"ayad" poems - Hello Poetry

CROATION WAITRESS 1995 Beauty lass Croation sweetness In sudden poverty And fear; Lost child In a London town Of so much Alienation – Could you then Relate? Sweet statue waitress Coming to live In your empty pockets That so Pull on Your morality.

0

Dec 23, 2009

Dec 23, 2009 at 6:52 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

CROATION WAITRESS - Ayad Gharbawi

CROATION WAITRESS 1995 Beauty lass Croation sweetness In sudden poverty And fear; Lost child In a London town Of so much Alienation – Could you then Relate? Sweet statue waitress Coming to live In your empty pockets That so Pull on Your morality.

18

EVENING’S FRAGRANCE February 4, 1989 – Boston Ayad Gharbawi A child weeps Her harmonies I paint Her eyes Their pain twisting I write As her mind crumpled In despair I speak of Childless soul! Your rain You weep Dew in your essence I feel depths here As you suffer My eternal image You are, Flame of my heat Truth of my sadness. Reveal to me, then Your final tears, Drain me As I watch you Evaporate gently Loneliest child That I ever did see.

0

Dec 25, 2009

Dec 25, 2009 at 8:42 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

EVENING'S FRAGRANCE - Ayad Gharbawi

EVENING’S FRAGRANCE February 4, 1989 – Boston Ayad Gharbawi A child weeps Her harmonies I paint Her eyes Their pain twisting I write As her mind crumpled In despair I speak of Childless soul! Your rain You weep Dew in your essence I feel depths here As you suffer My eternal image You are, Flame of my heat Truth of my sadness. Reveal to me, then Your final tears, Drain me As I watch you Evaporate gently Loneliest child That I ever did see.

28

SUICIDE OF AN INTELLIGENT GIRL Ayad Gharbawi October 9, 1994 – London Abrupt instant Surfaces here As I write my Own bloodied script That speaks Of my animated Lives I see faces whose needs Are criticizing their Self-less children.. Just as I reduce Myself To a pointless Second Of such Menace Can you ever imagine me Just as I Drive my own Continuation To a quiet Edge?

0

Dec 25, 2009

Dec 25, 2009 at 8:47 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

SUICIDE OF AN INTELLIGENT GIRL - AYAD GHARBAWI

SUICIDE OF AN INTELLIGENT GIRL Ayad Gharbawi October 9, 1994 – London Abrupt instant Surfaces here As I write my Own bloodied script That speaks Of my animated Lives I see faces whose needs Are criticizing their Self-less children.. Just as I reduce Myself To a pointless Second Of such Menace Can you ever imagine me Just as I Drive my own Continuation To a quiet Edge?

25

AN OLD SUICIDE NOTE 1995 From my eye That once Used to win And now Getting to be Upset In my own blood That is still So unreal. So goodnight to all Farewells! Now I can gossip About Death That so far May happen, Just happen Tonight.

0

Dec 13, 2009

Dec 13, 2009 at 12:54 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

AN OLD SUICIDE NOTE - Ayad Gharbawi

AN OLD SUICIDE NOTE 1995 From my eye That once Used to win And now Getting to be Upset In my own blood That is still So unreal. So goodnight to all Farewells! Now I can gossip About Death That so far May happen, Just happen Tonight.

19

CHRISTIAN DISCIPLE Ayad Gharbawi 1995 Silent Martyr! How can I hear you, then If all the Tears You speak of Burn My Face Etching Their Hatreds All over My brain?

0

Dec 23, 2009

Dec 23, 2009 at 6:49 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

CHRISTIAN DISCIPLE - Ayad Gharbawi

CHRISTIAN DISCIPLE Ayad Gharbawi 1995 Silent Martyr! How can I hear you, then If all the Tears You speak of Burn My Face Etching Their Hatreds All over My brain?

13

AN OLD SUICIDE NOTE 1995 Ayad Gharbawi From my eye That once Used to win And now Getting to be Upset In my own blood That is still So unreal To me. So goodnight to all Farewells! Now I can gossip About Death That so far May happen, Just happen Tonight.

0

Jul 9, 2013

Jul 9, 2013 at 5:36 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi-1

AN OLD SUICIDE NOTE

AN OLD SUICIDE NOTE 1995 Ayad Gharbawi From my eye That once Used to win And now Getting to be Upset In my own blood That is still So unreal To me. So goodnight to all Farewells! Now I can gossip About Death That so far May happen, Just happen Tonight.

