A Fist Fight Over Turkeys

Everybody is fussing over Thanksgiving Day, that is, if you're in America. Apparently, this national holiday has made most people extra busy preparing for the said event. Thanksgiving, if I may add, is very much anticipated, unless ofcourse if you're a turkey. I, personally, don't know how turkey tastes like. Yes. Pathetic, I know. But you have to realize that I live in a country where Thanksgiving Day isn't relevant. We have what we call Fiesta (celebrated in honor of a patron saint), and instead of big birds roasted and served on top of the table, we butcher pigs instead and roast them over live coals (mmmmmm... yum yum). So going back to the topic of turkeys, I couldn't imagine how supermarkets would be like, just a day before Thanksgiving Day. It would probably be crazy. One thing I learned about shopping, NEVER EVER DO IT THE LAST MINUTE!!! I asked a friend of mine if turkeys in their country aren't endangered yet. With all the people serving turkey on Thanksgiving, I could only imagine mass annihilation of these poor big birds and their probable extinction. He laughed at me and said that turkeys were ridiculously abundant so I don't have to worry about him shopping for it just the day before. I was surprised that he wasn't worried about last minute shopping. I then had this absurd idea of him getting into a fist fight in the supermarket over who gets the last turkey. I told him about this and I guess I made him laugh out loud. He called me crazy, maybe out of endearment. I suddenly remembered one particular episode of FRIENDS where Monica puts a turkey on her head. It was such a hilarious clip, I just had to share it. So maybe turkeys are abundant after all. If Monica could afford to ruin a turkey on Thanksgiving Day by putting it on her head as an apologetic gesture, then maybe serving turkey is really not that important compared to having your loved one by your side during a special occassion such as today (Thanksgiving, ofcourse). One thing I learned about holidays is that whatever food you serve, whether it be turkey or fish, it still is more meaningful if you celebrate life with those you love. I'm sort of frustrated because we don't have Thanksgiving Day here in the Philippines. Maybe I just miss my friends and I can't wait for the next holiday to celebrate with them. It is indeed ridiculous to engage in a fist fight over the last turkey in the supermarket. Personally, I don't believe that fist fights are the best way to settle arguments, but if I were to get into a fight to defend a friend who just grabbed the last turkey, I would do so without reservations. Because no amount of turkey in the world could ever replace a friend.

