THOSE apartments a distance away
Devoid of movement and light
Creates an even bigger crevasse
Him and those Singaporeans
Since his was still lighted and
Very much in ambulation
A new post was up. But since there are eyes here that I do not wish them to see, it was only up for 5 minutes. Had to let everything out.
These eyes makes things more difficult to rant, more difficult to write.
If only Blogger had password locked posts.
A silent scream out into the night
Vibrating through the fibre of the soul
Like a soul incarcerated I was amongst the human crowd
Yet alone I still felt, the unmistakable fear
And slowly the gentle touches of the wind cups my face
A welcome change in the humid night, if one is observant
One sees on the breeze dead petals of cherry blossoms
As they struggle to hold onto, the fabric of their existence which
Was torn violently from their beings
Restless now they are, in search of that final destination
Those lovely red petals, dancing violently in the wind
Caught in the warm currents. like a thousand shards slicing
Into my heart, piece by piece I see them fall,
Those petals lying, trampled by the passer-bys
Uncared and unspoken for
The beauty forgotten
Abandoned to the winds
From the moment I stepped out of the doorway, I could feel the chill in the air. The cold bite in the air that snaps at your heels once you are out. The cold bite that heralds the departure of Persephone, otherwise known as Proserpina, back into the arms of Hades. And the mourning of Demeter. What is she possibly doing now, I wonder? In this very age, what form does she take that hides her from the eyes of mortals? An old woman? Or an Alpha female somewhere commanding a legion of subordinates and teleconferencing with eight other CEOs at the same time?
But I digress.
HERE it begins
A purge of everything gained
Those foreign substances in his veins
All associated with pain
Out of the vessel they go
All the things that were once
Good, but the label there another story told
Good, but only for a few months
And herein after that, it expires
No matter, it wasn’t him they say
Follow what we say, and you will be free
Those naysayers preached
So he did,
Accordingly to what they say
And dug a very deep hole in a fit
To put in those alien objects treasured most
Up till now, this very day
There lies the hole
“Here lies Eros”
Says the stone
Dead from misadventure
Reads the epitaphios
There we go Elvina. The plan for Ops Purge. Comprehendo?
And on a side note,
Eros – Go figure my dear readers. Not someone I would care to elaborate.
Epitaphios – Greek for epitaph
Some things, no matter how hard you try to build a wall around them, it keeps coming back to you. One day after the third red wall is up, it just has to be torn down by someone again. One after another, it gets tiring…
Some things, no matter how meaningless or painful, always contained an ounce of delight or remembrance in them. That however meaningless, it was at least something to be treasured. Like the photo ages ago that dropped out (of all places) my calculator manual as I was reading up on linear regression.
NOW now, that was a pretty long rant. Was it not?
he most fertile plot of land can do wonders
to even the wilting flower. But enough
o’such dreadful stuff. Tis a weekend, a day, a day
for cheerily fluff and for indulging in one’s excesses.
Excesses to the contrary, a little drop
-In potency it belongs Dutch courage it’s called-
of the potent liquid is enough to do
wonders for numbers as one plus one becomes three
and the the gold seems to be in the midst of the rainbow.
And something for the little narcissist in everyone, including
Aristocrat yours truly.
A dance of magick, twirly and swirly under
the deep dark nights. As we invite the Moon
to come down to earth, lucid dreaming we do.
“Enough enough!” Cries the Other.
“You rant you rant! Bring down the Moon you do say. Bah what rubbish is this! Spits an Other.
“Surely no more buts, young’un. Show them what you truly want
Come on fella, don’t be shy. A little always does more good”
Nod nod goes the Other.
“Listen to the wise one you bag of wool for brains fool”
And bit by bit, gingerly tenderly
He took up the sweet little sign which says