21

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

ayad-gharbawi

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

DECADENCE PERVERSE July 9, 2003 – Walton on Thames, Surrey Everyone talks And experiences And experiments And gets confused Depressed And anxious People fearful With multiple ****** partners While a baby is alone Crying nowhere As people smoke their drugs And laugh And they start to go Nowhere Some doing business And living out empty lives In a souless planet Christ! I am really surprised by all of you people Asking and questioning the same questions Again and again and more “Is there life out there?” “Is there life in this universe?” “Are we all alone?” You keep on repeating your questions And I ask you: “Is there any life here on earth?” I see a young girl suffering from torment And hearing sorrow Being riddled throughout her fragile mind Is this, then, your civilization? People! You gamblers and prostitutes Fraudsters and women beaters Compulsive liars and addicts Rich criminals, poor criminals Slithering through your pointless slimy days That we all know where it’s all ending Christ! But one baby’s life Is never pointless! I tell you so..

0

Dec 23, 2009

Dec 23, 2009 at 6:55 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

DECADENCE PERVERSE - Ayad Gharbawi

DECADENCE PERVERSE July 9, 2003 – Walton on Thames, Surrey Everyone talks And experiences And experiments And gets confused Depressed And anxious People fearful With multiple ****** partners While a baby is alone Crying nowhere As people smoke their drugs And laugh And they start to go Nowhere Some doing business And living out empty lives In a souless planet Christ! I am really surprised by all of you people Asking and questioning the same questions Again and again and more “Is there life out there?” “Is there life in this universe?” “Are we all alone?” You keep on repeating your questions And I ask you: “Is there any life here on earth?” I see a young girl suffering from torment And hearing sorrow Being riddled throughout her fragile mind Is this, then, your civilization? People! You gamblers and prostitutes Fraudsters and women beaters Compulsive liars and addicts Rich criminals, poor criminals Slithering through your pointless slimy days That we all know where it’s all ending Christ! But one baby’s life Is never pointless! I tell you so..

44

LONELY TELEPHONE September 20, 1989 – London City teenagers hurling about within their lives Absurd places to live in, I feel Consequences never being understood And so, mindless action and devastating hurt ensues again And times are uncaring Didn’t you know? Walls bare, barren and sweating frightening you But why? Pay shall be low! So it was decreed By legislators light years Away from us So bleed on; Your brain is unaware Friends fade soon Opportunities sinister and momentary wanted you Lonely telephone That you gaze at In your gloomy, wet room Irrelevant information piles up within Recognizable faces mean little to you Glamorous personalities all conform Times are repetitive and cliché-like Humans! Growing older so soon? Days monotone continue passing by And so your life styles remain intact. ----

0

Dec 23, 2009

Dec 23, 2009 at 6:51 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

LONELY TELEPHONE - Ayad Gharbawi

LONELY TELEPHONE September 20, 1989 – London City teenagers hurling about within their lives Absurd places to live in, I feel Consequences never being understood And so, mindless action and devastating hurt ensues again And times are uncaring Didn’t you know? Walls bare, barren and sweating frightening you But why? Pay shall be low! So it was decreed By legislators light years Away from us So bleed on; Your brain is unaware Friends fade soon Opportunities sinister and momentary wanted you Lonely telephone That you gaze at In your gloomy, wet room Irrelevant information piles up within Recognizable faces mean little to you Glamorous personalities all conform Times are repetitive and cliché-like Humans! Growing older so soon? Days monotone continue passing by And so your life styles remain intact. ----

30

LIVING IN A WILDERNESS October 2, 2009 – Damascus, Syria Ayad Gharbawi I see my eyes Reverting Bulging inwards Yet, speaking outside Of shrill fears Feeling hues and nuances indefinable Lovely contrasts Jagged emotions, Acres of mutilated humans Serrated teeth Severing carotid veins Jugular explosions Blood frothing inside Mine mind That throws itself Weeping far too low On this strangled ground Near my skin Far too many times I’ve felt, seen, experienced blazing humiliations Searing slicing fear That I can never ever Describe to you And so I’m writing for no one I know Listen to these skeletal notes Being played out Manic piano loving my drunk guitar Producing acoustic screams Hurling within My hatreds That need to prop my reason of d‘etre Isn’t that language Being expressed Spouted out Created forth frothing from these experiences That are harrowing?

