Zyhil

Visions of December 21, 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 10:11:00 PST

21 DECEMBER 2012

They had told us of this day.

We didn’t listen, we even joked.

We kept living with no care for

Those who would come after.

Intoxicated by dark laughter.

We wasted what we had.

Exploited our world.

Destroyed every kind of life.

Poisoned our air, our seas .

Our land could take no more.

Our sun rebelled.

Mother nature did rebel.

Against this sanctioned rape.

The freezing heat, the burning cold.

The darkest sun, the brightest moon.

Chaotic order. Ordered chaos.

The cruellest of kindness.

The kindest of cruelty.

Had come.

Not nature’s fault.

Not the others’ fault.

But of our own design.

Yes, it had to come one day.

And it did today.

The light is coming.

Not to save us.

But to cleanse us.

It’s almost here.

If I had only been kinder.

More compassionate.

To the world perhapssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Miao Memoirs (A Cat's Journal)

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Sat, 19 Nov 2011 09:45:00 PST

To All Animal Lovers

(Especially cats and their pets)

Saturday, November 19

Pets and Strange Dreams

It was a cold and rainy Saturday,

So inside I had to stay,

Alas, no hunting then - to my dismay!

I was so bored and rather sleepy then,

SoI purred for my human pet,

Sweet thing, she thinks she’s my owner,

But I’m really in charge,

Poor lady I say again!

I do let her cuddle and indulge me so,

Believing that I’m a creature quite her below,

Hypnotising her with my feline charm,

I really mean well and wish no harm.

Yes, I did take the time to train her well -

She does give me fish and milk as well.

She does love me. That I can surely tell.

True, I have grown to love her too,

And, despite her quirks, I am fond of her.

As I write this, I drunk my milk and retire,

On my favourite place - my pet’s warm mat.

I lie down and purr myself to sleep,

I dream of many things, so strange indeed.

I dream I am running after a giant rat,

Wearing a yellow cowboy hat,

He ran very fast down a slippery street,

For he surely wasn’t eager for death to meet!

He vanished as he was falling on his face flat!

Suddenly, reaching out to me, I could see a big hand,

I was now tiny and feared it would on my head land!

I closed my eyes, awaiting for my ninth life to end!

When I woke up I was back to my piece of land.

Oh! But, alas, not on my comfy mat!

The rain had stopped, the sun was again shining.

I found myself being cuddled on my lady’s lap,

I relaxed and pleased my pet by simply purring,

With those fond memories, I thus must my post wrap up!

-------------

Note: I wanted to try my hand at writing verse that was lighter than I usually write. My original idea was to write this from the perspective of someone who was wondering if cats dreamt and, if so, pondering on the content of such dreams if they were there. But as I got to actually write it, I said why not tackle it from the perspective of a cat adding an entry to its diary? The rest, as you know, is a post entry!

On this day... my birthday!

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Tue, 08 Nov 2011 06:15:00 PST

On November 8, 1981, I was born. As I celebrate my 30th birthday, I can't help reflecting on how significant this day is. For, if you think about it, this day was when it all started, when I took that first breath of air with my own mouth. We say that life is a miracle that it has become a cliche. Something we say out of habit rather than reflection or much thought. This same "miracle of life" quickly becomes the source of a lot of complaining and, in fact, some of us have even come to the point when we wished we hadn't been born at all. But, then, is this because we take life for granted. Believing that we should always get what we expect or what we want.

I am 30 today. Yet, as I write that number, I realise that over the years, it's not just my age that has changed. Indeed, I'm not the same baby boy born back in 1981. I am not the same 5 year old starting primary school. I am not the same person who loved to write. I am not the same person who was admitted to hospital. Or the one who graduated. Or the one who attended Church. That is my past. That is who I was.

Mind you, the past remains an influence on my present but it is something that I have no control over. It would be foolish to keep clinging to what was as if we could reclaim our youth or innocence. It is also foolish to believe that we are who we are today because we worked for it and that we can lay claim to independence and autonomy. Indeed, my re-discovery of Buddhism and my recent experiences has made me aware that much of who I am today isn't a matter of my personal decisions - although our decisions play an important part in our life. On the contrary, we are who we are today because of the experiences we have in our life, the things we learn and the people around us and those we meet in our lives.

