“Haunted by Scarlet Wheels”

Haunted in my sleep
I hear voices of tired
luggages– scarlet wheels
I know when you step in
Step out of my life –
Is when the wheels scream –
scratches the ground
Begging, pleading for you
To choose Home, home where
someone’s waiting– restless at night
plague with screams and scratches
Of the luggages you drag around.

“You just lost your job…”

.
The saying, “God does not play dice with the
Universe…” — might be true, almost to a fact-
.
However, it seem like-
God enjoys pulling strings
On any featured montage of human life…
.
The writhing of last Thursday’s hour was like
A screenplay of my desensitized emotions –
It beshrewed the Watcher’s ambivalence.
.
I merely like to think of it that way.
I still don’t know what to feel —
And I don’t know what my God feel, either.
.
After these thoughts– I started to feel eerie,
again. My eyes felt dilated enough
Yet its vision continued to narrow down
.
Until all I can see is just a blind bend –
a pinch of black and white, a shadow of life.
slowly— It felt like –
.
I disintegrated from being of flesh
To no more — than blood corpuscles
Trying to unify my spirit at sea.
.
In all of these litmus tests in life
I chose to remain boggled –
One day, I might change my mind.
.
Daffodil

“Stressed… Unstressed”

Why how come,  after a year of scribbling thoughts, using a strategy that largely defies all sort of conventional writing standards, I found out that in reality there is a way for a slow learner, such as me, to learn and follow rules in writing poetry. [d'uh]! And even!  Get to understand a complex concept of poetry writing such as: METER!!! how about that? anyways, the whole point of my indirect argument is that… today, and no other day before… I finally absorbed and decoded METER! stress it….. unstress it…!!! unstress, unstress… stress, untress, unstress… stress… etc…. that kina, sorta thang! pardon my exxagerations, I had been made aware of the fact that “ignorance is no excuse” however, I am proud to take the embarassment, as I believe it is only temporary, and I agree with my own opinion,  “Failure  is the stone that move one’s future forward…” So, so… And then… yea, tha’s it

nonsensical practice

.
.
Wind chimes whistles
       thread calms comfort
  brush careful cuddles.
.
.
    Warm nestling finger
  nails fold arms
        shoot blue & yellow
               bamboo leaves.
.
.
     Somesthesis bosoms seduces
  svelte squeezes 
  a heart felt loved.
 

Exotic Food

Peeling spikey skin reveals
          sweet large meaty
                   jackfruit

The Last Argument

.
“Why do I ask that?!” And he continues…
“Well–It’s true, making love
with you is my exercise–
It’s like not moving a muscle
But moving nerves as much as possible–”
And he moved on saying…
“It’s- it’s like yogapol’tic’s technique
basic principles can’t move moralized filth
(a mass innuendo by he), he thought…
And, and like-
Fad-ego diet, feeds visceral vertigo
And human’s a gargantuan idiot box
ricochet such basic principles, to–”
“To whom do you think so?”

Tough Love

 

                                    www.sebastiandaffodil.deviantart.com  

The witch told me you were formed
out of prismatic mineral that often  
comes in bundle, twinning you-       
collocates massive columns of granular
fibrous virtue- magentas in habit;        
fushia by charisma; opaque and hue      
conceals the delicate compassion in you.

Scorn- hydro- thermal bastards crusade    
against you. Sometimes, you abhor- & wish…
you can annihilate them sub mentality, shallow
luster of judge jury. Deliquesces self – confident 
righteousness purify like an exudating manganite 
abide- elusive, flurry life might be                     
you love them (your enemy) unconditionally.    

I Sat In Silence

 

It is sad to say
when we don’t have any
words
come out painfully
just like a ballerina
dance
foot clubbed
toes cracked
neath inflamed floors
fruiting
blood of inadequacy
.
Just like the day
when Generals
used to lay
unbroken necklace
of defenses
so that—
You and I
and the rest of
the community
sleeps tightly
at night,
when we are
protected frugally
from being sorry, of
not having any to say.