0

Jan 28, 2010

Jan 28, 2010 at 8:06 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

Living In A Wilderness

LIVING IN A WILDERNESS October 2, 2009 – Damascus, Syria Ayad Gharbawi I see my eyes Reverting Bulging inwards Yet, speaking outside Of shrill fears Feeling hues and nuances indefinable Lovely contrasts Jagged emotions, Acres of mutilated humans Serrated teeth Severing carotid veins Jugular explosions Blood frothing inside Mine mind That throws itself Weeping far too low On this strangled ground Near my skin Far too many times I’ve felt, seen, experienced blazing humiliations Searing slicing fear That I can never ever Describe to you And so I’m writing for no one I know Listen to these skeletal notes Being played out Manic piano loving my drunk guitar Producing acoustic screams Hurling within My hatreds That need to prop my reason of d‘etre Isn’t that language Being expressed Spouted out Created forth frothing from these experiences That are harrowing?

41

SINS BENEATH VINCENT’S STARRY NIGHT Ayad Izzet Gharbawi A Drunken King wept over self-created sins In his unglamorous life The corrupt Wedding saddened The thousand year-old Trees Burdened by the Cynical Winds Where Shy Priests Doubted Their edict’s worth That they copied all their lives The Mature ****** dreamed of lush meadows Painted and imagined by the Quiet Madman Where the Illiterates Cursed aloud At their colourful tears That no one could decipher nor understand As Panting Stars Spoke Of their daring homecoming Scattered Women were venturing out at last Unashamed to defy fear and threats from within And Lovers awoke to their hypocrisy Amidst Family Smiles And the routinization of boredom As Beggars of Humanity pleaded Quietly For Mercy And no more abstractions Distant Stars were swayed by Heavens Troubled, once more, by us. The Shining Hope shivers its warning for all hearts To feel for themselves In punishments they mentioned too often Only for the Poor, the Lame and the Meek In Unruly Nights soured in veiled darknesses By the Anger of the Dying Such crimes of the past were recalled By the minds of the Cold Ones still ruling over you; You Inheritors of a unique and particular grief Where Colourless Eyes stare At your simple And Unanswered Passions Yet, the pained and Insecure Citizen begs the Starry Night to inspire Fearing your Frightened ‘Self’ You search all the other Selves As a Conversation is repeated again In your evenings of darkening anxiety The gates of weariness burn As I fear to tell and speak and relate any longer.

0

Jan 16, 2010

Jan 16, 2010 at 7:53 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

Sins Beneath Vincent's Starry Night

SINS BENEATH VINCENT’S STARRY NIGHT Ayad Izzet Gharbawi A Drunken King wept over self-created sins In his unglamorous life The corrupt Wedding saddened The thousand year-old Trees Burdened by the Cynical Winds Where Shy Priests Doubted Their edict’s worth That they copied all their lives The Mature ****** dreamed of lush meadows Painted and imagined by the Quiet Madman Where the Illiterates Cursed aloud At their colourful tears That no one could decipher nor understand As Panting Stars Spoke Of their daring homecoming Scattered Women were venturing out at last Unashamed to defy fear and threats from within And Lovers awoke to their hypocrisy Amidst Family Smiles And the routinization of boredom As Beggars of Humanity pleaded Quietly For Mercy And no more abstractions Distant Stars were swayed by Heavens Troubled, once more, by us. The Shining Hope shivers its warning for all hearts To feel for themselves In punishments they mentioned too often Only for the Poor, the Lame and the Meek In Unruly Nights soured in veiled darknesses By the Anger of the Dying Such crimes of the past were recalled By the minds of the Cold Ones still ruling over you; You Inheritors of a unique and particular grief Where Colourless Eyes stare At your simple And Unanswered Passions Yet, the pained and Insecure Citizen begs the Starry Night to inspire Fearing your Frightened ‘Self’ You search all the other Selves As a Conversation is repeated again In your evenings of darkening anxiety The gates of weariness burn As I fear to tell and speak and relate any longer.

51

PROSTITUTE’S DREAM Ayad Gharbawi A helping hand waves in distant appeals While realities projected by liars Transpire in hatred waxed and refined The conversationalists’ hollowness laughingly Excused the wars individuals fight While a ********** yells To godless martyrs Who preached of Gods As the dwarfs compared themselves To the beauties of loneliness The hungry painted ships of adventure In their mysterious journeys, they asked: “Where are we to go?” The woman was betrayed By the quick-tongued lover Her eyes chased different circumstances Forgetting that circumstances change Therein lies the equation of human beings Humans who care not While the dying one Strums Her brittle Guitar Made of tender wood Where the hollow tunes soon died Her voice squeaked in No-Man’s-Land Her eyes, a sunset they revered Her eyes that followed her lover’s path. Somewhere in a dark distance Eyes rigid and fixed Even though the winds sway you with pain Your Protectors are dead, I declare! Your Protector is no more Understand that; And understand your enemy The one within you Then shall you feel so much more For alone you walk in this life You breathe in.