Thus, on this day, I must reflect on who I am and where I am heading and ask myself what have I done over the course of my 29th. Of course, this year was full of its ups and downs; moments I am proud of and others I am not quite happy with and I made new friends and went through new experiences. But inasmuch as I would like to believe I made it through out of my self-determination, deep inside I know that all the people in my life - friends and even enemies, family and strangers, things I read or heard and so on, played a crucial role in getting me through the hard times and also where there in my happy times.

So, what I want to say is that I am grateful for all this and more. I wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for the persons in my life. And even if we don't get to say it often...

Thank you for making my life possible!

Oasis

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 07:30:00 PDT

As I travel through this desert,

In search of peace and happiness.

I find no meaning and only dirt.

Death and destruction, no less.

Until beyond, I see a pool of water.

Some palm trees and life again.

Is it a mirage? Or a cruel dream?

I get closer and behold my reflection.

I dare put my hands in the cool liquid.

Will I scorch my insides? I wait. I feel alive.

This is real. This is true. It is as it is!

Is my search over? Have I found my oasis?

The Green Flag

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Mon, 28 Mar 2011 07:35:00 PDT

You say the people love you,
That they are prepared to die.
For your sake.

That might have been true.
Before, in your youth.
When it was about freedom.

But now It's about you.
You who wants power,
The justification of might.

Like a greedy parasite you have become.
Drunk on the fruit of the black wine that shuts your heart to the your own people.

Even before you started the bloodshed you wanted to be supreme.

Jealous for the youth you once were.
Greedy enough to replace God.
Deluding yourself you will live forever.

What happened to the youth who dreamt of revolution?
Is he now the oppressor?
wrapped in his green flag?

Clinging to a mirage as the people suffer and die.

New Year Agaim

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 12:18:00 PST

Hope all have a wonderful new year - not just the first day of 2011 (that too).

Some words of wisdom that nay appear common sense. Don't drink too much and avoid drugs like death. I lost some of my old friends to thee habit.

For all of you who, like myself, are sick or unwell, I won't preach to you the things we often here. I've heard so much already!

Yes, life is beautiful but it's also unjust. Life isn't simply a question of attitude or self-determination but more to the accessibility, support, equality of opportunity and resources availivility.

The truth is that life is full of contradictions and moments of pain and happiness. But don't forget that it's the only thing in life and we owe it to ourselves to build our world together.

We can't afford to be passive critics but must do our part. To paraphrase Gandhi, we must be the change we want too see in the new year and beyond...

Gordon
****************
."All that is valuable in human society depends upon the opportunity for development accorded the individual"
---------------------
Albert Einstein (1879 - 1955)

All Shall Pass

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Thu, 09 Dec 2010 03:04:00 PST

I never thought I was so weak,
The world suddenly turning bleak.

Childhood memories of fun and games,
Lie burning in the archive of the past. All in flames!

I tell you that it's not me but my pain,
That is speaking, this life insane.

All shall pass the wise books says,
Yet the moment you're in agony, each second seems like eternity.

Spring

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Mon, 10 May 2010 09:30:00 PDT

You are the spring that quenches

The thirst of my soul

The spring that leads me back

To a long lost home

A home of peace , of hope,

Of lost innocence

You are the Spring that fills

My world with gentle warmth

Away from the chilling hand of Winter

Away from the flaming fist of Summer

To the real life where it was pure

And unpolluted

The life lived then

Where dreams were possible
And love was true

A spring of life

A spring of love

A spring of renewal

Inpossible. Unreal. Eternal.

Yet, it was there.

And, once, I experienced it.

It is like now.

Like you.

Behold the Girl

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 09:11:00 PDT

Behold the girl who dares the lion near,
For endowed with courage is she.
No fear has she of the beastly gaze.

No thunder roar or lightning strike
Can break her burning spirit.

Mystery surrounds her past.
Yet, there is a beauty that defines her.
An eternity that guides her.

I wish to know her.
Yet so elusive is she.
And I so little.

The Mountain

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Sat, 12 Sep 2009 09:10:00 PDT

You told me to come here
Now I have come .
To a desert so naked and bare
There are answers none.

No burning bush, no signs of fire,
Only dry air and death.
And deep silence.

I call out your name to no avail,
There is nobody.
But me.
And the mountain

Forgetting Childhood

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 10:35:00 PDT

It was a happy life,
When we were young.
No care in the world.

No worries about the future,
No past to think about.
But then I knew you died.

With no reason why,
No words uttered.
Just silence.

Twinkle, twinkle...
But for what and why?
But to escape reality?

That a child I cannot be?
Faced by grown up madness,
Of a world which lost its soul?

