Suddenly the
little girl
spoke in
her sleep:
"Mother please
don't go."
She was
dreaming of
her past.
"Don't worry,
I won't."
The nurse
holding her
tiny hands
told her.
The nurse
was lying.
Thursday, October 31, 2019
Poetry #139
Just for a little while,
please bear with me.
I know I sound too imposing
but that's just how I want to be.
I'm trying hard for everyone.
Please don't mind anything about.
More so please do forget about me
after all that we will be through.
I know that one day
it may seem so sudden
but to our short yet interesting future together,
please let us get along until then.
please bear with me.
I know I sound too imposing
but that's just how I want to be.
I'm trying hard for everyone.
Please don't mind anything about.
More so please do forget about me
after all that we will be through.
I know that one day
it may seem so sudden
but to our short yet interesting future together,
please let us get along until then.
Wednesday, October 30, 2019
Poetry #138
And so
the mask
fell off.
The one
thing that
hid all
the pain
the memories
and all
the truth,
Came off.
And behind
the mask
was nothing.
the mask
fell off.
The one
thing that
hid all
the pain
the memories
and all
the truth,
Came off.
And behind
the mask
was nothing.
Poetry #137
She was
hesitant and
so I
gave her
a push.
That's all
she needed.
A gentle
push from
her back.
She was
surprised but
that is
what she
was after.
Right from
the start.
I didn't
know though
whether she
could've have
grown wings
and flew.
hesitant and
so I
gave her
a push.
That's all
she needed.
A gentle
push from
her back.
She was
surprised but
that is
what she
was after.
Right from
the start.
I didn't
know though
whether she
could've have
grown wings
and flew.
Poetry #136
I told
her that
I will
save her.
Her neck
was wrapped
with rope.
The last
vanity she
will wear.
Her skin
looked pale
as well
her hair,
lifeless white.
Her feet
shaking and
doubting if
her decision
was right.
She had
been there
all these
time and
no one
bothered to
help her.
But here
I am,
standing right
in front
of her.
I took
the chair
she was
standing on
and sat.
her that
I will
save her.
Her neck
was wrapped
with rope.
The last
vanity she
will wear.
Her skin
looked pale
as well
her hair,
lifeless white.
Her feet
shaking and
doubting if
her decision
was right.
She had
been there
all these
time and
no one
bothered to
help her.
But here
I am,
standing right
in front
of her.
I took
the chair
she was
standing on
and sat.
Poetry #135
I came
to save
you but
you didn't
want to
be saved.
You wanted
to live
life to
the fullest.
So here
you are,
wearing a
necklace made
of rope
on top
of the
world with
a chair.
I wanted
to save
you but
I couldn't.
When I
came to,
you've already
saved yourself.
to save
you but
you didn't
want to
be saved.
You wanted
to live
life to
the fullest.
So here
you are,
wearing a
necklace made
of rope
on top
of the
world with
a chair.
I wanted
to save
you but
I couldn't.
When I
came to,
you've already
saved yourself.
Poetry #134
But it
did not
end the
way they
wanted to.
All the
world knew,
even they
themselves knew.
They were
meant for
each other.
They had
wanted to
part ways
To say
goodbye in
the most
bitter way.
But all
the world
conspired so
the two
will one
day reunite.
did not
end the
way they
wanted to.
All the
world knew,
even they
themselves knew.
They were
meant for
each other.
They had
wanted to
part ways
To say
goodbye in
the most
bitter way.
But all
the world
conspired so
the two
will one
day reunite.
Tuesday, October 29, 2019
Poetry #133
You wouldn't
mind if
I just
up and
leave, right?
I know
I may
sound rude
but to
be honest,
It's hurting,
it's hurting
a lot.
And I
don't know
if I
should just
keep at
it and
endure all
the way.
But seriously
it's really
hurting me.
I hope
you wouldn't
mind if
I just
leave right
now, right?
mind if
I just
up and
leave, right?
I know
I may
sound rude
but to
be honest,
It's hurting,
it's hurting
a lot.
And I
don't know
if I
should just
keep at
it and
endure all
the way.
But seriously
it's really
hurting me.
I hope
you wouldn't
mind if
I just
leave right
now, right?
Poetry #132
So that
was it,
Their first
chance encounter.
He could
not further
trouble her
more than
he did.
She was
just too
afraid to
go on.
And so
they parted.
Not ever
knowing one
another's name,
was it,
Their first
chance encounter.
He could
not further
trouble her
more than
he did.
She was
just too
afraid to
go on.
And so
they parted.
Not ever
knowing one
another's name,
The Firefly King's Second Dilemma
"Hey! Evil one," a bored voice spoke. "What should we do next?"
"Do next?" an annoyed voice spoke. "We do the usual thing we do, curious one. By day we help them as well, and occasionally, do our little mischief. Let's think of it as relieving ourselves of the pressure we are holding. Don't you think it's just? They don't seem too grateful for the things we do for them, it's just fair that we take something, or rather do something, for ourselves, once in a while. Right?"
"Is that all there is to it?" the first voice asked. "I do understand what you are talking about but doing it routinely has lose it's steam."
"Lost it's steam?" the second voice asked. "What do you mean-"
"It's boring."
"Boring?" the second voice angrily said. "How can you say it's boring when we're doing it all in secret? We are helping them but they do not know that we are at times causing them trouble. Is that boring still?"
"We do the usual thing. Nothing changed!" the first voice said with disappointment. "We may have been doing wrong but we are still helping them. Nothing changed at all. We are still helping them. And still they have nothing to give us back. We may be easing this pressure I am having, but nothing else. I want more! I know you can feel it too, right? If we are do to something evil. We must do more!"
"Are you sure I am the evil one?" the second voice asked playfully. "But in truth, we are not evil, right? We're just playful. That's all. We're just free spirit, nothing else. Why should we be bothered whether they are grateful to us in the first place?"
"Are you not?" the first voice asked in disappointment. "Are you not bothered they stay that way? We may be helping them, but that's just it. In the end, they're still helpless. Without us, they wouldn't go anywhere else. And despite of what we do, they aren't glad. In contrary, they even become more helpless or if worse comes, they are annoyed we aren't as helpful they want.
"They do not show any appreciation to us, they expect more from us and still we must help them? It just isn't fair!"
A long pause happened between the two voices and so the Firefly King did all his usual routine. A hero no one was aware of and a villain everyone was mad at. It may have been thrilling at first but soon after, it became monotonous. He had lost all his ardor. But even still he must keep up.
It was his duty through and through. Though as mischievous he could be, he'd have to do all his good deeds. No time for him to lax. He cannot be free.
-/_ -
"Say, evil one," an enthusiastic voice spoke. "I just thought of an idea."
"Really?" a bored voice spoke. "I guess, what you said before was true. We may have changed thing but even still, it's all still the same. We may be doing petty little evil things, still we aren't evil. We can't be evil. Nothing changed. And they still don't seem to be changing. Their apathy towards us is still there. They do not see what we are to them. What are we really doing, curious one? What have we been doing?
"- I'm sorry, what was it that you wanted to say?"
"You finally realized it, right?" the first voice said. "It's really a bother right? And now you noticed. I feel sorry for you evil one."
"I get it, I get," the second voice said both in annoyance and disappointment. "So what is it that you wanted to say?"
"We could do more for them," the first voice said. "We could do more evil."
"More evil?" the second voice said childishly. "Are you sure you aren't the evil one? Right now, I feel curious of what you have in stored. Let's hear it."
"Do next?" an annoyed voice spoke. "We do the usual thing we do, curious one. By day we help them as well, and occasionally, do our little mischief. Let's think of it as relieving ourselves of the pressure we are holding. Don't you think it's just? They don't seem too grateful for the things we do for them, it's just fair that we take something, or rather do something, for ourselves, once in a while. Right?"
"Is that all there is to it?" the first voice asked. "I do understand what you are talking about but doing it routinely has lose it's steam."
"Lost it's steam?" the second voice asked. "What do you mean-"
"It's boring."
"Boring?" the second voice angrily said. "How can you say it's boring when we're doing it all in secret? We are helping them but they do not know that we are at times causing them trouble. Is that boring still?"
"We do the usual thing. Nothing changed!" the first voice said with disappointment. "We may have been doing wrong but we are still helping them. Nothing changed at all. We are still helping them. And still they have nothing to give us back. We may be easing this pressure I am having, but nothing else. I want more! I know you can feel it too, right? If we are do to something evil. We must do more!"
"Are you sure I am the evil one?" the second voice asked playfully. "But in truth, we are not evil, right? We're just playful. That's all. We're just free spirit, nothing else. Why should we be bothered whether they are grateful to us in the first place?"
"Are you not?" the first voice asked in disappointment. "Are you not bothered they stay that way? We may be helping them, but that's just it. In the end, they're still helpless. Without us, they wouldn't go anywhere else. And despite of what we do, they aren't glad. In contrary, they even become more helpless or if worse comes, they are annoyed we aren't as helpful they want.
"They do not show any appreciation to us, they expect more from us and still we must help them? It just isn't fair!"
A long pause happened between the two voices and so the Firefly King did all his usual routine. A hero no one was aware of and a villain everyone was mad at. It may have been thrilling at first but soon after, it became monotonous. He had lost all his ardor. But even still he must keep up.
It was his duty through and through. Though as mischievous he could be, he'd have to do all his good deeds. No time for him to lax. He cannot be free.
-/_ -
"Say, evil one," an enthusiastic voice spoke. "I just thought of an idea."
"Really?" a bored voice spoke. "I guess, what you said before was true. We may have changed thing but even still, it's all still the same. We may be doing petty little evil things, still we aren't evil. We can't be evil. Nothing changed. And they still don't seem to be changing. Their apathy towards us is still there. They do not see what we are to them. What are we really doing, curious one? What have we been doing?
"- I'm sorry, what was it that you wanted to say?"
"You finally realized it, right?" the first voice said. "It's really a bother right? And now you noticed. I feel sorry for you evil one."
"I get it, I get," the second voice said both in annoyance and disappointment. "So what is it that you wanted to say?"
"We could do more for them," the first voice said. "We could do more evil."
"More evil?" the second voice said childishly. "Are you sure you aren't the evil one? Right now, I feel curious of what you have in stored. Let's hear it."
Poetry #131
If you
finally feel
like dying.
I'm sorry
I cannot
help you.
But at
least to
keep me
at ease.
For once
let me
be selfish.
If you
feel like
jumping off
a cliff,
let me
be the
ground that
catches you.
If you
feel like
hanging yourself,
let my
arms be
the ropes
that hugs
you tightly.
If you
feel like
drowning in
the sea
let me
be the
water to
be with
you until
your breath
your last.
If you
feel like
just stabbing
yourself and
just bleeding
let me
be the
blade of
the knife
let me
be the
one who
killed you.
And if
you feel
like living
once more,
let us
be friends.
Talk to
me and
I will
let you
my ears.
I will
be there.
I promise.
I'll listen.
I'll hear
your words.
I will
be there.
finally feel
like dying.
I'm sorry
I cannot
help you.
But at
least to
keep me
at ease.
For once
let me
be selfish.
If you
feel like
jumping off
a cliff,
let me
be the
ground that
catches you.
If you
feel like
hanging yourself,
let my
arms be
the ropes
that hugs
you tightly.
If you
feel like
drowning in
the sea
let me
be the
water to
be with
you until
your breath
your last.
If you
feel like
just stabbing
yourself and
just bleeding
let me
be the
blade of
the knife
let me
be the
one who
killed you.
And if
you feel
like living
once more,
let us
be friends.
Talk to
me and
I will
let you
my ears.
I will
be there.
I promise.
I'll listen.
I'll hear
your words.
I will
be there.
Poetry #130
"I hope one day, you could
change this world,"
that's your wish to me, right?
I wonder if I could still do it.
I wonder if you're still waiting
for a world better than the last.
Were you waiting for me?
Were you still waiting?
Are you still waiting?
Are you waiting?
Or have you waited?
I wonder if you're still there
waiting for me.
I wonder if you're still there.
change this world,"
that's your wish to me, right?
I wonder if I could still do it.
I wonder if you're still waiting
for a world better than the last.
Were you waiting for me?
Were you still waiting?
Are you still waiting?
Are you waiting?
Or have you waited?
I wonder if you're still there
waiting for me.
I wonder if you're still there.
Poetry #129
When we
meet again
please call
me by
my name.
At first
I will
ignore you.
I will
lie, just
like how
I never
said goodbye.
But I
hope by
then you'll
realize it.
You'll just
come to
me and
tell me
all my
little secrets.
By then
I wonder,
If I
could still
make the
sky rain.
meet again
please call
me by
my name.
At first
I will
ignore you.
I will
lie, just
like how
I never
said goodbye.
But I
hope by
then you'll
realize it.
You'll just
come to
me and
tell me
all my
little secrets.
By then
I wonder,
If I
could still
make the
sky rain.
Monday, October 28, 2019
The Firefly King's First Dilemma
"Hey," a voice in his head suddenly spoke. "Don't you think we've done enough?"
"We've helped a lot, that is true," another voice spoke. "But we must not stop until everyone is saved."
"Save from what? They don't need saving. Look at them, they all look just fine. Nothing to worry about them," the first voice replied. "Beside, they haven't appreciated what we've done for a lot of things, have they?"
"As long as everyone's fine, that's good enough, right?" the second voice said. "Right?"
"You have doubts."
"That's what we just needed to do, right? Nothing else, we don't need to be appreciated. We don't need to be-"
"Can you hear your own voice right now?" the first voice laughed. "I am sure not even you could trust your own words."
"I don't.. I don't know what to do now."
"Say," the first voice spoke. "If you don't know what to do, why not do the opposite of what we'e always doing?"
"Opposite?" the second voice asked.
"For once, let's be evil."
The Firefly King suddenly woke up. He had the urge to be mad. To be angry at everything. But he had to be discreet about it. And so his various misdeeds happened. Not one soul but his knew about these.
"We've helped a lot, that is true," another voice spoke. "But we must not stop until everyone is saved."
"Save from what? They don't need saving. Look at them, they all look just fine. Nothing to worry about them," the first voice replied. "Beside, they haven't appreciated what we've done for a lot of things, have they?"
"As long as everyone's fine, that's good enough, right?" the second voice said. "Right?"
"You have doubts."
"That's what we just needed to do, right? Nothing else, we don't need to be appreciated. We don't need to be-"
"Can you hear your own voice right now?" the first voice laughed. "I am sure not even you could trust your own words."
"I don't.. I don't know what to do now."
"Say," the first voice spoke. "If you don't know what to do, why not do the opposite of what we'e always doing?"
"Opposite?" the second voice asked.
"For once, let's be evil."
The Firefly King suddenly woke up. He had the urge to be mad. To be angry at everything. But he had to be discreet about it. And so his various misdeeds happened. Not one soul but his knew about these.
Sunday, October 27, 2019
Poetry #128
Soon after the dreamer
felt a taste of reality.
He woke up.
It was a sting in his chest.
A burning sensation of in his heart.
It was what woke him up.
Nonetheless it was hurting still.
She was walking
hand in hand
with the person she loves.
He was there,
from a distance,
looking.
felt a taste of reality.
He woke up.
It was a sting in his chest.
A burning sensation of in his heart.
It was what woke him up.
Nonetheless it was hurting still.
She was walking
hand in hand
with the person she loves.
He was there,
from a distance,
looking.
Poetry #127
"Why did
you not
come for
me," the
cloud said.
"I could
not reach
you," the
wind said.
"I waited
for you,"
the longing
cloud said.
And so
the wind
gathered all
his strength
to pursue
the cloud.
But once
he got
there, she
already left.
She was
not there.
you not
come for
me," the
cloud said.
"I could
not reach
you," the
wind said.
"I waited
for you,"
the longing
cloud said.
And so
the wind
gathered all
his strength
to pursue
the cloud.
But once
he got
there, she
already left.
She was
not there.
Mirai (Future) :D
Since I've been watching a lot of anime recently, somehow I've been catching on few words here and there of the nipon language. Though I basically have no knowledge of whatsoever I'm actually understanding. It's quite interesting.
Daijoubo = Don't worry
Daijouri = we win
Oyasumi = goodnight
Wakata = I understand
whatsoever whatsoever, I can't actually remember what I know but I guess I'll catch on. Eventually.. I guess?
Anyway, just something to share.
Other than that, I think I'll be planning a different thing. Odd enough, this being an anime blog is cool and all but I guess after a while, it seems it lost it steam in me. My enthusiast in writing review, character analysis and whatsoever, it just grew cold. Or probably I'm just having a mental block or something that is why I can't properly write any of it.
So for now, I'll be writing poems here and there and then some short stories and short post stories that actually has no start and ending just a clip, and then some anime stuffs, I still do like watching them.
About the different thing, I won't be posting it here and as well I'll be writing under a different pseudonym. If you found where it is and knew who I was, good for you, you're great and amazing.
I'll be trying my hard to make that as well hide who I really am for that. Though it's still just a plan. You won't be hearing anything from that 'project' here, so gumenesai.. daijoubo, I'll try to make it great once I actually start doing it.
It's a new thing so I do hope I'll make it great. somehow.
-/_ -
Odd enough, while I was walking earlier, I was actually thinking of nipon language. I do hope I'm not making a blaspheme out of this post. I do respect and adore the Japan culture. So I'm sorry if what I'm writing here causes harm.
-/_ -
Another thing, December/Christmas Season is almost near. I'll probably busy by then with IRL stuff so.. happy holiday seasons to everyone, in advance, in case I suddenly stopped writing now or in the near future.
:D
Have a good time.
Also, I do like the words of Isla's in Plastic Memories:
"I hope one day, you will reunite with the person (one) you cherish."
It's quite short and yet with these few words, those who heard it carried smile in their face as they part with their love ones. It's always a beautiful scene seeing those moments.
Instead of having tearful and sad faces, they bear satisfied and happy look. It felt like at their last moment, their final wish just came true or rather they felt hope even in their last moment. To say it bluntly, even in the face of death, they felt relieved, happy. No fear, no regrets.
