a jewish thought

As the Rabbi said,

"al tadeen et chavercha ad she'tagi'a leemkoemoe..."

Do not judge your fellow human being

until you come to his place.

forwarded message

Adolf Bautista, a friend from the medieval times, forwarded a text message, one of those I don't immediately delete seconds after I receive. I think of it as some sort of Ilonggo chant or spell, or folk song, I can't really confirm where it's from and who wrote it. But I love its simplicity and undertones.

"Pating, lupad ka na sa bato bantiling.
Lantawa ang Sentral ginapagaling.
Dolse bayabas, damu sang liso,
kambyo kalamay, matam-is,
malas-ay."

the smell will solve them all (a junkie's introspection)

it's thursday night and i can't rest
my head from one whole day
of frolic and of panic

i turn the a/c on and
plug my ears with mp3s
that drown my misery

in my head they are amok
running to, fro and through
my exhaustible brain cells

speeches on social problems
scary sounds of global conflict
and images of injustices

i see them, hear and feel
all these mindboggling
heartwrenching agitating

situations that i can't just end
nor resolve on my own
but can't possibly ignore

so i turn my player louder
to kill this beat of hate
anger and negative surrender

i brush my face and i had
to smell my index and middle
fingers pass by my nose

i remember where this
distinctly strongly unique
scent is coming from

it's the smell of weed
i can't quit, an afterscent
i come to love and hate

why, let me stop this ranting
and shun the world off
with the pot i smoke

text message from an african kid

The following is a popular fowarded SMS. It says: "This poem was nominated the Best Poem of 2005, written by an African kid."

Well, nobody really knows where it came from or if an African kid really wrote it, or at which award-winning ceremony was it nominated for Best Poem.

Anyway, here's the poem (spelling and formatting from the original message isn't edited):

"Wen i born,
i black.
Wen i grow up,
i black.
Wen i go in the sun,
i black.
Wen i scared,
i black.
Wen i sick,
i black.
And wen i die,
i still black.

And u white fella,
Wen u born,
u pink.
Wen u grow up,
u white.
Wen u go in the sun,
u red.
Wen u cold,
u blue.
Wen u scared,
u yellow.
Wen u sick,
u green.
And wen u die,
u gray...

And u calling me
colored???"

Credits go to my friend, the award-winning artist from UAE, Abdulla Sharhan, for letting me use his piece of art for this post. It's called "African Kid". And also to my high school English teacher, Sir Jojo, for being the first to send me this SMS (that was about four months ago!)

she walks not: a corruption of lord byron's 'she walks in beauty'

She runs in darkness from her fright
Of horrid thoughts and pitch-black skies
And all that's wretched in her sight
Meet in her horror-stricken eyes
Thus hurried to that long-lost light
Which Hades to gloomy May denies
One shade comes more, one breath comes less
Had half-impaired her nameless fears
Which wave in every raven tress
Or slyly darkens o'er her face
Were thoughts startlingly stealthily rest
How grim, how hideous is their place
So harshly painted o'er that brow
Ghoulish, gruesome, vespertine
The wounds that ache, the tears that flow
That tell of days in darkness spent
A mind at pain with mem'ries flawed
A heart whose love unrequited

-------------
Author's Note:
This poem is based on Lord Byron's "She Walks in Beauty".
Originally posted at allpoetry.com.

After You Die

You just can't leave me watch you by
My soul is begging dearly
As it cries coldly through my eyes
The sun I shall not see
After you die

"Darling stop confusing me with your wishful thinking,
Hopeful embraces, don't you understand?"

You just can't leaveme sing this piece
My song is ghastly written
As it wails of love in pain
The song I shall not sing
After you die

"I have to go through this, I belong to here where
No one cares and no one loves, no light no air to live in"

You just can't leave me by your side
My longing chills and creeps
As it shoos the love away
The warmth I shall not feel
After you die

"A place called hate, the city of fear
I play dead, it stops the hurting"

You just can't leave me kiss the wind
My wish is not the same
As your wishful thinking is
The dream I shall not have
After you die

"I play dead and the hurting stops, it's sometimes just like sleeping,
curling up inside my private tortures"

You just can't leaveme live alone
My misery turned to hate
As I sleep to rid the pain
The air I shall not breathe
After you die

"I nestle into pain, hug suffering
Caress every ache, I play dead"

You just can't leave me

"It stops the hurting when I play dead"

After you die

-------------
Author's Note:
This is a response poem to Mr Greenleaf's "Before You Die" (http://allpoetry.com/Poem/890276). It is embedded with the lines of Bjork's song "Play Dead" (the lines in italics). I was studying Mr Greenleaf's poem when "Play Dead" played on my Winamp. I was struck at the coincidence, and it left goosebumps all over me. The song is perfect for the tone of my poem, so I embedded its lines here. If you check this song out, you will see (or rather, hear and feel) what I exactly mean. "Play Dead" is on Bjork's 1993 'Debut' CD.
Originally posted at allpoetry.com exactly a year ago.

