ayad-gharbawi - Hello Poetry

EMOTIONS OF A BURDENED WOMAN Ayad Gharbawi Febuary 16, 2010 If I feel My tears Rupturing And if I feel My fractured language To be worthless I am Seeming to be seen By you But in reality I know That I am really Nowhere I am An Inert being That has no gravity You did punish me Your people Did beat me Enough Don’t you think I have had enough Or should I have more Of your stinging rage Against me But you never understand Or understood That I did nothing And that I am innocent These are my words Written for my babies And to you Anyone out There Who may read my Words These words Express feelings And feelings Express **** severe pain That really burns.

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Feb 20, 2010

Feb 20, 2010 at 7:59 AM UTC

HANDWRITTEN WORDS OF A MISGUIDED WOMAN

EMOTIONS OF A BURDENED WOMAN Ayad Gharbawi Febuary 16, 2010 If I feel My tears Rupturing And if I feel My fractured language To be worthless I am Seeming to be seen By you But in reality I know That I am really Nowhere I am An Inert being That has no gravity You did punish me Your people Did beat me Enough Don’t you think I have had enough Or should I have more Of your stinging rage Against me But you never understand Or understood That I did nothing And that I am innocent These are my words Written for my babies And to you Anyone out There Who may read my Words These words Express feelings And feelings Express **** severe pain That really burns.

45

HANDWRITTEN WORDS OF A MISGUIDED WOMAN Ayad Gharbawi February 1, 1989 – Cambridge, Mass., Boston, USA. A silence dictates Its hopes essential That thirst in their intertwined Hatreds for the Struggle to breathe The crowds staggered in their plodding The howls turned nowhere Even though they themselves Really felt that their words Had so many depths But at least some flocks did hear these sounds There was some heat generated I say I heard roses Crying gases inert Their real feelings were soon discoloured Did you ever understand The ways and means Of people? I heard of clowns dying by suffocating themselves Quietly Didn’t they at least Entertain themselves? I saw humbled and determined gatherings Of angry frustrated citizens But they soon were to hear The words Of misunderstood monks Who finally produced a smile But their words Did ramble on and endlessly on And the winds of their spirits Were far too directionless To be of any meaning Then I saw Hurt I saw engines crying They spoke meaningless melodies to me And I did try to guess But I screamed “You engines!” I screamed “You can never sing, you maniacs!” My brain I felt was losing Its functions I wasn’t too sure of what functions they were supposed To do actually Did you know what those functions Were supposed to do? I was not walking straight And I knew it Tell me of your cooking I’ve been hungry for too long You see Or, you may see It’s been too long And your language destroyed me here My appetite was killed as well And your subtle hatreds Yes, I remembered them all And I will repay you real for real What you gave me I shall give back to you While a hopeful clown He And she Entertained and spoke in dialects misunderstood I swear I even saw smoke Emanating from your breaths That gunned me down Down to my protecting ribs I never have ever Seen hatred like this I confess to you The units of my poetry have gone mad And my sense of geometry Have turned ridiculous No, I agree I never hated as much as you did But I am catching up fast with you all Jesus I never guessed What predicaments Man can debase himself into And then again I never realized What a lowly depth, I too could be forced into I was stunned I cried My name is ‘Ayad’ I thought that was enough To convince criminals of my innocence I was not misunderstood That was incorrect I was actually understood, quite well Truth was Nobody wanted to feel my truth The speed of life And human interactions and conversations Easily bewildered me And misguided me I was tempted by the flowers of literature I was tempted When I saw independent women Laughing joyously I believed There can exist a time When loving can exist In its sheltered solitude Wherein there exist no indignities Imagine That your father Is never berated Imagine your mother Is never to be shouted at But then The skies did change their colours And meanings changed And with the change of meanings Intentions did change Unto whom did the skies turn to? And where did all the meanings of Of every philosophy become? Unto whom did they turn to?

