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.