How much am I worth,
To the economy or to my friends?
Does it matter, really?

For they will judge me wrongly.
They will value me through their eyes.
And their poor judgement.

The wave again rolls on,
The boy at sea giggles
As he wets his feet.

I know it could be the last
generation to enjoy the sea?
Unless the world starts
To really care

But now it's perhaps better to forget
For a while the future.
And live as a child for a while.
And be grown ups tomorrow...

Let me out

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 09:37:00 PDT

Let me out of this dark place,
For I know not who I am. Who I was.
I speak through a face without a mouth.
I live in fear of the coming.

Let me out of this empty space,
For I know not where I am. Where I was.
I am a traveller lost without a map.
I live in fear of the coming.

Let me out of here, I say.
I am but a shadow, a transient being.
Lost in the flux of a changing universe.
I lay dead and alive, free and enslaved.

Let me out of this illusion.
For I now know who I am.
For I now know where I am.
For the darkness has gone, the day begun.

This is not the end.
This is part of the cycle of existence.
A wheel that turns and turns.
Ever changing, never stopping.

Let me be one with the wheel.
With the emptiness.
In my transience and impermanence.
I am who I am.

Loving ... Her

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Fri, 29 May 2009 09:20:00 PDT

My heart longs for her company
Yes, it waits on end to hear her voice
The one that kills my melancholy
That turns to music the empty noise

My heart compels me to love
Alas my mind forbids this
So reason battles with emotion
Frustration and confusion

'Tis a happiness that can only be sad
A joy restrained by secret guilt
The sorrow of loving in the shadows
Hoping forever in the impossible

I wish that my love for her may die
So wrong it is, so strong it is
But I must do what is right,
And bear this hidden fire

For our current realities prohibit
Such a marriage between fire and ice
A union between bound and free

'Tis said love is 'till death do us part'
Yet, here love knows not itself
For it keeps us far apart
Never giving us a chance to start

an ordinary day

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Mon, 25 May 2009 08:56:00 PDT

'Twas an ordinary day,
The sun did rise
And the birds did sing
As I woke up

I stirred in bed
Reluctant to face
A continuous ritual
Of a mediocre existence

Words we say but do not mean
Things we do without conviction
Lives we lead without reflection
Will it ever change?

An ordinary day is boring
What if we can revive again...
Our childhood wonder?
An awe that came with every new day?

When a day was a chance to live
To experience an adventure
To imagine being someone else
To create something from nothing

How better would it be?
If we stopped and questioned
The voices that abound around us
As if they were always right

How difficult would it be to admit
We do not know or never knew
That we weren’t sure of the truth
Instead of parading with our empty pretences?

Our childish rituals of possessiveness
And self-importance. Why?
Why cannot this day be an extraordinary day,

For in spite of war and famine,
Disease and all of Pandora's curses
That afflict the world
We are here again. Alive and safe

So, is it really that bad to wake up
And face another ‘ordinary’ day?
Isn’t waking up enough to thank for?
And isn’t that really extraordinary in itself?

To live through an ordinary day?

Cinders

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 10:05:00 PDT

I. Chaos

What is the purpose of our lives?
Moving on, slowly, to our own destruction.
Aware of the inevitability of our death,
And yet going on as if we were immortal.
We think we are not alone in life,
Promising to love and wanting love.
Only to find we are isolated minds,
Fed by a world’s distorted vision.

Our traces.

II. Isolation

I create a wall around me,
A fortress to protect myself.
From the pain and rejection.
The destruction that stems from within.

III. Negation

I do not know what you perceive in me,
Why you judge me so harshly.
But you closed your heart and given up,
The gift of love I bestowed once upon you.
Can I love again? Or will death,
Insidiously snatch the promise,
The hope of a new life of happiness.
With another lady.

My ashes.

IV. Despondency

I want to break this boundless wall,
Raze down the cruel castle
Burn down this pain of rejection.
To resurrect the phoenix held within.
But, alas, it is to hard!

V. Entropy

My presence here is insignificant.
I know. Tomorrow I could die.
The world will go on. But not forever.
Our history, our life, our everything,
Will disappear leaving a trace.
Of meaningless cinders.
These cinders that once made up love.

These latent cinders.

VI. Rebirth

I wish to believe in hope,
Hope to love again once more.
Have faith in the unknown force.
To turn cinders back to life,
And transform Isolation to reconciliation.

VII. Sophie

For the end and the beginning,
Will have no meaning to me,
Unless love triumphs over death.
To live on beyond cinders.