0

Feb 20, 2010

Feb 20, 2010 at 7:57 AM UTC

HANDWRITTEN WORDS OF A MISGUIDED WOMAN

HANDWRITTEN WORDS OF A MISGUIDED WOMAN Ayad Gharbawi February 1, 1989 – Cambridge, Mass., Boston, USA. A silence dictates Its hopes essential That thirst in their intertwined Hatreds for the Struggle to breathe The crowds staggered in their plodding The howls turned nowhere Even though they themselves Really felt that their words Had so many depths But at least some flocks did hear these sounds There was some heat generated I say I heard roses Crying gases inert Their real feelings were soon discoloured Did you ever understand The ways and means Of people? I heard of clowns dying by suffocating themselves Quietly Didn’t they at least Entertain themselves? I saw humbled and determined gatherings Of angry frustrated citizens But they soon were to hear The words Of misunderstood monks Who finally produced a smile But their words Did ramble on and endlessly on And the winds of their spirits Were far too directionless To be of any meaning Then I saw Hurt I saw engines crying They spoke meaningless melodies to me And I did try to guess But I screamed “You engines!” I screamed “You can never sing, you maniacs!” My brain I felt was losing Its functions I wasn’t too sure of what functions they were supposed To do actually Did you know what those functions Were supposed to do? I was not walking straight And I knew it Tell me of your cooking I’ve been hungry for too long You see Or, you may see It’s been too long And your language destroyed me here My appetite was killed as well And your subtle hatreds Yes, I remembered them all And I will repay you real for real What you gave me I shall give back to you While a hopeful clown He And she Entertained and spoke in dialects misunderstood I swear I even saw smoke Emanating from your breaths That gunned me down Down to my protecting ribs I never have ever Seen hatred like this I confess to you The units of my poetry have gone mad And my sense of geometry Have turned ridiculous No, I agree I never hated as much as you did But I am catching up fast with you all Jesus I never guessed What predicaments Man can debase himself into And then again I never realized What a lowly depth, I too could be forced into I was stunned I cried My name is ‘Ayad’ I thought that was enough To convince criminals of my innocence I was not misunderstood That was incorrect I was actually understood, quite well Truth was Nobody wanted to feel my truth The speed of life And human interactions and conversations Easily bewildered me And misguided me I was tempted by the flowers of literature I was tempted When I saw independent women Laughing joyously I believed There can exist a time When loving can exist In its sheltered solitude Wherein there exist no indignities Imagine That your father Is never berated Imagine your mother Is never to be shouted at But then The skies did change their colours And meanings changed And with the change of meanings Intentions did change Unto whom did the skies turn to? And where did all the meanings of Of every philosophy become? Unto whom did they turn to?

125

MENTAL PATIENT WRITING SOMETHING Ayad Gharbawi February 19, 2010 – Damascus, Syria I love you all you Or, all of you I guess I should write Properly Happy ones Yes you! Living you all Drinking air Vacuous nonentities Am I describing myself or yourselves? Supreme in my brutal Powerlessness Inertia is my magnificent pulse Loss is my definition That defines My dumbest elemental stench I live to see so-called teeth grinding My teeth Actually I talk about Am I being grammatical correct for you all? Worms satanic Within Eyeballs melting from Sorrrow And they then Continually Keep Bleeding and looking fractured and pale Didn’t Sane People Tell me Eyes are Souls into Our lost Selves? Or, something similar? Weeping Nerves That are To dry To move Without a breakdown I am scared, in a bed, a room I involuntarily break my idiotically stretched lips So, I become shy From you all onlookers Doctors and Visitors Or Relatives? Who’s who here? And, If I fake That pointless Smile For any ashamed passerby A sad banner Shall be there - Announcing my Smashed structure And functionless music Will tell you my homeless address Of my abandoned Mind and Flesh. -----

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Feb 19, 2010

Feb 19, 2010 at 9:04 AM UTC

MENTAL PATIENT WRITING SOMETHING - Ayad Gharbawi

MENTAL PATIENT WRITING SOMETHING Ayad Gharbawi February 19, 2010 – Damascus, Syria I love you all you Or, all of you I guess I should write Properly Happy ones Yes you! Living you all Drinking air Vacuous nonentities Am I describing myself or yourselves? Supreme in my brutal Powerlessness Inertia is my magnificent pulse Loss is my definition That defines My dumbest elemental stench I live to see so-called teeth grinding My teeth Actually I talk about Am I being grammatical correct for you all? Worms satanic Within Eyeballs melting from Sorrrow And they then Continually Keep Bleeding and looking fractured and pale Didn’t Sane People Tell me Eyes are Souls into Our lost Selves? Or, something similar? Weeping Nerves That are To dry To move Without a breakdown I am scared, in a bed, a room I involuntarily break my idiotically stretched lips So, I become shy From you all onlookers Doctors and Visitors Or Relatives? Who’s who here? And, If I fake That pointless Smile For any ashamed passerby A sad banner Shall be there - Announcing my Smashed structure And functionless music Will tell you my homeless address Of my abandoned Mind and Flesh. -----

