Cotton wool in infinite bowl
drap a strand on electron walls
nucleus of atomic fields
breaks through frasad and imaginary halls
a mass of light that cheats the eye
dumps fake pictures and senses quilt
a touch feels not the forces true
but of stones and water in concrete frames.
Earth, wind, water, fire and space.
Friday, May 13, 2005
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Cave Rats
He marched boldly out of his hole, a dark and smelly concealment of filthy lanes. The stench would have driven even a bug away but these scavengers roamed freely. It was their world and they ruled it their way.
Crown was the leader. He was big, strong and fast. His velvet fur almost seemed elegant but what made him different from the rest of the pack was his articulate crave for scent. He could smell anything and his conclusions were always apt; never doubted.
"I can smell ya' dirty lies. If ya' have been out on Rattery Hills. Them stinkin' high class rats. We come from East End. So we stay here. This is the rule." He warned all the curious minds who probably wanted so much to see beyond the melodorous back alleys.
"Tony said the other side has fresh cheese and even cats talk to rats."
"But Tony is dead. Dead because he deserved to be."
Carl had been listening carefully to each and every word. In his heart he felt the adventures that Tony must have experienced. Not only Tony but Salsa, Corn, Baba and even the once shy and timid Morky. They would have been and lived like a rat. A true rat and not a cave rat.
Yes, the back street rats were known as cave rats partly because they were primitive but mainly because they believed that nothing existed outside, that could give them self-worth. In the cave, they were save and protected. They will always be food fetched from drains and bins. Outside, everything was risky. They didn't like to take risks.
However, once in a while there will be a Tony or Salsa and now Carl who dared to dream, dared to take risks and willed himself outside; only to be martyred by Crown later.
"Ya' stinkin' little bastard. I told ya not to go out. But ya' ain't listening to Crown here."
Carl shivered. He stooped down and looked at Crown's gigantic feet and his dragon tail curled up in flame. He shivered again as he felt Crown's breath at his neck. He was hooked to the ground and Crown's stainless steel claws stuck through his delicate paws causing them to bleed.
"But you have not..." Carl's voice trailed off with his guts as he tried to speak up.
"What? Ya' stinkin' bastard's talking back?"
Without hessitation, Crown chewed into Carl's throat.
Carl opened his eyes and looked straight into Crown's ferocious pupils. He saw nothing but his pathetic reflection.
Hang on, he saw something else. He saw flowers, green grass, trees, birds, a fresh slice of cheese, bread and a beautiful female rat from Rattery Hills smiling at him. How he made friends with a kitten and that they drank from the same bowl of milk.
Carl knew that Crown has never seen any of these. He only ate stinking bread and drank stale milk and forever will be.
Crown was the leader. He was big, strong and fast. His velvet fur almost seemed elegant but what made him different from the rest of the pack was his articulate crave for scent. He could smell anything and his conclusions were always apt; never doubted.
"I can smell ya' dirty lies. If ya' have been out on Rattery Hills. Them stinkin' high class rats. We come from East End. So we stay here. This is the rule." He warned all the curious minds who probably wanted so much to see beyond the melodorous back alleys.
"Tony said the other side has fresh cheese and even cats talk to rats."
"But Tony is dead. Dead because he deserved to be."
Carl had been listening carefully to each and every word. In his heart he felt the adventures that Tony must have experienced. Not only Tony but Salsa, Corn, Baba and even the once shy and timid Morky. They would have been and lived like a rat. A true rat and not a cave rat.
Yes, the back street rats were known as cave rats partly because they were primitive but mainly because they believed that nothing existed outside, that could give them self-worth. In the cave, they were save and protected. They will always be food fetched from drains and bins. Outside, everything was risky. They didn't like to take risks.
However, once in a while there will be a Tony or Salsa and now Carl who dared to dream, dared to take risks and willed himself outside; only to be martyred by Crown later.
"Ya' stinkin' little bastard. I told ya not to go out. But ya' ain't listening to Crown here."
