Adonis Diaries

Archive for the ‘Poems Mine’ Category

Is it a calm night to relax from worries?

Note: Re-edit of “How come this night was so calm?”

I slept the sleep of the caves tonight.

Inconsequential and soft dreams were forgotten by the morning.

It was a “dreamless night

The morning news were anything but quiet:

Fighter jets and drones bombed villages

Rockets buried entire families.

Many blew themselves in crowded marketplaces, kids’ schools, restaurants

It was a “dreamless night”

Yet, last night was pretty loud:

Thunder claps, wind rattling doors and windows,

Sleet rocked roofs, millions of tin roofs

Millions of shacks and refugee tents.

It was a dreamless night

Dogs, wolves, jackals barked and howled

Rats squealed

Millions of insects and animals were devoured

A million procreated to cover up the loss

In the struggle of survival among the livings

It was a dreamless night

A few feet from ear shot

Hundreds of prisoners were tortured

Kicked, slapped, boxed, drowned, burned

Suffocated, drenched in freezing water

Screams we opted to shut off

From our hard ears, minds and hearts.

The horror of silent nights:

In waiting, the silence of the coming horror

Persistent and violent knocks on your door:

Your house is burning

Your neighbour was shot dead

The enemy invested your town

Dozens are being rounded up

Don’t take anything. Run for your life.

No, last night was not that calm:

New-borns were crying their heart out

Babies freezing to death

Kids dying of famine

Sick people kept moaning

Hundreds died in car accidents, handicapped

Airplanes disintegrated in the sky

Passenger ferries and ship sank

And yet, tonight was a calm and dreamless night

Tomorrow night and the nights after

Will be louder and leaden with nightmarish dreams.

Tomorrow is another day.

Violent and brutal horror stories for survival

Among the livings.

Good night all.

 

 

Noah’s arch of varied animals in our building?

Note: A re-edit of the poem “Chinchilla, hamster, guinea pig, and … (August 24, 2009)”. Since then, I desisted from sharing in the responsibility of caring for this family zoo.

I care for two dogs, Not my own

Cats, a chinchilla, a hamster, a guinea pig,

Two turtles, and a rabbit.

They are Not mine;

I care for them by default.

 

If I could dispose of Noah’s cargo

Then I’ll burn it down.

Nieces and nephews got attached growing up

To their favorite pets for a couple of days.

A few pets enjoyed longer friendship before grown ups moved out.

 

The youngest niece is still receiving pets as gifts

For her many real and faked birthdays.

If I could dispose of Noah’s cargo

I’ll start by tearing at Noah’s beard

Till this old fart bleeds.

 

Dogs can be forgotten for a couple of days;

They will stay cool and lick your hands:

They can always search the nearby waste bins.

The variety of rodents can squeal their head off;

I may gather now and then a few green leaves from my small garden.

 

Cats are a pest; they keep rubbing at your legs

And walking between your legs

Until you are ready to offer your own flesh for feed.

 

Turtles can be forgotten for months;

They will still be moving at a steady slow pace.

I have a mind of carrying my home or tent on my back

And roam the wilderness.

I might survive carrying my talisman on my back.

 

Someone else could feed and care for Noah’s cargo

If I were rich.

I don’t even get paid for all these hassles:

I am the default guy.

 

A few days ago I realized that,

In my isolation,

To whom else could I lord it over?

 

If I were rich

I’ll hire male and maid servants to care for Noah’s lot;

I’ll employ independent contractors for cheap.

If the hired individuals turn out not diligent and obedient,

As most of Noah’s cargo behave,

I’ll turn them loose.

 

They may howl or beg.

They can die of starvation.

I wouldn’t care:

They are out of my hair.

Note: I am skipping the story of my brother-in-law raising over a hundred chicken in our small garden: Just thinking of that insanity is totally depressing me

What is left in the behaviors of our World to uplift our morale?

Note: A re-edit of my poem “My Warpy World (2002)”

 

1.   I need to burn off my excess energy,

That stuff I used to have in abundance in my youth.

I burned it bending on desks,

Reading and learning.

About our warped literatures and histories,

Warped theories,

Warped philosophies, of a warped world we created.

 

2.   I now need to stretch time in my old age.

I don’t want time to fly by in a blink:

I am supposed to be scared

Of the imminent end.

 

No, I have to work double shifts to make ends meet.

I need to work harder to fulfil

Newly discovered dreams.

