i fall asleep tonight
and wake before the sun.
it's no special day,
just another one.
but chance something happen,
to turn me upside down.
a smile or a laugh,
to turn my life around.
though neither shall occur,
on this ordinary day.
i assure myself quietly,
that it will all be ok.
because somewhere,
laughter and smiles exist.
and that kind of happiness,
should never be tragically missed.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
not letting go
the man kept wringing.
the last few droplets fell
and only moisture remained.
but the man kept wringing.
his hands were white now,
veins popping out an inch.
beads of sweat fell from his brow
he kept wringing long past normalcy.
she begged him to stop,
this man she once loved.
but he was unrelenting
and simply would not let go.
he kept wringing the heart,
eventually risking a tear.
he let go of the shriveled thing,
watched it beat once, and left.
the last few droplets fell
and only moisture remained.
but the man kept wringing.
his hands were white now,
veins popping out an inch.
beads of sweat fell from his brow
he kept wringing long past normalcy.
she begged him to stop,
this man she once loved.
but he was unrelenting
and simply would not let go.
he kept wringing the heart,
eventually risking a tear.
he let go of the shriveled thing,
watched it beat once, and left.
the queen of omilia
the queen of omilia sleeps naked,
at least her servants tell me so.
for i haven't witnessed it -
'twould be sin to see a toe.
yet they have not either,
seen a single leg or breast.
only her clothes are evidence,
she enters dreams undressed.
they lie on floor beside her,
as sheets wrap around her frame.
yet none can touch her body -
what a travesty! what a shame!
yet one for no man, dirty mind,
'tis a sadness only for one.
a burden she must carry,
while we all carry none.
at least her servants tell me so.
for i haven't witnessed it -
'twould be sin to see a toe.
yet they have not either,
seen a single leg or breast.
only her clothes are evidence,
she enters dreams undressed.
they lie on floor beside her,
as sheets wrap around her frame.
yet none can touch her body -
what a travesty! what a shame!
yet one for no man, dirty mind,
'tis a sadness only for one.
a burden she must carry,
while we all carry none.
my life is made up of chapters,
all inside an assortment of books.
one is clean and tidy,
with extra large font.
another is black and formidable,
with a chain lock forming an X.
a certain book is stained blood-red
with torn pages and smeared ink.
and yet another is orderly and green,
but nothing is written in that book.
where is the book with frilly laces,
and hearts drawn in page corners?
with cupid acting as publisher
of its thick, massive volume?
and photos - lots of photos -
too many to fit on the pages...
the answer is quite easy:
i simply haven't written it yet.
all inside an assortment of books.
one is clean and tidy,
with extra large font.
another is black and formidable,
with a chain lock forming an X.
a certain book is stained blood-red
with torn pages and smeared ink.
and yet another is orderly and green,
but nothing is written in that book.
where is the book with frilly laces,
and hearts drawn in page corners?
with cupid acting as publisher
of its thick, massive volume?
and photos - lots of photos -
too many to fit on the pages...
the answer is quite easy:
i simply haven't written it yet.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
the things i don't do in a day
i don't get up immediately when my alarm goes off. i don't turn on the lights and open up my curtains. i don't shave in the morning. i don't eat breakfast. i don't drink coffee. i don't carefully select what i wear.
i don't talk to anyone before class. i don't talk to anyone after class. i don't eat lunch with anybody. i don't let that bother me. i don't try to start conversations. i don't take my time going from place to place.
i don't call someone i might like. i don't tell my family i love them. i don't tell my friends i appreciate them. i don't remember to call my grandparents. i don't eat dinner with anybody.
i don't do homework late at night. i don't kiss anyone before going to bed. i don't tuck anyone in. i don't pray. i don't get a good night's sleep. i don't get up immediately when my alarm goes off.
--
While the things we -don't- do can seem negative, they can help to show us what we need to work on.
i don't talk to anyone before class. i don't talk to anyone after class. i don't eat lunch with anybody. i don't let that bother me. i don't try to start conversations. i don't take my time going from place to place.
i don't call someone i might like. i don't tell my family i love them. i don't tell my friends i appreciate them. i don't remember to call my grandparents. i don't eat dinner with anybody.
i don't do homework late at night. i don't kiss anyone before going to bed. i don't tuck anyone in. i don't pray. i don't get a good night's sleep. i don't get up immediately when my alarm goes off.