Carl shivered. He stooped down and looked at Crown's gigantic feet and his dragon tail curled up in flame. He shivered again as he felt Crown's breath at his neck. He was hooked to the ground and Crown's stainless steel claws stuck through his delicate paws causing them to bleed.
"But you have not..." Carl's voice trailed off with his guts as he tried to speak up.
"What? Ya' stinkin' bastard's talking back?"
Without hessitation, Crown chewed into Carl's throat.
Carl opened his eyes and looked straight into Crown's ferocious pupils. He saw nothing but his pathetic reflection.
Hang on, he saw something else. He saw flowers, green grass, trees, birds, a fresh slice of cheese, bread and a beautiful female rat from Rattery Hills smiling at him. How he made friends with a kitten and that they drank from the same bowl of milk.
Carl knew that Crown has never seen any of these. He only ate stinking bread and drank stale milk and forever will be.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Darker than it is
In life we are so concerned with how OTHERS think of us. By virtue of a certain relationship they are of the opinion that they can comment and judge our actions.
Actually, how many times have you made a decision for yourself, for the goodness of your heart and the purity of your soul?
The answer is none.
How pitiful.
Actually, how many times have you made a decision for yourself, for the goodness of your heart and the purity of your soul?
The answer is none.
How pitiful.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Unwritable
Many people asked me how was the stage play.
I don't know what to reply.
I wish I could re-act the whole thing so that they experience what I did.
It is so hard to pour out unwritable feelings. In fact I do not know where to begin. Again and again I am lost for words. Again and again my feelings swirl like dew drops in the desert. How could I put into prose and alphabets something so beautiful? No, it was not beautiful; it was just...
Pardon my leck of originality and allow me to borrow from a broadway musical, "Song and Dance" by Andrew Llyod Webber. Give me space to steal from others their abilities to express what is truly felt for I am unable to portray and begin to describe the depth of emotions compounding me.
I have never felt like this
For once I'm lost for words
Your smile has really thrown me
This is not like me at all
I never thought I'd know
The kind of love you've shown me
Now, no matter where I am
No matter what I do
I see your face appearing
Like an unexpected song
An unexpected song
That only I am hearing
Like an unexpected song
An unexpected song
That only I am hearing
...
I don't know what to reply.
I wish I could re-act the whole thing so that they experience what I did.
It is so hard to pour out unwritable feelings. In fact I do not know where to begin. Again and again I am lost for words. Again and again my feelings swirl like dew drops in the desert. How could I put into prose and alphabets something so beautiful? No, it was not beautiful; it was just...
Pardon my leck of originality and allow me to borrow from a broadway musical, "Song and Dance" by Andrew Llyod Webber. Give me space to steal from others their abilities to express what is truly felt for I am unable to portray and begin to describe the depth of emotions compounding me.
I have never felt like this
For once I'm lost for words
Your smile has really thrown me
This is not like me at all
I never thought I'd know
The kind of love you've shown me
Now, no matter where I am
No matter what I do
I see your face appearing
Like an unexpected song
An unexpected song
That only I am hearing
Like an unexpected song
An unexpected song
That only I am hearing
...
Sentimental Me
I suddenly feel romantic. Not in a "I love you" sense. But there is someone whom I miss dearly. For some odd reasons I do have a pounding urge, wanting to see this person again. Not that I will do anything radical or obscene when we meet. Just to say a simple "hello".
At the same time, I fear that reunion would ruin what is already so Perfect now.
But I keep forgeting that nothing lasts forever. Everything changes.
Memory only remains sweet when feelings and perception remain the same. Nevertheless feelings and perceptions rotate like a ferris wheel, influenced by ideas; creations of the mind.
Although for the moment, sentimental me is in control. One second of being together means a life time.
How many life times do we have together?
At the same time, I fear that reunion would ruin what is already so Perfect now.
But I keep forgeting that nothing lasts forever. Everything changes.
Memory only remains sweet when feelings and perception remain the same. Nevertheless feelings and perceptions rotate like a ferris wheel, influenced by ideas; creations of the mind.
Although for the moment, sentimental me is in control. One second of being together means a life time.
How many life times do we have together?
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