Odd enough, after thinking about it for a while, I suddenly remember the words of Ralof from skyrim to the Nord horse thief:
"A nord's last thought should be of home."
Or something like that, I guess it meant that soldiers in their last moment should think of their home. Something to be patriotic about. In conjuction with the Plastic Memories. I'd say, for lovers, for when time comes that if ever the two were to part ways they should think of each other at the moment they say goodbye.. or something like that.
Something to be hopeful, or the like.
I'm getting jumbled with my own thought. Is that what Ralof also wanted to say? Now that I think about it, I guess, it seemed different.
A soldier's thought before death should be of home, as for lovers of the one they love.
That's what I had in mind. They don't have any connection at all. Probably? Tabun?
-/_ -
Aisteru and Aisuke...I think that's how it's spelled, I like you and I love you
Koi = love
Uso = Lie
Shingatsu = April
Sangatsu = March
... Odd enough, just understanding the numbers of japan one can easily decipher by voice the month. Or something like that? Tabun?
Daijoubo = Don't worry
Daijouri = we win
Oyasumi = goodnight
Wakata = I understand
whatsoever whatsoever, I can't actually remember what I know but I guess I'll catch on. Eventually.. I guess?
Anyway, just something to share.
Other than that, I think I'll be planning a different thing. Odd enough, this being an anime blog is cool and all but I guess after a while, it seems it lost it steam in me. My enthusiast in writing review, character analysis and whatsoever, it just grew cold. Or probably I'm just having a mental block or something that is why I can't properly write any of it.
So for now, I'll be writing poems here and there and then some short stories and short post stories that actually has no start and ending just a clip, and then some anime stuffs, I still do like watching them.
About the different thing, I won't be posting it here and as well I'll be writing under a different pseudonym. If you found where it is and knew who I was, good for you, you're great and amazing.
I'll be trying my hard to make that as well hide who I really am for that. Though it's still just a plan. You won't be hearing anything from that 'project' here, so gumenesai.. daijoubo, I'll try to make it great once I actually start doing it.
It's a new thing so I do hope I'll make it great. somehow.
-/_ -
Odd enough, while I was walking earlier, I was actually thinking of nipon language. I do hope I'm not making a blaspheme out of this post. I do respect and adore the Japan culture. So I'm sorry if what I'm writing here causes harm.
-/_ -
Another thing, December/Christmas Season is almost near. I'll probably busy by then with IRL stuff so.. happy holiday seasons to everyone, in advance, in case I suddenly stopped writing now or in the near future.
:D
Have a good time.
Also, I do like the words of Isla's in Plastic Memories:
"I hope one day, you will reunite with the person (one) you cherish."
It's quite short and yet with these few words, those who heard it carried smile in their face as they part with their love ones. It's always a beautiful scene seeing those moments.
Instead of having tearful and sad faces, they bear satisfied and happy look. It felt like at their last moment, their final wish just came true or rather they felt hope even in their last moment. To say it bluntly, even in the face of death, they felt relieved, happy. No fear, no regrets.
Odd enough, after thinking about it for a while, I suddenly remember the words of Ralof from skyrim to the Nord horse thief:
"A nord's last thought should be of home."
Or something like that, I guess it meant that soldiers in their last moment should think of their home. Something to be patriotic about. In conjuction with the Plastic Memories. I'd say, for lovers, for when time comes that if ever the two were to part ways they should think of each other at the moment they say goodbye.. or something like that.
Something to be hopeful, or the like.
I'm getting jumbled with my own thought. Is that what Ralof also wanted to say? Now that I think about it, I guess, it seemed different.
A soldier's thought before death should be of home, as for lovers of the one they love.
That's what I had in mind. They don't have any connection at all. Probably? Tabun?
-/_ -
Aisteru and Aisuke...I think that's how it's spelled, I like you and I love you
Koi = love
Uso = Lie
Shingatsu = April
Sangatsu = March
... Odd enough, just understanding the numbers of japan one can easily decipher by voice the month. Or something like that? Tabun?
Saturday, October 26, 2019
Another thought: Koi to Uso
"Looking at the notices, any other kind of love you have seemed just like lies." or something like that.
If fate have already predetermined everything, no matter how free we are, all our desires, dreams, loves and wants, all of it are just lies.
Is that how cruel the world can be? And from the way things are, memories are the only thing that could ever make us feel safe. Memories are our final salvation once after our fate have settled.
But looking at it, these certain memories, the feelings we have in there, can we just call all of them lies even if that's what we're destined?
Say for example a young child dreamt of writing stories, poems and songs, ends up studying words and letter. Unfortunately fate wanted him to be something else and so he became far from what he dreamt of. A salary man, a businessman, an entrepreneur. Was his dream of stories, poetries and songs all just a lies?
He never did become one after all. And fate have already settled him as what he doesn't want.
Come to think of it, are dreams nothing more just lies if unfulfilled? No matter how passionate or rather how much effort or emotion you fill it with, if it were in vein, it's all meaningless.
If fate have already predetermined everything, no matter how free we are, all our desires, dreams, loves and wants, all of it are just lies.
Is that how cruel the world can be? And from the way things are, memories are the only thing that could ever make us feel safe. Memories are our final salvation once after our fate have settled.
But looking at it, these certain memories, the feelings we have in there, can we just call all of them lies even if that's what we're destined?
Say for example a young child dreamt of writing stories, poems and songs, ends up studying words and letter. Unfortunately fate wanted him to be something else and so he became far from what he dreamt of. A salary man, a businessman, an entrepreneur. Was his dream of stories, poetries and songs all just a lies?
He never did become one after all. And fate have already settled him as what he doesn't want.
Come to think of it, are dreams nothing more just lies if unfulfilled? No matter how passionate or rather how much effort or emotion you fill it with, if it were in vein, it's all meaningless.
Poetry #126
Suddenly the bridge decided to crumble.
It had held itself mighty and strong
for many years and generation.
It had caught many tears falling
from lovers' unrequited eyes.
It had carried many dreamers
off to meet their beloved in distant horizons.
It had connected the love
between two distant lovers.
It stood ground, held tight
and braved many memories.
But somehow it just fell apart.
It suddenly decided to stop caring.
Was it selfish for the bridge?
It had held itself mighty and strong
for many years and generation.
It had caught many tears falling
from lovers' unrequited eyes.
It had carried many dreamers
off to meet their beloved in distant horizons.
It had connected the love
between two distant lovers.
It stood ground, held tight
and braved many memories.
But somehow it just fell apart.
It suddenly decided to stop caring.
Was it selfish for the bridge?
Poetry #125
One day
we will
be forced
to choose.
And no
matter what
There will
be consequence.
And when
that time
does come:
Even heroes
will decide
who to
let die;
Even gods
and goddesses
will decide
who to
be saved.
Even children
have to
grow up.
we will
be forced
to choose.
And no
matter what
There will
be consequence.
And when
that time
does come:
Even heroes
will decide
who to
let die;
Even gods
and goddesses
will decide
who to
be saved.
Even children
have to
grow up.
Thoughts while watching Koi to Uso
What if fate have already determined everything. From we were going to wear for a dinner party tonight, what we're going to have for that said dinner, what conversation we'll be saying, word per word, we will say it, like a script. Everything, already assigned, tasked and ordered right before we do it all.
Even the things that we do not want to happen: a fallout in our first love, a single manner to break connections, a sudden goodbye.
What if fate have already decided on everything? Would one be happy with it? From the good thing and the bad?
-/_ -
So comes our freewill. Mayhaps, even ordered to do so by fate, it is our freewill that we decide to follow everything.
One perk of freewill is our ability to lie.
I wonder why?
Even the things that we do not want to happen: a fallout in our first love, a single manner to break connections, a sudden goodbye.
What if fate have already decided on everything? Would one be happy with it? From the good thing and the bad?
-/_ -
So comes our freewill. Mayhaps, even ordered to do so by fate, it is our freewill that we decide to follow everything.
One perk of freewill is our ability to lie.
I wonder why?
Poetry #124
They did not know
but the holes they
dig are not what
leads to buried treasure.
These young fools
are digging their own graves.
In those small, confined places
they will have their final resting place.
But then again there are those
who just stopped digging.
They want to go elsewhere.
They want to die elsewhere.
So they convince the rest
It's not treasure they are looking for
but their own demise.
Even still
the foolish grave diggers would just
keep on carving the face of the land.
They've fallen in love a bunch of times
and certain promise of gold,
even though made up,
would keep them pursuing.
They will die happily
even without reaching the
false buried dreams.
but the holes they
dig are not what
leads to buried treasure.
These young fools
are digging their own graves.
In those small, confined places
they will have their final resting place.
But then again there are those
who just stopped digging.
They want to go elsewhere.
They want to die elsewhere.
So they convince the rest
It's not treasure they are looking for
but their own demise.
Even still
the foolish grave diggers would just
keep on carving the face of the land.
They've fallen in love a bunch of times
and certain promise of gold,
even though made up,
would keep them pursuing.
They will die happily
even without reaching the
false buried dreams.
Poetry #123
Her hands
were shaking
and cold.
My face,
beneath my
masked, crumpled.
It was
hard for
me but
It was
hard for
her too.
This is
not what
I wanted.
This is
not what
she wanted.
But it
has to.
No matter
how beautiful
this world
of ours
it is
still cruel.
We said
our goodbyes.
were shaking
and cold.
My face,
beneath my
masked, crumpled.
It was
hard for
me but
It was
hard for
her too.
This is
not what
I wanted.
This is
not what
she wanted.
But it
has to.
No matter
how beautiful
this world
of ours
it is
still cruel.
We said
our goodbyes.
Friday, October 25, 2019
Poetry #122
It was
the first
time we
have met
And right
in front
of her
I cried.
We were
floating in
the sky.
My voice
it just
came out.
I meant
to tell
her to
stay strong
and yet
it felt
I was
telling myself.
It was
the first
time we
have met.
Here I
am showing
how pathetic
I could
actually be.
the first
time we
have met
And right
in front
of her
I cried.
We were
floating in
the sky.
My voice
it just
came out.
I meant
to tell
her to
stay strong
and yet
it felt
I was
telling myself.
It was
the first
time we
have met.
Here I
am showing
how pathetic
I could
actually be.
Poetry #121
In the corner,
the firefly cries.
He wanted to
write a story.
But he does
not know how.
He does not
like sad endings.
But sad moments
are truly essentials.
He wanted to
write many stories.
But he does
not know how
If he could
from the memories.
Form it like
some grand puzzle.
Piece by piece,
forming many hereafters.
The Firefly King
Wish for that.
He wanted good
memories to happened.
Though there are
bad and sad
He would accept
all of that.
But he does
not know how.
the firefly cries.
He wanted to
write a story.
But he does
not know how.
He does not
like sad endings.
But sad moments
are truly essentials.
He wanted to
write many stories.
But he does
not know how
If he could
from the memories.
Form it like
some grand puzzle.
Piece by piece,
forming many hereafters.
The Firefly King
Wish for that.
He wanted good
memories to happened.
Though there are
bad and sad
He would accept
all of that.
But he does
not know how.
Plastic Memories by Naotaka Hayashi, Yoshiyuki Fujiwara
The story reminded me of the film Kimi no Suizo wo Tabetai but only a bit more defined. Being a series it made me connect with the characters, specifically the two main characters, Tsukasa Mizugaki and Isla.
Speaking of Pancreas, after realizing the series's likeness to the film, the book The Little Prince came to my mind. Though as I've said earlier the anime being a series made a connection in me that had me emotional invested in the characters better than the I want to eat your pancreas film.
The series is set in future world where androids, called Giftias, are bestowed upon families to live as either a substitute or an addition to their own. They have their own personality so distinguishing a human and a Giftias is quite a task as per described by the main character Tsukasa.
Tsukasa was employed in a government firm tasked to retrieve Giftias. After a certain amount of time, 9 years to be specific, Giftias will have met the end of their lifespan. If they weren't retrieved, the Giftias will turn violent and being android/robots, they can be a danger to the populace.
As part of the retrieval firm.agency, they are tasked to recover, "retrieve," the Giftias before the time they expire. It is mandatory and set guidelines, procedures and standards are kept when retrieving Giftias. Giftias are well aware of these procedure, unfortunately the owner/clients can be stubborn as to not let the Giftias be retrieved. Giftias though are aware of these, they are to follow/respect their owners.
Unfortunately, the branch Tsukasa was assigned to goes beyond that. Whenever they do retrieval assignments, they have to establish some sort of closure between the client/owner and the Giftias. Something frowned upon or rather non standard when it comes to other branches of the government firm.
Tsukasa was then partnered with Isla, a Giftia, a standard in the retrieval firm. In field work there will be two person in a squad, the marksman role and the spotter. The marksman role is commonly assigned to the Giftia, they will do most of the work in the retrieval, from talking with the client, retrieving the Giftia and such. They are the carry of the team. The spotter on the other hand is an adviser, or rather an overseer, of what's going on.
Isla, though a veteran, having one of the longest worker in the retrieval branch, her work with Tsukasa often spell them both problem. She is a klutz and often time childish, though her way of denying this is her showing herself as an android.
The series goes on with the partnership between the two, Tsukasa and Isla, improving from strangers to lovers. All with the fact that Isla's lifespan is sooner. From the start of the anime and the moment the two joined together, Isla's timespan was 2000 hours, about 3 months less.
Though comedy was employed in order to break the deep emotional moments, it was well received. It made the series more beautiful. Such silly moment does strengthen the emphatic bond between the audiences and the characters.
Such moment was:
1. the first successful retrieval mission of Tsukasa and Isla, they had a very heart touching moment. Even though the client at first didn't want to give her Giftia upon overhearing the conversation between the Giftia and Isla, she had a change of heart. She gave her Giftia with a beautiful closure.
Even though Tsukasa was deeply affected of how the task they do, the client was grateful.
The comedy happened in the post credit. On their way back, Isla somehow drank a bit to much of tea so in their drive she explained out her problem of holding her bowel on their way back. Tsukasa's deep thought of what they just did suddenly vanished.
2. one of the first supervised retrieval assignment they did, the owner and the Giftia suddenly ran away. Isla quickly noticed the ploy of the runaway. The supervisor immediately ordered Isla to go after them. Isla obliged and jump off the railing off the high floor of the building.
Even though Isla was expected to do her part in grace and ease, instead of jumping off to catch the runaway, Isla fell to trash bags on the ground floor of the building. This happened with Tsukasa's thought of Isla as a very cool and veteran retrieval unit in their firm/agency.
There are more to see but I'd rather not talk about it. It's better to watch the film than just read it in my not so accurate wordings.
As for the main theme of the series, memories is somehow associated with the soul. Due to the fact that Giftias are not living beings, the opted call the soul of the machines as memories. The retrieval agencies regard themselves as the one who rip apart and the the memories of the Giftias.
It's beautiful and romantic at the same time. Somehow because of this, I was reminded of the anime Future Diary, specifically the OVA, redial, even though Yuno Gasai of the first world died, her memories were kept and was reborn into the Yuno Gasai of the third world.
Unfortunately, this memory retrieval and transfer is not possible in the world of Plastic Memories. Somehow it's the reality check that we have to live in. That no matter how, things gone will always be gone. They may return in one form another but it will be different. Not the one that was lost.
Fortunately for this matter, memories as memories not as a soul was well defined/explained. Even though their stay together were short, Tsukasa's and Isla's, the memories they have for each other are real and no one will take away that from them, specifically from Tsukasa.
-/_ -
Same premise happened in the Kimi no Suizo wo Tabetai and Plastic Memories, yet it is in the series that I was moved to tears. The reason was bcause emotional connection was well established. Aside from that, The Little Prince reference was absent in the series, something that I have well thought of as a masterfully crafted beautiful work of art.
I wonder if me crying for the series in Plastic Memories would have not happened in case a reference was plugged in the series.
Either way, both have a beautiful story. And a bit of a connection with The Little Prince, in my opinion.
The aviator will be Tsukasa, the Little Prince as Isla, the Fox is Kazuki, the rose would probably be Michiru and the rest of the flower would be the rest of the crew. The snake in the series would be the lifespan of Isla.
That's just all my opinion of associating the series to the beautiful book.
Still, whether I'm wrong or not, the fact I did cry and felt a connection between the characters in the series was because it was a series. It had length in it.
I think I'd be having the same emotional connection with the characters in the Kimi no Suizo wo Tabetai if in case it was made a series.
-/_ -
The closure between Tsukasa and Isla was well written. Fully defined and explored.
Imagine having tendency to opt escaping in order to save his love one. And the beloved trying to accept the reality they live in while keeping herself in control.
IT WAS ALL BEAUTIFUL! EACH MOMENT OF THEM BEING TOGETHER.
-/_ -
As for the post credit. I wish there will be a second season, more to come. A sudden return. Not just an animation of the spin-off I want to see the hereafter of the story. Who was the new partner of Tsukasa and so on.
-/_ -
Lastly, the beautiful, beautiful line of the reaper each time they collect the memories of the Giftias:
"I hope one day, you will reunite with the person you cherish," Isla to each of the Giftias they successfully retrieve on their own.
Each time before the Giftias close their eyes, smiles are always drawn in their faces. They have a very happy life. This is the one closure the Giftias need.
One simple sentence.
Quite contradictory to the hassle and work they have to put up for the owners.
-/_ -
Odd enough, the Firefly King was actually satisfied with how things ended. Only wish he wants is to see what happens in the hereafter of the story.
What is to happen to the lover who accepted reality? Will the two ever reunite again? Was all the fluttered in the Firefly King's mind.
Speaking of Pancreas, after realizing the series's likeness to the film, the book The Little Prince came to my mind. Though as I've said earlier the anime being a series made a connection in me that had me emotional invested in the characters better than the I want to eat your pancreas film.
The series is set in future world where androids, called Giftias, are bestowed upon families to live as either a substitute or an addition to their own. They have their own personality so distinguishing a human and a Giftias is quite a task as per described by the main character Tsukasa.
Tsukasa was employed in a government firm tasked to retrieve Giftias. After a certain amount of time, 9 years to be specific, Giftias will have met the end of their lifespan. If they weren't retrieved, the Giftias will turn violent and being android/robots, they can be a danger to the populace.
