always an admirer
of critical thinking
man is still
a slave
to his senses:

he is slave
to the cook flipping burgers
in the fast food joint down the street

he is slave
to his boss-calling-cellphone
deaf-tone ringing between his ears
during shower

he is slave
to his lover
who reels him to bed
after long work
on sleepy weekends
sleepless always
performing duty of love
and lust
tasting magnum lips
that clamp hard on his
making pink purple buff skin peels
washed down by whiskey
in a moment’s aloneness

he is slave
to the glass
the pitcher
the keg
the bottle
the shot
the trigger
the expanding bullet
in his heart
clogging veins and arteries
drying out brain

man is slave
to his senses
it’s always been
in the books
and out there
in the wild

the critical thinkers
have accepted it
forfeited their thoughts
to it

and the rest
still think
they can get out

Image credit:Alev Takil

Hanna Abi Akl writes contemporary poetry and prose. His writing style flows as an endless stream of consciousness, rarely if ever solidifying in rigid form.

Some bits of his work have already materialized in novels and poetry books, while others remain hidden in the dark.