Are there “Songs for Women”?

Note: re-edit of Jan. 2003 post Songs for Women. I had posted many stories on women I was lucky to know, and called these stories “Songs”

 

My songs are for the divorced women, widowed and singles with children.

Still sexually and determined active unmarried women.

My songs are of the short stories  kinds

Lacking imagination, of a grateful man,

Short on feelings.

 

Songs for women, who were my teachers in matters of love,

Loving and feelings unknown to me,

Much of feelings still a mystery to me.

Songs of remembrances, for my own sake,

Trying to connect the strings of feelings among these relationships.

 

Each song has a single heroine and a single name, as it should be.

Names of children of these mothers are sometimes added when recalled,

My way of praying forgiveness for my lack of attention to them,

For most of the duration of the relationship.

 

My way to say that I am sorry for failing to consider

The integrity and totality of the heroine’ s life.

My way of admitting that the deficiencies were all mine,

A man from the outside looking in

And ignorant of the new rules in this old game.

 

Songs for the women, who gave the best of their loving to men,

So Man could grasp the essence of life.

Songs for women, who need to be married for love,

With a man capable of learning a new gamut of feelings,

With a man thankful of discovering a wealth of emotions,

With a man becoming whole lest the cynicism of old age creeps in.

 

From all kinds of literatures I like short stories best.

The shorter the better

The perfect short story should generate two strong emotions:

It should make you cry laughing,

It should make you cry hating or loving

Same difference.

And all those Mercenaries are “Going Hunting”

Note: I have the pleasure for the readers to remind me of the pieces that I have posted long time ago. I enjoy re-reading them and updating them when need be.

Going Hunting (1998)

  1. I’m going to war.

My government has decided.

I need to release my animal instincts.

For economic reasons,

For political reasons,

For religious reasons.

I’m going to war, today,

For no reasons:

Just kicking butts.

  1. What animal instincts do they fear in me?

I’ve never seen animals killing others

From miles away.

I’ve never seen an animal

Who has just gorged

On hamburger and pizza,

Going a-prowling,

To kill and maim.

  1. Never seen an animal

Returning from the hunt,

In clean and spec fur,

Shining from shoulders to boots.

Never seen an animal

Returning from the hunt,

To eat more and get drunk silly.

They used to find themselves a cool shade

To rest and sleep off the feast.

  1. What animal instincts do they fear in me?

I had a dream of cannibals at war

And I was a reporter of this war.

Once a victor felled his enemy, he would kneel and achieve him.

The victor is serenely and religiously eating his enemy flesh, raw.

For him, the war is already over:

He stops killing other victims,

He is not helping the warriors of his tribe to overcome more enemies.

His enemies will not interfere with his eating;

They stay away from this pair,

Both finally at peace.

For both, the victor and the victim, the war is over.

  1. When the dust of war settles down all the living warriors from both camps

    Prepare a joint bonfire and finish off the remains of their victims.

    They leave the battlefield in peace.

    They don’t carry any leftovers:

    Nature and its beasts need to take their shares of the slaughter.

    What animal instincts do they fear in me?

 

My Warpy World (2002)

I need to burn off my excess energy,

That stuff I used to have in abundance in my youth.

I burned it bending on desks,

Reading and learning.

About our warped literature and histories,

Warped theories,

Warped philosophies, of a warped world we created.

 

I now need to stretch time in my old age.

I don’t want time to fly by:

I am supposed to be scared

Of the imminent end.

 

No, I have to work double shifts to make ends meet.

I need to work harder to fulfil

Newly discovered dreams.

Hell was created for me

 

I am still an outsider looking in the adult world.

I still abhor the maintenance part of life,

The mechanics of living and lasting relationship.

I am scared of owning a house,

Of getting married and keep maintaining choices

That I feel I can’t sustain for long.

 

May be that I was not trained properly in childhood

To learn taking responsibilities by learning to maintain.

The adult world is still a curiosity to me

Because, when the time was due to step in,

It was too late for me to learn a new set of behaviors,

In a totally different society, alien to me.

 

I like to discover the adult world and pay the price

Of my practical ignorance, but it should be at my own expense.

But, could anyone else not share the expenses in my miseries?

Indeed, the village will bear the upkeep and it refuses to admit it.

I am positive that I never fell in love, love shared.

 

I might not believe in Heaven,

But people like I, Hell was created for them, here on earth.


adonis49

adonis49

adonis49

April 2020
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