As part of the retrieval firm.agency, they are tasked to recover, "retrieve," the Giftias before the time they expire. It is mandatory and set guidelines, procedures and standards are kept when retrieving Giftias. Giftias are well aware of these procedure, unfortunately the owner/clients can be stubborn as to not let the Giftias be retrieved. Giftias though are aware of these, they are to follow/respect their owners.
Unfortunately, the branch Tsukasa was assigned to goes beyond that. Whenever they do retrieval assignments, they have to establish some sort of closure between the client/owner and the Giftias. Something frowned upon or rather non standard when it comes to other branches of the government firm.
Tsukasa was then partnered with Isla, a Giftia, a standard in the retrieval firm. In field work there will be two person in a squad, the marksman role and the spotter. The marksman role is commonly assigned to the Giftia, they will do most of the work in the retrieval, from talking with the client, retrieving the Giftia and such. They are the carry of the team. The spotter on the other hand is an adviser, or rather an overseer, of what's going on.
Isla, though a veteran, having one of the longest worker in the retrieval branch, her work with Tsukasa often spell them both problem. She is a klutz and often time childish, though her way of denying this is her showing herself as an android.
The series goes on with the partnership between the two, Tsukasa and Isla, improving from strangers to lovers. All with the fact that Isla's lifespan is sooner. From the start of the anime and the moment the two joined together, Isla's timespan was 2000 hours, about 3 months less.
Though comedy was employed in order to break the deep emotional moments, it was well received. It made the series more beautiful. Such silly moment does strengthen the emphatic bond between the audiences and the characters.
Such moment was:
1. the first successful retrieval mission of Tsukasa and Isla, they had a very heart touching moment. Even though the client at first didn't want to give her Giftia upon overhearing the conversation between the Giftia and Isla, she had a change of heart. She gave her Giftia with a beautiful closure.
Even though Tsukasa was deeply affected of how the task they do, the client was grateful.
The comedy happened in the post credit. On their way back, Isla somehow drank a bit to much of tea so in their drive she explained out her problem of holding her bowel on their way back. Tsukasa's deep thought of what they just did suddenly vanished.
2. one of the first supervised retrieval assignment they did, the owner and the Giftia suddenly ran away. Isla quickly noticed the ploy of the runaway. The supervisor immediately ordered Isla to go after them. Isla obliged and jump off the railing off the high floor of the building.
Even though Isla was expected to do her part in grace and ease, instead of jumping off to catch the runaway, Isla fell to trash bags on the ground floor of the building. This happened with Tsukasa's thought of Isla as a very cool and veteran retrieval unit in their firm/agency.
There are more to see but I'd rather not talk about it. It's better to watch the film than just read it in my not so accurate wordings.
As for the main theme of the series, memories is somehow associated with the soul. Due to the fact that Giftias are not living beings, the opted call the soul of the machines as memories. The retrieval agencies regard themselves as the one who rip apart and the the memories of the Giftias.
It's beautiful and romantic at the same time. Somehow because of this, I was reminded of the anime Future Diary, specifically the OVA, redial, even though Yuno Gasai of the first world died, her memories were kept and was reborn into the Yuno Gasai of the third world.
Unfortunately, this memory retrieval and transfer is not possible in the world of Plastic Memories. Somehow it's the reality check that we have to live in. That no matter how, things gone will always be gone. They may return in one form another but it will be different. Not the one that was lost.
Fortunately for this matter, memories as memories not as a soul was well defined/explained. Even though their stay together were short, Tsukasa's and Isla's, the memories they have for each other are real and no one will take away that from them, specifically from Tsukasa.
-/_ -
Same premise happened in the Kimi no Suizo wo Tabetai and Plastic Memories, yet it is in the series that I was moved to tears. The reason was bcause emotional connection was well established. Aside from that, The Little Prince reference was absent in the series, something that I have well thought of as a masterfully crafted beautiful work of art.
I wonder if me crying for the series in Plastic Memories would have not happened in case a reference was plugged in the series.
Either way, both have a beautiful story. And a bit of a connection with The Little Prince, in my opinion.
The aviator will be Tsukasa, the Little Prince as Isla, the Fox is Kazuki, the rose would probably be Michiru and the rest of the flower would be the rest of the crew. The snake in the series would be the lifespan of Isla.
That's just all my opinion of associating the series to the beautiful book.
Still, whether I'm wrong or not, the fact I did cry and felt a connection between the characters in the series was because it was a series. It had length in it.
I think I'd be having the same emotional connection with the characters in the Kimi no Suizo wo Tabetai if in case it was made a series.
-/_ -
The closure between Tsukasa and Isla was well written. Fully defined and explored.
Imagine having tendency to opt escaping in order to save his love one. And the beloved trying to accept the reality they live in while keeping herself in control.
IT WAS ALL BEAUTIFUL! EACH MOMENT OF THEM BEING TOGETHER.
-/_ -
As for the post credit. I wish there will be a second season, more to come. A sudden return. Not just an animation of the spin-off I want to see the hereafter of the story. Who was the new partner of Tsukasa and so on.
-/_ -
Lastly, the beautiful, beautiful line of the reaper each time they collect the memories of the Giftias:
"I hope one day, you will reunite with the person you cherish," Isla to each of the Giftias they successfully retrieve on their own.
Each time before the Giftias close their eyes, smiles are always drawn in their faces. They have a very happy life. This is the one closure the Giftias need.
One simple sentence.
Quite contradictory to the hassle and work they have to put up for the owners.
-/_ -
Odd enough, the Firefly King was actually satisfied with how things ended. Only wish he wants is to see what happens in the hereafter of the story.
What is to happen to the lover who accepted reality? Will the two ever reunite again? Was all the fluttered in the Firefly King's mind.
Thursday, October 24, 2019
Poetry #120
"Just for
a few
moments more
please hold
my hand,"
said the
little girl.
"I'm dying,"
the old
man said.
"Can you
bear it
to stay
while I'll
be on
my way?"
The little
girl stayed
quiet and
held tight
on the
old man's
frail hand.
"You're hurting,"
the old
man said.
The little
girl showed
her face.
She was
with her
lips smiling.
"Yet, your
smile seems
to hurt
me more,"
the old
man said.
"I'm leaving
you sooner
or later
and here
you are
in my
memories etch
your smile
in my
last moment.
"I wonder
how you'd
remember me,"
the old
man said.
Suddenly tears
slid down
the little
girl's cheek.
She can't
hold her
tears back.
She's crying.
But the
old man
smiled and
told her:
"I can
smile too.
If that
is alright
with you?"
a few
moments more
please hold
my hand,"
said the
little girl.
"I'm dying,"
the old
man said.
"Can you
bear it
to stay
while I'll
be on
my way?"
The little
girl stayed
quiet and
held tight
on the
old man's
frail hand.
"You're hurting,"
the old
man said.
The little
girl showed
her face.
She was
with her
lips smiling.
"Yet, your
smile seems
to hurt
me more,"
the old
man said.
"I'm leaving
you sooner
or later
and here
you are
in my
memories etch
your smile
in my
last moment.
"I wonder
how you'd
remember me,"
the old
man said.
Suddenly tears
slid down
the little
girl's cheek.
She can't
hold her
tears back.
She's crying.
But the
old man
smiled and
told her:
"I can
smile too.
If that
is alright
with you?"
Poetry #119
What a
cruel world
they are
living in.
They sugar
coat their
sadness, their
sorrow and
their predetermined
end with
beautiful stories.
But no
matter how
it goes,
all stories
have to
end no
matter what..
cruel world
they are
living in.
They sugar
coat their
sadness, their
sorrow and
their predetermined
end with
beautiful stories.
But no
matter how
it goes,
all stories
have to
end no
matter what..
Poetry #118
"What good
is a
world if
she is
never there?"
A young
lonely god
once said.
"She won't
be there,"
he whispered.
He could
make another
her but
"She won't
be her,"
he said.
He just
have to
live with
his memories
of her.
Nothing more.
-/_ -
Yukitero Amano of the Second World, winner and god of the survival game.
Somehow while watching Plastic Memories, it reminded of the ending scene or rather the OVA of Future Diary.
is a
world if
she is
never there?"
A young
lonely god
once said.
"She won't
be there,"
he whispered.
He could
make another
her but
"She won't
be her,"
he said.
He just
have to
live with
his memories
of her.
Nothing more.
-/_ -
Yukitero Amano of the Second World, winner and god of the survival game.
Somehow while watching Plastic Memories, it reminded of the ending scene or rather the OVA of Future Diary.
Poetry #117
The boy smiled
As days from now
they will have to part.
It was all too bitter for him,
quite forced and yet he did so with ease.
It was a lie after all.
Something he hated doing.
He wanted her not to see his sorrow,
He wanted her not to see his frown.
He wanted her, with him, to smile.
At least, as a selfish act,
With him, thought it's their last,
she is happy.
It was a mask after all.
But the memories, that will etch in his mind,
will all be real.
Though beautiful it all seemed to be,
It will still be bitter.
Though bitter it is for him,
It will all still be beautiful.
As days from now
they will have to part.
It was all too bitter for him,
quite forced and yet he did so with ease.
It was a lie after all.
Something he hated doing.
He wanted her not to see his sorrow,
He wanted her not to see his frown.
He wanted her, with him, to smile.
At least, as a selfish act,
With him, thought it's their last,
she is happy.
It was a mask after all.
But the memories, that will etch in his mind,
will all be real.
Though beautiful it all seemed to be,
It will still be bitter.
Though bitter it is for him,
It will all still be beautiful.
A hero's interview
The hero fell to his knees. It was the first time he lose a battle. Though he saved the victim, he couldn't save his friend.
"There is no salvation in becoming a hero if I can't even save my friend," the hero said to himself.
"You saved many, is that not enough?"
"I lose a dear friend of mine," the hero said. "Is that not enough to convince myself that I failed?"
"You gave everyone hope."
"I lose a friend."
"You gave everyone something they could hold on to. You save all of them."
"I couldn't save my friend."
"You made everyone happy."
"I'm not happy with losing my friend."
"You're selfish."
"I am."
"You''re no hero."
"I wish I'm not."
"You aren't a hero."
"I am."
The firefly turned around. He was frustrated and moved by the heroes regret and resolve. The hero's thought were contradicting yet still called himself a hero. Is it out of his own volition or pride? Yet his sorrow showed otherwise.
"Someday, will you turn against the light?" the firefly said as he was about to take flight. "Will you accept anymore friends after losing one, two, three or few? By then, would you have changed? Right now, you lack the resolve the move yet your regret isn't enough to stop you. How is that?"
The hero did not understood the firefly. Nor does he understood himself. He stayed quiet.
"May your selfishness guide you to the light once you regain your sight, hero who have just lose," the firefly said. "And may more light be there to guide you in your dark moment such as now."
The firefly flew away. His tail light ever glowing deem as his presence waned in the night.
"There is no salvation in becoming a hero if I can't even save my friend," the hero said to himself.
"You saved many, is that not enough?"
"I lose a dear friend of mine," the hero said. "Is that not enough to convince myself that I failed?"
"You gave everyone hope."
"I lose a friend."
"You gave everyone something they could hold on to. You save all of them."
"I couldn't save my friend."
"You made everyone happy."
"I'm not happy with losing my friend."
"You're selfish."
"I am."
"You''re no hero."
"I wish I'm not."
"You aren't a hero."
"I am."
The firefly turned around. He was frustrated and moved by the heroes regret and resolve. The hero's thought were contradicting yet still called himself a hero. Is it out of his own volition or pride? Yet his sorrow showed otherwise.
"Someday, will you turn against the light?" the firefly said as he was about to take flight. "Will you accept anymore friends after losing one, two, three or few? By then, would you have changed? Right now, you lack the resolve the move yet your regret isn't enough to stop you. How is that?"
The hero did not understood the firefly. Nor does he understood himself. He stayed quiet.
"May your selfishness guide you to the light once you regain your sight, hero who have just lose," the firefly said. "And may more light be there to guide you in your dark moment such as now."
The firefly flew away. His tail light ever glowing deem as his presence waned in the night.
The Captain's First Mate
"I didn't save you, forget about me," the girl said. "That's what you told me, right?"
The moonlit shone a tired runaway slave. The girl have bruises and scars all over her body yet she was unfazed. She have steeled herself long ago before. And to her, those were marks of her victories.
"I don't know who you are," the captain said.
"You're a liar!" the girl said. "You saved me back then. I know! And those words, those were the exact same words you told that man. What you did just now. It's what you did right before you disappeared in front of me. I won't forget who you are. You saved me! So please, let me stay with you."
"Who are you?" the captain once more asked.
The girl showed the captain her neck. It was then did he realized that the girl with her was the same girl that hanged herself. The captain moved back. She remembered me, was all he thought.
"What happened to your wings?" the girl asked. "You were a firefly, right?"
"You're the girl who fell?" the captain said.
"You caught me." the girl said. "What happened to you?"
A certain gleam sparkled in the captain's eyes.
"I'm glad you remembered me, my little friend," the captain said. "It seems my first mate leaving me opened a crucial position in my crew. Would you care to be my first mate? I do recall I asked you to come and join me once, right? You were after all the first person before my previous first mate that should have been the first mate."
"First mate?" the girl asked. "You never asked me-"
"Now, now, my good friend," the captain said. "It seems me telling you to forget about me have actually made you forget about our first meeting."
The girl wandered what he was talking about. He never asked her to do that and yet certain memories were suddenly forming inside her head.
"I don't recall," the girl said.
"Age does takes away some of our memories, first mate," the captain said.
The girl suddenly fell on the ragged wooden boards of the ship. Her memories have been altered.
The moonlit shone a tired runaway slave. The girl have bruises and scars all over her body yet she was unfazed. She have steeled herself long ago before. And to her, those were marks of her victories.
"I don't know who you are," the captain said.
"You're a liar!" the girl said. "You saved me back then. I know! And those words, those were the exact same words you told that man. What you did just now. It's what you did right before you disappeared in front of me. I won't forget who you are. You saved me! So please, let me stay with you."
"Who are you?" the captain once more asked.
The girl showed the captain her neck. It was then did he realized that the girl with her was the same girl that hanged herself. The captain moved back. She remembered me, was all he thought.
"What happened to your wings?" the girl asked. "You were a firefly, right?"
"You're the girl who fell?" the captain said.
"You caught me." the girl said. "What happened to you?"
A certain gleam sparkled in the captain's eyes.
"I'm glad you remembered me, my little friend," the captain said. "It seems my first mate leaving me opened a crucial position in my crew. Would you care to be my first mate? I do recall I asked you to come and join me once, right? You were after all the first person before my previous first mate that should have been the first mate."
"First mate?" the girl asked. "You never asked me-"
"Now, now, my good friend," the captain said. "It seems me telling you to forget about me have actually made you forget about our first meeting."
The girl wandered what he was talking about. He never asked her to do that and yet certain memories were suddenly forming inside her head.
"I don't recall," the girl said.
"Age does takes away some of our memories, first mate," the captain said.
The girl suddenly fell on the ragged wooden boards of the ship. Her memories have been altered.
Poetry #116
And so
the boy
filled with
empty hate
Burst out:
"I don't
want to
remember you!
"I don't
want to
have memories
of you!
"You! You
will just
leave me.
"I.. I
don't want
to.. I
don't want.."
But suddenly
tears came
bursting out.
"I don't
want to
forget you!
"Please! Don't
leave me.."
And soon
his hatred
got filled
with sorrow.
He was
actually sad.
the boy
filled with
empty hate
Burst out:
"I don't
want to
remember you!
"I don't
want to
have memories
of you!
"You! You
will just
leave me.
"I.. I
don't want
to.. I
don't want.."
But suddenly
tears came
bursting out.
"I don't
want to
forget you!
"Please! Don't
leave me.."
And soon
his hatred
got filled
with sorrow.
He was
actually sad.
Wednesday, October 23, 2019
Better Dreams
"What's that in your hand," the curious firefly asked.
The figured cloaked in black sheathed his sword on his waist and showed the firefly his notebook.
"You are ever curious my dear little friend," the figure cloaked in black said. "This my friend is log. An account retelling the dreams of souls before they meet me. Some dreams pleasant dreams, either of reality or just tell-tale lies, while some have nightmare of which I'm afraid have met their fate untimely to their own accord.
"If you ever wonder, I have to write these memories down. All of it," the figure cloaked in black said.
"Why do you have to do that," the curious firefly said.
The figure cloaked in black hid the notebook back inside his robe. He smiled as he once more spoke to the firefly.
"It's both the reward and the punishment of what I do, little firefly," the figure cloaked in black said. "There is nothing much to look forward in my toil. The least I have are these whimsies that made me look forward to my labor. What better joy is it to collect memories when all you do is collect soul?"
The curious firefly paused for a bit. Thank the figure cloaked in black and bid his farewell. The curious firefly took off and left.
"I have an idea," the curious firefly said on his way. "I'll write different memories and I'll remember it all. The ones I made and the ones they all have. That would be a better joy than reading those dreams. I'll make better dreams."
The figured cloaked in black sheathed his sword on his waist and showed the firefly his notebook.
"You are ever curious my dear little friend," the figure cloaked in black said. "This my friend is log. An account retelling the dreams of souls before they meet me. Some dreams pleasant dreams, either of reality or just tell-tale lies, while some have nightmare of which I'm afraid have met their fate untimely to their own accord.
"If you ever wonder, I have to write these memories down. All of it," the figure cloaked in black said.
"Why do you have to do that," the curious firefly said.
The figure cloaked in black hid the notebook back inside his robe. He smiled as he once more spoke to the firefly.
"It's both the reward and the punishment of what I do, little firefly," the figure cloaked in black said. "There is nothing much to look forward in my toil. The least I have are these whimsies that made me look forward to my labor. What better joy is it to collect memories when all you do is collect soul?"
The curious firefly paused for a bit. Thank the figure cloaked in black and bid his farewell. The curious firefly took off and left.
"I have an idea," the curious firefly said on his way. "I'll write different memories and I'll remember it all. The ones I made and the ones they all have. That would be a better joy than reading those dreams. I'll make better dreams."