62

Falling Into My Death Ayad Gharbawi Tell me, in your eye My own letters That, yes Are so wrong; I know. For, they were Written only when I was So inflated By my manic intoxicated mind. I tell you This is: My being! The same Being that has So gone astray; Flying apart from My unknowing Self And I go on Falling Frighteningly so For remember Just how much I fear heights As I continue Plunging Into an unknown That I far prefer To end my life Than to ever see through its end For, you must understand That I much need to experience The Quicker End I called Suicide Rather than go through The Long End I called My Life

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Feb 6, 2010

Feb 6, 2010 at 8:05 AM UTC

Falling Into My Death - Ayad Gharbawi

Falling Into My Death Ayad Gharbawi Tell me, in your eye My own letters That, yes Are so wrong; I know. For, they were Written only when I was So inflated By my manic intoxicated mind. I tell you This is: My being! The same Being that has So gone astray; Flying apart from My unknowing Self And I go on Falling Frighteningly so For remember Just how much I fear heights As I continue Plunging Into an unknown That I far prefer To end my life Than to ever see through its end For, you must understand That I much need to experience The Quicker End I called Suicide Rather than go through The Long End I called My Life

39

PANIC ATTACKS ARE FUN! Ayad Gharbawi A waterless feast for the thirsty Torturers Struggling to restrain their base Infamy Hungry ravenous ******* eyes Smiling grotesquely At their Prey Wingless birds The nightmare is still swirling in its Intensity Variations of horror And perpetual stalking fear Shaking eyeballs Blurring visions Colours far too strong Piercing Sweating inside Palpitating heart Driest mouth Piercing Beyond any reason Pointlessly running From the excessively, maniacal seething Fear Never ending The deformed visions deepen Yet disconnecting themselves From my shaking Self Withering my ‘I’ I see a threatening ugliness staring at me I know I am victimized How can I get out of this? Filthy stench of a greasy pit! Where are the maps? The guidelines? Where are the physicians? Promoting this vicious Civilization That I do swear Is even sicker than I am For you have left us all Stranded Surrounded In a surreally insane No Man’s Land

0

Feb 6, 2010

Feb 6, 2010 at 8:02 AM UTC

Panic Attacks Are Fun! - Ayad Gharbawi

PANIC ATTACKS ARE FUN! Ayad Gharbawi A waterless feast for the thirsty Torturers Struggling to restrain their base Infamy Hungry ravenous ******* eyes Smiling grotesquely At their Prey Wingless birds The nightmare is still swirling in its Intensity Variations of horror And perpetual stalking fear Shaking eyeballs Blurring visions Colours far too strong Piercing Sweating inside Palpitating heart Driest mouth Piercing Beyond any reason Pointlessly running From the excessively, maniacal seething Fear Never ending The deformed visions deepen Yet disconnecting themselves From my shaking Self Withering my ‘I’ I see a threatening ugliness staring at me I know I am victimized How can I get out of this? Filthy stench of a greasy pit! Where are the maps? The guidelines? Where are the physicians? Promoting this vicious Civilization That I do swear Is even sicker than I am For you have left us all Stranded Surrounded In a surreally insane No Man’s Land