——–
I was reading two good poets conversation today at #poetry of MIRC
I was grieviously affected by the topic of their discussion
It was about the hardship of communicating thoughts. **sigh**

“Light At The End of The Tunnel”

 

“Light at the end of the tunnel”
Say, for sure, faith is inside the panel
And hope within a cylinder, cannot
Salve destruction— Time is a slut—

A chameleon threat, some desire to accomplish
For what reason— only the Id can dissect!
A tug-of-war, of emotions, and more of these—
These idiotic crabbing of the mental—
of the same ego (testicular) struggle, kill it please!

Across the life of lives, some victim burnt, lied by
Beliefs— some survive the “I” who forsakes the other.
Some hoped— fatally dying to vomit— pride’s gall.
Some see— “The light at the end of the tunnel”

.
end

This prose/poem, whatever this is, is an evidence of my inability to convey a sense of “I’m not here to compete for power, I’m here, simply, to share the unfolding of a bigger mind, rather than, witnessing the narrowing of it.” Thus, I tried to rant, with not so many a word, to say, come on!!! wake up! Let’s not be too foolish! Ego does not do any good to anybody! I guess I’m a bit sad, for whatever reason… who knows…

Verities Boring Truth

I dunno, for some reason, every once in a while, I enjoy redundancy, tho, I know, I shall ask forgiveness to ’some’ whose eyes– and even ears are not meant to  endure the so-called “non-best words in non- best order” Oh, pardon me pls!

It’s often hard–
assuming, initiating
notions, abstractions, conclusions.

In a world such as our own
imaging imagery, ordinary
as much as extraordinary is boring.

Conundrum we have replacations
buttering verities, grudging riddles–
conformity becomes a toothache
that last for generations.

Portrait of truth is not enough–
without seditious gold framing life is a mask.
Haven’t we always wonder why?

Ladies, (gentle) and not so, men–
may I reckon, that the commodity of,
our future, bask upon our mystic intuition.

Plucked Feathers

Brick bashing in one’s
frugal atonement of sin, is–
a lark taste of sugar, a sweet face–
chastise a warm embrace.

After I hurt you, after the vengeance,
and no forgiveness spoken. But– (silence)

A graceful rictus beams after your kiss–
and you kiss me, arms in snail fondness,
and I fall- and fall in– the cavity of guile,
a chasm of micturated sorrow, you made.

Brick bashing one’s feeling, I sin
forgiveness, I did not attain.

Lessons were learned, pity roped
ego’s grope of another (one’s) like you.
Song birds plumage will now sing,
songs of feathers, feathers like ours, pluck.

It’s one of those times, when we thought not, that putting someone in pain does not bounce back to us.
However, as karma travels back and forth, we feel… slowly, the same hurt we gave to others.
So in the end, it does not become a question of who’s to blame, but what lesson have we learn.

On Any Boundaries

(A woman’s noise talk)
.
Subject: Boundaries
.
Awry like a binding stiff
Pugnacious- incredibly jealous
Constantly rubs skin,
with jerk/head
Embroidering infirm dogs tragic
Oleaginous low-downs,
of societies
Vulgar sodomic rules,
betrothed with
Old scratch’s apocalyptic prophetics
Mishmash squeamish squaw mamma
Marmalade’s stupified
olio hodgepodge
Of spunky contumacious
megacosmic
Mellifluous euphonic unification
(Ever wonder what she’s yackety- yacking about?)
Of dolores and la dolce vita’s
Pharmachotic epigrammatic psyche
And they all blow-
bewailing below
Washington- smackaroos!
Boundaries, Oh! come on!
Boundaries!
(She was a noble woman after all)
.

Often times we love to impose rules, and we fake following rules,
and say “It’s the boundaries of life, there’s nothing we can do about it.”
However, we miss to understand our ego’s ulterior motive “selfishness, monitary greed, etc.”
So many strive to become the captain of the world, so many talk about rules and regulations.
Unfortunately, for those who carries a distinctively mephitis greed
( and still have the face to aspire as a captain of the world)will never go unnoticed by real people’s just, scrutinizing eyes.
Honest intention rules!!!