0

Dec 27, 2009

Dec 27, 2009 at 8:08 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

PROSTITUTE'S DREAM - AYAD GHARBAWI

PROSTITUTE’S DREAM Ayad Gharbawi A helping hand waves in distant appeals While realities projected by liars Transpire in hatred waxed and refined The conversationalists’ hollowness laughingly Excused the wars individuals fight While a ********** yells To godless martyrs Who preached of Gods As the dwarfs compared themselves To the beauties of loneliness The hungry painted ships of adventure In their mysterious journeys, they asked: “Where are we to go?” The woman was betrayed By the quick-tongued lover Her eyes chased different circumstances Forgetting that circumstances change Therein lies the equation of human beings Humans who care not While the dying one Strums Her brittle Guitar Made of tender wood Where the hollow tunes soon died Her voice squeaked in No-Man’s-Land Her eyes, a sunset they revered Her eyes that followed her lover’s path. Somewhere in a dark distance Eyes rigid and fixed Even though the winds sway you with pain Your Protectors are dead, I declare! Your Protector is no more Understand that; And understand your enemy The one within you Then shall you feel so much more For alone you walk in this life You breathe in.

41

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. -----

0

Feb 19, 2010

Feb 19, 2010 at 9:04 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

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

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.

0

Feb 20, 2010

Feb 20, 2010 at 7:59 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

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

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

ayad-gharbawi

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

WHO WILL SAVE ‘HUMANITY’ FROM ITSELF? Ayad Gharbawi Come down, and celebrate with us all The beginning of a senseless ****** Where children sat awaiting Trying to Understand The necessity That you humans found in yourselves Was so necessary to enact Against the innocently impaled victim I guess, that no one Can ever Accept truths That for me and for you Were so different And yes, the medieval priest Did laugh gutturally In his drunken paradise Yes, that man you loved Was very sickening In his punishing self-imposed bleeding dictums And he can no longer talk Through his burning tongue That has been mercifully stabbed Just far too Many times.. Eternal laughter That tries to memorize the renaissance poetry Is a silly game That gets you somewhere Endless rows of frowning fools I tell you What did you learn from All those poetry you did memorize? I tell you We must all decide To stand Somewhere of relevance and depths Here in our personal hour That God Has dictated for us Sing, then, the songs of deathness Wherein the lonely dance Hundreds and acres more Of corpses have been recently Unearthed Rotting statues And you can no more bear it I know Just as the world Drowns her dulled eyes Flying fast and far Away from your memories And now all the clowns disguised as priests Have told me to die So soon I guess, they want me to say “Goodnight” But I will try to breathe One more breath One more escape From this imprisonment You classified as ‘life’ You see, I wasn’t really sure If they weren’t in truth Priests disguised as clowns Come tonight and throw your Second-hand flowers In that grave for The princess that has been assassinated tonight Murdered deeply In this Paris night And tomorrow we’ll all laugh idiotically In astonishment, once again And the bewildered children will, once more, sit not understanding The murderous nature of you human beings And yes, I myself, once more Do not understand what is impelling you all To **** ****** and butcher again and again Come ye saviours! Save us, ye saviours! The crucified darlings Tearful you stand I pray for you to rise up and do revenge Against these sadistic monstrosities In my increasingly disorientating brain Christ! I did try so hard to reach out to you For you to save us And my doubts are brimming now As you wither ever more Decomposing on that wooden cross