Requiem

Genre: Gothic-Thriller Archetypes: The Vigilante, The Dark Lord Plotline: Transformation, Escape Keywords: Body Painting, Church Marcus has lived most of his life in hiding. He has never stayed in the same place once nor has he used a real name to establish his identity. It has been so long since he used his name Marcus. Different people have known him by different aliases, but no one knows what kind of person Marcus is - what kind of job Marcus does. For years, Marcus has served no absolute master except his own obsession to rid the earth of all scum. He does this quickly, stealthily - with or without a price. For every man that dies in his hand, he leaves a sign; a Japanese Henna tattoo on the forehead of the victim translated as REQUIEM. No one has been able to trace the perpetrator of the killings. Always, he has left top investigators befuddled. Killing has been so ordinary for him that slowly, he was being transformed into a monster - hollow and unfeeling. He hated this void he felt deep within. He knew he needed redemption. A kind of redemption that would transform him into something new. He wanted to live a normal a life. It has been 15 years . . . Marcus went to a place where he has made himself an anathema. The Roman Catholic Church. He has been raised Catholic by his devout parents. They have sent him to a seminary so he could be a priest. And there, at the age of fifteen, he learned the meaning of rage. Marcus closed his eyes, trying so hard to erase the memory from his head, but he could remember every detail of abuse. His mentor has abused him in such a way that he could hear even the church walls scream in protest with the sickness of it. Marcus was so enraged that his vision darkened and he could only remember himself hitting his mentor with a marble candelabra on the head. He remember the exhilirating feeling of seeing red, of smelling red. He didn't feel afraid. As if, by spilling his first blood, a new door has been opened to him - his new calling. He has long excommunicated himself from the church. He felt that no amount of blood of the Savior could wash away his guiltlessness. He knew that his soul was already doomed, yet here he was, in this so-called place of God, waiting for an absolution that would not come. He knew he was supposed to agonize over what he was about to do next. But he could not let himself feel remorseful nor repentant. The Dark Lord is rising. He has to move fast. This would be his last assignment and after this, he could retire. Oh yes! The Dark Lord was very well protected. Nobody knew what kind of evil monster this Dark Lord was. He was cunning, deceitful; but he was also an old man - frail, fragile. He just needed to be meters away from this monster, and the world will be free from this Dark Lord, and the Darker Lord behind him. He could imagine it now. Hundreds, or maybe thousands of people, mourning for their personified Lamb. What they don't know is that the man lying before them is indeed the spawn of the Apocalyptic Antichrist, and the shadow that died with him is the greater evil still. Marcus could now taste the sweetness of blood at the tip of his tongue. His final assignment would be his greatest ever. There is no room for failure, no room for second chances. It is either now - or it would be too late. He left the church with a new kind of rage that now roils in his blood. For hundreds of years, the world has been deceived. It was now time to open their eyes in shock. It was the age of transformation. So many people have been marionettes of this Dark Lord. It was time for an uprising. And with the Dark Lord's death, people will never be deprived of heaven again. He has waited for this day. The Requiem. He got the things he needed and placed it inconspicuously in a guitar case he was carrying. Today, he was known as Antonio, a travelling musician, who just got to town to witness the grand procession of a self declared god. Antonio will just be in the town square playing music. Thousands of people will be out to see the procession, and the Dark Lord will pompously parade in front of his puppets, in robes of purple, while the other, in robes of black. Antonio knew that he needed to be swift. One wrong move, and he himself would send the whole earth to its doom. He knew he wasn't just going to kill one - he also has to kill the other - the substance and the shadow. To do that, he needed two kinds of weapons. One forged by machinery and the other by an older magic that was lost and forgotten. Minutes passed by and his anticipation has made his hands tremble with excitement. He was trained to do this. He would not fail. He musn't. The crowd started to thicken and the cavalcade of abominations about to begin. Antonio positioned himself to a place where people won't notice him. He has been trained to shoot even out of range so he need not be near his prey. The procession seemed eternal, but finally, the highlight arrived. The Dark Lord walked through the crowd, and the people gave him reverence. He was a living deity among them. To touch him would seem like blasphemy, because his self-proclaimed infallibility has equated him to be the Son of the Most High. Antonio squinted his eyes in disgust mixed with stern concentration. The Dark Lord paraded, unprotected, without bullet-proof vests. Perhaps he knew that no one would dare touch him now. Years ago, there was one who tried to eliminate his predecessor. The perpetrator almost succeeded, but his predecessor lived and the vigilante was brought to justice. Today, no one would dare. Now, with a dark force behind him, he knew that he was very well protected. The Dark Lord was oblivious of Antonio, lurking in the distance. Antonio was well prepared for this. Before this task, he has visited a Native mystic from his ancestry. Now, with the intensified spirits of brave warriors shielding him, even the Darker Lord would not be able to sense his presence. Antonio looked at the Dark Lord from where he was standing. It was time. He pulled the trigger with one sure motion. The bullet buried itself on the Dark Lord's forehead, a convenience that Antonio tried to make sure of. Now he didn't need to paint his victim's forehead with REQUIEM. Then, there were screams everywhere. Amidst the confusion, the Dark Lord lay dead. But there was another, a Darker Lord still. Antonio's spirit eye could see the shadow move closer to him. The Darker Lord has sensed his presence. Quickly, he pulled the trigger again. This time, the bullet was infused with magic of long ago. The bullet pierced through the shadow. Shattering it to pieces. A shrill cry was heard -deafening - like that of a thousand banshees. Everyone was disoriented. Louder screams were heard. Nobody pursued Antonio. He blended in with the rest of the crowd. No need to flee and feel guilty. He has done the world a favor. The Dark Lord was dead. The Darker Lord gone with him. Now his job was done. Once again, he became Marcus. Marcus retreated in a corner where screams and cries were less heard. It was time to retire from this self-imposed job he has created for himself. To die is sweet escape. He smiled inwardly at himself for a job well done. Today was the day of transformation. Today was a good day to escape. With that last thought, the spirits of the brave beckoned him to come with them. Marcus put the gun against his head and . . . bled.