Beyond life itself.

Street Boy

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 08:15:00 PDT

Mine appeared to be a simple life. Roaming the streets of this great city, or so they call it, hoping to amuse myself. However, appearances can deceive. For those who wish to judge my actions, I am a thief and, yes, often a liar. Unfortunately, it's not easy to live a 'virtuous' life in a place where you have to cope with extreme poverty to the extent that you are left starving whenever you fail to find food to eat.

I know, those of you who are perhaps blessed with enough food to eat and a solid roof to shelter under, to point your fingers at me and call me a robber. Yet, I dare you to imagine yourself living a life where you have no family, no friends you can fully trust - with most betraying you for a piece of bread, and uncertain about where you are going to sleep tonight. That is, locating a place, which is not infested by vermin.

, If you can live a virtuous life in my circumstances, will I then applaud you. In the meantime, know that how I live is not a matter of choice but rather a necessity. You may also feel that I live in a state of pity and deprivation. Be careful in making that judgment for I don't want to be pitied and because I know that what I have is my own while my life circumstances have been forced upon me. I guess, in life, there are those who have less, those who have enough and those who have more than enough!

I sometimes wish to be a dog in a luxurious area of California. There, a dog can even have his own home and plenty of food. And all I would need to do is live a life being pampered with rest and food galore! Even if it would be dog food, but I guess I'd like it then. If I were a dog... But now, to think of it, even the stray dogs I see around me in this 'great city' are as wretched as I am. Living off scraps and seeking shelter. We often compete for the same thing. The dogs and I.

Walking in these streets alone, I often find myself in another time where boys like me were commonplace. Certain nostalgia keeps coming back when the markets are filled with sellers of clothes, with all the shouting and cries. Not to mention the smell of fish as crowds patrol the streets searching for the best bargain. And I, in the corner, watching them as if studying their ways. Being invisible to the refined and sophisticated. A sane clown in a crazy world.

I tried opening up to my ‘friends’ about my feelings, my dreams of having a better life and the injustice of it all! But they make fun of me telling me to 'face facts' and get on with life. It's hard to want to live a good life when you're dying of hunger and thirst. And so, like the rest of them, I fall again and again. The truth of the matter is that if I should die in the streets one night, nobody would care and I suspect no one would even bother remembering me.

Should I blame them? What is the value of my life, compared say, to a minister or a film star? Or else, a scientist, doctor or lawyer? What am I really worth? I will be remembered as a simple thief, as a boy perhaps who was living in misfortunate circumstances. Journalists would have a field day describing my tragic life and politicians would pontificate on the need for better services and poverty eradication and promise voters this should never have happened.

To be remembered as a helpless victim plagued by poverty? That should make anyone wish to die. Indeed, I thought of ending my life so many times before. In fact, I fantasized about the best way to kill myself. Should I throw myself off a building? Or else, under a car? And even; perhaps, try drowning myself in the river? Hang myself? Was I foolish in entertaining such thoughts? Alas, it seems to be a daily battle for survival. I wish to have the luxury of an education or to stay at home resting. Even eating at a restaurant for a change and not sifting through the discarded remnants of a cultured palate.

Is it so late already? The night is with us. The streets are slowly waking up to more sinister proceedings. The lights are no matches for the dark forces of the night. Mischievous women with their suggestive poses, underground trade in crazy candy and goods ‘borrowed’ from anonymous owners. No I lost my innocence long ago but words may help in making reality more bearable. Time is pressing. I need to find a safe place to stay. Perhaps one day, I may find my real home.

The Core

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 08:51:00 PDT

I am a distant echo.
Emanating from your core.
I am here to haunt you.
Day and night.

Don't be sad but trust,
Hope and believe
But I will carry on

Till you find me again
And embrace
A long lost friend.

A time will come
When the pain so great
And the hurt so deep

That death will taste
As sweet as honey
But shut that trap door

To that pit lest you fall
And lose a chance
To shine with me.

For then, there will be
No secrets. No fear.

You know it is so empty
And yet so full.
But you still do not believe
That it is so...

This life of ours.

A Time for Valentine?

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Sat, 14 Feb 2009 01:18:00 PST

It's a cold day without the warmth of love,
On the day lovers walk hand in hand

Dancing to the couple’s song.

The lonely wanderer is not alone,
But he feels that isolation from a place within.

The child may know not what abandonment means,
But it can still haunt his dreams.

Time moves on without caring
About who lives or dies,

Or about who loves or is unloved.
And with time comes death - what then?