45

ANOTHER LETTER TO YOU AMERICANS: WHY DO YOU BLINDLY SUPPORT THE CANCEROUS, RACIST REGIME OF ISRAEL? AND DO YOU SIMPLY NOT SEE THE CONSEQUENCES? Ayad Gharbawi February 4, 2010 – Damascus, Syria I am writing you from a Third World country. I am trying through my letters to connect with you Americans. I am trying to communicate with you so an understanding can arise between us. I do not feel in any way optimistic. Why? Because you Americans live in plastic, fake, unreal ‘reality’ that your mass media feeds you that is fundamentally pro-Zionist and pro-Israel. It is precisely this blindness of your slavish poodle behaviour towards this Apartheid state that renders you so much hated by every nation and by every religion and by every race on earth. It is no secret that US foreign policy in the Middle East is heavily influenced by Zionist lobbies. This is a fact that has acres of literature written upon it. What do the Zionists do whenever any human ‘dares’ to critique Israel? Well, of course, you declare him to be a **** or a Self-Hating Jew or an Anti-Semite. In other words: no human can ever critique Israel, and should he critique Israel, in any way, then that means he is a genocidal, mass murdering **** Did you see that typical Zionist, Dr. Dershowitz, who has recently labelled the author of the indictment of Israel’s atrocities in the Gaza War as an ‘anti-Semite? Well, Mr. Goldstone is, of course, a Jew himself. That should point out to you all, the basic law: anyone who even thinks of daring to criticize Israel is a **** or an Anti-Semite. Therefore, no respectable human can ever critique Israel. And that means that: Anyone in the civilized, respectable West, who ‘dares’ to critique Israel in any way, shall be expelled from his/her job and shall be an outcast. That is the Zionism in action in the West. Fine. So, if no respectable, sane human can critique Israel, does that mean that Israel is the only nation on this planet that must be beyond any critique? And if so, why are you, the people of the State of Israel, supposed to be beyond any critique? Obviously, this Zionist twaddle is ******* The Zionists greatest fear is being compared to the Apartheid South African regime. Why? Precisely because Israel is an Apartheid state, where any non-Jew is an inferior-class. Look at Israel. Look at that cancer, all of you who love Israel. Look at all those American politicians who are paid by Israel to go and visit that land. Do they see the shanty towns where non-Jews live? Do they see the ghettoes where non-Jews live? No, of course not. This ‘tours’ show American tourists and politicians what a great land Israel is for the Jews, while they simply, forget to show these ‘visitors’ how the other half lives. So what Israel look like? Israel is a great land for the Jews. No one is going to deny that. But what is Israel like for non-Jews? Israel is a land where, because, you are not Jewish, the government, has the right to demolish your home and your land if they so wish and you can do nothing about that. Israel is a land where they can expel and deport any non-Jew from your home at any time they like. Israel is a land which has the right to expel any non-Jew from its soil. Israel is a land that does not allow a non-Jew to marry a Jew. So what kind of country do you Americans call that? And then you Americans wonder why do these non-Jewish inhabitants hate poor, democratic Israel so much? We, the non-Jewish inhabitants of Israel – we the Moslems, the Chaldeans, the Druze, the Armenians, the Russian Orthodox – hate Israel precisely because Israel, under its Zionist ideology, is simply determined to create a Goyim-free land that is only for the Jews. (‘Goyim’ = non Jew). So, we are all to be expelled or murdered in order to make the land of Israel only for the Jews? Do you Americans think that the entire Goyim (non-Jewish people) are going to accept that? Did the blacks accept the White Man rule in South Africa? Did the Albanians accept Milosevic’s Serb-only Yugoslavia? Israel is one of the few remaining countries where the Racist Supremacist ideology functions fully and is alive. And yet, the West, cannot even dare, to speak the Truth that everyone knows about. Israel is a state that was created by: 1. Ethnically cleansing as many Goyim as they can during 1947-48. 2. Israel is a nation that has a Constitution that is based on the sick fact that the land of Israel ‘must only be for the Jews’. Any non-Jews (or Goyims) must be removed. Now everybody knows these facts, Jews, Zionists, Goyims and everyone else. But what is so sickening, is why is Israel allowed to practice these Racist rules, whereby other leaders, and other nations were; punished for being racist – such as Milosevic’s drive to expel Albanians and Saddam Hussein’s efforts to expel Kurds? Why are Zionists immune to any criticism? Why is it that the Goyim world cannot critique Israel? What are you Americans unable to realize what a cancer Israel really is?

0

Feb 4, 2010

Feb 4, 2010 at 9:36 AM UTC

ANOTHER LETTER TO YOU AMERICANS: WHY DO YOU BLINDLY SUPPORT THE CANCEROUS, RACIST REGIME OF ISRAEL? AND DO YOU SIMPLY NOT SEE THE CONSEQUENCES?

