Recollections

We search of Truth, living a life of half-truths,
Wishing and thinking and weeping,
Angry of all the denials,
Angry for all its nothingness,
Angry for all the glass that shatter
And all the dreams that collide

…

Somehow I long to return to the place I was born, to where Eternity lies still.  I can still see Her shattering Dawn once more with Her powerful light.  Her powerful, harsh atomic love.   It is where the days and the nights fuse within themselves like star-crossed lovers of that Romeo and Juliet.  We are not gods nor we are spirits.  We are simply beings that can never – well, actually die.

…

‘If tales of old can whisper you the secrets of my heart,
what would you do with my soul?’

…

He didn’t come from Earth.

He never was.

His eyes had always been intimidating, been sinister.  I don’t think he’d ever meant them to be as they have, I could never know his feelings as they don’t show much emotion.  They glaze rather mysteriously, and even until now I can never get used to them.

They look through your soul as if there’s nothing in you.

But he’s a friend.

And maybe he will be, for a long, long time after I’m gone.

…

‘I curse thee;
I curse thee for thy transgressions -
I curse thee for thy insolence –
I curse thee for thy lies –
Death is what cometh from thee –
Death is what be cometh of thee -
Death is what wilt be reborn -
From the wombs of thy greed
The God-like devils thou hast created’

…

“… This is the era of destruction.  The result lies in our hands.  Who wins receives the world. We do not control its destiny! We do not say what it should be, but we are the catalyst toward the change,  creating a vision never seen before in any of the human eras; past, present and so-called future.  Man shall not step further into the universe as they are trying now; they cannot comprehend the knowledge that lies out there.  They need the change to create their new vision, better vision to come.  We are simply the catalyst for such glory, power, and humane peace.   Until now, the past is within my powers, my true sublime power.  My kingdom where I reign.  If you do not wish to end it, this blackness shall rule forever …  All shall come to an absolute end.  I must go.  Think about it.  I am not mean as any can picture my part in this absurd play.  No one wishes for the curtain to fall.  Not in the name of life, not even the dark shall ever exist without light.”

…

“The world might seem crazy; people act as if they have no sense.  Just to understand sometimes you gotta look into the places where they’ve been and the kind of road they’ve taken.  I can’t judge, I just see.  I can understand, but it doesn’t mean things are supposed to be as they are today.

“You are who you choose to be at the end of the line, and the world is what you choose to see it as.  There is a collective subconsciousness they say, I read it somewhere, that many are getting more aware that the world it not what it’s supposed to be, and life has the potential to be better and hospitable.

“Humans have the ability to make tools that make our lives easier, but not necessarily simpler.  But deep down inside each and everyone of us know that our problems are simple, we are the ones who make them complicated maybe for the sake of pride, or of wanting too much when we know our plates are already full.  Either that or you’re just a simple fool.  As long as you’re simple to yourself, that is probably the only truth you’ll ever need to know.  You need not justify it to the world or anyone else but yourself.

“I try to make it as simple as it gets just for the sake of my soul; perfection is the dream disease of man and I’m not out there to prove any point.  I’m just here, plain and simple.

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Little Lights

Little lights -
Flicker,
Flicker.

Up -
Rising
Sparks of pyres

Burning -
High,
Free.

In the deep -
Rising,
Rising

Never once
Asleep.

Darkness exist.

Wake up,
Wake up,

Twilight is near.

.. untitled

His personal assistant was Morrison Dunn, as I vaguely remembered him, greeted me at the front door and ushered me silently into my quarters.  It wasn’t exactly like the quarter of a room I had; more of a quarter times four by comparison, and he left me to freshen up.  The wake was to be held the day after, he told me, and I had ample time to readjust myself to my surroundings.  Those were his exact words and the Morrison Dunn I remembered was an exact person in almost every way possible, my friend told me.  Whilst Morrison Dunn held a vacant youthful face, my old friend had somehow aged rapidly in the past few years.

Hearing nothing but my clumsy footsteps on the mansion’s polished wooden floors, I filled the Victorian antique bathtub, stumbled almost half of the bath salt inside, and went for a long dip.  It had been a tenuous flight; I was asleep most of it but I remembered how tired I felt.  It was as if I was never out of consciousness at all, cerebrally drifting somewhere beyond space and time, and yanked gracelessly back to Earth for some unfinished business.

I felt half of my self returned after a long bath and decided to eat breakfast in my quarters, finishing what was left of the magazine article.  It was not of any great importance but I had to get it out of the way.  Morrison Dunn left me the whole morning alone and assigned a Miss Calandra Pierce to attend to me.  I told her I only needed Internet connection for my unfinished work and some food to go with it.  I was told the mansion had a wi-fi account to my name, my password would be the name of my first pet, and my breakfast would come in fifteen minutes.  I wasn’t told what kind of breakfast it was and Miss Pierce disappeared the way Morrison Dunn did, just as brisk and in less than two bats of an eyelid.