Would it matter if you cried,
Cursed the heavens for the desert
You feel inside?

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
Will love survive?

Yet, as the solitary traveller
And the outcaste child looks back,
They recall the love that once filled
Their spirit with endless happiness,

And for a moment

The world around them is bliss.

The cold did fade, and the pain recede,
They were no longer discontent but happy.
Happy in their solitude.

For another’s love may touch their being.
And leave that unique gift of joy,
Many have talked and written about.
But this may never happen.

And then, they would not see,
The love they wish so hard for,
Was part of them.
And if that love is cherished,
They will be ready to share it.

If the master of time will permit.

It took a moment ...

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 09:37:00 PST

It took a moment
As I dare look back
To realise

How happy I was
How sad I am

What will happen next?

Many judged me by their yardstick,
By the way I walked.
Or by what I said,
And the things I wrote.

But did they know me then?
Do I know myself now?

Change is certain.
Death is sure.
But love is not.

And our life is lonely.
Always unknown to others.
And hidden from our selves.

We tread into the dark.
Hoping to find the answer.

But never knowing
Never sure of what lies beyond.
Or look beyond the lies.
In believing this reality is ours forever.
A false security.

It won’t last. It never does.
But I must go on.

Hoping in this absurd uncertainty.
Yes, even accepting the inevitability
Of death
And of love's demise.

Life is happiness and sadness.
Life will cease to be.

Love can empower and destroy.
Love will end.

Change seems eternal.
But change is not forever.

And the last day comes for me,
I hope there is a time beyond.
But know not.

A dream I had ...

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Tue, 02 Sep 2008 08:24:00 PDT

I'm a bird flying over the deep ocean,
I am lost in calm motion.

My white body looks down at the sun
reflected in the blue wavy sea.

No past or future troubles me.
My wings are free in certainty.

I glide to where I do not know.
Yet I do not fear whatever is.

I am a bird.
I am a creature of the world.
Of the universe beyond.

---
Inspired by a dream I had today. Hope you enjoyed it!

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Fri, 29 Feb 2008 10:35:00 PST

NOT THE IDEAL MAN

I may not be an ideal man,

But at least I am real.

I may be short in stature,

But not of ideas, and dreams.

I may use four wheels for locomotion,

But I won’t take you for a ride.

I may be physically weaker than the average,

But I am strong in character and

Prepared to defend what I believe in.

I may have a way with words,

But they cannot fully explain who I am.

My life cannot be written down on paper,

Symbols on a page cannot express my being.

My longing for love and to share, who I am,

Being witness to the cycle of life and death,

To the eyes of those who judged me

Even before opening my mouth.

Yes, I can love - but am not faultless either.

I can laugh but also cry.

I can share the joy and the pain,

Of our temporary existences.

I know that we can only be with each other,

For a while. We remain alone in the passage

Of space and time.

To know me, you have to observe the empty space,

The silences that give meaning to my words.

The pauses that give music to the symphony called life.

I am only human.

I may look different,

But so would you.

To me.

I’m only special by virtue

Of being unique.

Like you.

No, I am not your ideal man,

For that would be stuff of fiction.

Simply An abstraction.

Devoid of humanity.

-------------------

I was inspired to write this poem this morning before I got to work. I jotted down the main structure and this is the complete version. Considering that today I had a bad headache, I wasn't really 'all there' these last few hours. But, at least, I managed to salvage most of the poem. Should be back here by Sunday! Hope you enjoy the poem...

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Sat, 26 Jan 2008 23:23:00 PST

Tell me …

Tell me the truth and I shall follow,

Give me the answer and I will stop asking.

Provide me with a sign so that I will know.

The truth is yours to find in the tomorrow.

If you stop asking, your life will be unbearable.

The signs are everywhere if your mind is open.

The dream of a better future. Of a world.

A world, where everyone can be oneself,

Can never be. For we live in others

And others live in us.

The love within is lost on those who close

Their minds to the touch of another life.

The ones who only judge the true, the good,

And the divine by the illusion of the mind.

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 22:15:00 PST

Alone

I stood as days went by without a thought,

My dreams and passions I blindly sought.

No fear or worry about the past,

Or future that would be ahead of me cast.

No words of love and hate were there.

No vanity or shame I knew.

There was just me and the sea.

Me and the stars.

I was the world,

And the world was me.

No good or evil shook this paradise.

I never knew then.

I was alone. In the Now.

