Atef Ayadi

Eileen's Language - Poem by Atef Ayadi

I hate colons,
All the dots,
The street’s dashed and bold lines,
The formal and informal,
Business and love letters,
And what worsens my stomach pain,
The civilized patterns,
And jokes and dilemmas.

I hate it all
I hate to list,
Lay down,
Lay out,
All the focused and structured
And etiquettes.
I hate this inventory of
What I like
And what I do not like.
I like to vomit them all;
Like a rusted wood suitcase
Is vomiting its rusted nails.

I do not like to face you
Until I empty
All my guts
From the rust
And the antic puppets,
Heroes, and clowns
I have been storing
Since ancient times,
Since the time my first ancestor
Stood up
And walked through the cold
And the warm lands.

I will not promise you
Eileen …
Because, you never did
Or you may not be there
For me.
For a fancy commitment.
I hate to be prized,
Pleasureful rewards,
Fake smiles, and

They Are my worst enemies.

I like to earn you
with my own sweat.

I have to stay away
On the darkest spot of the sun
It does not matter!
I have to stay away
From the language you speak,
Your perfect grammar,
Your perfect dress,
Your perfect town,
Your perfect healthy food,
Your compulsive food,
And your anxious thoughts
And mood.
I need to breathe first
So I can
Like you first
And then up…
Up …

Love can grow up
within the guts
and jump starts the heart.

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Poem Submitted: Friday, April 14, 2006

Poem Edited: Sunday, July 6, 2008

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