ANOTHER LETTER TO YOU AMERICANS: WHY DO YOU BLINDLY SUPPORT THE CANCEROUS, RACIST REGIME OF ISRAEL? AND DO YOU SIMPLY NOT SEE THE CONSEQUENCES? Ayad Gharbawi February 4, 2010 – Damascus, Syria I am writing you from a Third World country. I am trying through my letters to connect with you Americans. I am trying to communicate with you so an understanding can arise between us. I do not feel in any way optimistic. Why? Because you Americans live in plastic, fake, unreal ‘reality’ that your mass media feeds you that is fundamentally pro-Zionist and pro-Israel. It is precisely this blindness of your slavish poodle behaviour towards this Apartheid state that renders you so much hated by every nation and by every religion and by every race on earth. It is no secret that US foreign policy in the Middle East is heavily influenced by Zionist lobbies. This is a fact that has acres of literature written upon it. What do the Zionists do whenever any human ‘dares’ to critique Israel? Well, of course, you declare him to be a **** or a Self-Hating Jew or an Anti-Semite. In other words: no human can ever critique Israel, and should he critique Israel, in any way, then that means he is a genocidal, mass murdering **** Did you see that typical Zionist, Dr. Dershowitz, who has recently labelled the author of the indictment of Israel’s atrocities in the Gaza War as an ‘anti-Semite? Well, Mr. Goldstone is, of course, a Jew himself. That should point out to you all, the basic law: anyone who even thinks of daring to criticize Israel is a **** or an Anti-Semite. Therefore, no respectable human can ever critique Israel. And that means that: Anyone in the civilized, respectable West, who ‘dares’ to critique Israel in any way, shall be expelled from his/her job and shall be an outcast. That is the Zionism in action in the West. Fine. So, if no respectable, sane human can critique Israel, does that mean that Israel is the only nation on this planet that must be beyond any critique? And if so, why are you, the people of the State of Israel, supposed to be beyond any critique? Obviously, this Zionist twaddle is ******* The Zionists greatest fear is being compared to the Apartheid South African regime. Why? Precisely because Israel is an Apartheid state, where any non-Jew is an inferior-class. Look at Israel. Look at that cancer, all of you who love Israel. Look at all those American politicians who are paid by Israel to go and visit that land. Do they see the shanty towns where non-Jews live? Do they see the ghettoes where non-Jews live? No, of course not. This ‘tours’ show American tourists and politicians what a great land Israel is for the Jews, while they simply, forget to show these ‘visitors’ how the other half lives. So what Israel look like? Israel is a great land for the Jews. No one is going to deny that. But what is Israel like for non-Jews? Israel is a land where, because, you are not Jewish, the government, has the right to demolish your home and your land if they so wish and you can do nothing about that. Israel is a land where they can expel and deport any non-Jew from your home at any time they like. Israel is a land which has the right to expel any non-Jew from its soil. Israel is a land that does not allow a non-Jew to marry a Jew. So what kind of country do you Americans call that? And then you Americans wonder why do these non-Jewish inhabitants hate poor, democratic Israel so much? We, the non-Jewish inhabitants of Israel – we the Moslems, the Chaldeans, the Druze, the Armenians, the Russian Orthodox – hate Israel precisely because Israel, under its Zionist ideology, is simply determined to create a Goyim-free land that is only for the Jews. (‘Goyim’ = non Jew). So, we are all to be expelled or murdered in order to make the land of Israel only for the Jews? Do you Americans think that the entire Goyim (non-Jewish people) are going to accept that? Did the blacks accept the White Man rule in South Africa? Did the Albanians accept Milosevic’s Serb-only Yugoslavia? Israel is one of the few remaining countries where the Racist Supremacist ideology functions fully and is alive. And yet, the West, cannot even dare, to speak the Truth that everyone knows about. Israel is a state that was created by: 1. Ethnically cleansing as many Goyim as they can during 1947-48. 2. Israel is a nation that has a Constitution that is based on the sick fact that the land of Israel ‘must only be for the Jews’. Any non-Jews (or Goyims) must be removed. Now everybody knows these facts, Jews, Zionists, Goyims and everyone else. But what is so sickening, is why is Israel allowed to practice these Racist rules, whereby other leaders, and other nations were; punished for being racist – such as Milosevic’s drive to expel Albanians and Saddam Hussein’s efforts to expel Kurds? Why are Zionists immune to any criticism? Why is it that the Goyim world cannot critique Israel? What are you Americans unable to realize what a cancer Israel really is?

