Describe the allegorical and symbolic significance of the Old Man in Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus

The Old Man, despite his physical vulnerability, is a resurrectionist Christ like figure who is a visionary form of divination externalized by the symbolic appearance of allegorical context.  Orthodoxy and conventional social doctrines of Trinity and Catholicism beliefs and institutions are embodied by this allegorical manifestation. The decrepitude of the Old Man- ‘that base and crooked age’ reflects Faustus’ poor opinions of the chances of survival of society for which the Old Man advocates. Through Old Man’s annihilation Faustus wishes to justify abjuration of scriptures, social condemnation and sense of transgressions that has tainted his egocentric peace. When Faustus asks Mephistopheles to torment the Old Man who has tried to dissuade Faustus from his wicked ways, Mephistopheles replies:

“His Faith is great; I cannot touch his soul;
But what I may afflict his body with
I will attempt, which is but little worth.” (Act V Scene I Lines: 79-81) 



Furthermore the Old Man hears Faustus’ lusty conversation even at the brink of despair; while Faustus speaks to the phantasm, emphasis folly and blindness of Faustus’ plea by saying with epigrammatic repartee:

“Accursed Faustus, miserable man,
That from thy soul exclud’st the grace of Heaven,
And fliest the throne of his tribunal seat!” ( Act V Scene II  Lines:  112-114) 


In conclusion, the Old Man is a representation of the Christian theology with themes and motifs associated with Biblical faith and holy scriptures, prayer, repentance and contrition as well as salvation and damnation. We might be intrigued to take the Old Man as the phenomenon of virtue and conscience in the soul of Doctor Faustus rather than the externalizations of his voice of conscience. In Faustus’ foul, wretched and heinous crime of committing suicide, the Old Man’s prudishness casted a heavy cheer fearing Faustus’ downfall preyed to the ruins of helpless soul.
 “I see an angel hovers o’er thy head,
And, with  a vile fill of precious grace, (Act V SceneI Lines-56-57)

These lines infer exemplification of bounties of graceful benediction which is in store of Faustus if he chooses the path of salvation and atonement. 

References and Further Reading
1.	Green, Clarence, Doctor Faustus Tragedy of Individualism, Communications, Jstor

2.	David C Webb, Damnation In Doctor Faustus: Theological Strip Tease and The Histrionic Hero, Critical Survey, 1999, Vol. 11, No. 1, Culture, Custom and Belief (1999), pg: 31-47

TEMPORARY 💫

Don't lying to yourself,
Don't blame yourself.
Stay away from greed
Don't go on animosity.
If you see injustice,
Do not silently observe evil.
In this life,
The wealth of the world is temporary.
God says if you try i will give.
If you want more,
Pass this test, god says.
Many people from this test,
Unable to pass, they feel failed.
Out of the world of wealth,
They say if I collect more

To Declare

I need a chariot with a pair of wings
which won’t be mistaken for nuclear fins,
a name, 
an address,
which will impress
the police and customs at Heathrow’s check-ins.

I declare an independent mind
but lacerated with grief, 
a worn-out body
seeking relief,
some hard-won savings
but not in sterling
which would take me as far as Grasmere  
or Stirling.
 
To Cross or To Cross

You stroll on lawns matted with flowers.
We tiptoe our way with half-closed eyes.
What acrobatic feats could elude timed fire,
waiting to burst from maiming mines!

To cross or to cross, 
no not to bar us
from the traps of death 
that lurk underground.
Some say a prayer. 
Some curse the hour
that decrees the fate of blighted men.

And Diana reprobating such techno-power
that instantaneously severs legs and limbs
could not defuse the flames and horrors
which would erupt from lunatics’ toys.
 
News Headlines

Another peace accord
has brought discord.
Clamors for war
reverberate through the globe.

Human rights issues 
as frail as tissue: 
oceans will seethe 
with refugees. 

Religious error 
is yoked to terror. 
Commercial wedlock 
inducing deadlock.

Straggling economies  
conceiving poverty. 
Desertification 
with certification. 

Ambassadors of mettle 
unable to settle 
where their presence can heal
political disease. 

[Dedicated to Dr. Janet Gardiner, former Ambassador to Syria]
 
Nereid

She roams the water in search of her beloved 
whom Polyphemus had banished, incensed by lust
that covets frailty in a blooming sea-flower,
whose lack of deference would make her sob. 

Timorous fish swim through her tresses,
inhaling the brine of entangled weeds, 
sorrowfully making many random conjectures
at possible causes for lachrymal trails. 

A translucent string of hyacinthine bubbles, 
profusely flowing from saddened eyes, 
foreboding havoc and vindictiveness, 
inscribing in water defiant love. 
 
An Onomatopoeic Stance

A patter.
Is it feet that chatter
over things that matter?

