“Rebelion-The Café Resolution-Home”, three poems by Aya Bader

4 mins read



The shops are nice, you can afford it all

but you tell the street beggar

that you do not have a coin

You do not

Just a credit card,

maybe if he sings or dances like a street musician,

you know, clownish art,

you would find that coin

Especially if someone you need to impress is nearby

However, you are responsible and well-budgeted

for other entertainment and

good bras for your fake dingdongs

bigger lips, vehicles and nice holidays

captured for your profile pictures here and there

They lift your self-worth up


You live, or try,

on Golden Lion Street number 1

and invite many. No thank you

Not this week, but next week, sale is on

You have so many things, so important,

on loans really, but hell, who uses cash these days?

All these fancy buildings

Divided in tiny apartments behind the walls

Many are sleeping tightly behind their sealed windows

Others try to cut the cursed robes and unleash


They saw the burning flame is running on the nearby river

Its favorite words are “At least”

At least the stars are burning like it somewhere

More flames join, sparks from a cig

Throw the cigarette in the perfected river

Silenced by the reflection of the water

It could not care less, it challenges thee

To be planless

At least, we can call your sleep forgetting to fit mediocrity

At least, we can excuse it with your newly found power

But deny it all together for you are immensely holy,

just perfect

If you just knew, you are loved regardless

Have your masquerade and master perfection

Give nice performances


At least, it is less painful than choking

on smoke and illusion and realism

One day you might get it all

Then give it up

Then your eyes will unfold from its dead cocoon

and finally become interesting.



The Café Resolution


The wrinkled large thousand yeared stone

on a hundred yeared street

in minutes writes your steps

on the way to your favorite


Not any café, but that Café


Two cups, one espresso and one green tea

Somehow faces transcended

the ingredients and the taste

of the hands who made them


Never rush for the right aroma


No one could hear but the time walking by

And the colliding of anxieties

hidden in controlled sipping

One swallow feels cosmically


Then call a cab, leave, farewell


If power and wealth changed your sheets

then your back is more beautiful

than the entire collection of Face

So in theory you are still beautiful

– subjectively

Did the waitress mix in hypocrisy?


Well, at least, it is what it was and was not

Peaceful after cups of obscurity

One hyped on crushed caffeine

The other cleansing the streets


by ingredients stones encounter.



Tonight’s cityscape tells of a robbery

The hints of your blissful smile gone

Was it the blunt truth or pity for fools?

You see, schadenfreude is a thing too

It runs like guilty rats across the street

Who can blame? They are endangered


So maybe shutting the balcony door,

curtains too, not that bad of an idea

Cover the mirrors, reflective surfaces

No to worries and Yes to half truths

Navigate through the jungle carefully

That way you ensure your successes


Truly understandable, hardly admirable

All that you are asked for is to realise

Somewhere in skyscrapers others know

You may not recognise them in alleys

behind desks, eating, running errands

An unpronounced hollow shout says so.


BA Ανθρωπιστικές Επιστήμες με ειδικότητα στην Δημιουργική Γραφή και Φιλοσοφία,Συγγραφέας,Καθηγήτρια Αγγλικών, Μεταφράστρια/Διερμηνέας