What a good Arab boy might do
In Jordan
Is perhaps go to university
Of some prestige

Might decide to join
The army, and excel in it

He might even go so far
As to be introduced into
The special forces

Why the clans speak
Of a good Arab boy
Who will do as he needs
To protect his reputation

Especially when it comes
To the harem of girls
Who are knocking down his
Door to be married to

His parents have warned him
To play by the rules
So when one angelic hijabi
Falls for him

He knows what to do
When they’re caught kissing

Three years after being
Symbolic of forever

He leaves her
Suddenly after a mutual
Expression of unapologetic

Just like
Good Arab boy
Was taught

Taught to be cold-
Hearted special forces
Lying piece of scum
Who can’t bear to
Stand by
His love

Then the questions
“Was it love?”
“Was it real?”
“Should I not have

Shown him how I feel?”

Almost as if
Never happened
He’s gone with the wind

“Hadi, Hadi, Hadi,
If you go,
Where shall I go?
What shall I do?”

But he wasn’t there
To not give a damn,
He had already

Like a good Arab boy

Protect his reputation
Special forces trained
To survive, resist,
Evade and escape

That’s all the training
He ever received

Wasn’t taught to be
A man
By his parents
He was taught to

Be selfish

Kill all of her dreams
Crush the perceived
Infidelity of a gesture
Such as a kiss before


Despicable, they might

How awful that two adults
In their early 20’s
Would dare to decide
To share something intimate

Jordan Special
Command doesn’t
Have a motto

But the Central

“And you shall know
The truth and the truth
Shall make you free”
And the HRT says

“To Save Lives”

To the emboldened
Arab woman held
Hostage reading this
I declare Servave Vitas


JSOC taught him to leave
And his parents taught him
How to become a ghost
To the girl unknown now

The woman who is a woman
Unlike he who isn’t a man

She who survives
Getting by
And trying to find
Someone who isn’t
Of the same mind
As he


While I can only
Imagine he was somewhere
Off the next day
Already trying to forget

And was successful

She improves herself
Everyday tirelessly,
But ignored for fear

Of what a good Arab
Boy might get himself into

Bachelor’s of Communications
And full time jobs
And a love of travel
And a love of love

Are apparently nothing
A good Arab boy
Should strive to be
A part of

Who wouldn’t want
A world like that?

A boy who likes guns
And leaves when things
Difficult for him

I can call him a coward
And I’ll call him a coward
For he is for certain a boy
Who doesn’t know himself

Who tirelessly pleases
His family
And all of his
Made up responsibilities

No, a good Arab boy
Loses every battle
Before he appears because
He lets all of his fears
Get the better of

So he better crawl back
On his stomach or back
He’ll limp in through
The back door
Apologizing for existing

Apologizing for being with
A girl while everbody else
Thought he was earnestly
A part of her world

Better tend to the family
He always thinks
Better tend to my job
He never blinks

And then there is her

I watched the aftermath
As she scrubbed his presence
From everything she had

His face disappeared
His name was wiped away
Plausable deniability assumes
No one else knows

But I know though,
The whole affair
Was kept obscured
For his sake

I hereby call you out,

A good Arab boy
Does what he’s told

A good Muslim woman
Dares to make gold
Of herself;
Ziraleet, servare vitas

“Save yourself
Of this child
And continue
Being bold”

Published by Jake Thomas Shaw

Concerned with memory, currency, and destiny, I strive to capture each one as they happen. Join me and consume reality! Radio Reality. City!

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