Poetry #115
Suddenly the
little bird
didn't want
to die.
Her tears
whispers it.
Her beautiful
singing voice
suddenly changed.
It was
her last
song anyway.
Still it
was beautiful.
She did
not want
to die.
But she
already and
bravely accepted
it happening.
"Goodbye," chirped
the little
bird as
she closed
her eyes.
little bird
didn't want
to die.
Her tears
whispers it.
Her beautiful
singing voice
suddenly changed.
It was
her last
song anyway.
Still it
was beautiful.
She did
not want
to die.
But she
already and
bravely accepted
it happening.
"Goodbye," chirped
the little
bird as
she closed
her eyes.
Poetry #114
And so
the gravediggers
dig not
for the
pale bodies
but for
the memories.
There is
no reward
in their
work.
Nothing more
but pain
and heartaches.
They do
not dig
graves for
dead bodies
but part
memories of
the dead
with whom
they have
bonded with.
Mayhaps the
only reprieve
they get
is when
it rains.
What better
way to
hide tears
but under
the guise
of the
crying sky.
the gravediggers
dig not
for the
pale bodies
but for
the memories.
There is
no reward
in their
work.
Nothing more
but pain
and heartaches.
They do
not dig
graves for
dead bodies
but part
memories of
the dead
with whom
they have
bonded with.
Mayhaps the
only reprieve
they get
is when
it rains.
What better
way to
hide tears
but under
the guise
of the
crying sky.
Always
She was crying the whole time. It was only moments ago was she made to realized her lifespan was only shorter than mine. She was scared of dying. Then I asked her.
"It's alright. I'll stay with you till then."
I was taken aback when suddenly she hugged me tightly. Her tear slid down her cheek into my shoulder. Her sobbing voice was all that echoed in my mind as her body felt like never letting go.
"I'm not scared of dying," she finally said. "I don't want to leave you."
I stayed quiet and listened. I did not know what to say. I could tell her that everyone dies, but that will only worsen what is already in her mind. I could say that I won't leave her until her last breath but that would only be accepting what is to come. Her fear will just embrace her more.
"I want to stay with you," she said. "To be with you always. I don't want to leave you. I don't want to lose you. Ever."
I embraced her tightly. And without thinking, I said:
"Let's die together."
She smiled and suddenly pushed me back. I chose the wrong words as her eyes seemed more scared.
"No! I can't have that," she said. "That's worse than me dying. And leaving you behind."
"We all die someday," I said. At that point, I stopped thinking and let my thoughts just come out my mind.
"Just remember me," she said. "Remember me always."
"I don't want to lose you as well," I told her.
"I don't want to lose you too but-" suddenly she paused. She just realized something. "We all die someday."
"I'll remember you, always." I told her as our lips kissed each other. "Always."
-/_ -
"It's alright. I'll stay with you till then."
I was taken aback when suddenly she hugged me tightly. Her tear slid down her cheek into my shoulder. Her sobbing voice was all that echoed in my mind as her body felt like never letting go.
"I'm not scared of dying," she finally said. "I don't want to leave you."
I stayed quiet and listened. I did not know what to say. I could tell her that everyone dies, but that will only worsen what is already in her mind. I could say that I won't leave her until her last breath but that would only be accepting what is to come. Her fear will just embrace her more.
"I want to stay with you," she said. "To be with you always. I don't want to leave you. I don't want to lose you. Ever."
I embraced her tightly. And without thinking, I said:
"Let's die together."
She smiled and suddenly pushed me back. I chose the wrong words as her eyes seemed more scared.
"No! I can't have that," she said. "That's worse than me dying. And leaving you behind."
"We all die someday," I said. At that point, I stopped thinking and let my thoughts just come out my mind.
"Just remember me," she said. "Remember me always."
"I don't want to lose you as well," I told her.
"I don't want to lose you too but-" suddenly she paused. She just realized something. "We all die someday."
"I'll remember you, always." I told her as our lips kissed each other. "Always."
-/_ -
Poetry #114
Someday I
will change.
If it
is for
the better,
would you
still stay
with me?
If it
is for
the worst,
will you
have faith
in me?
And if
I forget
about you,
about everything,
would you
remind me?
If someday
I'll change,
would you
remember me?
will change.
If it
is for
the better,
would you
still stay
with me?
If it
is for
the worst,
will you
have faith
in me?
And if
I forget
about you,
about everything,
would you
remind me?
If someday
I'll change,
would you
remember me?
Poetry #113
Still he
came back.
Clad in
battle wounds,
Drench in
blood of
his and
his enemies.
He came
back for
his comrades.
They called
him names,
a traitor,
a betrayer,
a liar.
Even so
He came
back to
save them.
He was
tired and
beaten but
there in
the horizon
Still ever
gleaming in
shine, bravery
and honor,
He came
back for
his friends.
But they
didn't knew.
They were
all blinded.
In the
back they
all stabbed
him without
any remorse.
came back.
Clad in
battle wounds,
Drench in
blood of
his and
his enemies.
He came
back for
his comrades.
They called
him names,
a traitor,
a betrayer,
a liar.
Even so
He came
back to
save them.
He was
tired and
beaten but
there in
the horizon
Still ever
gleaming in
shine, bravery
and honor,
He came
back for
his friends.
But they
didn't knew.
They were
all blinded.
In the
back they
all stabbed
him without
any remorse.
Poetry #112
And so
you have
chosen death.
You could
have lived
on more
But you
hereby granted
someone's selfishness.
You worth
more than
that, right?
But you've
already decided.
You love
her, right?
you have
chosen death.
You could
have lived
on more
But you
hereby granted
someone's selfishness.
You worth
more than
that, right?
But you've
already decided.
You love
her, right?
Should I have explained myself? 10/23/19
Somehow after I had a drink and a late night swim, I'm having a hard time writing. I guess my tolerance for alcohol after a few months of abstinence got weaker. The materials I'm into right now are mostly for adult and comedy. But fret not, I'll be watching soon those deeper ones as well.
As for my writing, my poetry somehow got boosted from 1 to 100+ in just three months. I know it's nothing much and the word count isn't something to be even proud of. As well as most are forced, poems I somehow tried hard to write irregardless of how I felt. It goes out of my principle.
Then again, perhaps that's the reason why I can't write much at the moment. I don't have any emotion to write. Or rather, my hand and finger just won't harmonize with my thought.
Perhaps it's the alcohol. I've been having a headache for a day or two after that night of drinking.
But damn I don't regret doing that. It would have been a waste spending an uneventful birthday.
-/_ -
Lately I've written short story clips. Must be what you'd call slices of life, if that's what it really meant. But I don't know, I somehow like writing those shorts. As for the poems, I'll continue writing them. Though the word count is not something to look up for, I do hope it's understandable and easy to read for those who doesn't like reading.
It's quite contradictory actually, writing something for those who doesn't read. Yes, that's my reason for writing that way.
I could go on romantic and say that those two words resembles tears falling from my two eyes. Even though that's how I should really feel. Especially those poems I've written inspired by the anime I was currently watching. To be honest, it feels therapeutic to me. Instead of going to tears, I'm writing something beautiful.
But whatever.
As for those dark posts, poems and shorts. I don't know why it just ended that way.
-/_ -
Should I have explained myself?
As for my writing, my poetry somehow got boosted from 1 to 100+ in just three months. I know it's nothing much and the word count isn't something to be even proud of. As well as most are forced, poems I somehow tried hard to write irregardless of how I felt. It goes out of my principle.
Then again, perhaps that's the reason why I can't write much at the moment. I don't have any emotion to write. Or rather, my hand and finger just won't harmonize with my thought.
Perhaps it's the alcohol. I've been having a headache for a day or two after that night of drinking.
But damn I don't regret doing that. It would have been a waste spending an uneventful birthday.
-/_ -
Lately I've written short story clips. Must be what you'd call slices of life, if that's what it really meant. But I don't know, I somehow like writing those shorts. As for the poems, I'll continue writing them. Though the word count is not something to look up for, I do hope it's understandable and easy to read for those who doesn't like reading.
It's quite contradictory actually, writing something for those who doesn't read. Yes, that's my reason for writing that way.
I could go on romantic and say that those two words resembles tears falling from my two eyes. Even though that's how I should really feel. Especially those poems I've written inspired by the anime I was currently watching. To be honest, it feels therapeutic to me. Instead of going to tears, I'm writing something beautiful.
But whatever.
As for those dark posts, poems and shorts. I don't know why it just ended that way.
-/_ -
Should I have explained myself?
Monday, October 21, 2019
The Captain's First Dilemma
"Even if the sky won't let you see the stars and it's beauty, know that there are something else or something better that will let you see the stars," the captain said. "But that is if you try to find them and if you're in love."
"Love?" the young man said. "What does it have to do with love?"
"Without love, we are nothing," the captain said phrasing from a book he learned from a far away time. "I can't be the captain if I have no love. I can only be just some silly sea dog if that's the case. I wouldn't want that."
"So you mean to say, captain, you're in love?" the young man asked. "Don't tell me you love me, captain?"
"Yes," the captain said. "I love you everyone of you in my ship. We're a big family here, right?"
"Not in a lover kind of way?" the young man asked.
The captain suddenly got annoyed and hit the young man on the hit. The captain immediately locked his head on his arm.
"I see all of you as my children," the captain said. "In case you're wondering, I'm in love with the most beautiful woman in the world. So if you're interested in me, I'm sorry to say that."
"I'm just kidding, captain," the young man laughed as he tapped on the captain's shoulder. He surrendered. The captain let go.
"Tell me, captain," the young man said. "Will I be able to see her again?"
The young man's tone suddenly changed.
"It will be you're decision," the captain said. "But if you can't wait any longer, would you like if we head there sooner?"
The young man's eyes widened.
"Are you sure?" the young man said. "Can we go there? When? Next week? Next month? So soon?"
"Sooner," the captain said as he smiled. "If you want, right now?"
The captain flicked his finger and soon after the two are no longer on the ship but on land. The young man looked around, felt dazzled of what just happened and was surprised. They were back on their first island.
"We're back?" the young man said.
"You wanted to come back, right?" the captain said. "You wanted to be with her, right? She's here."
The captain pointed out a house. It was her house. The house of his first love.
"She's waiting for your return ever since," the captain said. "Let's go and meet her."
The two walked to the door and knocked.
"After this, I'm relieving you of your position as first mate," the captain said. "The sea is not your home, my good friend. I am certain of it. But do promise me, you'll be happier from now on."
"You aren't giving me a choice, captain?" the young man asked.
"Is there reason to?" the captain said. "Deep down, I know you've been longing. You've changed since the time we first met. I'd say it'd be wrong to call you a young man any longer. Though you looked like it. But here I am, an old dog of the sea. Old and wrinkly."
"We don't look that too different, captain," said the young man.
"I guess so," the captain said.
The door opened and suddenly came out a woman. It was the young man's lover. She waited for him and now her longing was awarded. He hugged her tight.
"I'm no longer going to leave your side, ever," the young man said.
The couple went ahead inside while the captain suddenly stopped. The young man noticed only that they've left the captain outside upon making himself comfortable in his lover's house.
"Won't you come in, captain?"
The captain smiled.
"This is my last order to you, my good friend," the captain turned his back. "Forget about me."
The captain then flicked his finger and he started disappearing. That was his goodbye to his first mate.
-/_ -
But before he could have done, a girl rushed out of nowhere and joined the captain.
Upon returning to the ship, the captain realized a little girl have just joined him in his travel.
"Who are you?" the captain asked.
"Please let me stay with you," the girl said.
"Love?" the young man said. "What does it have to do with love?"
"Without love, we are nothing," the captain said phrasing from a book he learned from a far away time. "I can't be the captain if I have no love. I can only be just some silly sea dog if that's the case. I wouldn't want that."
"So you mean to say, captain, you're in love?" the young man asked. "Don't tell me you love me, captain?"
"Yes," the captain said. "I love you everyone of you in my ship. We're a big family here, right?"
"Not in a lover kind of way?" the young man asked.
The captain suddenly got annoyed and hit the young man on the hit. The captain immediately locked his head on his arm.
"I see all of you as my children," the captain said. "In case you're wondering, I'm in love with the most beautiful woman in the world. So if you're interested in me, I'm sorry to say that."
"I'm just kidding, captain," the young man laughed as he tapped on the captain's shoulder. He surrendered. The captain let go.
"Tell me, captain," the young man said. "Will I be able to see her again?"
The young man's tone suddenly changed.
"It will be you're decision," the captain said. "But if you can't wait any longer, would you like if we head there sooner?"
The young man's eyes widened.
"Are you sure?" the young man said. "Can we go there? When? Next week? Next month? So soon?"
"Sooner," the captain said as he smiled. "If you want, right now?"
The captain flicked his finger and soon after the two are no longer on the ship but on land. The young man looked around, felt dazzled of what just happened and was surprised. They were back on their first island.
"We're back?" the young man said.
"You wanted to come back, right?" the captain said. "You wanted to be with her, right? She's here."
The captain pointed out a house. It was her house. The house of his first love.
"She's waiting for your return ever since," the captain said. "Let's go and meet her."
The two walked to the door and knocked.
"After this, I'm relieving you of your position as first mate," the captain said. "The sea is not your home, my good friend. I am certain of it. But do promise me, you'll be happier from now on."
"You aren't giving me a choice, captain?" the young man asked.
"Is there reason to?" the captain said. "Deep down, I know you've been longing. You've changed since the time we first met. I'd say it'd be wrong to call you a young man any longer. Though you looked like it. But here I am, an old dog of the sea. Old and wrinkly."
"We don't look that too different, captain," said the young man.
"I guess so," the captain said.
The door opened and suddenly came out a woman. It was the young man's lover. She waited for him and now her longing was awarded. He hugged her tight.
"I'm no longer going to leave your side, ever," the young man said.
The couple went ahead inside while the captain suddenly stopped. The young man noticed only that they've left the captain outside upon making himself comfortable in his lover's house.
"Won't you come in, captain?"
The captain smiled.
"This is my last order to you, my good friend," the captain turned his back. "Forget about me."
The captain then flicked his finger and he started disappearing. That was his goodbye to his first mate.
-/_ -
But before he could have done, a girl rushed out of nowhere and joined the captain.
Upon returning to the ship, the captain realized a little girl have just joined him in his travel.
"Who are you?" the captain asked.
"Please let me stay with you," the girl said.
Poetry #111: Shadows and obsessions
And yet every time,
every single time,
that I find myself
once and more
time and time,
lost and wandering,
you always come
find me.
Even when there is
no more else to cling to,
you cling on to me.
You sometimes make me
wonder why.
Why me?
every single time,
that I find myself
once and more
time and time,
lost and wandering,
you always come
find me.
Even when there is
no more else to cling to,
you cling on to me.
You sometimes make me
wonder why.
Why me?
Poetry #110: Shadows and Dreams
Here I am
trying my damn
best to make you
of all the people
I met
to come find
and chase after.
It's only too
late to realize,
that it is I
who was chasing
after you.
trying my damn
best to make you
of all the people
I met
to come find
and chase after.
It's only too
late to realize,
that it is I
who was chasing
after you.
Poetry #109
"Don't worry,
I will
save you,"
the little
bird fluttered
here and
over there.
But the
man did
not know.
"Shoo! Shoo!
Get away!"
the man
said as
he bled.
His blood
caked body
was tired.
Even still
a little
bird was
bothering him.
"Please, let
me help,"
the little
bird chirped.
The man
waved his
bloodied arm
and hand.
It was
painful for
him but
he just
wanted peace.
Blood came
flinging everywhere.
The bird
got soaked.
"Don't move
around you'll
bleed more,"
the little
bird chirped.
But the
man never
understood it.
He kept
waving his
arm until
finally he
can nevermore.
I will
save you,"
the little
bird fluttered
here and
over there.
But the
man did
not know.
"Shoo! Shoo!
Get away!"
the man
said as
he bled.
His blood
caked body
was tired.
Even still
a little
bird was
bothering him.
"Please, let
me help,"
the little
bird chirped.
The man
waved his
bloodied arm
and hand.
It was
painful for
him but
he just
wanted peace.
Blood came
flinging everywhere.
The bird
got soaked.
"Don't move
around you'll
bleed more,"
the little
bird chirped.
But the
man never
understood it.
He kept
waving his
arm until
finally he
can nevermore.
Poetry #108
For the
sake of
love he
killed himself.
Was it
worth it?
He had
a bright
future ahead.
Now it's
all gone.
It's selfishness.
But he
wanted it.
He threw
everything away.
Because he
love her.
It's selfishness.
For the
sake of
love he
killed himself.
Sunday, October 20, 2019
Poetry #107
"After all
this time,
I came
back and
you still
welcomed me,"
said the
little bird
landing on
the child's
tiny palm.
"The hatchling
came back,"
said the
man carrying
his son.
The child
tried closing
his hand.
But the
little bird
was fast.
It flew
and on
the man's
stern shoulder
it landed.
"You seemed
to have
not changed,
dear friend,"
the little
bird chirped.
"Still as
beautiful as
you were,
little one,"
he replied.
The child
with his
empty palm
looked at
his father
and said:
"Do you
understand what
she say?"
The father
smiled at
his son
and said:
"I don't."
this time,
I came
back and
you still
welcomed me,"
said the
little bird
landing on
the child's
tiny palm.
"The hatchling
came back,"
said the
man carrying
his son.
The child
tried closing
his hand.
But the
little bird
was fast.
It flew
and on
the man's
stern shoulder
it landed.
"You seemed
to have
not changed,
dear friend,"
the little
bird chirped.
"Still as
beautiful as
you were,
little one,"
he replied.
The child
with his
empty palm
looked at
his father
and said:
"Do you
understand what
she say?"
The father
smiled at
his son
and said:
"I don't."
Poetry #106
The little bird once caged
soars high and freely
over the sky.
The smile on her eyes
shone brighter than
the span of your wings.
But even so,
there's no one
else in the sky.
No else but soulless
birds, the dead sun and
fleeting clouds.
And so the little bird came back.