--
While the things we -don't- do can seem negative, they can help to show us what we need to work on.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
in riddles and rhymes
i practice my craft,
from the final copy,
to the very first draft.
a spark, an idea,
love for a person or thing.
writing it is the pleasure,
reading is just a fling.
if i'm sad the sky is dark,
but happy if rain pours down.
i'd be glad to get wet,
and i'd even be happy to drown.
so won't you love me?
if i love you in return?
of course not, silly -
love is something you earn.
i practice my craft,
from the final copy,
to the very first draft.
a spark, an idea,
love for a person or thing.
writing it is the pleasure,
reading is just a fling.
if i'm sad the sky is dark,
but happy if rain pours down.
i'd be glad to get wet,
and i'd even be happy to drown.
so won't you love me?
if i love you in return?
of course not, silly -
love is something you earn.
voice mail
he was so angry with himself
as he listened to the message again.
she had called to remind him of something,
which irritated him at the time.
she ended with "i love you,"
before hanging up the phone.
it was out of habit and luck
that he didn't delete it right away.
a few weeks later,
she died in an accident,
and he mourned for days
and weeks and years.
he knows he must let go,
to delete the last scrap
of her existence
she left him before she passed.
clutching his cell tight,
he listened to it again,
finger hovering over delete,
before failing yet again.
as he listened to the message again.
she had called to remind him of something,
which irritated him at the time.
she ended with "i love you,"
before hanging up the phone.
it was out of habit and luck
that he didn't delete it right away.
a few weeks later,
she died in an accident,
and he mourned for days
and weeks and years.
he knows he must let go,
to delete the last scrap
of her existence
she left him before she passed.
clutching his cell tight,
he listened to it again,
finger hovering over delete,
before failing yet again.
Friday, January 04, 2008
allow me the pleasure of going back. several years ago, in fact, around seventh or eighth grade, possibly sixth, but if it began that early i cannot be sure.
it was lunch time. as typical of my school the classrooms of three different sections, a, b and c went to lunch at different times. it just so happened that my section was last, and overflowed on to a table that floated separate from the others like an exclusive island.
of course, only the most popular inhabited said island. the table had 8 circle seats that were much too small. i believe on the first day, if memory serves correct, i sat at that table. but of the 8 seats there were 9. i forget what the extra did that day. i think he may have pulled up a chair, or sat at the normal table, with just normal people that were made fun of at this little paradise.
nevertheless, it came to pass that the next day when i arrived at this table, which consisted of what i would at the time have considered friends, all 8 seats were filled. alas, it was voted on in this silent ritual that i would be the one to leave the table, for there were never open seats again.
i went and ate with the normal people, peons of the social world, and found many of them to be most enjoyable. some were even quite funny. so on one particular day of no particular importance, when i was asked if i would like to sit at the highest court of the cafeteria with only the noblest lords, one of who was apparently ill, i deferred. i received a most queer look. it was a hint of "you're joking right?" with a tint of "are you sure?"
they ate with 7 at the table that day, and i made new friends.
and that, boys and girls, is pretty much the story of my life.
it was lunch time. as typical of my school the classrooms of three different sections, a, b and c went to lunch at different times. it just so happened that my section was last, and overflowed on to a table that floated separate from the others like an exclusive island.
of course, only the most popular inhabited said island. the table had 8 circle seats that were much too small. i believe on the first day, if memory serves correct, i sat at that table. but of the 8 seats there were 9. i forget what the extra did that day. i think he may have pulled up a chair, or sat at the normal table, with just normal people that were made fun of at this little paradise.
nevertheless, it came to pass that the next day when i arrived at this table, which consisted of what i would at the time have considered friends, all 8 seats were filled. alas, it was voted on in this silent ritual that i would be the one to leave the table, for there were never open seats again.
i went and ate with the normal people, peons of the social world, and found many of them to be most enjoyable. some were even quite funny. so on one particular day of no particular importance, when i was asked if i would like to sit at the highest court of the cafeteria with only the noblest lords, one of who was apparently ill, i deferred. i received a most queer look. it was a hint of "you're joking right?" with a tint of "are you sure?"
they ate with 7 at the table that day, and i made new friends.
and that, boys and girls, is pretty much the story of my life.