0

Jan 4, 2010

Jan 4, 2010 at 8:28 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

WHO WILL SAVE 'HUMANITY' FROM ITSELF? - AYAD GHARBAWI

WHO WILL SAVE ‘HUMANITY’ FROM ITSELF? Ayad Gharbawi Come down, and celebrate with us all The beginning of a senseless ****** Where children sat awaiting Trying to Understand The necessity That you humans found in yourselves Was so necessary to enact Against the innocently impaled victim I guess, that no one Can ever Accept truths That for me and for you Were so different And yes, the medieval priest Did laugh gutturally In his drunken paradise Yes, that man you loved Was very sickening In his punishing self-imposed bleeding dictums And he can no longer talk Through his burning tongue That has been mercifully stabbed Just far too Many times.. Eternal laughter That tries to memorize the renaissance poetry Is a silly game That gets you somewhere Endless rows of frowning fools I tell you What did you learn from All those poetry you did memorize? I tell you We must all decide To stand Somewhere of relevance and depths Here in our personal hour That God Has dictated for us Sing, then, the songs of deathness Wherein the lonely dance Hundreds and acres more Of corpses have been recently Unearthed Rotting statues And you can no more bear it I know Just as the world Drowns her dulled eyes Flying fast and far Away from your memories And now all the clowns disguised as priests Have told me to die So soon I guess, they want me to say “Goodnight” But I will try to breathe One more breath One more escape From this imprisonment You classified as ‘life’ You see, I wasn’t really sure If they weren’t in truth Priests disguised as clowns Come tonight and throw your Second-hand flowers In that grave for The princess that has been assassinated tonight Murdered deeply In this Paris night And tomorrow we’ll all laugh idiotically In astonishment, once again And the bewildered children will, once more, sit not understanding The murderous nature of you human beings And yes, I myself, once more Do not understand what is impelling you all To **** ****** and butcher again and again Come ye saviours! Save us, ye saviours! The crucified darlings Tearful you stand I pray for you to rise up and do revenge Against these sadistic monstrosities In my increasingly disorientating brain Christ! I did try so hard to reach out to you For you to save us And my doubts are brimming now As you wither ever more Decomposing on that wooden cross

94

BATTERED CHILD’S TESTIMONY Ayad Gharbawi 1995 A sunshine that sparkled quietly Rainbows of necessary ambitions that wilt Oceans of hate collapse in evil Evil for fun, evil for no reason A sunshine someone dreamed of Dreaming from the sorrows of the crooked, Twisted and repeated years Where a little girl receives **** as Man’s Reason and desire’s needs. Life anywhere continues Ancient woman weeping Modern woman crying The intervals and gaps mean nothing to me For the bleeding ones They march in circles Circles vague as their lives prescribed. Irrelevance is a powerful concept today I exist here today Soon, I shall be as ancient as the others While the intelligent people continue With their words of reasons and smugness Students in classrooms I have never seen Pour out their literature on sanity and its values And are repeatedly taught The intricate values of zero; Out there, children on drugs and dull careers And learning Evil’s persistent wisdom. Trust the none Hate the all Survive for the only one That is you. And you may feel And achieve a measure Of dust’s worth While the storms of the powerful May stampede upon your heart and love What you feel, my imaginary friend Is an act of irrelevance Irrelevance to the globe of toiling people What you feel, you must forget What you love, you must abandon. And, as you shall wilt soon You too must turn away And face the death of the Meek The death of the unknown Christs.

0

Dec 23, 2009

Dec 23, 2009 at 6:45 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

BATTERED CHILD'S TESTIMONY - Ayad Gharbawi

BATTERED CHILD’S TESTIMONY Ayad Gharbawi 1995 A sunshine that sparkled quietly Rainbows of necessary ambitions that wilt Oceans of hate collapse in evil Evil for fun, evil for no reason A sunshine someone dreamed of Dreaming from the sorrows of the crooked, Twisted and repeated years Where a little girl receives **** as Man’s Reason and desire’s needs. Life anywhere continues Ancient woman weeping Modern woman crying The intervals and gaps mean nothing to me For the bleeding ones They march in circles Circles vague as their lives prescribed. Irrelevance is a powerful concept today I exist here today Soon, I shall be as ancient as the others While the intelligent people continue With their words of reasons and smugness Students in classrooms I have never seen Pour out their literature on sanity and its values And are repeatedly taught The intricate values of zero; Out there, children on drugs and dull careers And learning Evil’s persistent wisdom. Trust the none Hate the all Survive for the only one That is you. And you may feel And achieve a measure Of dust’s worth While the storms of the powerful May stampede upon your heart and love What you feel, my imaginary friend Is an act of irrelevance Irrelevance to the globe of toiling people What you feel, you must forget What you love, you must abandon. And, as you shall wilt soon You too must turn away And face the death of the Meek The death of the unknown Christs.

48

Death Of A Friend Ayad Gharbawi Say to us Hurtful Words Of changes to come Impersonal Waves A-wash Upon hearts Mortified – O days; Gone? Or are you To become?

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Dec 22, 2009

Dec 22, 2009 at 10:39 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

DEATH OF A FRIEND - Ayad Gharbawi

Death Of A Friend Ayad Gharbawi Say to us Hurtful Words Of changes to come Impersonal Waves A-wash Upon hearts Mortified – O days; Gone? Or are you To become?

14

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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Feb 1, 2010

Feb 1, 2010 at 7:34 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

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!