Emo

Here I am, contemplating about how it is going to end for me. I hate myself for hurting you. I don't want to hate myself any longer. I thought I could be a salve to heal you from your pain, but this chasm between us is so deep and so wide that even wishful thinking could not reach. I am way too far ahead and you are way too far behind. Knowing you now makes me sad because it seems that you are a lightyear late and I could have saved myself from such misery of wanting you and of not wanting you if Destiny was just kind enough to let us meet in time. I didn't mean to be deceitful nor have I wanted you to bank on false hope. The truth is, I am stuck in quicksand, I have no redemption. The more I struggle, my doom comes a little bit faster. So here I am, waiting for my inevitable escape to the afterlife. No one can save me, because I am bound by traditions stronger than fate. I can only covet you from afar because nothing can bridge the gap between the chasm that divides us. It would take three revolutions of the sun to bring me back to time because Destiny is cruel and she has played a mean trick on me. So, continue to thrive, because I need no saving. I can say that I am happy where I am. And you have to believe me. Otherwise, you'd have to fall deep into the chasm, and there I could never be able to help you live. Understand that I didn't mean for this to happen; for us to feel this void deep within, realizing the gap and the inescapable circumstance that binds me away. I didn't mean to feed you with my psychosis and let you suffer my pain. I am in this alone. I hate myself for hurting you. I don't want to hate myself any longer. So now, I contemplate how it is going to end for me. I might just well let myself bleed. Emo Girl

The Coquette and The Reluctant Villain

I just purchased a very cool tool for my Creative Writing Club from PowerBooks. It is called Talecraft. The aim of Talecraft is to create stories based on cards. Some see it as a creative tool. Others treat it as a game. But Talecraft is an art: one with the purpose of taking its participants on a journey to the recesses of imagination, to see lands where rules are bent, and to meet people who steal our hearts. Archetypes: The Reluctant Villain, The Coquette I got to pick out nine cards. One for genre, two for archetypes and six for keywords and plotlines. I decided to just make a character sketch of the archetypes I got. Making a full story would take me hours, and I have no time for that at the moment. Character Sketch for The Coquette: Sandra Mayfield came from a poor family and her economic status has given her the motivation to succeed in life. However, she equates success with money and because of this, ethics has never been her strong point. Sandra has grown to be self-sufficient because of her cleverness and innate gift of manipulation. Sandra is a stunningly beautiful woman, with long golden locks, deep blue eyes, and a smile that could stop a heartbeat for a nanosecond. She is aware of this physical attribute, and has used it to her advantage. At nineteen, she has become skilled at teasing: she gives a man a taste of something (like a kiss), then withraws. With this, she has driven men crazy and she has been able to get what she wants. Money motivates her, and with rich men under her spell, she gets it easily. Character sketch for the Reluctant Villain: Glenn Summers was just an ordinary guy from Sandra's town. He wasn't exceptionally rich, nor was he breathtakingly handsome. However, he had a mind like Einstein and was good in computers. He had known Sandra since elementary, and like the other guys who desired her, he was head over heels in love with her but he couldn't express it because she was his bestfriend. Glenn's extensive knowledge in computers has made him a pawn of gangsters to exploit his expertise. As much as he wants to earn money the legal way, he is then suckered into a world of thieves because of grave threats and emotional blackmail. Sadly, he lets himself be used by these evil people because he was a pushover. Moreover, he kind of enjoys the perks of being part of debauchery. He gets to have a lot of money which he knew would make Sandra like him more. So far, these are the character sketches I have made for the archetypes I have picked out from the deck. Talecraft is really a great tool for the imagination. "Words are spells . . . " To practice Talecraft is to weave words. . .