Friday, December 21, 2007
what is more important -
the past, or the future?
what has taken place,
or what has yet to occur?
on the one hand,
the past is magical -
a point of comparison
we try to live up to.
but the future,
that is unknown to all.
life can change in minutes
and it inevitably will.
a sudden death in the family,
or results from a pregnancy test.
a phone call from an old friend,
or a life-shattering accident.
the past we have no control of,
it is hieroglyphics in stone,
only to be interpreted
by people of the future.
and what of the future -
that amorphous creature?
it is all of ours to create
and then forget and call the past.
the past, or the future?
what has taken place,
or what has yet to occur?
on the one hand,
the past is magical -
a point of comparison
we try to live up to.
but the future,
that is unknown to all.
life can change in minutes
and it inevitably will.
a sudden death in the family,
or results from a pregnancy test.
a phone call from an old friend,
or a life-shattering accident.
the past we have no control of,
it is hieroglyphics in stone,
only to be interpreted
by people of the future.
and what of the future -
that amorphous creature?
it is all of ours to create
and then forget and call the past.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
wielding their words,
writers exist to write.
brandishing their fists,
fighters exist to fight.
even in ancient times,
peasants existed to work.
a stab in the back,
Judas existed to lurk.
looking to the sky,
dreamers exist to try.
while some people in general,
exist to tell you lies.
just before their death,
elders exist to give advice:
"the world is sinful,
with devils existing to entice."
soaring through the air,
birds exist to fly.
and me, you ask?
why, I exist to die.
writers exist to write.
brandishing their fists,
fighters exist to fight.
even in ancient times,
peasants existed to work.
a stab in the back,
Judas existed to lurk.
looking to the sky,
dreamers exist to try.
while some people in general,
exist to tell you lies.
just before their death,
elders exist to give advice:
"the world is sinful,
with devils existing to entice."
soaring through the air,
birds exist to fly.
and me, you ask?
why, I exist to die.
i open boxes.
that's all i do - all day long,
is open boxes.
but i find interesting things,
like 1950s tennis shoes
and aborted babies.
i won't say it's the best,
opening boxes all day long,
but it gets me by.
what really gets me, though,
is how poorly wrapped some are,
with torn edges and sides.
a bad box can't support shoes,
much less a baby; but I smile,
as i take care of mine.
that's all i do - all day long,
is open boxes.
but i find interesting things,
like 1950s tennis shoes
and aborted babies.
i won't say it's the best,
opening boxes all day long,
but it gets me by.
what really gets me, though,
is how poorly wrapped some are,
with torn edges and sides.
a bad box can't support shoes,
much less a baby; but I smile,
as i take care of mine.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
(read beneath the surface)
there are two kinds of people in this world,
those that do things on time,
and those that wait until the last minute,
lest the world end before its due.
because after all -
what's the point of doing it,
if the world ends
and all your work is for naught?
they say procrastinating is a bad thing,
but some may see it as living
and enjoying what we have,
whereas all the hard workers
are always one step ahead,
and closer to their death.
those that do things on time,
and those that wait until the last minute,
lest the world end before its due.
because after all -
what's the point of doing it,
if the world ends
and all your work is for naught?
they say procrastinating is a bad thing,
but some may see it as living
and enjoying what we have,
whereas all the hard workers
are always one step ahead,
and closer to their death.
the history
i started writing poetry for someone,
then i kept on writing it for myself.
after a while i wrote about others,
but then came back to myself.
then suddenly - i quit
when someone disappeared.
but a stranger said 'what a pity,'
so i started writing again.
then i wrote about someone else,
for a little while anyway,
before completing a full circle
and coming back to myself.
i've written about deaths,
suicides, love and heartache.
i've written while happy
and also indescribably sad.
but i've written - written it all,
about someone or myself,
with only the truest intention -
of trying to connect myself to others.
then i kept on writing it for myself.
after a while i wrote about others,
but then came back to myself.
then suddenly - i quit
when someone disappeared.
but a stranger said 'what a pity,'
so i started writing again.
then i wrote about someone else,
for a little while anyway,
before completing a full circle
and coming back to myself.
i've written about deaths,
suicides, love and heartache.
i've written while happy
and also indescribably sad.
but i've written - written it all,
about someone or myself,
with only the truest intention -
of trying to connect myself to others.
merry christmas to all, and to all a delusion
what is the holiday season besides a mechanism for the american corporate engines to use in order to exploit a heightened sense of materialism in the public?
jcpenny, zales, and many others offer us touching commercials of people giving gifts, diamonds and cars. on the surface we see the spirit of the holidays: giving and sharing with those we love. underlying it all is just another problem with america - we buy, buy, buy.
it isn't to say other countries don't do the same, or that i don't condone buying things for others this holiday season. i'll be receiving gifts like many other people, and in may i'll be going overseas in a trip that costs thousands of dollars - none of which are my own.
but why do we have to buy things to show our love? why does it take new HDTVs, video game systems, diamond rings or a new acura to make your spouse or child smile? is it because we as a nation don't know how else to arouse our long-lasting relationships other than to commit ourselves to a materialistic model of love?
