Rambo

in the jungle of emotional bonds!

Halim Madi
Apr 21, 2016 · 3 min read

Legend
. Full stop
! Hard Stop & Higher Tone
/ Half stop
> Unusual zero-stop
… Long Pause & Silence
= Sharp Tone Change
§ Slower Tone

Poem

Monday / I resign from the company I launched 6 months ago after my plan for firing 16 people gets turned down by the CEO
Tuesday / My mom asks for help to buy a house in Lebanon though I know I am never going back to the country
Wednesday / My girlfriend hints at moving in together and triggers my childhood fear of commitment
Thursday / … Cash is running low
Friday / While on 6 hours of back to back calls with the team I left > our man in Peru tells me he wishes I would have been more ruthless while on the job. It seems I came across as a nice guy too often. But he says it can’t be helped. After all, I do have curly hair he says. Ah Peru!

> Friday night! — I pull out my favourite bandana, the one stained in blood, mud and the stench of sweat
I tie it around my forehead > and! my curly hair.
I am Rambo! Don’t you dare look me in the eyes!
I will take out my machete and run into the forest of emotional bonds I have neglected for the last 6 months!

Chop! the liana of sons’ duties to their widowed mothers
Cut! down the palm tree of monogamous love and stories of heartfelt partnership
Throw! A napalm bomb at the tales of collective business success and colleague complicity
Slice! and dice the colourful parrots of financial independence

I will live in the burning forest … With my stinking bandana wrapped around my curly hair … I will set up traps for intruders to get caught and eaten by jaguars > And in the middle of the flames > I’ll sit down / and cry

Rambo little kid > cry my little son / No quadricep muscle or one hand push up will get you out of this jungle > Lay down in the small pond I dug for you. Cry little son.

= 60% of the human body is made up of water / Lose 30% of these through your tears > tilt your head to the left and that’ll be enough § to get close to drowning =

§ Your muscles will deflate … Rambo
§ And slowly, slowly / slowly > the jungle will drown > the emotional bonds will dissolve > and the curls in your hair … will unfurl.
And you’ll breathe … underwater

The Mother of All Stories

Every story has a mother. And every mother its own mother. The MOAS is on a quest to find the mother of all stories.

Halim Madi

Written by

Poets are the entrepreneurs of the future www.halimmadi.com

The Mother of All Stories

Every story has a mother. And every mother its own mother. The MOAS is on a quest to find the mother of all stories.

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