Serious People - II

By Ararat Iyob


From the Land of No!!!! (4)


I will say yes!

although my arteries will be clogged

tight shut with training

body built on no! no! no!

decades of no! no! no!

even the tiniest sparkle is to be avoided

no! no! is good for me

helped me survive

decades of evil and hurt


The light of do! do! do!

does not come easy

doing right is downright scary!!!

and yet the yes vibrates

with bridges to sway and walls to shake!

horizons to leap

and fears to break!!!


The yes is good, its sound alarms

alarms uplift and yes unknown

a yes it is! a yes beckons!

I will say yes, if yes becomes

a good deed done in light of day

not hidden by woe

and betrayed by grief

A yes call upon the sun

to brighten the road

welcomes the morning star!


I never go East (5)


To where the sand sleeps with the sun

beads of eyes in dunes of woe

amid sparkling high rise

built by immigrants

oil money pouring sweat

where electricity keeps fruits icy and ripe

shops shine rich in things galore


It is the sun that would not let me sleep

nor dream beside my songs of home

sighing like any maiden

with changed name to work

in the kitchen of spoiled brats and kings


It is the hand that would stop me

from opening my eyes

or throw away the scarf on my hair

I see my sisters outside the electoral house

their choice only to listen to their wombs


It is the maid’s shriek as she tumbles

down the stories to the ground below

“Oh poor soul with no family!”

did she really fall?

while her village gossips of her mother

who sent her daughter across the sea


May the diamonds that I crave

gold rings and bracelets that make me cry

I dream of bejeweled hands

Adorned neck and tiara on my head

a Jaguar that roars under my door

The yearn is there but I know for sure that

That this will never transpire

Because I will never go east.


The Palm Reader (6)


Please don’t hold him

Nor look at him with longing

He is busy with his search

I see something you don’t

I read his palms and know


Those lines on his left

And webs on his right

Lifeline shadows and pictures

Of a pretty woman

Who dreams of putting

A crown on his head

a lion’s mane on his back

of washing his feet with colored steam

And sprinkle perfume

On his toes.


She waits for his touch

As with her thumbs

She erases the wrinkles on his brow

And takes his brown fingers

Dips them in oil

Cleans the soreness with aroma

Massaging kisses in the mists

Of his embrace


His eyes stray away from you

Searching for her in the crowd

As unknown to him

Her dreams touch his eyes

And pull at his sleeves

As he feels the tug

And glances back for a sign


A darker shade of gray (7)


A sudden chill

a windy day

caressing coldly with

icy fingers

a change above

the sun hides deep

in the darkened clouds

arriving suddenly

without a call

without a cry.


Old eyes resist this change

there should be warning

there should be should be

they do not want to know

unexpected change in the wind.


They persist and persevere

will the seeds of old tell not an old tale

of when and where the floods should come

otherwise there is something missing

it is only God who is wrong


Well, He seems to

have decided to let hurricanes blow

new winds to penetrate

new routes, new waves

hailstorms hit pavements

the seas grow hot

and volcanoes boil

their sweat is carried

to the Red Sea home.


Darkness overwhelms pink rays

the city is held hostage to the rain

flashes of lightening

accompany long nights

shaking and thundering

cold to the bone.