Fallen

Something unexpected happened today, and it has saddened me the way that I have never felt for a long time. I have let my own words destroy the very being that I needed to save. I should have let the beauty of my inner mumblings rot inside my heart and should have not let another feel the burden. My unacknowledged masterpiece has made another person miserable and now I am discouraged to write another word . . . about . . . priceless wishes. I didn't mean for that person to misinterpret or give a whole new meaning to my unwanted ramblings. I just wanted him to be free from his personal demons by giving him hope that there is absolution. Maybe not today, but in the future . . . where there is uncertainty, with or without me. I feel like I have been emotionally blackmailed and that the thoughts that I so desperately needed to exhale were turned into the very thing that would stiffle my breathing in the end, and leave me a little less lifeless than what I have been before. Is it my fault to be inspired by the grief that embodies him and be compelled to turn his sorrow into something beautiful, more than he can imagine? I wash my hands off that guilt. I was just trying to be an angel, and now I have fallen. My conscience has been screaming bloody warnings at me and I am very much afraid. I guess I deserve this kind of agitation. For me to continue to be kind seems intolerable cruelty to him, and to be brutally cruel seems like kindness. Whatever I choose to do seems like Catch 22. I will lose either way. I have never meant for this to happen- to be stuck in a void where emotions collide. But here I am, absorbing all the pain that this unexpected turn of event has to offer. I can never escape it. It's too late now . . . and I'm crying my tears red. I never wished for his eyes to go blind with the mere thought of my radiance. I don't deserve such adoration. Nor did I wish to hear his ragged breathing that sounded like rasping in my ears. I feel myself burdened with the thought of his agony because it was never my intention to hurt. All I ever wanted was to share the feelings stirred within me through the meticulous weaving of words, hoping that if I did, I could revive someone who has been broken. I never thought that even through discreet metaphors, my deep emotions could render someone a little incapacitated. I am not really an angel, just like he imagined. I can never be one now because I have caused someone to figuratively bleed. I have failed in my task to save a life. And now, I could never write another word about priceless wishes, because I have already fallen.

Twilight Apart

We live a twilight apart, And I am a person living in the future. Dimensionless is this world we live in, Yet my day is your night, And when you wake, I dream. In dreams I fly into this limbo Contained in your yesterday. And this realm is our rendezvous, But we could never really touch. We could never really feel. We can only stare past each other's eyes And imagine how we could outsmart time By defying distance through this Field of dreams. I wish that you weren't a sunset away, Because even virtually, We are cheated - We are robbed of moments That could have been, But would never be and . . . Only words can contain these priceless wishes. It's sad how we can only be content With vicarious experiences Because we can never be - Never be more But a twilight apart.

Without Love, I am Bankrupt.

Taking time off from work has made me realize that life is all about relationships. Eversince I started working my ass off, I have become like an ass myself. I wasn’t able to nurture intimate relationships with my colleagues. I wasn’t able to maintain the close relationships I had with my friends. I had become a stranger to my family. - All because of work - work - work! I tried to work to keep myself from being bankrupt. I tried to make myself happy by buying new things. But all work ever did was create an emptiness that I found hard to control. The more I worked, the more money I had. But then, busyness is the death of any relationship. So now I am trying to patch things up with my close friends. Slowly, I am building the relationship where we left off. Now, I have more time talking with my family. I am not a boarder anymore, nor am I a stranger. It’s sad to think that I have wasted my time on things that don’t even matter. Apostle Paul once said, "No matter what I say, no matter what I believe, no matter what I do, without love, I am bankrupt." When I was working, I thought I would never be bankrupt. I was dead wrong! You know what, now that I have patched up my relationships, I am richer than ever. Life is about relationships. Now I have a life.

Narcissus

The light of the moon shineth upon thy fairness, And the stars envy thine eyes of Oceanus hue. Sleepeth not o Narcissus In wide poppy fields and untamed grass. Stareth not into nothingness Of the timeless vault of blue. Awake and breathe The essence of mystical experiences - That thou refuseth to touch With thy delicate hands. Cast thineself away from the shadow Of Solitude's golden slumber - Feareth not the sun rays that Chaseth darkness from the land. Run as far as thine eyes could see To greener fields and fragrant wildflowers. Embraceth the wind that bringeth forth Melodies of promises, As you playeth thy flute Under the light rain shower. The light of the sun shineth upon thy fairness, But not a star to envy thine eyes of Oceanus hue. In greener fields and wildflowers art thou lie, As thou stareth at the future In the timeless vault of blue. (April 16,2003 - Dedicated to Val)

Pondering

Ostentatiously concealed - you are an enigma. Give me some time to comprehend this dilemma. Evaluation. Emulation. I know in the end it just boils down to adoration. Dark revelations are still not written. Sometime in the future, it will no longer be hidden. Addiction to you is an obsession - Not really a perversion - but Only time will let me see clearly Just how much you really complete me. (November 22, 1998)

Anaxaphila

I have set ideals for the person That I'm supposed to love But when I met you, The ideals I have set all seem to be So ridiculous and inconsequential. You defy every single one of it. And my senses had been screaming at me To get away from you. I don't know why I'm falling in love With the obviously wrong person Because supposedly I'm the one Who should've known better. Love has once again played A mean trick on me Because she has given me an anaxaphila And I can't get enough of it For I can never get enough of you. (For Ave Angel)

So Little Time

The most important thing that you can give a person is your time. Time can never be recovered, because once it passes, it is forever lost. Relationships is all about time. You cannot build a relationship if you don’t give your time to nurture it. Given that we have so little of it, we should make use of our time in the most sensible manner.