42

NOT LOOKING AT OURSELVES August 7, 2009 - Damascus Ayad bin Izzet Why is it so hard to think of ourselves? Why is it so hard to change bad habits that seem to possess us? It seems to be a near certain fact, that humans do not like to think of themselves; certainly, very few seriously, deeply think about themselves. Who asks himself: “How do I look like to people?” “How do I sound to people, when I say this and that?” “Why is it people like certain aspects of my behaviour?” When you open up such a subject to people in general, it is common to hear: “Look, I don’t care what people may think of me”. But an answer like that will not help you go far in this world. You do need to pay attention to what people think about you, otherwise you will be, de facto, behaving like a tyrannical dictator – you are, in effect, alienating and restricting the advancement of your varied self interests. Why you ask me? Because we all need people if we are going to succeed in our professional and social lives. Without the agreement of people you cannot succeed, unless if your work can survive within a hermit’s context. So why are people so antagonistic to change themselves? I think that for people they are scared of thinking about themselves because they fear what they might find out the nature of what is existing within themselves. Another reason, is addiction. A person may simply be compulsively addicted to the harmful personality he has – yes, even if he knows that his personality is harmful to his own self interests. I talk about this subject because we all do need to change our selves, our personalities - since all the troubles of our entire lives emanate from one source: we dysfunctional humans! Where else do they come from? And yet, anyone who has ever tried to explain to another person their faults will surely go nowhere. No one is interested. I know one lady who I call the ‘Pharmacist’ because she lovingly showers everyone else with advice, while she herself cannot bear to hear one word with respect to her faults. And then, as the years passed, I came to realize, why all people are basically ‘Pharmacists’! People have an obstinacy that harder than leather, colder than an icicle; we simply will not improve, as human beings, if we remain this determined not to reform our minds. And there is nothing else to add on this sorry subject. How pathetically sad. A fine epitaph on Humanity’s grave.

0

Feb 2, 2010

Feb 2, 2010 at 8:02 AM UTC

Not Looking At Ourselves - Ayad Gharbawi

NOT LOOKING AT OURSELVES August 7, 2009 - Damascus Ayad bin Izzet Why is it so hard to think of ourselves? Why is it so hard to change bad habits that seem to possess us? It seems to be a near certain fact, that humans do not like to think of themselves; certainly, very few seriously, deeply think about themselves. Who asks himself: “How do I look like to people?” “How do I sound to people, when I say this and that?” “Why is it people like certain aspects of my behaviour?” When you open up such a subject to people in general, it is common to hear: “Look, I don’t care what people may think of me”. But an answer like that will not help you go far in this world. You do need to pay attention to what people think about you, otherwise you will be, de facto, behaving like a tyrannical dictator – you are, in effect, alienating and restricting the advancement of your varied self interests. Why you ask me? Because we all need people if we are going to succeed in our professional and social lives. Without the agreement of people you cannot succeed, unless if your work can survive within a hermit’s context. So why are people so antagonistic to change themselves? I think that for people they are scared of thinking about themselves because they fear what they might find out the nature of what is existing within themselves. Another reason, is addiction. A person may simply be compulsively addicted to the harmful personality he has – yes, even if he knows that his personality is harmful to his own self interests. I talk about this subject because we all do need to change our selves, our personalities - since all the troubles of our entire lives emanate from one source: we dysfunctional humans! Where else do they come from? And yet, anyone who has ever tried to explain to another person their faults will surely go nowhere. No one is interested. I know one lady who I call the ‘Pharmacist’ because she lovingly showers everyone else with advice, while she herself cannot bear to hear one word with respect to her faults. And then, as the years passed, I came to realize, why all people are basically ‘Pharmacists’! People have an obstinacy that harder than leather, colder than an icicle; we simply will not improve, as human beings, if we remain this determined not to reform our minds. And there is nothing else to add on this sorry subject. How pathetically sad. A fine epitaph on Humanity’s grave.