Cock-eyed Cacti

I dun no… I was just asking myself– what in the world do I want?! :p So many things are joyful, as much as, so many things are hurtful. tee hee

 

.
I see your eyes
Charcoaled as it cry
Cacti tears
.
And your shadow hung
Like a stuck kite
On a beaten lamp post
.
Feeling unbroken you dunk
Life into the sewer
Of unwanted ness
.
And you let go–
Behemoth lions of pain
And cock-a-hoop imagining
.
What is this good life?
You’re trying to live for–
What, again?
.
I still see your tears
Charcoal in lento wash
Gently coalesce with mine.
.
.
end

Turning Points

Yet, another attempt to express an unexpressible feeling of pain, defeat, pessimism, disarray and the power to rise above it. The shape of this picture is carefully chosen to represent the image of a labyrinth, although the flower mentioned in the poem is hydra (purple), sophia and hypatia is represented in red symbolising wisdom, strength, power and life as a whole.

Turning Points
.
Meet me between wound’s bruise
behind twigged truth, across
deceit’s terrain, beneath confusion
after the rain drops, beyond fiery
wry faces, false hope
.
There, you’ll see me put on dresses
casually wait in coat blue, stare
as if in awe, as seen in non-fiction
breaking great walls, barriers
no longer cause my wreckage
I understand, turning points
;
As a tangle, it can stand, crooked
as a snarl, just think of skin crisp
as a nag, just think how you walk through
labyrinth of hydra, sophia and hypatia.

Heuristic Question?

I could never grasp the entire idea that physicists theorized from other centuries up to this day. Over the years of going to school and learning different basic mathematical and scientific theories such as: algebra, geometry, calculus,… biologoy, chemistry, physics, etc. I found it too difficult to put the entire concepts into one and conventionally just agree to what others perceive to be the obvious meaning, and say “that’s it, they are right, I agree.” Because of such difficulty as understanding the language of both academic fields, I gave up and willingly surrender to satisfy my curiosity. After doing so, I deviated my passion into digging vast amount of literatures, for me, if I could not understand equations and formulas in that manner, I atleast hoped to understand its translations if it’s put into layman’s term or atleast told not scientifically nor mathematically, but more of ’story like’. Recalling my frustrations as well as admiration of the world’s historical figures, constantly amaze me, unconsciously my fascination led me to read the live’s of these phenomenal people in history.

Last week, I stumbled upon Walter Isaacson’s book “Einstein, His Life and Universe”. Walter’s way of accounting Einstein’s life is quite striking, he seem to be able to revive Einstein’s life, filled with the same energy and genius!. Whenever I get the time I grab the book and read pages after pages of it, as if I am directly witnessing the life that Einstein lived. From his childish wishes to his matured passion, I find his life equal to absolute happiness. The daring risk he took, as well as the audacity of his confidence is indeed encouraging.  Today, I reached the page of this book, were it talks about “Light Quanta, March 1905″ I believe this is the first time, that I met the word “heutistic” It means a hypothesis that serves as a guide and gives direction in solving a problem but is not considered proven(according to the book). I was taken aback, not because of fear… awe took over me completely!.

What I did not know, though, that is coming on the next paragraph, was the questions at the heart of Einstein’s paper that according to Isaacson “were bedeviling physics at the turn of century, and in fact have so from the time of the ancient Greeks until today: Is the universe made up of particles, such as atoms and electrons? Or is it an unbroken continuum, as a gravitational or electromagnetic fields seems to be? And if both methods of describing things are valid at times, what happens when they intersect?” Being reminded by this questions awakens some part of what I believe as my faithful, patient curiosity. I could almost smell the understanding that I am seeking, I could almost thread each particular ideas that will surely bring light to some noble questions I had been asking about ‘life and existence, time and space’ Unfortunately, upon writing this thoughts, ‘that’ understanding seem to be moving in to me on an extremely slow speed, that when I try to penetrate my eyes on it, it seem to be very distant. So, as of the moment, the quest is on…..