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Sat, 17 Feb 2007 07:16:00 PST

PONDERING
SAINT VALENTINE

I was unsure of posting on Saint Valentine’s Day – the day often associated with lovers and romanticism. As I grew up, I did wonder what will happen when I started work or even after I finished from school. And tied to some fantasies I had as a teenager was hope that one day I would find a companion to join me in life's path.

CAPTION: Cupid sculpture ravaged by the elements (courtesy of http://www.sxc.hu/index.phtml)

LESSON 1: PITY IS NOT SYNONYMOUS WITH LOVE

I recall how once I was left alone during a local disco only to be ‘rescued’ by a friend’s sister who accepted to dance with me mainly because she probably pitied me. So, despite any talk of the power of love and the ideals of true love, the facts taught me that how I was perceived by others had much to do with the kind of relationships people like me should aspire to. And believe me, any relationship based on pity is headed for disaster!!

I made friends and have consequently passed through the awkward first crushes as well as being infatuated at times (better stop there). But I would rather be with people who respected me and treated me as an equal rather than look down at me as if I was some sort of misfortunate person. But back to the lessons I have learned …

LESSON 2: ROMANCE IS NOT FOR DISABLED PEOPLE

Moreover, There are as usual extreme perceptions surrounding disabled people, from one saying we are ‘asexual’ or virtually sexless, to the other which is equally damaging labelling us as ‘hypersexual’ or with extreme sexual appetites. True, we cannot equate sex with love but such images and preconceptions only help disable us in the pursuit of any meaningful relationship.

Besides this, I can recount how difficult it is for me as a wheelchair user to navigate the built environment. And there are also difficulties in finding transportation and services that are accessible. Not romantic stuff to think about really, but these are extra things on my checklist to consider if I were to write – say a romantic novel …

LESSON 3: IGNORE LESSON 2

Having an impairment should not, in an ideal world, be a statement bout my moral conduct, my preferences, or even my circle of friends and interests. It should be an interesting attribute that sets me aside from the rest of other men. I could say that I don’t walk but can wheel around. Or that being pushed around is a pleasure … that sounded kind of awful really… anyway you get the point…

A (BELATED) VALENTINE POEM

I do dabble in poetry, often romantic (depressing?) verse that echoes some of my preoccupations and even hopes… here’s a short excerpt from a recent poem I wrote on St Valentine itself:

{…}
I know she dreams and wants to know,
The meaning carved deep within her soul.
And yet I wonder why I write this now.

I might be seeking what cannot be done,
To capture what I can never truly know.
As if I could ever stop the river of my destiny,
Or put on hold the motions of the cosmos.
{…}

For more on St. Valentine’s day visit:
http://www.history.com/minisites/valentine/

noreply@blogger.com (Gordon) — Mon, 02 Oct 2006 09:12:00 PDT

BURNING BIRD POEM

This is not the real title of my poem but it surely grabbed your attention didn’t it? Since yesterday, I’ve been starting again my winter routine – even if it’s still autumn. And now I find that I have really changed since last year. For starters, I’m almost a year older… but some things do stay the same.

For instance, yesterday I felt I had to write a poem that is about love and desire. And of all the mythical creatures that I could equate these themes with was none other than the mythical fire bird known as the phoenix. The peculiarity of this bird is that it was thought to reproduce itself through its self-sacrifice by burning itself. And I think this is very similar to what happens to our desire for love. It burns us and is recreating us with each flame. Well, I wrote this late at night before I got to sleep. And yes, I did have a good night’s sleep if you’re wondering. I cannot get to sleep sometimes if there's unfinished business. And sometimes this means sacrificing one hour sleep… Anyway, here’s the poem:

PHOENIX RISING

I linger on in my silence,

As I contemplate overpowering desire.

The day is pale and my mind knows not,

What this fleeting passion will lead me to.

The heart takes over and does burn:

All past and futures…
Into mere ashes!

No time to think as life flashes like a dream,
And abruptly turns all reason.

Inverting the old order for a greater love.

And as this fiery flame rages out its energy,

Still it does not die!

For as soon as it is extinguished, a bird sets forth to fly,

To haunt me with its ever-growing longing –

But only to start its incandescent ritual. Again.

Ravaging my heart and soul leaving but ashes.

As it warms my spirit with its everlasting light.

That speaks untold desires. And changes me.

So that I burn and die repeatedly in its faceless gaze,

To be born again like a rising phoenix.

READ ABOUT THE MYTH OF THE PHOENIX