Omar Yusif

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Broderie Anglaise
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André Breton
“L'union libre [Freedom of Love]"

My wife with the hair of a wood fire
With the thoughts of heat lightning
With the waist of an hourglass
With the waist of an otter in the teeth of a tiger
My wife with the lips of a cockade and of a bunch of stars of the last magnitude
With the teeth of tracks of white mice on the white earth
With the tongue of rubbed amber and glass
My wife with the tongue of a stabbed host
With the tongue of a doll that opens and closes its eyes
With the tongue of an unbelievable stone
My wife with the eyelashes of strokes of a child's writing
With brows of the edge of a swallow's nest
My wife with the brow of slates of a hothouse roof
And of steam on the panes
My wife with shoulders of champagne
And of a fountain with dolphin-heads beneath the ice
My wife with wrists of matches
My wife with fingers of luck and ace of hearts
With fingers of mown hay
My wife with armpits of marten and of beechnut
And of Midsummer Night
Of privet and of an angelfish nest
With arms of seafoam and of riverlocks
And of a mingling of the wheat and the mill
My wife with legs of flares
With the movements of clockwork and despair
My wife with calves of eldertree pith
My wife with feet of initials
With feet of rings of keys and Java sparrows drinking
My wife with a neck of unpearled barley
My wife with a throat of the valley of gold
Of a tryst in the very bed of the torrent
With breasts of night
My wife with breasts of a marine molehill
My wife with breasts of the ruby's crucible
With breasts of the rose's spectre beneath the dew
My wife with the belly of an unfolding of the fan of days
With the belly of a gigantic claw
My wife with the back of a bird fleeing vertically
With a back of quicksilver
With a back of light
With a nape of rolled stone and wet chalk
And of the drop of a glass where one has just been drinking
My wife with hips of a skiff
With hips of a chandelier and of arrow-feathers
And of shafts of white peacock plumes
Of an insensible pendulum
My wife with buttocks of sandstone and asbestos
My wife with buttocks of swans' backs
My wife with buttocks of spring
With the sex of an iris
My wife with the sex of a mining-placer and of a platypus
My wife with a sex of seaweed and ancient sweetmeat
My wife with a sex of mirror
My wife with eyes full of tears
With eyes of purple panoply and of a magnetic needle
My wife with savanna eyes
My wife with eyes of water to he drunk in prison
My wife with eyes of wood always under the axe
My wife with eyes of water-level of level of air earth and fire”
Andre Breton, Poems of André Breton: A Bilingual Anthology

Chuck Palahniuk
“For thousands of years, human beings had screwed up and trashed and crapped on this planet, and now history expected me to clean up after everyone. I have to wash out and flatten my soup cans. And account for every drop of used motor oil. And I have to foot the bill for nuclear waste and buried gasoline tanks and landfilled toxic sludge dumped a generation before I was born.”
Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

Chuck Palahniuk
“Fuck off with your sofa units and strine green stripe patterns, I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say let... lets evolve, let the chips fall where they may.”
Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

Chuck Palahniuk
“Skinny guys fight till they're burger.”
Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

علي الوردي
“قد يعتقد المسلمون اليوم أنّهم لو كانوا يعيشون في زمان الدعوة لدخلوا فيها حالما يسمعون بها. ولست أرى مغالطة أسخف من هذه المغالطة.
يجب على المسلمين اليوم أن يحمدوا ربهم ألف مرة لأنّه لم يخلقهم في تلك الفترة العصيبة. ولو أنّ الله خلقهم حينذاك لكانوا من طراز أبي جهل أو أبي سفيان أو أبي لهب أو لكانوا من أتباعهم على أقل تقدير، ولرموا صاحب الدعوة بالحجارة وضحكوا عليه واستهزأوا بقرآنه ومعراجه.
تصور يا سيّدي القارئ نفسك في مكة أبان الدعوة الإسلامية، وأنت ترى رجلاً مستضعفاً يؤذيه الناس بالحجارة ويسخرون منه، ويقولون عنه إنّه مجنون. وتصور نفسك أيضاً قد نشأت في مكة مؤمناً بما آمن به آباؤك من قدسية الأوثان، تتمسح بها تبركاً وتطلب منها العون والخير. ربّتك أمك الحنونة على هذا وأنت قد اعتدت عليه منذ صغرك، فلا ترى شيئاً غيره. ثم تجد ذلك الرجل المستضعف يأتي فيسب هذه الأوثان التي تتبرك بها فيكرهه أقرباؤك وأصحابك وأهل بلدتك وينسبون إليه كل منقصة ورذيلة. فماذا تفعل؟ أرجو أن تتروى طويلاً قبل أن تجيب عن هذا السؤال.”
علي الوردي, مهزلة العقل البشري

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