SPIRIT
I am but as strong as the
sunshine that strengthens me
Ra is my god and no other
gods can replace my jealous God
When clouds threaten, i
f a d e a w a y
When storms clash, i
sburmgue
There are many other gods
But none is as worthy as mine
Though ignorance does not
warrant rejection
Faith in my God is what i have
And only have and will hang on to
Even if one day my God spurns me
I am unperturbed for the God in me
Is alive in grandeur though it
might very well be a pagan farce
or dead in reality
Realism Pragmatism
Ah WATEVA
My castle is decked with flowers
And a lily dias reserved for my
one and only God
Who is welcome to resume the throne
of glory, finger-kissed by thy
humble servant
Monday, October 06, 2003
The Amazon
Blue, white, a fluffy mix
White contrails disperse to reveal
An undiscovered land
Untouched even by the natives
Who squat around it
Oblivious of its grandeur and majesty
Yet the balloonist is superficial
Deep in the heart of the Amazon
Lie dark and murky stories
Of fire-spewing dragons,
Of moving mud serpents
The interior is damp
the soil is hostile
The birds of prey screech and circle
Over the unkeen explorer
Roots ensnare, vines entangle
Every breath taken seems a little harder
Each gasp a little louder
Til one realises he's not alone
Even in this wilderness
An overturning of the soil only reveals
another muddle that is
inexplicable, inhospitable
Rifles and muskets must have targets
Yet this insiduous enemy is unseen
It repels intruders, invaders alike
Its territory a veiled virgin
The outside world is not of his type
This musky world is of his and only his
Blue, white, a fluffy mix
White contrails disperse to reveal
An undiscovered land
Untouched even by the natives
Who squat around it
Oblivious of its grandeur and majesty
Yet the balloonist is superficial
Deep in the heart of the Amazon
Lie dark and murky stories
Of fire-spewing dragons,
Of moving mud serpents
The interior is damp
the soil is hostile
The birds of prey screech and circle
Over the unkeen explorer
Roots ensnare, vines entangle
Every breath taken seems a little harder
Each gasp a little louder
Til one realises he's not alone
Even in this wilderness
An overturning of the soil only reveals
another muddle that is
inexplicable, inhospitable
Rifles and muskets must have targets
Yet this insiduous enemy is unseen
It repels intruders, invaders alike
Its territory a veiled virgin
The outside world is not of his type
This musky world is of his and only his
Saturday, August 23, 2003
NOTHING MUCH
The sky with no clouds
The sun with no rays
The air with no wind
The sea without waves
A bird with no wings
A boy lost at play
An eye with no sparkle
A night without day
Sorrow wihout tears
Emotions in the sway
Tide after tide threaten
Will they go away?
Memory with no photos
When all was still OK
Now the truth is gnawing
In this state I stay
The sky with no clouds
The sun with no rays
The air with no wind
The sea without waves
A bird with no wings
A boy lost at play
An eye with no sparkle
A night without day
Sorrow wihout tears
Emotions in the sway
Tide after tide threaten
Will they go away?
Memory with no photos
When all was still OK
Now the truth is gnawing
In this state I stay
Monday, August 18, 2003
BATTLE WEARY
I soared above the mountains high
I plucked the stars and sparks of nigh
Yet now I flutter on fettered wings
The wind beneath stilled
Crash-landed on the moon
Devoid of sustenance
Empty at the core
Emptied
Where is the next filling station
That ttempts to replace my
Fountain of Youth?
I must rest and eat as Job
To be battle-ready for the next
Craggy Corner I may land
Yet the logger needs an oak to lie on,
the birds, nests
I stumble in the savanna,
My staff a hissing snake
I soared above the mountains high
I plucked the stars and sparks of nigh
Yet now I flutter on fettered wings
The wind beneath stilled
Crash-landed on the moon
Devoid of sustenance
Empty at the core
Emptied
Where is the next filling station
That ttempts to replace my
Fountain of Youth?
