Rant#1 [Wish]A Poem by YouoweYoupayF**k the system...
I'm laughing at some MSN images my best friend across the ocean and I share. We both love Disney's old typical princess tales.
My nose cringes at Jasmine's blue attires, the sleeves of her top slouched down her shoulders showing too much of her tanned Middle Eastern skin.
"Tsk...this looks inappropriate." I tell her through the microphone half-somberly.
"What does?"
"I mean, I love mermaids and all. And the clip where she leans on the rock and smiles at the crashing waves was kinda cute, but why does Ariel have to wear a bra. Even if she lives underwater, couldn't they have painted her with more decent clothes?"
Her laugh comes out distorted through the laptop inner speakers, "because she's not Arab? Neither are the people who made her."
I'm running late again, on my way to the fifth grade. I carry papers and workbooks and I forgot to sign some others. The little zoo creatures deliver false complaints to their parents and my boss dislikes my performance and the narrow connection of coworkers are not oblivious.
"Good morning!"
"Good morning..."
Yeah, I'm tripping and you find it amusing. it's always and will always be unpleasant to fake another work atmosphere smile at you, mutated, abnormally tall b***h.
The papers swarm with wicked questions. Long, indirect ones. My head tilts downwards and my eye lids betray me as I sit in the poorly-lit exam room. The obnoxious, continuous clinking and tapping of the proctor's high-heels does not wake me up, it just disturbs my misplaced snooze and adds to the stress. I internally curse and call her all the horrible names you could envision.
The million-ton glossy black bag slides down near my bed. Lousy job...lousy college. On the verge of breaking down, almost cracking the floor with my angry metal feet, and I slam the door shut, choosing to take an eternal nap instead of roaring at everyone.
Tsk, my eyebrows twitch as I begin to wake up. Now...thoughts of him fade into the end of my weird afternoon-nap dreams. I hear his voice. I dreamt that he left me a message saying he misses me and he needs to see me.
I groan in bed and scramble my hair at the stupid, untamed feelings, you know: the inner shiver, goofy grin, the want to see the person, their name jabbing your mind NONSTOP.
I rarely smoke. My mind is merely convinced occassional sips of toxin would unwind the vicious migraine. It's the Western Media's fault, I shrug as light ripples seep through neon red before it dies into ashes. Smoking looks cool and relaxing on screen.
Man, f**k the system... I exhale through the slim, white roll.
Someday, all these rotten, adult-world thoughts of reality will drain into the grey.
I'll give away some extra change to the beggar by the traffic lights. Then I'll watch a shooting star and breath a whispery prayer to Allah (1).
He loves all believers, so He'll probably listen and smile.
And I'll travel to the coast and He'll turn me into a discrete mermaid. I'll have a slimy soft-blue tail, long wavy black dripping hair that doesn't ever need to be combed. I'll wear a seashell bra, and I'll look comfortable and good in it, even when I lack some...mass there -cough- I'll collide with the foam and green-blue sky and leap out into the air with a song all the shrimp and dolphins could hear. I'd even have a Jamaican lobster who sings along.
So, yeah, besides making sure I wouldn't get caught under a boat motor, swallowed by a whale or a shark, or captured by horny sailors/fishermen, I'll be just fine, laughing at all the brain-washed city robots who are still bound by formal contracts, grumpy mornings, and grin-n-bear-its.
What a life that would be.
Unda-da-sea. © 2011 YouoweYoupayAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorYouoweYoupayAmman, ..., JordanAbout"The Universe is made of stories, not of atoms." ~Muriel Rukeyser "There is no one more rebellious or attractive than a person lost in a book." “He allowed himself to be swayed by his con.. more..Writing
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