19

I TRIED TO EXPLAIN TO HER December, 2009 – Damascus Ayad Gharbawi Myself I tried to refresh her Mind To the Inexactitudes of Beauty’s Truth Wherein she then found me even more Loathsome You see, listen, here: She tended to readily Sway towards the jesters Made of rosy perfume I complained! But to what avail? None! I began to think elsewhere What if my 'words' have no Connectivity To this Damsel? Then what ought I to do? Her Mind told her Whispers That were In essence I can confirm Rather far too confusing Romantic language? What absurdities! And so, indeed She became confused As I Tried to express my opinion on what is going on Between us Which was precisely that which Is inexact But her Heart drove her fanatically Towards Irrationality Whereby that really All over again Did leave me All too Disconnected From her One dull night She screamed, “So what then do you say love is after all?” I exclaimed calmly, “What love is, “ She interrupted me, screaming further, ''Speak words, you make no sense! ”Always, when you speak, I lose myself “And that does frighten me” And, I attempted to paint for her a candid portrait Of what ‘love’ is and What ‘love’ is not She did not like the portrait at all As per the usual “Ah well”, I said, sighing “For this is after all, is what love is “Never! never!” she screamed Typically I told her: “You do remind me of Dorian Gray! “Do you not? “For you deny reality “Of the indefinables “You do not understand “That nothing is Certain “In our Existence “Save the dour End! “And that is where “You find so many “Difficulties “In your fully perturbed “Solitary life”.

0

Feb 1, 2010

Feb 1, 2010 at 7:36 AM UTC

I Tried To Explain To Her

I TRIED TO EXPLAIN TO HER December, 2009 – Damascus Ayad Gharbawi Myself I tried to refresh her Mind To the Inexactitudes of Beauty’s Truth Wherein she then found me even more Loathsome You see, listen, here: She tended to readily Sway towards the jesters Made of rosy perfume I complained! But to what avail? None! I began to think elsewhere What if my 'words' have no Connectivity To this Damsel? Then what ought I to do? Her Mind told her Whispers That were In essence I can confirm Rather far too confusing Romantic language? What absurdities! And so, indeed She became confused As I Tried to express my opinion on what is going on Between us Which was precisely that which Is inexact But her Heart drove her fanatically Towards Irrationality Whereby that really All over again Did leave me All too Disconnected From her One dull night She screamed, “So what then do you say love is after all?” I exclaimed calmly, “What love is, “ She interrupted me, screaming further, ''Speak words, you make no sense! ”Always, when you speak, I lose myself “And that does frighten me” And, I attempted to paint for her a candid portrait Of what ‘love’ is and What ‘love’ is not She did not like the portrait at all As per the usual “Ah well”, I said, sighing “For this is after all, is what love is “Never! never!” she screamed Typically I told her: “You do remind me of Dorian Gray! “Do you not? “For you deny reality “Of the indefinables “You do not understand “That nothing is Certain “In our Existence “Save the dour End! “And that is where “You find so many “Difficulties “In your fully perturbed “Solitary life”.

72

LISTEN TO ME! – THE MADMAN! Oct 15 2009 – Damascus, Syria Ayad Gharbawi Feeling feelings That come from nowhere Sinking my life While my Surfaces are barely reaching Their stable mind Soulful fright Sparkles that dazzle, yes, but have no meaning For myself Go within In my mind’s shredded images That you call vision But that are for my fractured Self Incoherent and blurred I feel only Smiles of Sickness Bare teeth of inconceivable stench Exposing inner frailty That just turns out To be my own Pulsating fear I guess I try Trying to be What I know And what I know not Trying to think I think I am A fright To you And myself Swaying sceneries Make me dizzy Yes! The same sceneries You people That you people Call your Daily life Some shine, and some not really And if you are interested to understand For my mind And its Self The results are fear And meaningless All over again For me My Tears provoke You But, why? You say, I’m paranoid? You fools! Who exactly are the persons Do you think That is, if you think Look at my finger and where and at whom it is pointing Again, I scream to you sane citizens What are their identies Of those and of them that are today and now Holding all the thickest drenched sickening ropes Meant for our fractured Necks and Brains Again and again? When do you think You may cease This paralysing pressure? That you apply Upon me Stabbing me? Piercing? Slicing? Hurting? Me All Within My turmoil ***** is spinning In my mind Leave them – Yes, them! They are the Christs that are weeping Hysterically Moving me Beyond sanity While, where are you all? And your polite rules are Moving me Way way far too much For my stability Polite subhumans Flying Make me Flying Make me Flying from you all From you all Let me make me - fly far from you all! Harrowing Humans Listen calmly To my mind Listen To your own Screams shrieks and all the rest Before you think to presume to judge Because you too Some day May suddenly Come to be Plunging in My world!