A Good Night's Sleep: A Collection of Poems Nocturnale

"On your door I have written 'Good Night' so that when you wake up,

You will knowI was thinking of you."

-Franz Schubert

A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP

There is great peace
in slumber
when all the world's
in sham
and escape has closed
the eye.

There is burden
in sleep
when all the world's
just right
and joy is stirring
tonight.



MOONLIGHT

Shadows cast
make an impression
of the world
above.

Moonlight beams
through the aggression
of the heart
unhappy.



WHY THE MOON IS SAD

Adored by many a poet
is the uncanny beauty
of the night's sun.

Despised by many a weakling
is the deadly scare
of the distant mares.

Saddened by many a loner
is the lunar legend
of the solitary moon.



DARK DEAD SKIES

Dark, dead skies -
redundant truth -
I look up to see
and nothing is there.

Would there still be you?
Would there still be me?
Dark, dead skies
answer me not.-



THROUGH THE NIGHT

Under the dark skies
he wonders
where He is
and if He knows
how he feels
through the night.

Over the deep sighs
He wanders
where He is
and thinks he knows
how to get
through the night.



HE IS

He sleeps,
he is too weary.
He says
'he is safe with me'.
He stirs,
he is uneasy.
He shrieks,
he is scared of it.
He sins,
he is unworthy.
He sees,
he is to sleep again.



NIGHTMARE, DONE

Gasping for air
he wakes;
Sweating, screaming,
loud!
Forever chased
by black mares;
Caught, devoured,
crisp!
Sleep yet again, and rest
you dreamy hare;
Coming, chased,
again!



SOJOURN INTO STYX

Sojourn into Styx
where you once slept.
Not that dark, is it?
Or am I just sophomoric?

You are a son of this Sea
so scamper not;
You shall serve
as its symbol.



HE CAME

Even the moon wasn't up
when he came for me.
In the dead of the night
we flew into the dark.
Taking me where God sleeps
where only we witness
the joy of deep slumber.



SLEEPER

Hush now, he sleeps.
His lids have failed,
his grey has paused.
His words silenced,
his love unsaid.
But he wakes -
eyes sparkling yet again.
His heart has spoken.
His love lives on.


-------------
Author's Note:
These poems were written separately in a perioud of four months, late 2004.
Originally posted at allpoetry.com.

Farewell, Farewell

Shadows cast
by feelings lost.
Windmills turn
by sandy storms.
Goosebumps live
by frozen touch.
Teardrops fall
by echoing words.

Farewell,
farewell.
This sun has to set.
Leaves have to wither,
Goodbyes must be said.

Tides ebb
by lunar pull.
Tides rise
by lunar thrust.
Ray of light
by sun alone.
Sad stare
by day and night.

Farewell,
farewell.
This plane has to fly.
Wings drift south,
Valediction cried.

Lucifer's Songs Part 3: "The Star's Fallen"

"How art thou fallen from heaven,

O Lucifer, son of the morning!

How art thou cut down to the ground,

which didst weaken the nations!"

-Isaiah 14:12

Hear, O Father of Heaven! You've made outcast

Your son, Your heir, Your One Bright Light

that gently shone but now You've made aghast.

And I, Your Fallen Seraph, humbled by your height

shall never again will proudly seek

power-led ambition threatening in your sight.

I speak not, resist no further, be as meek

as Your lowly creatures need no redemption.

I shall be hid by the dark of parapets weak.

But behold! Sheol's parapets find me reason

to wonder at their howls and look Up High concerned:

Gates of Heaven darkened, to me they willed to mention.

And I myself can see how dark the skies have turned

as if all its torches, candlesticks put out.

Is there, O Father, I ask, a cause for angels to mourn?

I, then, have come to realize, as echoes of my call are all about,

that my query is obviously unwelcome,

that I cannot be heard, that I have no more mouth.

No more mouth, no more wings, no more Kingdom!

No more voice, no more light, no dignity!

You stripped them all from me, the worst is done.

Hear, O Father, the Highest Diety!

I beg to warn how gloomy Your palace is!

Put another seraph to bear a light almighty,

To bear a light like mine was his.

O Father, put another seraph, but wait,

choose the one with no ambition nor malice.

Strangely, an answer has come, a knock on my grim gates.

Is this Your messenger with apt reply You sent?

And yet again a louder knock, so I went up to see who brings the fate.

Strangely, a legion of my kind down here they went,

gathered in my gates condemned, so I wondered like I have not:

What brings you seraphim in the darkest of the dens?

Strangely, I in the shadows never got

any reply from this congress, or from God.

Yet I knew, I understood, why here they're at!

So in their midst and on the mount of Nod,

I kneel and pray to You, O Father,

of these angels' state, broken wings, bloody sad.

I call upon You, I know that You are near.

My heat of black from brutal burning

calls on You so please lend me Your holy ear.

For at Your holy ear I shall scream with rage upstarting!