The cage were rusted from here and there
but that's her home.
soars high and freely
over the sky.
The smile on her eyes
shone brighter than
the span of your wings.
But even so,
there's no one
else in the sky.
No else but soulless
birds, the dead sun and
fleeting clouds.
And so the little bird came back.
The cage were rusted from here and there
but that's her home.
Saturday, October 19, 2019
The traveler from a distant place
The traveler from a distant place looked up the night sky. The crescent moon smiled at the traveler.
"He'll get there," the moon said. "He may be tired but this travel is nothing compared to what awaits him. Though his heart may have endured the journey, I wonder about the end. Would he still smile with me each time he takes a breather from his long journey?"
"You gave yourself too much credit," the cloud told the moon. "He doesn't fancy you. He's more interested in the dreams he will have once he gets back. His back itches for bed, I can see it. As well his soles. They want rest. Badly."
"But the thing he carries," the stars said, "It's very important, right?"
"That is true," said the wind.
"Oh! Mayhaps that is what fancies him," the clouds said. "I wonder that's for him or for his lovers who awaits his return."
"How romantic," the stars said. "But-"
"You all have no foresight of this, am I right?" the moon said. "His heart will break once he gets home."
At the summit of a mountain by his town, the traveler stopped. He looked up the sky and smiled.
"I'm home, at last," the man said.
He failed to see, the lights he saw as festival in his town were actually fires from the raiders that are invading them.
"He'll get there," the moon said. "He may be tired but this travel is nothing compared to what awaits him. Though his heart may have endured the journey, I wonder about the end. Would he still smile with me each time he takes a breather from his long journey?"
"You gave yourself too much credit," the cloud told the moon. "He doesn't fancy you. He's more interested in the dreams he will have once he gets back. His back itches for bed, I can see it. As well his soles. They want rest. Badly."
"But the thing he carries," the stars said, "It's very important, right?"
"That is true," said the wind.
"Oh! Mayhaps that is what fancies him," the clouds said. "I wonder that's for him or for his lovers who awaits his return."
"How romantic," the stars said. "But-"
"You all have no foresight of this, am I right?" the moon said. "His heart will break once he gets home."
At the summit of a mountain by his town, the traveler stopped. He looked up the sky and smiled.
"I'm home, at last," the man said.
He failed to see, the lights he saw as festival in his town were actually fires from the raiders that are invading them.
I'm not crying
Suddenly tears came running down his face. He was grateful at that moment. But at the same time, flashes of himself revealed how pathetic he lead his life.
"Hey, why are you crying?" a little girl said.
"I'm not crying," the man said as he wiped and covered his eyes. He was embarrassed but thankful. All his hard work have been recognized. To that he was happy. But his memories of how he looked at himself, of how pathetic he was. It was what mixed in his own emotion.
I'm grateful, yet at the same time, regretful of how things turned out, the man thought.
"You're going to see them soon," the little girl said. "Family is what old men should think about when they die. They'd feel happier even in the face of death."
"Hey, why are you crying?" a little girl said.
"I'm not crying," the man said as he wiped and covered his eyes. He was embarrassed but thankful. All his hard work have been recognized. To that he was happy. But his memories of how he looked at himself, of how pathetic he was. It was what mixed in his own emotion.
I'm grateful, yet at the same time, regretful of how things turned out, the man thought.
"You're going to see them soon," the little girl said. "Family is what old men should think about when they die. They'd feel happier even in the face of death."
You're lying, right?
"You can't be serious?" the woman asked. "You're lying, right? Right?"
The man stabbed himself.
"Is that so," the man said and blood came gushing out his mouth. "I might have lied for a bit. But I don't think lying would get me out of this situation I am right now. Don't you think?
"But.. you promised," the woman was shaking. "You promised that we'd return together."
The man laughed. He have accepted his fate. More blood came out of his wound.
"Hey, tell me," the man said as he knelt to the ground. "Would the sky turn red if all the ocean in the world turn red? Or would the ocean and all water turn red if the sky turn red?"
The man laughed hysterically. Suddenly he stopped laughing as his life does. His body collapsed on the ground. The knife still sticking on his guts.
The man stabbed himself.
"Is that so," the man said and blood came gushing out his mouth. "I might have lied for a bit. But I don't think lying would get me out of this situation I am right now. Don't you think?
"But.. you promised," the woman was shaking. "You promised that we'd return together."
The man laughed. He have accepted his fate. More blood came out of his wound.
"Hey, tell me," the man said as he knelt to the ground. "Would the sky turn red if all the ocean in the world turn red? Or would the ocean and all water turn red if the sky turn red?"
The man laughed hysterically. Suddenly he stopped laughing as his life does. His body collapsed on the ground. The knife still sticking on his guts.
I can't be a hero
'I'm sorry, I can't be a hero,' that's all he wanted to say. And all of it should have been over. But he just couldn't. He let it dragged on matter just got worse and worse.
At first it was just a white lie, then incidents to accidents suddenly happened from one thing to another. Soon the man who can't be hero just have no choice but to be one.
He leaped through the glass pane of a building. He thought it would break. He thought that it would startle everyone inside. He thought he could defeat the villains. He thought he could free all the hostages. He thought he could save the princess.
But the glass pane didn't broke. It was made of carbon. Sturdier than common glass. He hurt his neck upon plunging through the glass pane. But it would have all been fine if not the place he was a bit too high for those who aren't heroes.
The man who can't be a hero died not becoming one.
At first it was just a white lie, then incidents to accidents suddenly happened from one thing to another. Soon the man who can't be hero just have no choice but to be one.
He leaped through the glass pane of a building. He thought it would break. He thought that it would startle everyone inside. He thought he could defeat the villains. He thought he could free all the hostages. He thought he could save the princess.
But the glass pane didn't broke. It was made of carbon. Sturdier than common glass. He hurt his neck upon plunging through the glass pane. But it would have all been fine if not the place he was a bit too high for those who aren't heroes.
The man who can't be a hero died not becoming one.
Scars
"So what happened to your scar?" the little girl asked. The man took off his hat. He had no scar on his forehead.
"It vanished, I guess," the boy answered. The boy then quickly fixed the sleeves of his shirt.
"So when did you got those scars?" the little girl asked as she pointed on the wrist of the boy. He was trying his best to hide them but the girl easily saw it.
"I guess, you found out," the boy said in a humorous manner. "I tried hiding the scar of my forehead."
"So you got scarred all over there?" the little girl asked.
"I guess so," the boy replied.
Soon after they changed the topic of their conversation. The boy felt relieved that he had lied to the little girl. But he was surprised when the girl suddenly asked.
"Did it hurt?" the little girl said while holding the wrist of the boy.
"It vanished, I guess," the boy answered. The boy then quickly fixed the sleeves of his shirt.
"So when did you got those scars?" the little girl asked as she pointed on the wrist of the boy. He was trying his best to hide them but the girl easily saw it.
"I guess, you found out," the boy said in a humorous manner. "I tried hiding the scar of my forehead."
"So you got scarred all over there?" the little girl asked.
"I guess so," the boy replied.
Soon after they changed the topic of their conversation. The boy felt relieved that he had lied to the little girl. But he was surprised when the girl suddenly asked.
"Did it hurt?" the little girl said while holding the wrist of the boy.
Lost Star
"Don't worry I'll find them," the boy who wore a mask bravely said.
"You'll find them? Are you sure?" doubted the girl who wore a smile.
"Yes, I'm sure of it. I'll find your star. Even if it would take me many sleepless nights. I will find it," the boy said as he handed her a handkerchief. "So please, do stop crying."
The boy held his pinky finger to the girl. The girl did the same. With their fingers intertwined, they promised each other. The boy left eager to find that lost star. The girl couldn't sleep a wink thinking about her star.
Next day came and time flew by fast. It was already night when the girl eventually noticed her star. It came back to her. But the boy never did. He was still looking for the lost star that have already returned.
-/_ -
"You'll find them? Are you sure?" doubted the girl who wore a smile.
"Yes, I'm sure of it. I'll find your star. Even if it would take me many sleepless nights. I will find it," the boy said as he handed her a handkerchief. "So please, do stop crying."
The boy held his pinky finger to the girl. The girl did the same. With their fingers intertwined, they promised each other. The boy left eager to find that lost star. The girl couldn't sleep a wink thinking about her star.
Next day came and time flew by fast. It was already night when the girl eventually noticed her star. It came back to her. But the boy never did. He was still looking for the lost star that have already returned.
-/_ -
Friday, October 18, 2019
Poetry #105
Soon after
memories come
flashing back
With sweet
words, "Come
find me."
Yet no
matter how
one tries.
They were
ever elusive.
At times
at the
tip of
our tongue,
A certain
lyrical tune.
A sweet
scented perfume.
A vague
passing silhouette.
Those enticing
fleeting moments,
we can
only have
pictures of.
memories come
flashing back
With sweet
words, "Come
find me."
Yet no
matter how
one tries.
They were
ever elusive.
At times
at the
tip of
our tongue,
A certain
lyrical tune.
A sweet
scented perfume.
A vague
passing silhouette.
Those enticing
fleeting moments,
we can
only have
pictures of.
The Cartographer's Dilemma
"What do you mean you hate them?" the first mate asked.
The bar was well lit as well noisy. There was not a party to be held and yet the crew and the patron are having enjoying their moment. They were at that moment blissful. If only it would last for a few more hours or so, most of the drunkard thoughts. They were leaving tomorrow.
The first mate was talking to the cartographer of another ship. She was beautiful and dedicated but was unhappy. She loved her crew but felt no love from them. She sailed with her crew to further seas and yet she finds herself alone in their ship.
"I get that you don't get along too well with everyone, well since you like our own do get stuck mostly in his room trying to make maps. When they do go out it was just for a bit, to look at the sky for the weather as well the sea and further seas. None else. They scarcely interact with others. You're like that, right?"
"I'm not like that. I keep my work and myself in check. I do not go shutting myself from my peers. In fact I do like talking with others," the cartographer from another ship said. "It's just that, I feel unneeded. I feel like they don't like talking to me."
"Is that so?" the first mate asked. "I like talking to you right now."
The first mate smiled.
"I don't feel the same way as you do. We just met you know," the cartographer misunderstood.
"You seemed to have misunderstood me, miss cartographer," the first mate said. "Though I've fallen in love quite a few thousand times, I'd say I still have my own way of falling in. Just so you know, I'm well aware of our age, even if I find you attractive, I won't go so far as to have my feelings for you reciprocated."
The cartographer blushed. She drank her booze in one chug. She must've been drunk, the first mate said.
"I'm not interested, sorry to tell you, miss cartographer," the first mate said. "Though I do like talking. And talking with a stranger is quite a bit a refresher. It's all to new to me. I feel both at ease and nervous. I guess, this is the first time I've talked with someone over peaceful and silly chats with strangers. Other than prisoners and combatants from another sails."
"You don't look too old to me," the cartographer said.
"Well, you don't look too old to me to be drinking, miss cartographer," the first mate said. "But enough about that. I think I know why you hate your crew."
"I just told you that," the cartographer said. "They don't like me."
"Are you sure about that?" the first mate said. "Or rather, miss cartographer, they find themselves nervous talking to a beautiful lady among their crew, am I right?"
"That can't be, we have beautiful women in our ship," the cartographer said. "They're beautiful and more elegant compared to mine, so that can't possibly be true."
"Perhaps they think otherwise?"
The cartographer blushed. She was not too old and topics of conversation such as her beauty would turn her face red. She was nervous and embarrassed. Was I popular, she thought to herself.
"It seems you're popular among your crew," the first mate said. "Have a little bit of faith and confidence in yourself. Sometimes it help young people, you know?"
The cartographer suddenly got flustered. He was lecturing her and to her he was mocking her.
"You're not that old," the cartographer from another ship said.
The first mate laughed it off.
"My apologize if I sounded like an old geezer to you," the first mate said. "Though I am actually an old geezer."
"You don't look that old," the cartographer once said. "If I could, I'd take you with me in our ship."
The first mate once more laughed it off. The alcohol was making her lose her mind, the first mate thought. And so the first mate stayed silent. He knew nothing what to say from that point.
The bar continued with their noises and party spirit. Everyone was about joyous and happy. A total contradiction to the two sitting in the corner. The first mate silently drank his rum. The cartographer blushed as she sipped her own drink. From out outside perspective, it was a couple who just had a quarrel with each other.
"Hey!" the cartographer finally spoke. Her breath smelled of alcohol. She definitely was drunk at the point.
The first mate tried to call out on the bar master to assist the cartographer. He had no business with them. And them being acquaintance obliged him to the very least help her back to her group.
But the drunk cartographer suddenly stopped her.
"Don't ignore me!" the cartographer suddenly said. "Why are you giving me the silent treatment?"
The first mate glanced at her. His face was different from when they were talking. He wasn't drunk as she was. He wasn't the same as he was talking to her. He was mad at that moment.
"It's my mistake to unfaithfully understand you," the first mate said. His voice have changed. He was older, way older than he was a while ago. "I never thought I'd be making someone interested to me, I might have failed doing that. Or rather, I might have became too comfortable talking to others without realizing something. It was a mistake on my part.
"My apologize if I suddenly stayed quiet. I do not want to proceed the conversation we are having any further. You have already found your resolution and yet your continued queries were beyond my speculation."
"What?" the cartographer suddenly spoke. "You.. you sounded differently. Who are you?"
"We just met, and I made you feel comfortable with me," the first mate said. "Even now, you do not know of my name."
"No, seriously," the cartographer said. "What happened to the person I was talking to earlier?"
"You've been talking with me the whole time, miss cartographer," the first made said as he drank his rum in one gulped. "Would you like to carry one with our conversation earlier? I promise you I won't call the bar master nor your crew to end our little moment."
"You're scaring me," the cartographer tried to stand up but found herself unable to. She tried turning around but she couldn't. She tried waving her hand but it felt stiff. She was at the moment frozen in place. And only did she realized everyone wasn't moving. Time have suddenly stopped. "Who... who are you?"
"What would you do to me if I come with you to you ship, miss cartographer?"
"No... no.. I don't know."
The first mate stood up and went beside the cartographer.
"What.. what's going on? Please.. Please... no! Stop!! I.. I'm sorry, I don't know. I don't know. Please don't. Please don't hurt me."
The first mate backed away. Tears were falling off the cartographer's eye. She was crying. What has he been doing? He didn't mean to make her cry. He was just trying to make her realize her mistake of playing with him. Was she toying with him, in the first place? But either way, he was wrong.
The first mate flicked his finger.
"Hey! Don't ignore me," the cartographer said. He was back in his place, in front of her. "Hey! Hey!"
The first mate laughed and held his mug.
"Would you mind giving me a toast?" the first mate said.
"A toast? Why? What for?"
"To everyone you hate and to everyone that hates you," the first mate said. The cartographer laughed.
"Everyone," the first mate shouted. "cheers."
The bar heard his call and everyone went on. The bar was even more alive and noisy than it was before. The two couldn't keep their conversation as quiet as possible.
The cartographer shouted for attention from the first mate but he ignored it. The noise masked him. But the cartographer didn't gave up. She stood up and dragged the first mate outside. Everyone was laughing and drinking as hard at that point. The people in the bar paid no attention to the two.
The cartographer successfully took the first mate out of the bar.
"You're ignoring me!" the cartographer from another ship now drunk acted like a little child. "You hate me, don't you?"
The first mate smiled.
"My apologize, I don't know how to- " the cartographer suddenly kissed the first mate. It was for a moment but it felt an eternity for the cartographer.
The first mate pushed her back.
"Hey, what gives?" the first mate asked.
"You don't like it?" the cartographer said. "You hate me, don't you? You don't find me attractive, don't you? That's the reason why I hate all of them. They all don't like me."
The cartographer was about ready to cry when the first mate went and gave her a hug. He wanted to calm her.
"Why? You don't like me, right? No one does."
"Don't cry, little miss."
The cartographer suddenly woke up. What was she doing?
"If you can't change the way you feel about them, at least make them change the way the feel about you," the first mate said. "Make them grateful that they have met you."
"They aren't grateful about me," the cartographer said. "They hate me. They don't like me."
"Make them feel grateful towards you. Maybe that will change your mind about them."
"How?"
"That's for you to answer, miss cartographer," the first mate said. He kissed her forehead and soon after a blinding light enveloped them both.
The cartographer was once more back in the bar. The first mate stood up from his seat and started to leave.
"Just don't over do it," the first mate told the cartographer as soon as he joined the crowd.
Was it all just a dream, the cartographer thought.
The bar was well lit as well noisy. There was not a party to be held and yet the crew and the patron are having enjoying their moment. They were at that moment blissful. If only it would last for a few more hours or so, most of the drunkard thoughts. They were leaving tomorrow.
The first mate was talking to the cartographer of another ship. She was beautiful and dedicated but was unhappy. She loved her crew but felt no love from them. She sailed with her crew to further seas and yet she finds herself alone in their ship.
"I get that you don't get along too well with everyone, well since you like our own do get stuck mostly in his room trying to make maps. When they do go out it was just for a bit, to look at the sky for the weather as well the sea and further seas. None else. They scarcely interact with others. You're like that, right?"
"I'm not like that. I keep my work and myself in check. I do not go shutting myself from my peers. In fact I do like talking with others," the cartographer from another ship said. "It's just that, I feel unneeded. I feel like they don't like talking to me."
"Is that so?" the first mate asked. "I like talking to you right now."
The first mate smiled.
"I don't feel the same way as you do. We just met you know," the cartographer misunderstood.
"You seemed to have misunderstood me, miss cartographer," the first mate said. "Though I've fallen in love quite a few thousand times, I'd say I still have my own way of falling in. Just so you know, I'm well aware of our age, even if I find you attractive, I won't go so far as to have my feelings for you reciprocated."
The cartographer blushed. She drank her booze in one chug. She must've been drunk, the first mate said.
"I'm not interested, sorry to tell you, miss cartographer," the first mate said. "Though I do like talking. And talking with a stranger is quite a bit a refresher. It's all to new to me. I feel both at ease and nervous. I guess, this is the first time I've talked with someone over peaceful and silly chats with strangers. Other than prisoners and combatants from another sails."