or maybe i'm looking too much into it. maybe the holidays is just a time for all those people who work all year to relax and get free stuff from others. but consider this: when christmas (or hanukkah, or whatever holiday one might celebrate) leads into new year's day, and the tree comes down, and the ornaments are packed away, and the garland is stored in large plastic boxes, and the lights are painstakingly taken off your front porch or roof, and we all go back to our lives, will you still be happy?
the first week in january, maybe the 3rd or the 4th, just after you break that resolution of losing weight by eating leftover christmas cookies or failing to do your morning jog, will you still make those around you happy? can you do that without giving them stuff?
enjoy this holiday season and enjoy the gifts you give and/or receive. but don't think that it's all about giving and receiving. i'd like to quash this concept. the entire year should be spent giving and receiving.
give in the middle of march, or the end of the summer, or a week before someone's birthday. give post-it notes that say i love you, or a single flower instead of a bouquet. give a hug to a friend, and when they ask why, remind them. call your parents or your grandparents to say thank you. call your brothers or sister (blood related or not) and see how they're doing. why wait until the holiday season to spend time with family?
december is just another month on the calendar. just because we buy big trees and wrap up presents doesn't mean we can't carry its central theme with us throughout the year.
jcpenny, zales, and many others offer us touching commercials of people giving gifts, diamonds and cars. on the surface we see the spirit of the holidays: giving and sharing with those we love. underlying it all is just another problem with america - we buy, buy, buy.
it isn't to say other countries don't do the same, or that i don't condone buying things for others this holiday season. i'll be receiving gifts like many other people, and in may i'll be going overseas in a trip that costs thousands of dollars - none of which are my own.
but why do we have to buy things to show our love? why does it take new HDTVs, video game systems, diamond rings or a new acura to make your spouse or child smile? is it because we as a nation don't know how else to arouse our long-lasting relationships other than to commit ourselves to a materialistic model of love?
or maybe i'm looking too much into it. maybe the holidays is just a time for all those people who work all year to relax and get free stuff from others. but consider this: when christmas (or hanukkah, or whatever holiday one might celebrate) leads into new year's day, and the tree comes down, and the ornaments are packed away, and the garland is stored in large plastic boxes, and the lights are painstakingly taken off your front porch or roof, and we all go back to our lives, will you still be happy?
the first week in january, maybe the 3rd or the 4th, just after you break that resolution of losing weight by eating leftover christmas cookies or failing to do your morning jog, will you still make those around you happy? can you do that without giving them stuff?
enjoy this holiday season and enjoy the gifts you give and/or receive. but don't think that it's all about giving and receiving. i'd like to quash this concept. the entire year should be spent giving and receiving.
give in the middle of march, or the end of the summer, or a week before someone's birthday. give post-it notes that say i love you, or a single flower instead of a bouquet. give a hug to a friend, and when they ask why, remind them. call your parents or your grandparents to say thank you. call your brothers or sister (blood related or not) and see how they're doing. why wait until the holiday season to spend time with family?
december is just another month on the calendar. just because we buy big trees and wrap up presents doesn't mean we can't carry its central theme with us throughout the year.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
the genie
while throwing out the trash
i found an antique lamp.
it was small, with a handle
and a long, thin spout.
it was much to my surprise,
when a genie popped out.
"make three wishes," said he,
so I did, and said thusly:
"first, i want to know -
the things i'll regret when i'm old,
so i can do them now
and die a happy man.
"second, i want to know -
once again as an old man,
who i regret not saying
'i love you' to,
so i can rush up to them today
and hug them as a friend.
"and your third?" asked he.
i didn't know, so i asked to save it.
"nay, you must use it now," said he.
so I did, and wished thusly:
"i wish for a thick pair of socks," said i,
"for i have no one in the winter to keep me warm."[1]
---
1 This doesn't just mean physically.
i found an antique lamp.
it was small, with a handle
and a long, thin spout.
it was much to my surprise,
when a genie popped out.
"make three wishes," said he,
so I did, and said thusly:
"first, i want to know -
the things i'll regret when i'm old,
so i can do them now
and die a happy man.
"second, i want to know -
once again as an old man,
who i regret not saying
'i love you' to,
so i can rush up to them today
and hug them as a friend.
"and your third?" asked he.
i didn't know, so i asked to save it.
"nay, you must use it now," said he.
so I did, and wished thusly:
"i wish for a thick pair of socks," said i,
"for i have no one in the winter to keep me warm."[1]
---
1 This doesn't just mean physically.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)