116

THOSE WHO WERE CROWNED, YET THEY NEVER KNEW Ayad Gharbawi When so many die You feel When so many perish in pain vivid yet distant You cry When so many noble and smiling suffocate helplessly You think So many, years and years, of memories within your heart Those who were crowned, yet they never knew Those who were praised by all virtue’s gods, yet they never heard I listen to myself, here as I stand The times that question me so steadfastly Who do you turn to, then, in such hours wearying Who will understand your comradeship The animals know full well Man’s nature and they turn away Tell me then, whoever you may be – how will stillness icy turn to laughter Do not weep, bird Feathered beauty of innocence fair and freedom just Do not weep for your heart, though many question you Though the many wish to **** you Others, may, stand by you Justice may embrace you, shelter you and free you to the skies above When I am asked, why this method of existence I reply, because, somehow, the future shall reap rewards brighter Somehow, the future shall crown my trials Somehow, the future shall embrace me with serenity Somehow, the future shall surround me with six daughters Thus, alone I stand now; Tomorrow may yet offer me the essence of humans warm and sincere The minds that are closed The poverty-stricken who blame themselves The poverty-stricken who are endlessly ashamed of themselves What, then, do you speak unto such souls weary and tired How, then, do you lift their burdens unfair How do you tell them that it is they who are just in claiming what is theirs And what, then, is their ‘theirs’ Yours are the riches Yours are the fruits of all your labour Yours are the sweats’ rewards Yours are whatever fruition your toil has brought unto yourselves The years of labour you have done, we say, it shall return to you Yet, as you now look around you All those years you have laboured Where are your rewards accumulating Where are your benefits that should justly comfort you beyond all frustrations Where your children’s toys Why is your salary and wages still the same Earth revolves as it has Millions before you have lived, thought, loved, hated and died Millions shall do the same in the unknown vastness of the future Blue planet swirling the heavens celestial How silent are the screams of millions as you exist now Upon the soil of this revolting planet Ayad Gharbawi

0

Jan 4, 2010

Jan 4, 2010 at 8:19 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

THOSE WHO WERE CROWNED, YET THEY NEVER KNEW - AYAD GHARBAWI

THOSE WHO WERE CROWNED, YET THEY NEVER KNEW Ayad Gharbawi When so many die You feel When so many perish in pain vivid yet distant You cry When so many noble and smiling suffocate helplessly You think So many, years and years, of memories within your heart Those who were crowned, yet they never knew Those who were praised by all virtue’s gods, yet they never heard I listen to myself, here as I stand The times that question me so steadfastly Who do you turn to, then, in such hours wearying Who will understand your comradeship The animals know full well Man’s nature and they turn away Tell me then, whoever you may be – how will stillness icy turn to laughter Do not weep, bird Feathered beauty of innocence fair and freedom just Do not weep for your heart, though many question you Though the many wish to **** you Others, may, stand by you Justice may embrace you, shelter you and free you to the skies above When I am asked, why this method of existence I reply, because, somehow, the future shall reap rewards brighter Somehow, the future shall crown my trials Somehow, the future shall embrace me with serenity Somehow, the future shall surround me with six daughters Thus, alone I stand now; Tomorrow may yet offer me the essence of humans warm and sincere The minds that are closed The poverty-stricken who blame themselves The poverty-stricken who are endlessly ashamed of themselves What, then, do you speak unto such souls weary and tired How, then, do you lift their burdens unfair How do you tell them that it is they who are just in claiming what is theirs And what, then, is their ‘theirs’ Yours are the riches Yours are the fruits of all your labour Yours are the sweats’ rewards Yours are whatever fruition your toil has brought unto yourselves The years of labour you have done, we say, it shall return to you Yet, as you now look around you All those years you have laboured Where are your rewards accumulating Where are your benefits that should justly comfort you beyond all frustrations Where your children’s toys Why is your salary and wages still the same Earth revolves as it has Millions before you have lived, thought, loved, hated and died Millions shall do the same in the unknown vastness of the future Blue planet swirling the heavens celestial How silent are the screams of millions as you exist now Upon the soil of this revolting planet Ayad Gharbawi

55

CONTRADICTIONS IN LIFE! May 1995 - London A love Ends And a truth Suspended No longer Finally Begins to Laugh At herself. Unbelieving eyes Come to feel Here This now moment That has so Despised Your only lifetime’s Achievements Of worthlessness.

0

Dec 22, 2009

Dec 22, 2009 at 10:35 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

CONTRADICTIONS IN LIFE! - Ayad Gharbawi

CONTRADICTIONS IN LIFE! May 1995 - London A love Ends And a truth Suspended No longer Finally Begins to Laugh At herself. Unbelieving eyes Come to feel Here This now moment That has so Despised Your only lifetime’s Achievements Of worthlessness.