"You don't look too old to me," the cartographer said.
"Well, you don't look too old to me to be drinking, miss cartographer," the first mate said. "But enough about that. I think I know why you hate your crew."
"I just told you that," the cartographer said. "They don't like me."
"Are you sure about that?" the first mate said. "Or rather, miss cartographer, they find themselves nervous talking to a beautiful lady among their crew, am I right?"
"That can't be, we have beautiful women in our ship," the cartographer said. "They're beautiful and more elegant compared to mine, so that can't possibly be true."
"Perhaps they think otherwise?"
The cartographer blushed. She was not too old and topics of conversation such as her beauty would turn her face red. She was nervous and embarrassed. Was I popular, she thought to herself.
"It seems you're popular among your crew," the first mate said. "Have a little bit of faith and confidence in yourself. Sometimes it help young people, you know?"
The cartographer suddenly got flustered. He was lecturing her and to her he was mocking her.
"You're not that old," the cartographer from another ship said.
The first mate laughed it off.
"My apologize if I sounded like an old geezer to you," the first mate said. "Though I am actually an old geezer."
"You don't look that old," the cartographer once said. "If I could, I'd take you with me in our ship."
The first mate once more laughed it off. The alcohol was making her lose her mind, the first mate thought. And so the first mate stayed silent. He knew nothing what to say from that point.
The bar continued with their noises and party spirit. Everyone was about joyous and happy. A total contradiction to the two sitting in the corner. The first mate silently drank his rum. The cartographer blushed as she sipped her own drink. From out outside perspective, it was a couple who just had a quarrel with each other.
"Hey!" the cartographer finally spoke. Her breath smelled of alcohol. She definitely was drunk at the point.
The first mate tried to call out on the bar master to assist the cartographer. He had no business with them. And them being acquaintance obliged him to the very least help her back to her group.
But the drunk cartographer suddenly stopped her.
"Don't ignore me!" the cartographer suddenly said. "Why are you giving me the silent treatment?"
The first mate glanced at her. His face was different from when they were talking. He wasn't drunk as she was. He wasn't the same as he was talking to her. He was mad at that moment.
"It's my mistake to unfaithfully understand you," the first mate said. His voice have changed. He was older, way older than he was a while ago. "I never thought I'd be making someone interested to me, I might have failed doing that. Or rather, I might have became too comfortable talking to others without realizing something. It was a mistake on my part.
"My apologize if I suddenly stayed quiet. I do not want to proceed the conversation we are having any further. You have already found your resolution and yet your continued queries were beyond my speculation."
"What?" the cartographer suddenly spoke. "You.. you sounded differently. Who are you?"
"We just met, and I made you feel comfortable with me," the first mate said. "Even now, you do not know of my name."
"No, seriously," the cartographer said. "What happened to the person I was talking to earlier?"
"You've been talking with me the whole time, miss cartographer," the first made said as he drank his rum in one gulped. "Would you like to carry one with our conversation earlier? I promise you I won't call the bar master nor your crew to end our little moment."
"You're scaring me," the cartographer tried to stand up but found herself unable to. She tried turning around but she couldn't. She tried waving her hand but it felt stiff. She was at the moment frozen in place. And only did she realized everyone wasn't moving. Time have suddenly stopped. "Who... who are you?"
"What would you do to me if I come with you to you ship, miss cartographer?"
"No... no.. I don't know."
The first mate stood up and went beside the cartographer.
"What.. what's going on? Please.. Please... no! Stop!! I.. I'm sorry, I don't know. I don't know. Please don't. Please don't hurt me."
The first mate backed away. Tears were falling off the cartographer's eye. She was crying. What has he been doing? He didn't mean to make her cry. He was just trying to make her realize her mistake of playing with him. Was she toying with him, in the first place? But either way, he was wrong.
The first mate flicked his finger.
"Hey! Don't ignore me," the cartographer said. He was back in his place, in front of her. "Hey! Hey!"
The first mate laughed and held his mug.
"Would you mind giving me a toast?" the first mate said.
"A toast? Why? What for?"
"To everyone you hate and to everyone that hates you," the first mate said. The cartographer laughed.
"Everyone," the first mate shouted. "cheers."
The bar heard his call and everyone went on. The bar was even more alive and noisy than it was before. The two couldn't keep their conversation as quiet as possible.
The cartographer shouted for attention from the first mate but he ignored it. The noise masked him. But the cartographer didn't gave up. She stood up and dragged the first mate outside. Everyone was laughing and drinking as hard at that point. The people in the bar paid no attention to the two.
The cartographer successfully took the first mate out of the bar.
"You're ignoring me!" the cartographer from another ship now drunk acted like a little child. "You hate me, don't you?"
The first mate smiled.
"My apologize, I don't know how to- " the cartographer suddenly kissed the first mate. It was for a moment but it felt an eternity for the cartographer.
The first mate pushed her back.
"Hey, what gives?" the first mate asked.
"You don't like it?" the cartographer said. "You hate me, don't you? You don't find me attractive, don't you? That's the reason why I hate all of them. They all don't like me."
The cartographer was about ready to cry when the first mate went and gave her a hug. He wanted to calm her.
"Why? You don't like me, right? No one does."
"Don't cry, little miss."
The cartographer suddenly woke up. What was she doing?
"If you can't change the way you feel about them, at least make them change the way the feel about you," the first mate said. "Make them grateful that they have met you."
"They aren't grateful about me," the cartographer said. "They hate me. They don't like me."
"Make them feel grateful towards you. Maybe that will change your mind about them."
"How?"
"That's for you to answer, miss cartographer," the first mate said. He kissed her forehead and soon after a blinding light enveloped them both.
The cartographer was once more back in the bar. The first mate stood up from his seat and started to leave.
"Just don't over do it," the first mate told the cartographer as soon as he joined the crowd.
Was it all just a dream, the cartographer thought.
Thursday, October 17, 2019
Poetry #104
What if
it was
all just
a lie?
Her stay
with you.
Her feelings
for you.
Her love
for everything
that's you.
A lie.
None of
it were
actually true.
You have
been fooled.
Right from
the start.
it was
all just
a lie?
Her stay
with you.
Her feelings
for you.
Her love
for everything
that's you.
A lie.
None of
it were
actually true.
You have
been fooled.
Right from
the start.
The firefly and the bug catcher
"I won't experience any of this," said the firefly. "So just for this few moments of watching the world. Let me just feel envious. Let me feel emphatic to how each person in the scene feels. It's just my silly little delusion. But would you at least let me?"
The bug catcher stood his ground. The elusive on its corner asking not for plea but just mere moment.
"I love seeing lovely scene such as these. Fireworks festival, lovers in their first date under the moonlit sky, first kiss of two friends, lies and smiles of destined couples, a lonely singing bard, a drunkard trying his best to get back home, a traveler reminded of his first love on his distant travels, and many more.
"I just wish moments like this would just stay on forever. I know it will be in my memory, but just this once, let me savor it more. Let me see it thoroughly. I know I shouldn't understand any of them but here I am minding other's story.
"I'm an eavesdropper. Sometimes a nuisance. I know. But please let me see it more," the firefly asked.
"You're playing with me, right?" the bug catcher asked. "You can't possibly-"
The firefly was crying.
The bug catcher laid down his net and, with the firefly, watched the scenery.
The bug catcher stood his ground. The elusive on its corner asking not for plea but just mere moment.
"I love seeing lovely scene such as these. Fireworks festival, lovers in their first date under the moonlit sky, first kiss of two friends, lies and smiles of destined couples, a lonely singing bard, a drunkard trying his best to get back home, a traveler reminded of his first love on his distant travels, and many more.
"I just wish moments like this would just stay on forever. I know it will be in my memory, but just this once, let me savor it more. Let me see it thoroughly. I know I shouldn't understand any of them but here I am minding other's story.
"I'm an eavesdropper. Sometimes a nuisance. I know. But please let me see it more," the firefly asked.
"You're playing with me, right?" the bug catcher asked. "You can't possibly-"
The firefly was crying.
The bug catcher laid down his net and, with the firefly, watched the scenery.
The firefly and the chained figure
"Why are you still here?" the firefly asked. The figure, chained from the neck, limbs and fingers, stayed silent.
The room was dark lit. Only certain corners can be seen. A few here and there tools for various niceties can be formed but all too vague to be understood their use. Only the firefly knew where and what he was looking at. He was somewhere no one should ever be but to the those who had the greatest faith and the greatest dreams.
"You know you had it all," the firefly continued. "You basked in the light too much and yet the light cared for you. But you wanted more, right? And so you tried taking it away. Soon after here you are, the world you carry on your shoulder. A burden too heavy for your desire. You have the world on your shoulder. But that's just an understatement. The world, you caught it in your hand. You're not carrying the world, you're holding onto it. On your palm. You caught it.
"But here you are. You are beyond pathetic, you know that. Though both beautiful and romantic at the same time. I know your story. The world doesn't believe it. Some few do but the many dispel it. They tell that it was all a lie. But here I am a witness to all of it. Here you are and how you are right now. The certain proof that none of it were lies. Your stories kept hidden and well forgotten.
"I just wish the world knew more about you."
The chains weighing the figure down suddenly rattle. He was moving but not much.
"Speak! I'll listen to your stories. Sing! I'll hear your song! Just do whatever you want to do but keep lying their. Lying to the world about who you really are," the firefly said "You know, I want to weep for you and yet your actions are holding my tears back. Is this your ploy? Is this what you wanted? You wanted to be hated? You wanted to burden yourself with all of it? You're a martyr! A pathetic martyr!
"You know what makes me hate you more. The lie you gave to the world. You deceived everyone. I for one who knows the truth resent you more. As for the rest who adored and worship you, they turn a blind on this deception. But not for me. You made yourself hated.
"You carried it all on your hand. As if it was nothing," the firefly decided to leave.
Suddenly the rattling of the chains came back but a feint laughter can be heard. The figure was laughing.
"You are terrible," the firefly said as he left.
The room was dark lit. Only certain corners can be seen. A few here and there tools for various niceties can be formed but all too vague to be understood their use. Only the firefly knew where and what he was looking at. He was somewhere no one should ever be but to the those who had the greatest faith and the greatest dreams.
"You know you had it all," the firefly continued. "You basked in the light too much and yet the light cared for you. But you wanted more, right? And so you tried taking it away. Soon after here you are, the world you carry on your shoulder. A burden too heavy for your desire. You have the world on your shoulder. But that's just an understatement. The world, you caught it in your hand. You're not carrying the world, you're holding onto it. On your palm. You caught it.
"But here you are. You are beyond pathetic, you know that. Though both beautiful and romantic at the same time. I know your story. The world doesn't believe it. Some few do but the many dispel it. They tell that it was all a lie. But here I am a witness to all of it. Here you are and how you are right now. The certain proof that none of it were lies. Your stories kept hidden and well forgotten.
"I just wish the world knew more about you."
The chains weighing the figure down suddenly rattle. He was moving but not much.
"Speak! I'll listen to your stories. Sing! I'll hear your song! Just do whatever you want to do but keep lying their. Lying to the world about who you really are," the firefly said "You know, I want to weep for you and yet your actions are holding my tears back. Is this your ploy? Is this what you wanted? You wanted to be hated? You wanted to burden yourself with all of it? You're a martyr! A pathetic martyr!
"You know what makes me hate you more. The lie you gave to the world. You deceived everyone. I for one who knows the truth resent you more. As for the rest who adored and worship you, they turn a blind on this deception. But not for me. You made yourself hated.
"You carried it all on your hand. As if it was nothing," the firefly decided to leave.
Suddenly the rattling of the chains came back but a feint laughter can be heard. The figure was laughing.
"You are terrible," the firefly said as he left.
The sad clown
The clown sat on the pedestal. After the show he was lonely like he always do. The lions and elephants were back to their cages and tents. The jugglers, magicians and the beast tamers where either drinking away their time and restlessly sleeping. The manager, though often times walking here and there, was always in his own trailer. Most likely counting the profit and pay as well the taxes and expenses.
All of them were busy in their own world. So do the clown who quietly sat on the pedestal.
In middle of the stage and on top of his little pedestal, the clown both cried and laughed. He was thinking of the many events that have happened both in the busy evenings as well the years that have passed by.
His hair and eye were turning grey. Often time does his body would just want to lay die and sleep. His only drive was to see another day of people laughing. He wanted to bring joy to the people around him and everyone around the world. That was all.
But it all became a routine. Sometime like a burden and no more something to look forward to. He lost his desire to keep on a while back. And it was too late for him to have realized that.
He desires to make the world happy no more. What saddens him was that it was his dream and now he no longer wants it.
"Have I been living my dream far too long that it was too late to realized that my dreams were all to trivial, superficial and meaningless? What should have I dream of to satiate my desire? I wanted to make the world happy, I wanted to make it smile. But after living such a quite a long time, I found it to be useless.
"Not something worth to lived for. I made a mistake," the clown said as tears started to fall of his cheeks. The maskara on his face are changing. The clown looked more hideous as his face paint gradually wore off. He looked ugly. Yet he doesn't care. He was sad. His dream was ugly. That was what he cared for at that moment.
He doesn't want it to be ugly. But at that moment, it does seemed to him.
"It's all too late now for me to change path. I'll live and die as a pathetic and useless clown. Nothing more.
"I regret being a clown," he said as he wiped off completely his maskara. Revealing someone else beautiful.
All of them were busy in their own world. So do the clown who quietly sat on the pedestal.
In middle of the stage and on top of his little pedestal, the clown both cried and laughed. He was thinking of the many events that have happened both in the busy evenings as well the years that have passed by.
His hair and eye were turning grey. Often time does his body would just want to lay die and sleep. His only drive was to see another day of people laughing. He wanted to bring joy to the people around him and everyone around the world. That was all.
But it all became a routine. Sometime like a burden and no more something to look forward to. He lost his desire to keep on a while back. And it was too late for him to have realized that.
He desires to make the world happy no more. What saddens him was that it was his dream and now he no longer wants it.
"Have I been living my dream far too long that it was too late to realized that my dreams were all to trivial, superficial and meaningless? What should have I dream of to satiate my desire? I wanted to make the world happy, I wanted to make it smile. But after living such a quite a long time, I found it to be useless.
"Not something worth to lived for. I made a mistake," the clown said as tears started to fall of his cheeks. The maskara on his face are changing. The clown looked more hideous as his face paint gradually wore off. He looked ugly. Yet he doesn't care. He was sad. His dream was ugly. That was what he cared for at that moment.
He doesn't want it to be ugly. But at that moment, it does seemed to him.
"It's all too late now for me to change path. I'll live and die as a pathetic and useless clown. Nothing more.
"I regret being a clown," he said as he wiped off completely his maskara. Revealing someone else beautiful.
Wednesday, October 16, 2019
The Firefly's story in the Camp
"Will I still remember you, when I wake up?" the tired young man asked. "We've come so far and yet I seemed to have forgotten your name as well mine. Why are we going there again? Where are were we going?"
The mountain they were climbing was steep and rocky. The young man's feet were hurting. The sun ever daring looked down on the weary travelers. The firefly smiled on the young man.
"I'll remind you once we get there," the firefly said.
The sun was setting once they reached the summit. Fresh wind blew from the east. It was time for dinner. The young man set camp as the firefly continued on to float beside him.
"Would you mind telling me a story while we set camp?" the young man asked. "The atmosphere might be serene and all but a bit too much quiet is different. Beside, stories makes one have dreams. We're staying here for the night, right?"
"Very well," the firefly said. "But I doubt I'd remember to remind you about this story once you wake up. Forgive me if I can't make you remember this silly story I'm about to tell."
The young man smiled as we fetched for woods for fire.
There once was a young man who yearned for poetry. But all he couldn't rhyme his words. He hates writing more words. He hates words.
"But why poetry if he hates words?" the young man interrupted.
It was all that he's good at. He's not a smart child. He's not that strong too. And so the only thing he could lift for long were a pen. He like drawing as well but he's not good at it. And so he settled for writing. At first he wrote letters and paragraphs but all of it were far too complicated and lengthy. But he kept on since that's what he's only good at and nothing more.
One day, he read of poetry. Verses and lines that hides meaning into each words. Some are more vivid and pronounced. While most are lyrical and rhyming. But all of them tells of dreams. And so for poetry he yearned.
But he wasn't really good at it. Whenever he try his best, he couldn't write anything. His diction as well his words weren't as formed. He had little knowledge of words.
"Still he yearned for poetry?" the young man was done with the woods and now he was looking for water.
It was all that he was good at. He wasn't good at rhyming as well meters, syllables and whatever rules in poetry there is. But still he yearned for poetry.
He wrote and wrote until one day he realized:
"Maybe poetry isn't for me."
And so he stopped writing and started doing something else.
"So he quit?" the young man asked.
Without knowledge of anything else he went and did the routine and trivialities of others. It was basic necessity after all. And so he learned here and there, but to sum it all, things just far too few. He wasn't happy at first but as time went by he grew used to it. Soon after his yearning for poetry have suddenly vanished.
He had let go of his pen. He accepted that he will write no more.
"So he actually quit?" the young man was now setting up the tent. The soup he had just cooked was about ready.
The firefly became quiet as the young man continued with his evening activities. By then young man forgot about the story as well the firefly that was with him. He ate his dinner and soon after put out the fire to go to sleep. The sky was cloudless that night and so the stars were watching over him so do the firefly. But the young man paid no heed.
The young man forgot. As for the firefly, he just stayed silent.
The mountain they were climbing was steep and rocky. The young man's feet were hurting. The sun ever daring looked down on the weary travelers. The firefly smiled on the young man.
"I'll remind you once we get there," the firefly said.
The sun was setting once they reached the summit. Fresh wind blew from the east. It was time for dinner. The young man set camp as the firefly continued on to float beside him.
"Would you mind telling me a story while we set camp?" the young man asked. "The atmosphere might be serene and all but a bit too much quiet is different. Beside, stories makes one have dreams. We're staying here for the night, right?"
