Monday, 24 October 2011

OUTBOX


Every single time I intend  to extend these heavy words to this glorious gem of a lady, time and chance plays hide-and-seek with love and fondness. I’ve longed for her warm embrace and the slap across my face for cheating on her; that is, if I foolishly do so. Many friends and acquaintances become instantly awed at the sight of her backbone and her frontal zone. It’s probably due to their respective sizes or maybe the swagger capturing her catwalk. She’s worth much more than human eyes can envision: and even lighter than most heavy minds would attempt to fathom. But my impasse defined by her unwillingness to receive this message of mine, has most certainly caused me to stint on the inherent blaze dying down with each turndown.

Her name rings the royal ringtone each moment it’s mentioned. Not the type adorned and ensconced with the raiment of humans or commons: the kind woven by powerful ones sadly unseen and unheard of. Though fairer than a Cleopatra, she risks losing her independence despite her unwillingness to create some sort of alliance. Dodging the bullets, or better still, the arrows of the purest archer of affection, presents the said bearer of them with an uphill engagement that even Hercules would succumb to. But her resistance is surely as ephemeral as a timeless sunset.

This unsent textus does me no good as long as it remains so. Owing to the fact that it has consistently avoided an encounter with this primus inter pares, the current place of occupation burdens the memory space of my mobile device. Maybe this note should keep its virginity and withdraw itself from utter rejection that could suffice in the not too pleasant but proximate future; that’s if I can’t help it. For your information, I’m not making efforts at divorcing Lady Loneliness just by settling for this goddess: I believe she’s the ladybird that has perched on my livid leaves despite the lack of gloss. Her spots continue to enchant my vision, those visible dots conspicuous to sages without dark hair follicles.

The message is still pending because she’s got no seconds for spending....

Tuesday, 4 October 2011

LIKE A BABY


Scream
Let those inner demons out
They seek to burrow into you
Raising alters of death and doubt



Cry
Allow the flow of fresh tear
You wouldn’t want to be inundated
Drowned in floods of fear



Laugh
Release bouts of bliss
Life is nothing without joy
In a hateful dark world like this.



Pray
Let your knees feel the ground
God can’t speak to men
When they make no heavenly sound.

Monday, 3 October 2011

EMPTY STARS


It’s like being stationed in an observatory, but without the telescope to provide that closer view of the distant. Perhaps, the only far-reaching instrument at work in my present state is the seclusion driving me crazy. I’m currently trying to seek solace in my room’s chalice: staring into the sky adorned with grains of stardust poured out for the optical pleasure of humankind.

My strange desire for these shimmering masses of energy has been borne out of the immeasurable surge of loneliness, much stronger than earlier envisaged. My colleague just distracted the deadly description I was about to unleash. But I’ll disintegrate the complexity breeding in my bowels before my eyes begin to feel weary. I must be gazing at one of the many constellations which seems to be mystical or something out of the ordinary. I postulate that of Pegasus, which seems fascinating enough for a quiet enthusiast of the night sky. Maybe the aerial-bound horse would tickle many a fancy, but the fact that this mythical mammal remains upside down, sums up the current state of affairs this gentlemen is juggling with.

Are my hormones just messing with me? Well, I can’t say for sure. There is that one thing burrowing into my soul though: emptiness. With an episode of disappointment just passing by, the once impregnable sense of security I cherished may have suffered a severe jolt. Nothing seems impossible now, I mean, apart from translocation taking place with the sudden blink of my simple eye: where I could appear in Beirut or Bangkok from my current position, my wildest imagination and fears have a chance in the “real world” game show. That probably explains why I sleep so much; my dreams supersede the very obvious reality.

I should be lying If I told you I’m feeling much better since I begun stroking my keyboard. In fact, my inner contents feel like gushing out at the least instigation. This condition might draw suggestions of nausea or something similar. But trust me, I’ve checked my temperature and it’s high enough to restore the icebergs melting on the Arctic. Let’s hope that some stars would decide to collapse in on themselves and create a black hole, that would swallow me and gradually allow gravity modify time: sending me into another dimension offering more happiness and less pain.
Emptiness fills this brief, with nothing but gloom and grief....