A splutter.
Is it drops that gutter
from eyes that sputter?

A clatter.
Is it hooves that shatter
the former and the latter?
 
Reticence

The rose that froze at the tip of your tongue
had chosen to repose frost-bitten and numb,
deflecting a flight into the unseen,
inducing an untimely winter scene.

Its pollen lay deep writhing in sobs,
longing for a birth, for dreamt-of buds.
Each curling petal had gone to sleep
suppressing the scent I yearned to keep.

It's Four A M.

It's Four a.m.,
and I'm unable
to sleep.

I've been like
this for a few
nights now.

I've got no idea
why.

Last night, I lay
here, for hours
watching the
sun coming through
my curtains becoming
lighter, and lighter.

Instead of becoming
more, and more tired.
I could feel myself
becoming more, and
more awake.

Maybe, this is just
another symptom
of growing old.
I don't know ?

But why can't my
usual sleep patterns
remain ?

God, I really don't
like getting old.

Although, I suppose
that nobody does. 

Unwelcomed Farewell 

Ahmad Al-Khatat

When you articulate nothing at all
My heart becomes an occupied city 
With the noise from the rockets, not birds 
The clouds drop blood on my fictional planet.

The blue skies open its chest to those fireworks 
I look at those happy faces, lovers kissing lips,
and pretty dresses. I am sorry darling for loving you 
-without the ability to cover up my lousy tears.

Do not shatter the windows of daylight’s nostalgic 
Open the door of unwelcomed farewell before they bomb us
Hit me with an axe before the death scrapes me 
Wear a dress to reunite with my defeated spirit.

I am still awake, and I want more colours of happiness 
I want new syllables to run over my refugee's tongue
I also desire some pulse to hear with my ears and eyes
-closed at my imagination cuddling with you all night long.



Untouched Fleshes
 
How long will I love you woman
Your scent will wear your breath
With eyes like the sun, I am nervous
about my unfinished, and undreamed joy.

My enemy washes my blood of his hands
Looks into me! burns my past and presence
We breathe heavily as unpleasant summer rain
She screams, apologizes, and tears like a paper boat.

Those silent moments have not spelled a word,
His empowering face still seems like a deadly river 
I search deep in his eyes for untouched bodies 
She stares at the sky for several hours, asking 

-for a cigarette. I wonder what she would do if 
I stop her from smoking and kiss her truthful lips
Will he hear us and sends his tainted fingerprints-
on my abandoned skin then I question my freedom.

She holds my hands and doesn't let me go away, 
She says that her family owns an apology for me, 
My watery eyes stop from aiming at the blank sky, 
I love you woman, but I miss those untouched fleshes.




The Price of Humanism 

Who is going to make the best offer for the price of humanism?
Who is going to buy humanity in one click!
Who is going to auction our rights and principles?

Money buys happiness for some people
Greediness and selfishness are invading their black hearts
Kindness sips liquors with a freedom of speech

While the real speech is waiting on his death role
It’s ridiculous how hard to cleanse our hearts and souls

Most of the goddess cottages are with wrongdoing prophets 
who fight the believers who spell God with their accents?
I'm sorry my child, humanity judged you before you are born 

Who will wipe your tears? like the way your mom and I did 
Recall that you are free and don't belong to any privileged class.
Lift your head to the sunshine and be proud of your values. 



Ahmad Al-Khatat was born in Baghdad, Iraq. His work has appeared in print and online journals globally. He has poems translated into several languages such as Farsi, Chinses, Spanish, Albanian, Romanian. He has published some poetry chapbooks, and a collection of short stories. He has been nominated for Best of the Net 2019 and was also nominated for the Pushcart Prize 2020.

The Christmas!

The once-in-a-year event
The opportunity to reach out to others in need
The period of typically exchanging gifts
The time for streams of carols and celebration songs
The date where all bunnies, mistletoes, trees and decorations are fully permitted
The occasion where there is sober reflections
The space of exploring sales of goods and services
The point where decisions and actions for the coming New Year are taken
The era where the savior of the world was believed to have been birthed
That’s The Christmas!

EXTREMITIES


Incorporeal extremities unknown,

Like that of the earth,

Its surface and abyss,

Where lies the gates?


Celestial guardians unknown;

Titans covered in gems?

Or, maybe…just maybe,

A bellerophon of fossil univalve shells?!

That's scary!


Leviathan exits unknown,

covered in dreadful mist,

What domicile lies behind the exit?

Is it peace or…tumult?

Is it of…,


Back to the known,

Actuality dawns after frenzy,

Too much to be known, but for 

sanity, best left unknown,

Deep mysteries only known to One,


For sanity,

Shut your mind!


Orbo ab chao! 

                                                 ©the_L