"Very well," the firefly said. "But I doubt I'd remember to remind you about this story once you wake up. Forgive me if I can't make you remember this silly story I'm about to tell."
The young man smiled as we fetched for woods for fire.
There once was a young man who yearned for poetry. But all he couldn't rhyme his words. He hates writing more words. He hates words.
"But why poetry if he hates words?" the young man interrupted.
It was all that he's good at. He's not a smart child. He's not that strong too. And so the only thing he could lift for long were a pen. He like drawing as well but he's not good at it. And so he settled for writing. At first he wrote letters and paragraphs but all of it were far too complicated and lengthy. But he kept on since that's what he's only good at and nothing more.
One day, he read of poetry. Verses and lines that hides meaning into each words. Some are more vivid and pronounced. While most are lyrical and rhyming. But all of them tells of dreams. And so for poetry he yearned.
But he wasn't really good at it. Whenever he try his best, he couldn't write anything. His diction as well his words weren't as formed. He had little knowledge of words.
"Still he yearned for poetry?" the young man was done with the woods and now he was looking for water.
It was all that he was good at. He wasn't good at rhyming as well meters, syllables and whatever rules in poetry there is. But still he yearned for poetry.
He wrote and wrote until one day he realized:
"Maybe poetry isn't for me."
And so he stopped writing and started doing something else.
"So he quit?" the young man asked.
Without knowledge of anything else he went and did the routine and trivialities of others. It was basic necessity after all. And so he learned here and there, but to sum it all, things just far too few. He wasn't happy at first but as time went by he grew used to it. Soon after his yearning for poetry have suddenly vanished.
He had let go of his pen. He accepted that he will write no more.
"So he actually quit?" the young man was now setting up the tent. The soup he had just cooked was about ready.
The firefly became quiet as the young man continued with his evening activities. By then young man forgot about the story as well the firefly that was with him. He ate his dinner and soon after put out the fire to go to sleep. The sky was cloudless that night and so the stars were watching over him so do the firefly. But the young man paid no heed.
The young man forgot. As for the firefly, he just stayed silent.
Poetry #103
Would you
remind me
If ever
I forget
my name;
your name;
our promises;
our lies;
our little
over the
top adventures;
our misadventures;
our first
time kissing
each other;
our first
silly fight;
the night
sky we
saw with
no clouds;
the day
we made
our vow;
the house
we call
our home;
the street
we walked
home to;
the moments
I say:
I'm going;
the moments
you say:
welcome home;
the first
time we
said hello;
the last
time we
said goodbye;
the day
we won't
leave each
other's side;
and the
time we
drifted apart.
Would you
remind me
of everything
if ever
I forgot
or if
I just
want to
remember all
of it.
remind me
If ever
I forget
my name;
your name;
our promises;
our lies;
our little
over the
top adventures;
our misadventures;
our first
time kissing
each other;
our first
silly fight;
the night
sky we
saw with
no clouds;
the day
we made
our vow;
the house
we call
our home;
the street
we walked
home to;
the moments
I say:
I'm going;
the moments
you say:
welcome home;
the first
time we
said hello;
the last
time we
said goodbye;
the day
we won't
leave each
other's side;
and the
time we
drifted apart.
Would you
remind me
of everything
if ever
I forgot
or if
I just
want to
remember all
of it.
The Painter and the Corpse
"Should I color the moon blue? Or should I make the sky darker?" the painter asked. "I know you like starry nights. But somehow, this is just the best I could do. I'm no great painter like the myths. I can't paint or create picture as great as theirs. But I promise you, I'd do my best to your desires."
The dead body kept staring with its empty eye sockets. She wore a red dress. Her sunday hat as beautiful as a queen's crown. The earring and necklace she wore were brilliantly clad in precious jewels. If not for the fact she's a corpse rotting, she was beautiful.
"Do you remember the first night we met? It was a rainy evening. We were running away from the rain and that's when we met under a gently tree. It was the most uncommon thing. A tree in the city? But perhaps that's what made it more beautiful. We were destined to meet there. It's romantic if you think about it, right? Not some waiting shed or some night stalls but under a tree.
"I was hesitant at first when you talked to me. I never liked talking to strangers and yet your words as well your voice lead me on. You guide me to be courageous. And that's why I spoke to you. You asked me what time was it and as young I was I lied to you. I didn't have a watch. And you immediately pointed out what's on my wrist.
"I was embarrassed by it but you laughed it off and took my hand. Your hands were warm. It played it unison with the weather that night. You know, it was raining and it was cold. Somehow, you there was keeping me warm. You somehow made me at ease. And your gentle touch, all too comfortable. I laughed and apologized for lying.
"You smiled as you let go. Suddenly, it became quiet. I thought my lie had killed the connection. Was there any connection at all, was what was running in my mind. And then you told me your name. I smiled and told you mine.
"You told me you lived far away from your work. Odd enough, we lived close by each other.
"You laughed, smiled once more and said that it was all too surreal to be a coincidence, you couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe it either. Then you suggested we go home together. I didn't mind at all and agreed. Once more you held my hands and told me you're happy.
"Were you lonely then? I wanted to ask you that. But suddenly an arm appeared on your shoulder. You smiled and turned. It was your abusive boyfriend. I knew already he was abusive as your smile was all too forced. After a moment it died away. You weren't happy with him.
"I wanted to save you but who was I anyway? A stranger you just met, all we know is nothing more but each other's name and where we lived, nothing else. All my idea were just speculation from all the stories and tell-tales I've read. I know nothing else about you. Except your smile. Your smile was.. real and honest. Beautiful. And when you smiled for your beloved, you're lying. It wasn't beautiful at least. It was ugly.
"It's not the real you," the man looked back on his painting. He wasn't satisfied. There was something wrong with the stars. The starry sky was not as beautiful as he'd preferred it to be. And so he threw it on the ground. "It's not perfect. I'll make another one."
The man took a canvas and replaced it on his stand. As he readied his hand, he glanced on the corpse. Did it suddenly smile?
"You're listening, right?" the man asked. "Anyway, as we got home together on the evening bus, I noticed more of the bruises you're trying to hide. I wished I never saw them. But your smiled as well your voice tried their best and succeeded as we talked on our way home.
"You told me you like sweets. You like eating the cake that was near our street. You ate there every once and a while. You tried asking your boyfriend to come with you but he'd always decline. You told me that only once he came to your house. And every time you'd ask him he'd say he's busy with other matters. And you know he's lying.
"So why continue on? I asked if you loved it and your answer was you don't know. I wanted to ask and speak to you more about it but then we're still just stranger. You only tell me your tragedies and you know nothing about me. So why should I pry more into your loss? Suddenly you kissed me.
"I was surprised but I didn't mind at all. It might not have been your first time but that was my first. And somehow you took it. My first kiss was an affair. A nice mileage for my story, don't you think?" the man said as he touched his lips with his the length of his brush. "But I won't say I didn't like it either.
"You're beautiful then as you were now. Who'd not want a kiss from you?"
The man started to paint another starry night.
"What do you think of my first kiss, by the way? I'm sure you didn't like it. I wasn't ready and I'm sure it tasted awful. Yours was both sweet and wonderful. Just my opinion though. I wonder why your boyfriend was cold to you though.
"Was it your attitude? If that's the case, that's his problem. After that, we continued going home together and week's past you told me you broke up with him. And you asked me to go out with you. I said yes. Was I too fast? Or was our silly conversations on our way home have opened our hearts to each other more? I don't know why but somehow, then I felt we were supposed to be.
"You told me about your dreams and so did I. You sometime showed me the worst of you. To which I tried my best but you'd always smile in the end. Well, I did show you my childish side. Odd enough, it's your smile that made me smile as well. We're a perfect pair, that's what I thought. Do you think we're a perfect pair too? I hope you do.
"The best part in our conversation was your laughter. Even though there were times when we're in an argument, never was a day I'd never hear you laugh. You shine brightest when you do. I don't know why, even though work was all too stressful and unbearable, your laughter was what's making life bearable and stress free.
"You're my everything, you know that," the man suddenly stopped with his work and he turned around.
"It was going great until one day beneath same tree and under the rainy starry night. We took a rest. An arm suddenly appeared. It was your previous boyfriend."
The man bit of the end of the brush. He was angry.
"It was all a lie. I should have known. It was going all too great. I should have known you were lying.
"You laughed with a laughter of your voice all too unfamiliar to me. It was both bitter and resentful. You were mad. But not angry. Just plain mad. You kissed your previous boyfriend and there I saw a change in your eyes. I was nothing but just a toy. You played me, both you and your beloved.
"It hurt somewhere here," the man pointed on his chest. "Your boyfriend told the truth as you laughed. You both used me. I didn't understand the reason but I was used. It was plain to see as you gave your boyfriend a passionate kiss. More passionate than the one you gave me. More passionate than my first kiss.
"The bruises you showed me in the evening bus was a lie. The conversations we had in the bus as well the cake shop you said your favorite was a lie. The smile and laughter you had was nothing but a mask. A lie. All of it were a lie. None of it were real. You had me, didn't you know? I would have given everything for you should you have kept on going. I love you."
The man turned back on his painting and kept on painting.
"It happened all too suddenly, one night. I was back on the same tree that we first met but the evening sky wasn't raining. In fact a commotion just happened. You were in an accident. Both you and your boyfriend. He died. I was happy to see that. He was cut in half. As beautiful as the smile you used to lie. I was delighted.
"And here you are, once more, with me."
The man gave a short laughed.
"I'm a painter, you know. I hate doing this job. It doesn't bring out the artistic side of me whenever I was asked to paint. There were no life, no passion, in my clients demands when they ask me to make something. It lacks that drive. But even so, I made it to their demand. It was a pain to do so. I hate doing such task.
"Yet, to you, anything you'd like I will do." the man suddenly stopped. "By the way, you didn't answer me, should I color the moon blue? Or should I make the sky darker?"
The corpse suddenly collapsed on the floor.
The dead body kept staring with its empty eye sockets. She wore a red dress. Her sunday hat as beautiful as a queen's crown. The earring and necklace she wore were brilliantly clad in precious jewels. If not for the fact she's a corpse rotting, she was beautiful.
"Do you remember the first night we met? It was a rainy evening. We were running away from the rain and that's when we met under a gently tree. It was the most uncommon thing. A tree in the city? But perhaps that's what made it more beautiful. We were destined to meet there. It's romantic if you think about it, right? Not some waiting shed or some night stalls but under a tree.
"I was hesitant at first when you talked to me. I never liked talking to strangers and yet your words as well your voice lead me on. You guide me to be courageous. And that's why I spoke to you. You asked me what time was it and as young I was I lied to you. I didn't have a watch. And you immediately pointed out what's on my wrist.
"I was embarrassed by it but you laughed it off and took my hand. Your hands were warm. It played it unison with the weather that night. You know, it was raining and it was cold. Somehow, you there was keeping me warm. You somehow made me at ease. And your gentle touch, all too comfortable. I laughed and apologized for lying.
"You smiled as you let go. Suddenly, it became quiet. I thought my lie had killed the connection. Was there any connection at all, was what was running in my mind. And then you told me your name. I smiled and told you mine.
"You told me you lived far away from your work. Odd enough, we lived close by each other.
"You laughed, smiled once more and said that it was all too surreal to be a coincidence, you couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe it either. Then you suggested we go home together. I didn't mind at all and agreed. Once more you held my hands and told me you're happy.
"Were you lonely then? I wanted to ask you that. But suddenly an arm appeared on your shoulder. You smiled and turned. It was your abusive boyfriend. I knew already he was abusive as your smile was all too forced. After a moment it died away. You weren't happy with him.
"I wanted to save you but who was I anyway? A stranger you just met, all we know is nothing more but each other's name and where we lived, nothing else. All my idea were just speculation from all the stories and tell-tales I've read. I know nothing else about you. Except your smile. Your smile was.. real and honest. Beautiful. And when you smiled for your beloved, you're lying. It wasn't beautiful at least. It was ugly.
"It's not the real you," the man looked back on his painting. He wasn't satisfied. There was something wrong with the stars. The starry sky was not as beautiful as he'd preferred it to be. And so he threw it on the ground. "It's not perfect. I'll make another one."
The man took a canvas and replaced it on his stand. As he readied his hand, he glanced on the corpse. Did it suddenly smile?
"You're listening, right?" the man asked. "Anyway, as we got home together on the evening bus, I noticed more of the bruises you're trying to hide. I wished I never saw them. But your smiled as well your voice tried their best and succeeded as we talked on our way home.
"You told me you like sweets. You like eating the cake that was near our street. You ate there every once and a while. You tried asking your boyfriend to come with you but he'd always decline. You told me that only once he came to your house. And every time you'd ask him he'd say he's busy with other matters. And you know he's lying.
"So why continue on? I asked if you loved it and your answer was you don't know. I wanted to ask and speak to you more about it but then we're still just stranger. You only tell me your tragedies and you know nothing about me. So why should I pry more into your loss? Suddenly you kissed me.
"I was surprised but I didn't mind at all. It might not have been your first time but that was my first. And somehow you took it. My first kiss was an affair. A nice mileage for my story, don't you think?" the man said as he touched his lips with his the length of his brush. "But I won't say I didn't like it either.
"You're beautiful then as you were now. Who'd not want a kiss from you?"
The man started to paint another starry night.
"What do you think of my first kiss, by the way? I'm sure you didn't like it. I wasn't ready and I'm sure it tasted awful. Yours was both sweet and wonderful. Just my opinion though. I wonder why your boyfriend was cold to you though.
"Was it your attitude? If that's the case, that's his problem. After that, we continued going home together and week's past you told me you broke up with him. And you asked me to go out with you. I said yes. Was I too fast? Or was our silly conversations on our way home have opened our hearts to each other more? I don't know why but somehow, then I felt we were supposed to be.
"You told me about your dreams and so did I. You sometime showed me the worst of you. To which I tried my best but you'd always smile in the end. Well, I did show you my childish side. Odd enough, it's your smile that made me smile as well. We're a perfect pair, that's what I thought. Do you think we're a perfect pair too? I hope you do.
"The best part in our conversation was your laughter. Even though there were times when we're in an argument, never was a day I'd never hear you laugh. You shine brightest when you do. I don't know why, even though work was all too stressful and unbearable, your laughter was what's making life bearable and stress free.
"You're my everything, you know that," the man suddenly stopped with his work and he turned around.
"It was going great until one day beneath same tree and under the rainy starry night. We took a rest. An arm suddenly appeared. It was your previous boyfriend."
The man bit of the end of the brush. He was angry.
"It was all a lie. I should have known. It was going all too great. I should have known you were lying.
"You laughed with a laughter of your voice all too unfamiliar to me. It was both bitter and resentful. You were mad. But not angry. Just plain mad. You kissed your previous boyfriend and there I saw a change in your eyes. I was nothing but just a toy. You played me, both you and your beloved.
"It hurt somewhere here," the man pointed on his chest. "Your boyfriend told the truth as you laughed. You both used me. I didn't understand the reason but I was used. It was plain to see as you gave your boyfriend a passionate kiss. More passionate than the one you gave me. More passionate than my first kiss.
"The bruises you showed me in the evening bus was a lie. The conversations we had in the bus as well the cake shop you said your favorite was a lie. The smile and laughter you had was nothing but a mask. A lie. All of it were a lie. None of it were real. You had me, didn't you know? I would have given everything for you should you have kept on going. I love you."
The man turned back on his painting and kept on painting.
"It happened all too suddenly, one night. I was back on the same tree that we first met but the evening sky wasn't raining. In fact a commotion just happened. You were in an accident. Both you and your boyfriend. He died. I was happy to see that. He was cut in half. As beautiful as the smile you used to lie. I was delighted.
"And here you are, once more, with me."
The man gave a short laughed.
"I'm a painter, you know. I hate doing this job. It doesn't bring out the artistic side of me whenever I was asked to paint. There were no life, no passion, in my clients demands when they ask me to make something. It lacks that drive. But even so, I made it to their demand. It was a pain to do so. I hate doing such task.
"Yet, to you, anything you'd like I will do." the man suddenly stopped. "By the way, you didn't answer me, should I color the moon blue? Or should I make the sky darker?"
The corpse suddenly collapsed on the floor.
Tuesday, October 15, 2019
Poetry #102
The rose
have mayhaps
withered away;
Or maybe
plucked elsewhere
by the
wind or
some passerby.
On his
little planet.
He lives alone.
Even so,
The fox
came after
the prince.
"Why are
you here?"
The little
prince asked.
"I came
after you,"
the fox
said. "I
won't ever
part from
you again."
have mayhaps
withered away;
Or maybe
plucked elsewhere
by the
wind or
some passerby.
On his
little planet.
He lives alone.
Even so,
The fox
came after
the prince.
"Why are
you here?"
The little
prince asked.
"I came
after you,"
the fox
said. "I
won't ever
part from
you again."
Poetry #101
When you
find yourself
opening doors
of opportunity.
Flying away
as happily
without worry.
The doors
you've opened
suddenly closed.
You regret
coming far.
you regret
exerting effort.
You regret
having faith.
You regret
everything that
had happened.
What else
could you
do but
just accept
the reality.
find yourself
opening doors
of opportunity.
Flying away
as happily
without worry.
The doors
you've opened
suddenly closed.
You regret
coming far.
you regret
exerting effort.
You regret
having faith.
You regret
everything that
had happened.
What else
could you
do but
just accept
the reality.
Poetry #100
The fox
was crying.
The little
prince did
not know.
His mind
up on
the sky
thinking about
his rose.
The fox
was jealous.
The prince
was lonely.
His contemplations
made both
awfully sad.
was crying.
The little
prince did
not know.
His mind
up on
the sky
thinking about
his rose.
The fox
was jealous.
The prince
was lonely.
His contemplations
made both
awfully sad.
Poetry #99
"Do you
miss her?"
the fox
asked the
little prince.
The little
prince was
sad. The
fox knows.
"You know
your rose
could have
left you.
"The wind
must've swept
her away.
"Or some
stranger's hand
might have
plucked her."
But the
prince was
busy contemplating.
He misses
her so.
"There are
other roses,
you know?
"There are
other things
besides your
lonely rose."