Bella's Epiphany

(After reading Breaking Dawn, I was so utterly disappointed that I just had to make it right. Here's a chapter I made to rectify the horrendous ending to Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Saga.) I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I broke into sweats after I woke up from the most vivid dream that I had. I turned around, checking if Edward has come back from the hunt with Emmett and Jasper. He hasn’t come back yet. It felt odd that I was actually relieved that he didn’t have to see me in such confused and broken state. Normally, I would have traded anything just so he wouldn’t leave me even for a second. I took deep even breaths, mentally reassuring myself that everything would be just fine. I closed my eyes trying to reabsorb what I saw in my unconsciousness. And there it was . . . as clear as day . . . and the realization struck me . . . But I couldn’t put my realization into words because I have been in denial for so long. Why do things have to be this complicated? Edward loves me. Jacob loves me. And I love them both! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid heart! I don’t deserve any of them! They are way too good to fall in love with a nothing like me. Maybe it would be easy if I just go back to my mom in Florida and live with her. That way, I would be able to make it easier for the three of us. I cannot marry Edward. Not that I don’t love him - I really do, but the idea of marriage is just so ludicrous at this moment, I cannot conceive of it. Being engaged to Edward now is my biggest complication. He has suckered me into this whole marriage thing crap because I wanted so much of him to suck the life out of me in the end. Hahaha. Funny. My grandmother used to tell me that marriage was like death. You wouldn’t know when it will come, because it just happens - so swift and so sure. She was totally right! Except she did mean it figuratively. After my marriage to Edward, death would come to me literally. I will be transformed into an abomination that Jacob despises, but I would get to live forever with my Edward. Oh Edward. I have gone through with this issue a million times in my head. I have actually decided that am willing to give up my soul just to be with Edward. But then this dream has been a nagging reminder of what it would be worth sacrificing. Now I am having my doubts. I have been always been a one-track minded person. I hate it when I have to rethink or even reconsider what I have already decided on. This dream has messed-up my already messed-up brain. I hate it. But then it only made sense to have some reservations. What if I change so drastically after the transformation that I wouldn’t feel the same for Edward anymore? I heard of stories about newborns being bloodthristy and all. What if I never get to be like who I really am? What if with the transformation, all the feelings I have for Edward would be gone? Suddenly I am not so sure anymore. I just hate it when I couldn’t have an exact answer to my question let alone any intelligent guess. Edward himself has made it clear that he didn’t want me to be like him - a vampire - a cursed being as he puts it. Whatever his reasons, somehow I could see it now. I am way too much of a human to give up my soul entirely. At first I thought that giving up my humanity would be easy, but my perspective has suddenly changed after that. . . after that . . . kiss. I never realized that I would get to kiss any one else besides Edward. I was so used to kissing Edward’s cold, immaculate, marble-like lips when suddenly, Jacob decides to introduce me to something much better than ice. Damn it! I am so going to hell just thinking about it. But I can’t help it. Jacob’s kiss has been so warm and so passionate. His touch feels good on my pale skin. It’s like nothing could go wrong when I’m with him. I feel so warm and fuzzy around him. He’s my sun that warms every cold corner of my being. He’s the wind that makes me feel hopeful when everything goes wrong. I don’t feel the intense need to be perfect for him. It feels so natural to be with him. Being with Jacob feels so right. And being with Edward suddenly feels so wrong. I knew that I have always been wrong for Edward since the first time I saw him. He was just so perfect in every way that being close to him has made me feel so unpretty. Despite his solid declaration of his love for me, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself and feel more sorry for him. I have nothing to give except this lousy troubled heart of mine. It feels that by accepting his love and loving him back, I am cheating on him by not being the perfect woman that could stand beside his angelic beauty. I know that I don’t deserve him. It’s not because I have self-esteem issues. No. It’s not like that. Being with Edward now, suddenly feels so wrong. And I hate myself for feeling like this. I don’t want to hate myself any longer. No. I cannot have second thoughts at this time. Not like this. Not now that I am engaged to Edward. I shouldn’t entertain this ”human” thought. Yes. Indeed, what I am thinking is human. As hard as I try to shove the thought off my mind, I just can’t. The comparison is now there. Jacob has made this all wrong! Why did he have to kiss me in the first place? Why did I ever let him? Was it curiosity? Was it lust? I am so ashamed to admit it, but I do want Jacob to kiss me again. Again and again and again. No. Not just kiss me, but hold me with intense burning in his big, strong and warm arms, and make me his forever. Forever. Bella Black. I like the sound of that. Jacob is my sun, my wind. At least I would never have to be perfect. I am human after all. Oh my god! Even I am shocked with my own honesty. I love Jacob Black more than I’ll ever admit it.