0

Feb 1, 2010

Feb 1, 2010 at 7:34 AM UTC

Listen To me - The Madman!

LISTEN TO ME! – THE MADMAN! Oct 15 2009 – Damascus, Syria Ayad Gharbawi Feeling feelings That come from nowhere Sinking my life While my Surfaces are barely reaching Their stable mind Soulful fright Sparkles that dazzle, yes, but have no meaning For myself Go within In my mind’s shredded images That you call vision But that are for my fractured Self Incoherent and blurred I feel only Smiles of Sickness Bare teeth of inconceivable stench Exposing inner frailty That just turns out To be my own Pulsating fear I guess I try Trying to be What I know And what I know not Trying to think I think I am A fright To you And myself Swaying sceneries Make me dizzy Yes! The same sceneries You people That you people Call your Daily life Some shine, and some not really And if you are interested to understand For my mind And its Self The results are fear And meaningless All over again For me My Tears provoke You But, why? You say, I’m paranoid? You fools! Who exactly are the persons Do you think That is, if you think Look at my finger and where and at whom it is pointing Again, I scream to you sane citizens What are their identies Of those and of them that are today and now Holding all the thickest drenched sickening ropes Meant for our fractured Necks and Brains Again and again? When do you think You may cease This paralysing pressure? That you apply Upon me Stabbing me? Piercing? Slicing? Hurting? Me All Within My turmoil ***** is spinning In my mind Leave them – Yes, them! They are the Christs that are weeping Hysterically Moving me Beyond sanity While, where are you all? And your polite rules are Moving me Way way far too much For my stability Polite subhumans Flying Make me Flying Make me Flying from you all From you all Let me make me - fly far from you all! Harrowing Humans Listen calmly To my mind Listen To your own Screams shrieks and all the rest Before you think to presume to judge Because you too Some day May suddenly Come to be Plunging in My world!

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DEPRESSION Ayad Gharbawi A word, my friend, I heard Where Angels of my Father’s memories, spoke shockingly Where Mother’s weepings sang dirges in my mind I can never ignore these pages and essays that affect us brittle humans And where throats hurt once more The dryness wounds sincerely How could a clown cry, I thought? Here, and forever more, I thought - and for what meaningful end? The Wilderness will forever be my highway! Endless in repercussions and unsure threats vague Where eyes conversed in sentences distracted and disconnected Where body language denied the presence of all meanings or sense I complained unto no one For I did complain once unto a god I believed in once A god I thought could change and alter physics and its grand laws Yet dryness once more hurt my memory as I attempted As I attempted and tried to recall what efforts I needed to do Such as recalling images exact of my ‘friends’ that were meant to help me I saw too many hollow, unoccupied, futile skies ‘Neath which thorny verses of Sacred Scripture were passionately, lucidly preached But I tried my self far removed and away And turned aghast towards Situations where lies convinced us of truths Where lovers expressed intimacy within plasticity’s contexts Eventually, surrendering my sanity and soul I myself simply stood and looked at snowy sands cold That was all I existed for To stand and watch you all live on.

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Jan 28, 2010

Jan 28, 2010 at 8:08 AM UTC

Depression - Ayad Gharbawi

DEPRESSION Ayad Gharbawi A word, my friend, I heard Where Angels of my Father’s memories, spoke shockingly Where Mother’s weepings sang dirges in my mind I can never ignore these pages and essays that affect us brittle humans And where throats hurt once more The dryness wounds sincerely How could a clown cry, I thought? Here, and forever more, I thought - and for what meaningful end? The Wilderness will forever be my highway! Endless in repercussions and unsure threats vague Where eyes conversed in sentences distracted and disconnected Where body language denied the presence of all meanings or sense I complained unto no one For I did complain once unto a god I believed in once A god I thought could change and alter physics and its grand laws Yet dryness once more hurt my memory as I attempted As I attempted and tried to recall what efforts I needed to do Such as recalling images exact of my ‘friends’ that were meant to help me I saw too many hollow, unoccupied, futile skies ‘Neath which thorny verses of Sacred Scripture were passionately, lucidly preached But I tried my self far removed and away And turned aghast towards Situations where lies convinced us of truths Where lovers expressed intimacy within plasticity’s contexts Eventually, surrendering my sanity and soul I myself simply stood and looked at snowy sands cold That was all I existed for To stand and watch you all live on.

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