"She's waiting
for me,"
the little
prince said.
"Is that
why you
miss her?"
The prince
did not
speak anymore.
The fox
was right.
miss her?"
the fox
asked the
little prince.
The little
prince was
sad. The
fox knows.
"You know
your rose
could have
left you.
"The wind
must've swept
her away.
"Or some
stranger's hand
might have
plucked her."
But the
prince was
busy contemplating.
He misses
her so.
"There are
other roses,
you know?
"There are
other things
besides your
lonely rose."
"She's waiting
for me,"
the little
prince said.
"Is that
why you
miss her?"
The prince
did not
speak anymore.
The fox
was right.
Poetry #98
There's nothing
more he
could do.
He did
the best
he could.
Everything he
could but
even still,
She left.
That's it.
Nothing more.
more he
could do.
He did
the best
he could.
Everything he
could but
even still,
She left.
That's it.
Nothing more.
Poetry #97
That was
their last.
They won't
be seeing
each again.
His: "See
you later,"
was different
from her:
"See you."
One of
them meant:
"We will
see each
other again."
While the
other meant,
"Goodbye forever,"
their last.
They won't
be seeing
each again.
His: "See
you later,"
was different
from her:
"See you."
One of
them meant:
"We will
see each
other again."
While the
other meant,
"Goodbye forever,"
Poetry #96
Without words
two hearts
meant for
each other
connects beautifully.
And when
voices can
no longer
be kept,
Two souls
with certain
words surprises
one another:
"He knows."
"She knows."
"He could
hear the
voice of
my heart."
"She could
hear the
voice of
my heart."
two hearts
meant for
each other
connects beautifully.
And when
voices can
no longer
be kept,
Two souls
with certain
words surprises
one another:
"He knows."
"She knows."
"He could
hear the
voice of
my heart."
"She could
hear the
voice of
my heart."
Poetry #95
"I'm happy
she's happy,"
he said.
He lived
in a
world where
happy endings
are uncommon.
But he
accept that.
He sees
beauty in
an unkind
cruel world.
"I'm happy
she's happy,"
he said
on his
letter before
hanging himself.
she's happy,"
he said.
He lived
in a
world where
happy endings
are uncommon.
But he
accept that.
He sees
beauty in
an unkind
cruel world.
"I'm happy
she's happy,"
he said
on his
letter before
hanging himself.
Poetry #94
Would it
not be
wonderful, there
may come
a time,
The person
by our
side would
tell us
of stories
we knew,
Of the
starry sky,
How each
time we'd
wish upon
one star,
among many,
and the
person by
our side
are wishing
upon the
same star.
Call it
fate, if
not, destiny.
not be
wonderful, there
may come
a time,
The person
by our
side would
tell us
of stories
we knew,
Of the
starry sky,
How each
time we'd
wish upon
one star,
among many,
and the
person by
our side
are wishing
upon the
same star.
Call it
fate, if
not, destiny.
Poetry #93
One day
the prince
came back.
But the
fox was
long gone.
The forest
was once
more just
a forest.
Like the
many million
forest in
the world.
Without the
fox the
same place
was different.
Without the
fox the
same time
was different.
He left
for a
rose that
couldn't wait.
And once
more he
came back
but there
was no
one there.
the prince
came back.
But the
fox was
long gone.
The forest
was once
more just
a forest.
Like the
many million
forest in
the world.
Without the
fox the
same place
was different.
Without the
fox the
same time
was different.
He left
for a
rose that
couldn't wait.
And once
more he
came back
but there
was no
one there.
Poetry #92
So what
happens to
the fox?
What if
one day
he forgets?
He forgets
the goodbye
he and
the little
prince bid
each other.
What if
one day
the fox
came back
to their
meeting place?
And no
prince comes?
And the
next day
the fox
returns and
still no
prince were
to come?
He have
his hopes
up and
so he'll
wait everyday
for the
rest of
his life.
Until one
day comes.
He'll remember.
"The prince
is no
longer coming."
Will the
fox cry?
Or will
he wait
on forever?
-/_ -
Odd enough, I just realized this. The fox may have been the tragedy in the beautiful story of the little prince unfortunately his scenes were few. Though notable, it's just short lived.
happens to
the fox?
What if
one day
he forgets?
He forgets
the goodbye
he and
the little
prince bid
each other.
What if
one day
the fox
came back
to their
meeting place?
And no
prince comes?
And the
next day
the fox
returns and
still no
prince were
to come?
He have
his hopes
up and
so he'll
wait everyday
for the
rest of
his life.
Until one
day comes.
He'll remember.
"The prince
is no
longer coming."
Will the
fox cry?
Or will
he wait
on forever?
-/_ -
Odd enough, I just realized this. The fox may have been the tragedy in the beautiful story of the little prince unfortunately his scenes were few. Though notable, it's just short lived.
Poetry #91
Somehow I
just felt
like smiling.
Even though
the world
was against
me from
the start.
Certain moments
we'd wished
just lasted
forever are
often rare.
The first
snow ever
to fall.
The first
sunrise of
the year.
The last
sunset as
the new
year arrives.
A little
birds ever
first flight.
The first
song one
could play
after learning
the guitar.
The first
poem one
have written
after a
long time.
And the
last song
ever to
serenade a
beautiful maiden.
That first
'yes' you
after the
many rejections.
Somehow smiling
felt right.
just felt
like smiling.
Even though
the world
was against
me from
the start.
Certain moments
we'd wished
just lasted
forever are
often rare.
The first
snow ever
to fall.
The first
sunrise of
the year.
The last
sunset as
the new
year arrives.
A little
birds ever
first flight.
The first
song one
could play
after learning
the guitar.
The first
poem one
have written
after a
long time.
And the
last song
ever to
serenade a
beautiful maiden.
That first
'yes' you
after the
many rejections.
Somehow smiling
felt right.
Little Secret: I'm not in love
"Here's a little secret," the man said as he puffed another smoke. "Tell yourself this, 'i'm not in love.' Do it like an oration. Repeat it for five times. 'I'm not in love, I'm not in love, I'm not in love, I'm not in love, I'm not in love.'"
The young boy followed.
"I'm not in love, I'm not in love, I'm not in love, I'm not in love, I'm not in love."
"Then you must not think of her face. Say it again for three times."
"I'm not in love, I'm not in love, I'm not love."
"Say her not loudly," the man said as he took another hit,
But the boy was too embarrassed to say it.
"Don't worry, you can do it later when I'm gone, but either way it's fine, just say her name in your mind." the young boy smiled. "After that, try to remember something distinct about her. It could be the color of her eyes, the shape of her nose, the color of her hair, the style of her hair. Whatever it is, just think about it. Visualize it clearly."
The young boy closed his eyes and thought hard.
"Are you done?" the man said. It was just about time that he had just finished his light. "It seems that's about it."
He scraped his blunt and threw it away.
"Was that it?" the young boy asked.
"Yes, that is all," the man stood. "So did you fall in love already?"
"What?" the young boy asked. "But I thought we were making it so I would fall in love."
"Part of the process," the man said and started to walk away. "Break your heart first then you'll feel like not falling in love anymore."
The young boy followed.
"I'm not in love, I'm not in love, I'm not in love, I'm not in love, I'm not in love."
"Then you must not think of her face. Say it again for three times."
"I'm not in love, I'm not in love, I'm not love."
"Say her not loudly," the man said as he took another hit,
But the boy was too embarrassed to say it.
"Don't worry, you can do it later when I'm gone, but either way it's fine, just say her name in your mind." the young boy smiled. "After that, try to remember something distinct about her. It could be the color of her eyes, the shape of her nose, the color of her hair, the style of her hair. Whatever it is, just think about it. Visualize it clearly."
The young boy closed his eyes and thought hard.
"Are you done?" the man said. It was just about time that he had just finished his light. "It seems that's about it."
He scraped his blunt and threw it away.
"Was that it?" the young boy asked.
"Yes, that is all," the man stood. "So did you fall in love already?"
"What?" the young boy asked. "But I thought we were making it so I would fall in love."
"Part of the process," the man said and started to walk away. "Break your heart first then you'll feel like not falling in love anymore."
Poetry #90
Everything will
be fine.
He'll wait
for me.
He's fine.
He's fine.
Everything will
be alright.
I just
need to
get someone
to look
after him.
That's all.
He will
be fine.
He's waiting
for me.
He'll be
there, waiting.
I'm sure
of it.
He's fine.
I have
to get
back to
him as
fast as
I could.
He's waiting
for me.
I must
not keep
him waiting.
The little
bird hurried.
But the
man have
already left.
He was
already dead.
But unknown
to the
little bird.
He was
flying alongside
of her.
From the
moment she
left him.
be fine.
He'll wait
for me.
He's fine.
He's fine.
Everything will
be alright.
I just
need to
get someone
to look
after him.
That's all.
He will
be fine.
He's waiting
for me.
He'll be
there, waiting.
I'm sure
of it.
He's fine.
I have
to get
back to
him as
fast as
I could.
He's waiting
for me.
I must
not keep
him waiting.
The little
bird hurried.
But the
man have
already left.
He was
already dead.
But unknown
to the
little bird.
He was
flying alongside
of her.
From the
moment she
left him.
Poetry #89
I was
Looking everywhere.
There was
something missing.
"You must
go and
find it,"
a quiet
voice in
my chest
would every
time whisper.
And so
I kept
on looking.
And then
Time come
I saw
the one
I was
looking for.
It's you.
I have
found you.
You were
what was
missing all
the time.
I have
found you.
Walking beside
you was
someone else.
It was
the first
time I
met you
and you
first broke
my heart.
Looking everywhere.
There was
something missing.
"You must
go and
find it,"
a quiet
voice in
my chest
would every
time whisper.
And so
I kept
on looking.
And then
Time come
I saw
the one
I was
looking for.
It's you.
I have
found you.
You were
what was
missing all
the time.
I have
found you.
Walking beside
you was
someone else.
It was
the first
time I
met you
and you
first broke
my heart.
Monday, October 14, 2019
The Little Bird and the Dying Man
"I'll fix you. I'll fix you," the little bird chirped. The man beside him was covered in wound and blood. He was dying. The little bird flew here and there on the man's shoulder, chest, head back to the shoulder again and to the legs.
The man was oblivious of what was happening around him. But the chirping of the little bird fluttering here and there were trying to wake him. He was tired. He wanted to sleep. But the little bird kept on. She doesn't want him to die.
He looked straight up to the passing clouds and on to the little bird. What was this little bird doing here? Who was he to this little creature? What was this bird doing flying and playing around him? Was this a little act of kindness the world is showing him on his deathbed? He did no good his entire life and yet the memory that will most likely remain in his was this little bird cheering him
She doesn't want him to do.
"Stay awake," the little bird continued to chirped. "Be calm. Everything will be fine. Don't worry. I'm with you. I'll fix you. I'll fix you. So please, stay with me."
He doesn't understand what the bird was saying. The man smiled on the little bird. It was his first time doing that for so long. He couldn't remember when was his last. Or what was about he smiled as sincere as that but on his final moment he was happy.
"Here I am dying. A man hated by the world. And yet the it is showing me something out of the ordinary. A little bird singing me a melody," the man said. He coughed and blood gushed out his mouth. He was dying. "I wish I could understand this song you're singing little bird."
The little bird doesn't understand him.
"You'll be alright, right?" the little bird chirped. "Stay calm. Reserve you're energy. Or please continue to speak. Speak with me. I couldn't understand you but please tell me more. Tell me a story. I want to hear more. Please. Just please stay with me."
The man tried to get up but his legs could no longer support him. His hand as well does not want to listen. He was tired. Memories then came flashing to the man.
He wanted to be a poet. One who would make the world listen in every word he say. He doesn't like complicated words. Just the simple ones. More people would definitely enjoy hearing his poems if they were too easy to understand. But of course he likes it to be deep and broad at the same time. He wanted meaning but something his reader would find on their own.
But of course that was just his dream. He couldn't be one.
He met his wife on a travel overseas. She was as beautiful as the forest and the sky combined. She was lovely. She understood him well. Though they had their few shortcoming, she was there for him. No matter what. They had a daughter and the three of them lived a happy ever after.
But of course it was just a memory. Tragedy suddenly came and his wife and child was taken away from him. An accident occurred and only himself was saved. He couldn't do anything about it. He wasn't aware of what had just happened. Things just happened all too quickly. And after that, he was alone.
His dreams of poetry and his memories of his family, things to him far from reach. He lived a tragic life.
But of course he was kind. People loved him for that. And so he was never lonely. But there were some things missing which not cannot be replaced. Though surrounded by love, the man was alone. Until his last moment.
Suddenly tears came overflowing from his eyes. His vision got blurred as his sight got soaked. He was dying. He was crying.
"Don't I look pathetic, little bird?" the man said. "Earlier I fooled everyone with my empty bravado trying to save some of my friends. Look at me, here a grown up covered with wounds crying. Tell me, little bird, was I the one who's fooled?"
The little bird fluttered on his shoulder and kissed her beak on his neck.
"You're voice is beautiful," the little bird chirped.
"I lived a tragic life and here I am ending it looking as pathetic as ever. All my dreams are gone. My memories are so distant and sorrowful. I wish I could go back in time and just.. I wish I never been.. I hate my life," said the man.
"You're singing, right? You're telling me a poem, right?" the little bird chirped.
The man suddenly stopped speaking. His wound felt less painful. He felt less and less. The hue in his eyes have changed. He can no longer see anything else. Except for the little bird by his side.
"Tell me, little bird, why are here?" the man asked. "What good have I done to deserve your song?"
With every ounce of his strength left lifted his finger. He did not know why but just this. The little bird flew on it. It sounded more happily.
"You're going to be fine now, right?" the little bird chirped. "Right? I'm going to go and find somebody to help. Alright? I'll fix everything. Don't worry. You're going to be alright. If I can't find anybody, I'll fix you myself, alright? I'll fix you, so don't worry."
"Please tell my wife and daughter, I'm coming home," the man said.
The little bird flew away. The man looked up to the direction of it's flight. It was going to heaven. His message will get to them, was his final thoughts. He smiled as his body collapsed.
As for the little bird, she flew carrying hope.
The man was oblivious of what was happening around him. But the chirping of the little bird fluttering here and there were trying to wake him. He was tired. He wanted to sleep. But the little bird kept on. She doesn't want him to die.
He looked straight up to the passing clouds and on to the little bird. What was this little bird doing here? Who was he to this little creature? What was this bird doing flying and playing around him? Was this a little act of kindness the world is showing him on his deathbed? He did no good his entire life and yet the memory that will most likely remain in his was this little bird cheering him
She doesn't want him to do.
"Stay awake," the little bird continued to chirped. "Be calm. Everything will be fine. Don't worry. I'm with you. I'll fix you. I'll fix you. So please, stay with me."
He doesn't understand what the bird was saying. The man smiled on the little bird. It was his first time doing that for so long. He couldn't remember when was his last. Or what was about he smiled as sincere as that but on his final moment he was happy.
"Here I am dying. A man hated by the world. And yet the it is showing me something out of the ordinary. A little bird singing me a melody," the man said. He coughed and blood gushed out his mouth. He was dying. "I wish I could understand this song you're singing little bird."
The little bird doesn't understand him.
"You'll be alright, right?" the little bird chirped. "Stay calm. Reserve you're energy. Or please continue to speak. Speak with me. I couldn't understand you but please tell me more. Tell me a story. I want to hear more. Please. Just please stay with me."
The man tried to get up but his legs could no longer support him. His hand as well does not want to listen. He was tired. Memories then came flashing to the man.
He wanted to be a poet. One who would make the world listen in every word he say. He doesn't like complicated words. Just the simple ones. More people would definitely enjoy hearing his poems if they were too easy to understand. But of course he likes it to be deep and broad at the same time. He wanted meaning but something his reader would find on their own.
But of course that was just his dream. He couldn't be one.
He met his wife on a travel overseas. She was as beautiful as the forest and the sky combined. She was lovely. She understood him well. Though they had their few shortcoming, she was there for him. No matter what. They had a daughter and the three of them lived a happy ever after.
But of course it was just a memory. Tragedy suddenly came and his wife and child was taken away from him. An accident occurred and only himself was saved. He couldn't do anything about it. He wasn't aware of what had just happened. Things just happened all too quickly. And after that, he was alone.
His dreams of poetry and his memories of his family, things to him far from reach. He lived a tragic life.
But of course he was kind. People loved him for that. And so he was never lonely. But there were some things missing which not cannot be replaced. Though surrounded by love, the man was alone. Until his last moment.
Suddenly tears came overflowing from his eyes. His vision got blurred as his sight got soaked. He was dying. He was crying.
"Don't I look pathetic, little bird?" the man said. "Earlier I fooled everyone with my empty bravado trying to save some of my friends. Look at me, here a grown up covered with wounds crying. Tell me, little bird, was I the one who's fooled?"
The little bird fluttered on his shoulder and kissed her beak on his neck.
"You're voice is beautiful," the little bird chirped.
"I lived a tragic life and here I am ending it looking as pathetic as ever. All my dreams are gone. My memories are so distant and sorrowful. I wish I could go back in time and just.. I wish I never been.. I hate my life," said the man.
"You're singing, right? You're telling me a poem, right?" the little bird chirped.
The man suddenly stopped speaking. His wound felt less painful. He felt less and less. The hue in his eyes have changed. He can no longer see anything else. Except for the little bird by his side.
"Tell me, little bird, why are here?" the man asked. "What good have I done to deserve your song?"
With every ounce of his strength left lifted his finger. He did not know why but just this. The little bird flew on it. It sounded more happily.
"You're going to be fine now, right?" the little bird chirped. "Right? I'm going to go and find somebody to help. Alright? I'll fix everything. Don't worry. You're going to be alright. If I can't find anybody, I'll fix you myself, alright? I'll fix you, so don't worry."
"Please tell my wife and daughter, I'm coming home," the man said.
The little bird flew away. The man looked up to the direction of it's flight. It was going to heaven. His message will get to them, was his final thoughts. He smiled as his body collapsed.
As for the little bird, she flew carrying hope.
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