Poems from prison -A4, by Ashraf Fayadh – with photo gallery of his artwork

A4

 

A blue ball pen

A black marker

Colors that are a clear declaration… in strong tones

I finished this picture long ago

but I no longer care to hang it anywhere

as far as my spirit goes, my walls have disappeared,

after the wear and tear of being locked up

though the wall effect is cleaner than bars

and iron (which is good for your health).

You know well my position on painting

as expression…

And then the absence that followed it

And all the other stories… that have never ceased happening

since I offended you with obscene words… the last time.

I never stopped loving you

Even though I didn’t hang the picture

But the color red has become more complicated… than simple love.

Furthermore, things didn’t just end there,

it became a question of demonstrating the existence

of a principle… and the consequences of that principle… which

cost me dearly…

And I still wonder…. What will I have in exchange for the high price

I am continuing to pay?!

Losing you… or example,

and tearing Tom Waits’ picture

exactly when he was singing

(I miss your broken-china voice)

I still haven’t mastered describing your voice

or comparing it to something beautiful enough

to resemble the beauty of your voice.

Resemblance

is of no use

The painting is lost in the garbage of bad times

that are still afflicting me- powerlessness

and double oppression.

What will be of a failed lover like me?

And how will I look at myself in the mirror… twenty years from now

let’s say?

How will I see myself?

 

And how will I see you? Should cowardly coincidence

reunite us later?

I have not been well one day

and neither shall I be in the future.

It’s not about gray hairs

and not about wrinkles or the cruel signs of time

nor about the ailments of old age.

It’s about my heart

Which still is and shall continue to remain a scared child looking for answers

satisfactory ones… to put a stop to his naive questions about a world

that could countenance ugliness!!

I’ll leave the question to the dust… to erase the traces

of my books

which have increased my fear of the world

I’ll leave the question to oblivion behaving like an old smoker who has lung cancer.

I’ll end up being a planet

that has just rid itself of all life forms

that followed one another on its surface over millions of years

A planet whose sun has become completely extinguished

only to become a giant block…. of pure carbon

 

26/03/2018

Translated by Pina Piccolo.

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Ashraf Fayadh’s artwork shown below and in the photo gallery is available for purchase.  For additional information, please contact. info@thedreamingmachine.com