I have stopped existing in your world.
I mean, I do exist but only just about. It is not a struggle for life or anything like that. I have just blended in and am now in a dark forgotten corner. The rage has simmered to memory. And I just lie there. And watch.
* * *
I have started shining in a new world.
I mean, I was always there but as someone else. It is something like your world but nothing like it. I have just blended in and am now in the spotlight. The novelty has set fire to a passion. And I just go out. And create.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Uncertainly unwilling
If only
For a moment
She hesitated
When he looked her
In the eye
It was
This moment
That came back
To him
When she died
* * *
Figuratively speaking, of course. She was still alive. But not his anymore. That was when he thought back to that one moment of hesitation, of doubt. Of the doubt that lingered in everything, even if it did not creep up and show itself.
* * *
It was
This hesitation
That killed
The innocence
They had created
* * *
The world that was built upon the fragile illusions of the absence of reality. Of course it had to all break down someday. But not crumble like this. Not with deceit.
* * *
But everything does not end the way it is supposed to. Or so they would have him believe.
For a moment
She hesitated
When he looked her
In the eye
It was
This moment
That came back
To him
When she died
* * *
Figuratively speaking, of course. She was still alive. But not his anymore. That was when he thought back to that one moment of hesitation, of doubt. Of the doubt that lingered in everything, even if it did not creep up and show itself.
* * *
It was
This hesitation
That killed
The innocence
They had created
* * *
The world that was built upon the fragile illusions of the absence of reality. Of course it had to all break down someday. But not crumble like this. Not with deceit.
* * *
But everything does not end the way it is supposed to. Or so they would have him believe.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Moment vs. Moment
“It was my moment versus yours.”
“Why does it have to be one against the other? We were both there weren’t we?”
“Physically yes, but there is more to it than that.”
“I am sure there is, but what the hell do you mean by your moment versus mine?”
“Well, I am sure it did not mean the same thing to you as it did to me.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because we take out different memories from different moments. You are a sentimental romantic and I am a practical yet sensitive poet.”
“Oh, so the poet speaks!”
“No need to get sarcastic. I am just trying to answer your question.”
“So why don’t you compose a poem to explain it to me.”
“Maybe I will.”
“I am sure you won’t.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t have the inspiration.”
“Haha. Do you think everything I write is inspired?”
“It isn’t?”
“No. Sometimes it’s just some bullshit string of words that I put together in the name of art. Let others ponder the mystery and wonders of my writing just by making it so different from what they have read before, and it comes out shining as a brilliant piece of literature. Of course there are other times when I put my heart and soul into writing something and everyone seems to misread what I have been writing about – taking out their own meanings, which ruin the very purpose of my writing. Anyway, that does not matter. That is why I say it is my moment versus yours.”
“But I am sure it does not happen all the time. There must be times when people spot the bullshit and feel the passion.”
“Feel the passion. Hah. Yes, there are times when that happens.”
“And those are the times you feel connected to your readers.”
“I suppose I do.”
“Then how is it your moment versus theirs.”
“But they don’t get the exact same feeling.”
“But they get the gist of it?”
“Yes, they do.”
“Then can’t there be times when the moment is the same for us.”
“I thought I was the practical one, but then again, this is a very romantic point of view.”
“Leave romance out of it and answer the question.”
“No. There is always a difference in the moment.”
“Stop being stubborn.”
“Okay. Okay. So there can be sometimes when the moment is same but that is very rare. Different things mean different things to different people. Like the last sentence, that was alliteration to me, a confusing sentence to you, using the word “different” too many times to someone else, clichéd to another, nonsense to another and so forth. If one simple sentence can change things then how can you expect moments to be the same?”
“Stop trying to confuse me.”
“Exactly. You are confused while I am marveling at my alliteration.”
“Words and moments are very different things.”
“Are you trying to confuse me now?”
“No I am not.”
“Then let’s go get a cup of coffee and continue this there.”
“Let’s. Maybe we will create another moment.”
“Maybe it will be the same.”
“It will.”
“Why does it have to be one against the other? We were both there weren’t we?”
“Physically yes, but there is more to it than that.”
“I am sure there is, but what the hell do you mean by your moment versus mine?”
“Well, I am sure it did not mean the same thing to you as it did to me.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because we take out different memories from different moments. You are a sentimental romantic and I am a practical yet sensitive poet.”
“Oh, so the poet speaks!”
“No need to get sarcastic. I am just trying to answer your question.”
“So why don’t you compose a poem to explain it to me.”
“Maybe I will.”
“I am sure you won’t.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t have the inspiration.”
“Haha. Do you think everything I write is inspired?”
“It isn’t?”
“No. Sometimes it’s just some bullshit string of words that I put together in the name of art. Let others ponder the mystery and wonders of my writing just by making it so different from what they have read before, and it comes out shining as a brilliant piece of literature. Of course there are other times when I put my heart and soul into writing something and everyone seems to misread what I have been writing about – taking out their own meanings, which ruin the very purpose of my writing. Anyway, that does not matter. That is why I say it is my moment versus yours.”
“But I am sure it does not happen all the time. There must be times when people spot the bullshit and feel the passion.”
“Feel the passion. Hah. Yes, there are times when that happens.”
“And those are the times you feel connected to your readers.”
“I suppose I do.”
“Then how is it your moment versus theirs.”
“But they don’t get the exact same feeling.”
“But they get the gist of it?”
“Yes, they do.”
“Then can’t there be times when the moment is the same for us.”
“I thought I was the practical one, but then again, this is a very romantic point of view.”
“Leave romance out of it and answer the question.”
“No. There is always a difference in the moment.”
“Stop being stubborn.”
“Okay. Okay. So there can be sometimes when the moment is same but that is very rare. Different things mean different things to different people. Like the last sentence, that was alliteration to me, a confusing sentence to you, using the word “different” too many times to someone else, clichéd to another, nonsense to another and so forth. If one simple sentence can change things then how can you expect moments to be the same?”
“Stop trying to confuse me.”
“Exactly. You are confused while I am marveling at my alliteration.”
“Words and moments are very different things.”
“Are you trying to confuse me now?”
“No I am not.”
“Then let’s go get a cup of coffee and continue this there.”
“Let’s. Maybe we will create another moment.”
“Maybe it will be the same.”
“It will.”
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