I must rest and eat as Job
To be battle-ready for the next
Craggy Corner I may land
Yet the logger needs an oak to lie on,
the birds, nests
I stumble in the savanna,
My staff a hissing snake
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
BALLOON
Inflatable, excitable
Bloated bladder
Pumped by imagination
And hope which the human
Spirit lives on
In cicuses, fairs
I keep smiles on faces
I have a smiling face drawn
Yet I'm a mixture inside
Pricked a little here and there
Left alone after playtime
I shrink in a quiet corner
Slowly, living out my death
I am but empty inside
Sustained by random particles
Observing an unseen force
I am but a balloon
Inflatable, excitable
Bloated bladder
Pumped by imagination
And hope which the human
Spirit lives on
In cicuses, fairs
I keep smiles on faces
I have a smiling face drawn
Yet I'm a mixture inside
Pricked a little here and there
Left alone after playtime
I shrink in a quiet corner
Slowly, living out my death
I am but empty inside
Sustained by random particles
Observing an unseen force
I am but a balloon
Tuesday, August 12, 2003
NIGHT (Adapted and translated)
Night.
A conflagration of emotions
My inner spirit exlaims to the ends
A futile cry to her head
That shall never turn again
Night.
I choke with regrets and pining
The phone craves to come alive
Yet the bridge of trust has already sunk
Night.
When ghouls and spirits linger
Life's reality is just as stark to them
A withered flower needs no grooming
Night.
It extincts just like this
Winds of fate have swept me off my feet
My world fades into reality
Night.
A spiritless period.
Night.
A conflagration of emotions
My inner spirit exlaims to the ends
A futile cry to her head
That shall never turn again
Night.
I choke with regrets and pining
The phone craves to come alive
Yet the bridge of trust has already sunk
Night.
When ghouls and spirits linger
Life's reality is just as stark to them
A withered flower needs no grooming
Night.
It extincts just like this
Winds of fate have swept me off my feet
My world fades into reality
Night.
A spiritless period.
MIXED
What's the difference between dreams and
reality?
One lives out the impossible while the other
is an imposssible way of living.
Swept beneath the tides of time,
I become history
I feel myself changing; an unhalting process
When i descend into slumber, as if
Gargoyles' eyes lit with brimstone shimmer
At the strike of twelve
I prowl the empty city streets
Taking from dawn til dusk to decipher
What my senses try to deceive
From what emotive reality i perceive
The face so close to touch, so radiant,
Yet the cold glass offers only a rude shock
A cruel divide it is, but perhaps only to me.
What's the difference between dreams and
reality?
One lives out the impossible while the other
is an imposssible way of living.
Swept beneath the tides of time,
I become history
I feel myself changing; an unhalting process
When i descend into slumber, as if
Gargoyles' eyes lit with brimstone shimmer
At the strike of twelve
I prowl the empty city streets
Taking from dawn til dusk to decipher
What my senses try to deceive
From what emotive reality i perceive
The face so close to touch, so radiant,
Yet the cold glass offers only a rude shock
A cruel divide it is, but perhaps only to me.
Wednesday, August 06, 2003
THE SUN
Rises, destroying Cupid that wastes away as night fades
Signals to all life to live again
Its long slender arms extend, engulf
Man with searing sight, removing blight
Yet the sun is lonely, the world has
No space for another. Crystal balls
Scintillating with reflections of itself,
It sees no other for it gives sight.
It is dying to give life, it is but
a candle. Its love is great
And all-encompassing and
craves no praise
Rises, destroying Cupid that wastes away as night fades
Signals to all life to live again
Its long slender arms extend, engulf
Man with searing sight, removing blight
Yet the sun is lonely, the world has
No space for another. Crystal balls
Scintillating with reflections of itself,
It sees no other for it gives sight.
It is dying to give life, it is but
a candle. Its love is great
And all-encompassing and
craves no praise
LAIF
Half-dead, living dead
This thread of light flickers
Swaying in the elements
Which punish the feeble and naive
Mocking the castle of love.
I weep not for life
Which i have not.
Nose pressed against this incubator of life
The sheets do not provide warmth
But threaten to expose lies
Which keep me alive.
I am a ticking time-bomb, red or white
It doesn't matter, i cough and sputter;
Defuse me quick if you can't stop time
Else i shall prove disaster
Half-dead, living dead
This thread of light flickers
Swaying in the elements
Which punish the feeble and naive
Mocking the castle of love.
I weep not for life
Which i have not.
Nose pressed against this incubator of life
The sheets do not provide warmth
But threaten to expose lies
Which keep me alive.
I am a ticking time-bomb, red or white
It doesn't matter, i cough and sputter;
Defuse me quick if you can't stop time
Else i shall prove disaster
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)