posters and

rhetorical comedy

in laughter

and anger..

Another day...

another today..

another hope

for a betterment

in hope

love

and a strengthen community ..

Tomorrow awaits...

Images on Al-Jazeera

Images on Al-Jazeera continue

to scurry through people’s faces,

chanting,

screaming,

yelling,

crying,

beaten,

cheated

and bleeding..

Still to the colors

of Red, White, Black

and the golden Eagle,

united they stand,

in a square named after

the very freedom they are fighting for.

Tahrir they call it,

Liberation will come,

if they have to march for

12, 14, 15, 30 days to come ..

Liberation it is, in bodies that stand

against violence,

attacks

and harassments from the thug's regime...

State TV screens a play,

sanitized

for the wealthy eyes to see...

fooled only by the images

they replay in disguise..

Round the clock,

reports,

documentations,

interviews and

demands..

Images on Al-Jazeera

keep me tossing at night..

In the way lines straighten your phrases

into sought out laces

in spaces

of clothed races

& faces,

worry not if your pencil leaves you

in blazes ..

but fear

only the silence of the letters

speaking of truth and exploitation..

a starved people not a day longer

can carve through

broken doorways..

toppled too many times

by the Mukhabarat..

Images on Al-Jazeera,

speak to me of courageous

and fearless citizens,

standing in resistance against

an autocratic ruler refusing to leave..

In glory

and shame,

united

they endure

the pressure enforced unto their dignities

and aims..

Tunisia the inspiration,

of a spark that continues to flare,

against burnt bodies

scorched in accusations

of insanity

and mental retardation..

Muzzled and censored,

for years,

decades and generations

hushed and shushed

cries of the people,

while silently

stuffing their pockets

with billions

of shekels..

collaborations and secret interests rules the game,

in the face of fame and distorted gains...

don’t tell me this

is a shrewd puppet show

playing backstage..

do you not see

the rage

furring the people,

young and old..

women and men...

Muslim and Christian,

non-believer or whatever..

there is no hidden-political agenda..

an organic movement,

grown in the backyards

of capitalized farmlands

and tainted soils..

of founded truthness,

colored in passion...

of rediscovered harmony

in their countries nationalization..

of rhythmic slogans

and voices in unification..

of Mohammed,

Karim,

Sally,

Ahmed,

Saif

and Amr..

lost their lives,

marching to the streets

for a reason to change,

a country corrupt

so bad

its mirage no longer stands

in the distance of hope and imaginations....

of bodies bruised

and abused...

souls lost

and distorted..

in a struggle that remains

and continues ..

for countries are not

representatives of leaders

or dictators...

but of its people in all foundations...

white, black, brown or blue...

together

for a better tomorrow they stand...

Tunisia’s revolution

did not end with Ben Ali...

the country's building

back its sanity..

from years

of uprooted dreams

and stolen possibilities ...

Orientalists descriptions

of ignorant,

backward,

undemocratic A-rabs

unable to comprehend or handle to rule

a country without an authoritarian oppressor..

putting people in their places,

muted

and dumbed

into absolute sedation..

but no longer will we stand

mourning for lost days ..

today

the people united..

one voice,

in masses...

demanding nothing

but the name

of the square they stand under..

Liberation,

7horriya,

freedom..

against Mubarak, Soleiman and their mafia's rule...

in the words

of Wael Ghonim

on twitter

“..Failure

is not an Option..” ...