20

DYSFUNCTIONING LIFE Ayad Gharbawi December 13, 2003 – Walton On Thames, Surrey Passing by groaning graves Stillness hushes now! What once was Furious party Lives of splendour and decadence Now lie solemnly dead Think, of your minds, I feel Think, of your emotions, I feel Where they been? And so, think now, of where they now stand? The severely sad Are struggling now to cope Fearing suicide And yet, Fearing life itself more What a planet! What a world! Beauties of models, clubs, yachts, parties, mansions Cripples of despised ones, hated ones, dry ones Listening to me; Where is all going, where is all being? Where is it all, your civilization, you sick Humanity? I wonder? When we listen To nothing And no one In our rage, shares our emotions raw What then are the ‘rules’ for your life? What are the ‘guidelines’ for your principles? Is anyone there to tell me? Or are we born naked here And are we to live without reason? Where are the Blessed ones? Where are the just, Loving ones? Where are the faithful, Compassionate ones? Where are the dedicated, Faithful ones? I’m still searching for you Trustworthy ones But from the rest of you all I’m going to do one thing; I am Seeking to disentangle myself from you From this filth From myself From my dysfunctional existences.

0

Dec 25, 2009

Dec 25, 2009 at 8:40 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

DYSFUNCTIONING LIFE - AYAD GHARBAWI

DYSFUNCTIONING LIFE Ayad Gharbawi December 13, 2003 – Walton On Thames, Surrey Passing by groaning graves Stillness hushes now! What once was Furious party Lives of splendour and decadence Now lie solemnly dead Think, of your minds, I feel Think, of your emotions, I feel Where they been? And so, think now, of where they now stand? The severely sad Are struggling now to cope Fearing suicide And yet, Fearing life itself more What a planet! What a world! Beauties of models, clubs, yachts, parties, mansions Cripples of despised ones, hated ones, dry ones Listening to me; Where is all going, where is all being? Where is it all, your civilization, you sick Humanity? I wonder? When we listen To nothing And no one In our rage, shares our emotions raw What then are the ‘rules’ for your life? What are the ‘guidelines’ for your principles? Is anyone there to tell me? Or are we born naked here And are we to live without reason? Where are the Blessed ones? Where are the just, Loving ones? Where are the faithful, Compassionate ones? Where are the dedicated, Faithful ones? I’m still searching for you Trustworthy ones But from the rest of you all I’m going to do one thing; I am Seeking to disentangle myself from you From this filth From myself From my dysfunctional existences.

47

I have seen filth I have seen lewdness, obscenities I have been tortured By artists and intellectuals who speak acedemically judges and ****** are one i have met christians and others throat slitting each other who are you all if i dared to ask amidst this ****** fleshy mayhem we are no one we are nothing but carnage itself! so enjoy us or far us! laughter is yours, isn't it because i am krill i am half a grain of nothingness so enjoy yourselves while we wait for our call to board the Gates to Heaven.

0

Jan 3, 2010

Jan 3, 2010 at 9:59 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

FILTH - AYAD GHARBAWI

I have seen filth I have seen lewdness, obscenities I have been tortured By artists and intellectuals who speak acedemically judges and ****** are one i have met christians and others throat slitting each other who are you all if i dared to ask amidst this ****** fleshy mayhem we are no one we are nothing but carnage itself! so enjoy us or far us! laughter is yours, isn't it because i am krill i am half a grain of nothingness so enjoy yourselves while we wait for our call to board the Gates to Heaven.