Speaking of pets, my late mother (may her soul rest in peace) told me I had a knack of collecting unwanted animals.  As a child I grew up having what my late father (bless his good old soul) called a peanut gang of a zoo.  I had a badger who had a missing claw; a rabbit with a clawed out eye (did the badger claw the rabbit, I wonder?); a few cats whose tails were all bent in irregular angles; a mongrel with a bad patch of fur that kept falling off year after year; a family of squirrels that ended up nesting on my late mother’s favorite tree and constantly stole from her barrel of assorted nuts and home-dried fruits; a billy goat that wandered into our vegetable patch (apparently it had a horrible sense of direction and could never walk in a straight line); and a goose that had a strong liking for puddles yet stayed clear away from my late father’s fish pond.  All those years of collecting and burying pets out of old age, I never once named any of them until I entered university some two thousand miles away from my hometown.  That was the time I met my old friend and the first time I ever named a pet, a stray gray-striped cat we all lovingly called Bob Babbit III, or Bobbit for short.

I told my old friend of all these things from my childhood years and his reply was, “So you’ve collected me too,” laughing as he did, his unusually clear aquamarine eyes twinkling in the morning sun.  But we shared so many friends between us and I thought nothing of it until that morning, recollecting Bob Babbit III or Bobbit for short, thinking that maybe we were all a peanut gang of friends, a strange assortment of people put together by the simplest of circumstance for a purpose beyond our comprehension.

Then again, I remembered there was nothing physically or mentally wrong with Bobbit.  I had kept him with me for many years after graduation and one Sunday morning I found him breathlessly stiff, curled up in the kitchen corner by the trash.  Seeing him there nearly broke my heart and I wondered if my old friend would do the same thing to me.

Some day, perhaps

I understood little more
Than your smile -
Your laughs -
Those frowns that crowned your brows
And the look in your eyes
That loved and disapproved
Both at the same time

I understood little more
The exchange of words -
The tones you took
Between the rise and falls of your voice
That echoed often in my mind

And I grew up a little more
Understanding even less
Of your sneers that teased
The very essence of the dreams
That once enveloped me as reality
And I woke up feeling sad all over again

But I understood a little more this time
Of fingers that caressed and touched
With words that praised one side and condemned the other -
As silences became as painful as those voices
That rose and fell and shot and disappeared -
Leaving these little holes
From whence my breath began to escape me

Is there all there is to this?

I understand little, you see, to this very day
Building this very self by the image of others to please
In hopes for those very voices that clash and break to cease;
I am no one’s property, that little I understand

As I have moved heavens and earths
From your very eyes that are wide and shut -
Rocks and mountains along this strange little trail called life,
Will you see this too, I wonder,
Some day perhaps, it doesn’t have to be today,
And see me as me, all in its entirety?

I understand little, you see,
But I know I’ve tried

letters

morning sun,
where have you been?

i’ve waited here
night and day

for you to appear
like you used to

sit side by side with me
playing this silly old piano
laughing at every other key
that sang out of wind

you’d tell me stories
of places you’ve seen, you’ve been
how pretty was the earth
that laid upon your feet
how sweet the morning dew
that dropped softly on your lips
how i loved these places,
these things you breathed unto me

tell me friend,
has the world been unkind?

has it learned to forget you, as i have?

has it not looked you in the eye
and shunned away from your sight?

has it taken you for granted,
as i had done?

if these winds can carry these words,
past the oceans and the forests
that once stood majestically in your midst
ones that loved us as much as we loved you,

i pray they lay these dreams gently in your hands
ones you’d given me, long ago,

they had kept me company through the years i stood alone;
they are tattered and worn
but still a beauty to behold

may they tell you the journeys i took,
ones i can never tell you,
may they show you images i wish i had not seen -
and words i had heard and can never forget

for the world is different than i had imagined,
hollow, battered, and torn

unlike the one i knew
with you by my side, long ago

the old piano is gone now, too
and the house vacant of everything
but faint echoes of our song that forever sang out of tune,
singing fond memories of you

if these winds can carry for me these words
and whisper them ever so softly in your ears,

i would like to say ‘thank you’
for being with me,

all those days, long ago

..  L’Ile Invisible | Deep Forest

The Trees Who Talked

We speak to you now
As ones, who like you,
Are much younger than
The Mountains

Sustained by the same Water
And the same Sun
And both blessed to be
In this place of wonder,
We have been asked to tell you
To share and celebrate
This Garden with your kind

The Bear brings you power,
The Deer, protection
We, the Trees, standing silently
In witness, give you trust

The Water comes and goes
The Animals are busy
On their own paths
The Mountains, well,
They have other things to do,
Communing with the very forces
That created the face
Of this Earth

We speak to you now as ones
Whose lives come and go,
Much like yours.
You, however, are affecting
How this Garden grows
And that is why we seek
Your attention

http://www.planetpapp.com/br21december2012/