Magic

The possibility of attaining your dreams May seem so remote. But if you believe that nothing is impossible, You could do anything you want; You could go anywhere you want to go; You could be anyone you want to be - - And that is the magic of dreaming To achieve reality.

Tragedy

What we have is a tragedy. A collision of times passing And love restrained. Seven years of hiding, Seven years of feeling. You have tried to love another And I have tried to get over you . . . I could only shake The memories off my head. I can only cover it up With my special feelings. You could only reminisce and regret And now you can only mess my life again. What we have is a tragedy. Much tragic than the story of love lost. It is a story of love denied. And in the process of loving another We find that loving again Is already too late. (November 13, 2001)

Breathing On Icicles

I am breathing on icicles and I could barely feel my lungs as they expand on my chest, wanting to break free with the intense desperation of muffled screams contained in the battered walls of my heart. Indeed, I have waited in vain for the love that was never meant for me, and all I could do now is let go of this misery – of wanting him – of not wanting him – of just forgetting about him – but I can’t! His blurred image is perpetually in my head and how I was deceived of his love that I thought was so pure, but was disguised by hidden motives and cruel intentions. I can’t seem to let go, even if I try, because the hate that has generated in my heart consumes me, until I can no longer live without hating the one that I had loved the most. Love is a sick joke, once you think about it. And all I have left is this space that I try to fill in with the constant mental note that I’m doing fine without him, and that I’m happy with somebody else. It’s all in the mind, that’s what I have been trying to tell myself lately. But how come I’m breathing on icicles, now that it’s apparent that all the ice has melted? I could only sigh heavily as I desperately try to erase the memories. Is one year not enough? Will the torment go on and on? I thought that I had learned to let go, but I was wrong. This is another attempt to convince myself that I’m doing fine - spontaneous words typed in a surprising speed that would somehow flood the gates of my memory and would self-fulfill any prophecy about not having a scar at all. I wake up in the morning wanting to break free. The pain is no longer there, but the feeling of being deceived is far above palpable, it could be perceived even by the most inert of persons. How could a smart person like me, with an IQ of 130, be deceived by a guy whose IQ is lower than that of a moron? Love has done all this. Lust has made the obvious even blurrier. It wasn’t love. It was just a want – not a need. I was blinded by the mist that surrounds his mystery. I was blinded by the way he smoothly talked to me. He broke free, because he didn’t want anything to do with me, and I wasn’t able to accept that fact so I continued to ask why, and then he lied, not wanting to hurt me. But then he took advantage of the love that I have to offer. So he continued the lies, and I was blinded by the mist of the mystery behind the man – behind the king of lies. I was deceived because of the love I have for him, and now, all I want to do is to redeem myself and free my mind of this horrible memory. This kind of love makes you an imbecile, and now I’m bitterly biting on the icicles while I breathe shallow breaths hoping that some part of me will die and my battered heart will be born again after a year of suspended bereavement. I am breathing on icicles and I’m trying to get by. Subconsciously, I’ve been hypnotizing myself to forget, but in vain. Seven months and counting has been extended to a year and a half of counting sheep jumping over a fence. I am a prisoner of my own emotions, and the only way out is to escape through this maze of mind games and useless pondering. The answer is simple, but the process is hard. As the saying goes, easier said than done. There is nothing impossible. I can forget about him. Maybe in due time. But for how long? Maybe the reason why I can’t seem to get over is that I haven’t really forgiven him, and worse, I haven’t really forgiven myself for succumbing to his cunning. Maybe that’s what I have to learn. And I’m crawling for what it seems like an eternity, for an understanding of why I was beaten, and why I was fooled? I’m more angry now than sad. And as the ice melted, I came to a realization that he was never coming back. I was left not really alone, but bereft of anymore emotions that I could possibly give to that better substitute just around the corner. I was robbed in my face because I let him. And I bet he’s laughing out loud somewhere. I may have been renounced, but I’m here to live for another day. He may have won now, but that will be the end of him. Maybe through the power of suggestion, he might just commit suicide. The ice has melted and I am breathing on icicles as they slowly melt with the intensity of my burning madness. I will have the last laugh. I will survive this game that he started. I will successfully forget about him and get on with my life, while he on the other hand, could just burn in hell.