29

YOU ASK ME ABOUT LIFE? Ayad Gharbawi October 23, 2009 – Damascus Shall we speak the truth, or shall we be polite? People come up to me and tell me about their dreams and hopes and ambitions. I do tell them this: look, the truth is that there is a high probability that you will never, ever reach your ambitions. These are the sad facts of life and I’m not going to lie to you all. There is another truth I do need to tell you young ones out there listening, or not. This world is a manic jungle, and in it, there lives just two animals – rabbits and wolves. Now you can choose to think that your world is made up of lots of other sweet animals, you are just fooling your minds; you are blinding out the real picture out there from your unsuspecting brains. Do want you want and feel what you may wish – that is not my concern. Love whomever you think is right for you and live whatever crooked lifestyle you think is the right one for you. All that is way beyond me. What I can tell you, in answer to your persistent questions, is that life is not going to be a rosy affair for you – I can assure you of that, I say to you. You children ask me about heaven and hell and such like questions, and, why I’m kind of surprised here and now - at you all. Why, hell is right here living and swarming within your minds and existing within your surroundings! Didn’t you feel all that? Or, is it denial? You tell me now, because here I do not know the answer and how can I? Well, since you all feel that hourly pinch called daily living, get serious about what and where you are living in. This is no paradise and it isn’t going to get any easier! And you ask me, why am I speaking sorrowful words? I am describing the painting you yourselves brought to me; and wasn’t it you, yes you, who did so ask me, “Explain to us the meanings of this odd painting, painted by an anonymous artist?’ And didn’t I tell you, in my response, that you can cook and digest my words in any way you need to, but I will speak what I feel, think and know to be for me and for yourselves. The painting of life is indeed painted by an anonymous soul, and guess what? That’s right you’ll never get to know the identity of that painter. And, as you really do know, there are so many scattered minds out there who tell me that no one actually did paint that painting, but never mind them, for myself, because I couldn’t be bored with too many bypaths – not too many, anyway. But I did tell you that this painting speaks of anguish, despair and its sounds are like a dirge to me. Didn’t I tell you all that? Didn’t I repeatedly warn you and didn’t I repeat unto your minds that this haggard, crusty painting tells me of anguish to be born again and again here on this earth of yours? So, do not be shocked anymore. Realize that your few decades on this earth shall be torment true. Do not believe in an otherwise. For if you do, you will be a fool – or, a rabbit. And so you must bear the consequences. Now does that mean that you - who are the vast majority - are to give up on your ambitions? No, of course not. All I am saying to you is that you must always be aware of the terrain facing you and you must always know who your enemies are. Go out and live out your lives with the full awareness of your surroundings – that is what I believe you need to be fully aware of. Ayad Gharbawi

0

Jan 26, 2010

Jan 26, 2010 at 7:29 AM UTC

ayad-gharbawi

You Ask Me About Life? - Ayad Gharbawi

YOU ASK ME ABOUT LIFE? Ayad Gharbawi October 23, 2009 – Damascus Shall we speak the truth, or shall we be polite? People come up to me and tell me about their dreams and hopes and ambitions. I do tell them this: look, the truth is that there is a high probability that you will never, ever reach your ambitions. These are the sad facts of life and I’m not going to lie to you all. There is another truth I do need to tell you young ones out there listening, or not. This world is a manic jungle, and in it, there lives just two animals – rabbits and wolves. Now you can choose to think that your world is made up of lots of other sweet animals, you are just fooling your minds; you are blinding out the real picture out there from your unsuspecting brains. Do want you want and feel what you may wish – that is not my concern. Love whomever you think is right for you and live whatever crooked lifestyle you think is the right one for you. All that is way beyond me. What I can tell you, in answer to your persistent questions, is that life is not going to be a rosy affair for you – I can assure you of that, I say to you. You children ask me about heaven and hell and such like questions, and, why I’m kind of surprised here and now - at you all. Why, hell is right here living and swarming within your minds and existing within your surroundings! Didn’t you feel all that? Or, is it denial? You tell me now, because here I do not know the answer and how can I? Well, since you all feel that hourly pinch called daily living, get serious about what and where you are living in. This is no paradise and it isn’t going to get any easier! And you ask me, why am I speaking sorrowful words? I am describing the painting you yourselves brought to me; and wasn’t it you, yes you, who did so ask me, “Explain to us the meanings of this odd painting, painted by an anonymous artist?’ And didn’t I tell you, in my response, that you can cook and digest my words in any way you need to, but I will speak what I feel, think and know to be for me and for yourselves. The painting of life is indeed painted by an anonymous soul, and guess what? That’s right you’ll never get to know the identity of that painter. And, as you really do know, there are so many scattered minds out there who tell me that no one actually did paint that painting, but never mind them, for myself, because I couldn’t be bored with too many bypaths – not too many, anyway. But I did tell you that this painting speaks of anguish, despair and its sounds are like a dirge to me. Didn’t I tell you all that? Didn’t I repeatedly warn you and didn’t I repeat unto your minds that this haggard, crusty painting tells me of anguish to be born again and again here on this earth of yours? So, do not be shocked anymore. Realize that your few decades on this earth shall be torment true. Do not believe in an otherwise. For if you do, you will be a fool – or, a rabbit. And so you must bear the consequences. Now does that mean that you - who are the vast majority - are to give up on your ambitions? No, of course not. All I am saying to you is that you must always be aware of the terrain facing you and you must always know who your enemies are. Go out and live out your lives with the full awareness of your surroundings – that is what I believe you need to be fully aware of. Ayad Gharbawi

35

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

ayad-gharbawi

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