Fuel my rage, and I shall light these depths

with my once great Fireball avenging!

O Father, how You choose to be so deaf,

You throw me here belittling my great of past?

You punished me with dark uncertainty, I wished for death!

And struck the gates of Death, the lightning has

ignited flames that summoned my awaited wake.

From Fall I rise an ancient Throne of Battledust.

I stir the earthly flames and pour into a Lake

all melted gold, all lampposts made

and make these seraphim the loyal guardians of the Lake.

And this Kingdom I built shall cause Yours to fade

Like it has now, how Your House turned, oh, so dark

because You sinfully brought down Your Star and froze it dead.

But I, the frozen Star of Dawn, shall shine and spark,

I shall reign again and redeem my morning glory,

build the greatest Empire ever marked.

Nevertheless my prayer is truly

Incomplete without due thanksgiving.

So here is gratitude, of which You are worthy:

Thank You, Father, for offering

a dark nullity for me to enlighten,

a chance to regain the true Star's Shining.

Thank You, too, for these seraphim

who believe in my cause, shining, too, in my Light.

My kingdom's come, O hallowed be Your name!

And most of all I thank You for the sight

of mortals, by appointing me your Satan.

I'll do as You please, I shall burn them with my might.

Alas! The Fallen has risen to rule the mortals' land.

To reign over their human nature, over judgment

of earth and its serpent-fearing inhabitants.

I shake all mortals' ground with my incredible strength,

For out the serpent's root shall come a fiery smoke.

I thank You God, for telling them this apocalyptic legend.

For I am now a master of every possible Rock.

These Churches, Oh how they make me stronger and greater!

By taking form of beast or demon, defining their horrors unlocked.

The Fallen by Your blessed curse is indeed empowered,

My Hell be done on earth as it is in heaven.

While dawn is called, and so am I, Your Son, the radiant Lucifer!

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

Author's Note:

God didn't create us, we created him.

Option 3 for "Sarcasm Wanted"

***Finally, I am done with the last part for the Lucifer's Songs series.

This is my first major attempt on a terza rima. (For more info on terza rima, click here.)

Thanks for Tainted Whisper's contest options I have been enlightened of how shall I write the finale for my Lucifer tale. And oh, sorry for the length!

Lucifer's Songs Part 2: "The Star's Aflame"

"For thou hast said in thine heart,
I will exalt my throne above the stars of God,
I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation
in the far sides of the north."
-Isaiah 14:13

In medias res I've come to claim
Due land and all my loyal subjects
Bathed gold with different dialects
But united by my legendary name.

For I their King shall sit Up High
and all other kings shall be princes,
sheer lords that rule yet powerless.
My reign they shall never defy.

My light the world below is guided by
shall announce the glory I bear:
I am the bolts that Zeus prepares
to shake Olympus and mortals underneath it lie.

Yet gods have malicious tendency
to envy and question power:
"Who is Lucifer to rule us over?"
To Jove this they raise against me.

The Great Conspiracy has then been concocted
to allegate my noblest ambition
as hideous plan for mass destruction
of kingdoms they themselves abducted!

Even more the Throne next to mine shook
of paranoia as He Himself has heard
of my greatness, daunting as He has learned
for He is also witness to the glory they're to rebuke.

Surely my glory they have slily taken!
I helplessly eyed how these lesser princes
robbed me of my treasures and made me powerless.
I should have fought but my fireball yet is hidden.

But a prince yet dissatisfied has rudely spoken:
"I shall break you, Assyrian, and tread you underfoot."
To this my rage replied a call so aptly brought:
"I shall break this enemy's sword and leave of him no token!"

And I, aflame, warred with God's newfound
as He, alone, in His Throne saw my struggling Light.
"Why, this Star is a star I should be as bright,
I shall bear the very light of his blazing heartpound."

To hear this and to please his Master, Michael fought more
with me the Lightbearer; To death we were battling
to make whoever lives the godly powerling.
Day and night we fought, me aflame and him a-gore.

Tired of us gladiators, our Creator then stepped down
and left two thrones, mine and His, with His hand widely opened.
"This is the Hand stretched out to all your burden."
Who will it turn back? No one perhaps, but a coldness turned my bone.

Turned my bone with an icy pain shooting through
my blades, my shoulders, my fireball's flames!
This shocking chill went through my spine, it maims
my strength, my power, my light they knew!

I glared at Him whose Hand is firmly over me;
Paternal hunch for a son and heir posing a threat.
And behind Him, the Lesser Prince is grinning at such a feat;
As my wings are plucked, he continues animosity.

He steals my crown and nails twin thorns
driven into my aching, chilling, bleeding head.
He thrusts his sword into my body frozen dead,
a hissing sound of fires just quenched comes out my mourns.

As the victor pries on my paralysis,
he pushes me to fall from those Great Heights
and I descend from heavens, melting my ice, rekindling my fires
like a streaking star plunging through the dark, deep Pits.