Tuesday, January 30, 2007

20º

I am all talk,and no play.This is possibly a confessional post,so what I might say now I might deeply regret later,but no matter.Its about time I regretted something.What to do when you don't know whats important in life anymore?When you think you love,but suddenly realize you have no clue how to.When you look up from your notebook,blank at the person asking you a question you thought you knew.When you wake up from the dirtiest dream you probably ever saw and think about how the hell did that get into your mind anyway,cuz it doesn't make sense,and if it does,is it supposed to mean something?Am I crazy?Is it a possibility?When all you want to do smile and capture moments weaved into nature like only you could.When the celestial music playing in the back of your mind 24/7 makes you think of wonderful things and wonderful people.There is much history when you think about it,carefully,silently,while doing your speech homework.Thinking about little boys with gorgeous smiles who you want to have just to decorate your wall.Sudoku.Calories.Other little,meaningless important things.You don't know where your best man friend is,both of them,and suddenly don't know who to really talk to about absolutely nothing.Cuz its something so complicated.Like hot chocolate topped off with marshmallows,so it covers the open cup like whipped cream on starbucks frappucinos.I consider all the mistakes we make juvenile delinquincy.We cannot and should not be condemned for them.My hero has a beard.My other hero just shaved to show me how he looked.My third hero proved everyone wrong.My destination has water everywhere,and I don't understand religion.The piano is sacred and Jesus is a mexican boy.
The man sleeping in the grass has many stories to tell.
Fear of the Lord drives everyone in circles.
Tiny dresses swish in the 20º C weather.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

dancing hearts

I have the perfect image of the girl in the denim dress reading the Bible by the fire at night.Her brown hair tied in a strict braid,her socks till her knees.Older sister buying jewellery to wear to Church on Sunday,probably cuz she's in the choir.Mother the kind that bakes cornbread with corn that grows in their backyard we like to call a farm.Younger brothers all little replicas of their father,belts,boots,collared shirts and all.Helping him lay out the hay,only to roll in it later.All of them,their cheeks burning with content as they say Grace before a big,steaming turkey.All is well called-for,here in the country-side.Nothing to do but walk the fields,climb the slopes and poke a stick in the rivers and streams.Nothing to feel,but nature at its best,all day,every day.The truck that Grandpa used to drive,torn and worn but working so well.Everyone slipping into white sleeping gowns before they kneel beside their beds and thank the Lord.Indeed,all is well called-for,here in the country-side.

Monday, January 22, 2007

boston marley

He looked sideways and caught her.He stared menacingly,hating how she made him feel,just by flashing those big brown eyes.No words were ever exchanged,nothing.Just odd gazes and accidental run-ins.He wanted to cut his messy hair and and shave his beard just to see those big brown eyes go bigger in delight.But he didn't;wondering if she would ever notice how bad he wanted to.How it would effect the way she looked at him,making him freeze in his place.He stared at her now,hand on his lover's back,convincing himself that this is where he wanted to be.What boggled him,was that he would always come back.Despite the fact that he was already in love with someone else..or that he hated her..or it was snowing outside.He felt guilty when she looked at him and smirked like she knew something.Guilty when he made love to his dark beauty,and it was her face that he saw.Guilty.Guilty.But he would be back again.Tomorrow.The next day.Day after that.Just to revel in the magic of those big brown eyes.

Monday, January 15, 2007

penniless shoes

Indeed she walked,wrapping lilac towels around her,smelling like bougainvillea blooms.She stood for hours on end,facing the dying sun and withering grass,thinking..about nothing even.For surely you only think when there is something bothering you.And not to say stuff didn't bother her.Just not as much as it used to.Or as much it bothered other people.She started doing odd things. Sitting on edges of stools and sofas,just to see how long she could balance herself.Going down the stairs with fat books on her head,then bending to pick up something she had purposefully dropped.Walking with a glint in her eye that no one could tell what it was about.Knowingly making wrong turns on roads so she could see country houses and the smoke from their chimneys..You know,mundane 'other-people-must-do-it-all-the-time' stuff.I suppose she was testing her confidence,her serenity.The reason why she never fell apart anymore.And she knew,that there was no need for pennies in shoes to get the kind of luck she luckily had.This kind of luck,is heaven-sent only,in little sardine cans=).

Friday, January 12, 2007

Sonnet 69

Maybe nothingness is to be without your presence,
without you moving,slicing the noon
like a blue lfower,without you walking
later throug the fog and the cobbles


without the light you carry in your hand,
golden,which maybe others will not see,
which maybe no one knew was growing
like the red beginnings of a rose.


In short,without your presence:without your coming
suddenly,incitingly,to know my life,
gust of a rosebush,wheat of wind:


since then I am because you are,
since then you are,I am,we are,
and through love I will be,you will be,we'll be.



Pablo Neruda

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

*starbucks

Life is a school for angels.Love is the teacher,so do your homework without fear.Death is merely graduation.

Saturday, January 06, 2007

speeding cars

The car pulled up to Tania's flat and Martin was already opening the door,a mug of tea in his head.Tania threw some notes at the driver and walked slowly towards the rectangle of light,feeling more exhausted with each step.She stepped into Martin's open arms and leaned her head on his chest,sniffing his familiar scent of toast,fags and soap,simple pleasures,Martin's smell.


'Hey,' he said gently,juggling tea and a free arm.'Plum tuckered out,are you?'
Tania nodded.
'Hot bath and a stiff Vodka?'
Tania shook her head,not knowing why she felt tearful.
'How about a good seeing to from a blond Adonis who's been slaving over a hot computer for hours and only produced some jokes that Jim Davidson would call unsubtle?'
Tania didn't move her head at all.
'Hey,' Martin said again,'What's up?'
Tania didn't know what to tell him.What was up was that she wished he would call her jaan.