Thoughts of an Airforce Marine at 0230 HRS

He is contemplating At around 2:30 in the morning Of how his life would be. Ten to twenty years from now, Would he really be happy? His defenses are slowly crumbling Beneath his own fortesss of improvised tenacity. How could he feel despondent while Drinking coffee at 2:30? Though he would want to take Some more rest, He could not let himself give in to the stupor. Was she thinking about him This early in the morning? He thought in silence. Or was he just wishing that she was doing so. He did not know. He shook his head in ignorance. He did not know. He sipped his coffee contentedly, But with utmost distaste, Everything had not been the same Since he had let her slip away. He has been suffering From wanting to fill his deficiency With memories of her face. But the colors around him Had been nothing but grey. It's only an hour and a half more Before his day begins and starts, Ironically, he just can't wait To live life without his heart. Another day with his Tomcat, Eagle, and Air Combat Fighter, He made himself believe That his air companions Could make it easy To live life without her. His conscience could only stare back at him As he looked at his own disheveled form. He's a soldier fighting a battle In his own desert storm. He has been trained to be a sociopath In times when that attractive rainbow Rises in showers of blood. And he knew his alter ego Would have difficulty to conform After manslaughter floods. It's been 2:30 for an almost Seemingly endless session of deliberation. Time has been contained in suspended animation. He is contemplating at around 2:30 AM Of how his life would be Without someone to hold by his side. In the future, how could he choose Between love and war when nations collide? As manly tears fell from his face, While he desperately held on to his aching heart, He suddenly found the answer To the most difficult of his questions. He knew it was only right to leave her And walk in the other direction. He loved her so much To see her cry over his accidental heroism, He would rather suffer alone Than to let her suffer over him. (March 17, 2001)

Colours

Colours are light's great magic show, In darkness you can never really know. Let me be blind to see The real beauty that lies within. Let me look in pitch blackness To see something more than nothing. I am brown. He is white. We are just colours created by light. Yet in colours still we are the same. We bleed like red when we are in pain. When we are sad we become blue. Even red, yellow, and black people do. Colours are light's great magic show. Without it, you can never really know. Who is brown? Who is white? When you're united with true love, Everything's right. Love chooses no particular colour or race. There is no discrimination, You don't even look at the face. Because colours are light's great magic show, Without light one can never really know. He is red. She is yellow. And both are colours of the beautiful rainbow. A rainbow is one thing, Light can create. And the colours of people Are light's given fate. Even the shades of black, brown and white. People with these hues are created by light. But you see, all are products Of light's great magic show. When you are blind, You can never really know. (January 5, 2001)

Unrequited

Look into my eyes and see the void within. Reach out into my almost extinguished soul. Fill my heart with your love until it flows to overflowing. Only then can I return the fruit of the seed Which you have sown. Forgive me for not growing fast. Forgive me for not giving more. Forgive me for not loving you back The way that I'm supposed to do before. Fill my heart with your understanding. Fill me to the point of overflowing. Only then can my dried up heart be revived. Only then can I be truly alive. Forgive me for taking your love, Without giving you some in return. Forgive me for letting you bleed and burn. But I will learn to love you back I will try to be brave and strong, And I promise to fill you back to overflowing, Just wait, it won't be for long. But for now, forgive me, I must sustain myself a little longer. Forgive me for leaving you like this. Give me time to be strong so I could fully heal. I know that I'm not totally incapable to feel. Loving me unconditionally is Reason enough to let me love you in return. I promise to extinguish your pain And not let you burn. (February 13, 2001)