...thoughts

disjointed thoughts

like wayward moths

drawn to the flame

basked in the fame

of borrowed light

to ward the night

for soon this gloom

will seal this bloom

when fancy fade

away to shade

speak yet softly

thoughts so lofty

once more to breach

the stars to reach.

...must it be so?

the shadow lengthens and soon
the land forgets

So i shall say goodbye
        the time of grace is passed
        strange that we should be the
        slaves of our ghosts
        still lurking and haunting 
        in the shadows when the 
        new day has broken.

Waiting for one instants'
       purchase of recognition
       before the cold oblivion of 
       the silent grave.

...of resounding gongs and clashing cymbals

"For in much wisdom there is much sorrow,
and he who stores up knowledge stores up grief."

Ecclesiastes 1:18

vanity of vanities
all things are vanity
these words that long to take wings
and be lifted above the mean things of this earth
these thoughts that long to resound through the corridors of time
and live on beyond this mortal shell
these wishes, these dreams
are all vanity of a covetous spirit
envious of the immortal gods chiseled in stone
which only exists for the vanity of the eye!

...if i could hear the grass grow

If i could hear the grass grow
   then what need have i to know
      physics, matter and genus
         no lore i would count great loss


If i could plot the hour's course
   learn what faith awaits my thirst
      still i would drink from life's cup
         i'll wither but first i hoped


If i could bathe in dawn's dew
   i'll see God in every hue
      my part is small, my time swift
         but for all that - 'twas love's gift.

...of mice, men and transfigurations

...though only rage can set my voice free
only forgiveness can give it wings

pray that i can rein in my rage
for nothing is quite as liberating as unleashed anger
but when the aftershock is over the destruction is irreversible
how is it that what takes years of labor to built can be destroyed
in a moment of red haze?
what am i and what do i face that i should bother the cosmos
with my infantile woes?
there is no answers here
only noise...the sound of one man typing - 

...primogenitus mortuorum

hello lurkers

shall we remain shadows lurking in the corner
shall we remain pale reflections of possibilities
shall we wait for edens return

they have all sailed to the west - the fair folk
but i shall linger in the east 
where the light was born

come sing for me for the truth cannot hurt you
come dance for me for the unseen does not frighten you
come take my hand for all that was hidden shall be brought to light

beloved, you shall be unveiled
and what shall it profit the world to keep your secret
when it loses its innocence

i wait for the day
i will make it to be
I am change

...frail heart

hi gem,

i'm scared of growing old alone, 
there - i've admitted it.
now, half the journey is done, or so they say, in healing...in overcoming this fear. 
lend me your shadow in this solitary journey.
lend me the glow in your eyes, that neither time nor space can diminish, for the path seems so dark before me.
lend me your youthful fancy, the one that made me fall in love with you, that i may not wither in this bitter frost.
i love you with all the sincerity of this frail heart.

ever yours,

chackie

...there but for the grace of God goes she

Dear gem,


The rain had ceased, we saw blue sky peeping out of fluffy white clouds for the first time in quite a while.  The city seems sodden as it ought to be for being flooded for several days but nevertheless clean and newly washed as a Sunday's best frock.  Am glad.  This pain will ease up.  Sometimes I am thankful I lost you for it armed me to face future failures and disappointments.  Surely nothing can hurt half as bad; if I survived your lost I can survive anything - BRING IT FUCKING ON!!!  No need to swear though, it's so uncouth.  But I never did care for the social niceties, neither did you.  What a pair we make!  The social pariahs of a materialistic and utilitarian world.  But reality is what we make of it, and to condemn the world is to condemn our very selves. Point, I shall cease this futile woe.  I am standing at a crossroads my dear, and all is dark before me (and all is lost behind me).  It's a good thing I am not afraid of the dark, who is in fact a friend who hides the scars and the infantile tears.  To think I thought that I was too old to be confronting crossroads but what do I know?  To be or not to be, to leap or not too leap this seeming abyss?  I shall reforge my sword and renew severed ties.  I shall see you again in this age of the world and you will be proud of me.  I shall live beyond your lost.  Pray for me Gem, as I pray for your joy and your sorrow.  



I remain,
your chackie 

...the day is done

i shall not rage against the dying of the light

because i dance in darkness 
unafraid
i am unseen and unvoiced
neither an object of regret
nor of remorse

only the dust motes 
speak of my memory
a footfall so light  
only to them revealed
 
still... 
i sigh at the wonders
the human heart conceive
a man hangs crucified upon every hearth
and all is well

...even a shade is justified.

Epitaph Trilogy part 3

A Coda to an Epitaph

I cannot be with you
but I will wait for you
dreaming by the hearth
rekindling this smoldering wick
it shall not be quenched
nay,
not while I live and breathe

There is a fire waiting for you my friend
here in the heart of me
you will always be young
you will always be…

Sometimes it gets so cold
and my face is so old
my limbs are frozen and stiff
and this vow seems so hard to keep

But then the rain comes down
like a benediction up high
it washes away the wrinkles from this hand
like a prayer
lifts the faded linen from this shriveled mind

Come back to me
come home to me
when you have finished the race
when you have conquered all your fears
when you have faced yourself

Then this vigil shall end
i shall sleep content
knowing you don’t need me anymore
because, at last, you are free
(and so am I)

Fare thee well
my friend…
my love…
my own.

Chackie
Oct. 17, 2008

...life finds a way

" flower in the crannied wall" _ from a poem by Lord Alfred Tennyson

Epitaph Trilogy part 2

A Response To An Epitaph

A song in the night woke me from sleep
Floating alone in tones of grief
It was filled with a pain that knows no end
I knew that voice belonged to a friend.

Ever was a coward she thought she was
Looking for refuge amidst epitaphs
She built her tower to forget the days
When she was all alone trudging the maze.

Time stood still, a silent spectator
As she watched for her knight in shining armor
Yet she wouldn’t go down even as sunlight came
She thought she’d had enough of pain.

My friend, dear friend, how can I let you see?
You’re the sweetest thing that ever happened to me?
You lit up my days even when we fight
You drove my demons into the night.

My heart is my witness as I start to plea
No more epitaphs; you are the world to me
I’d groped in the darkness and I found your hand
You gave me love, when nobody gave me a friend….

Bingkie
Aug. 16, 1992

...lurkers

They Live in Shadows

They live in shadows. Children of cyberspace; without a face, they can be anyone. Rebels of an unknown cause, they fight for the ultimate freedom: freedom from names, from expectations and from themselves. Heroes or losers, they are manifestations of our lost dreams. Funny how in this age of information superhighway, when we can connect to people of every race and creed at the tips of our fingers, it seems so easy to lose touch with our souls. Why is there a price for everything? Every step forward is a step away from our origins. And if we travel far enough and lose sight of where we came from, we forget and become adrift. Then, let us play a game like children. One will stay at home with arms outstretched, then another will clasp the other's hand and in turn extend an arm to the next person. And so on it will be, a living interlinked chain stretching from the hearth to the farthest reaches of space. Let us promise never to let go of each other, to never envy another’s reach, and in turn to never look down on another’s position. So goes my dream, but what am I? I am a lurker; just another lurker and my dream is lost in cyberspace.

They Thrive in Shadows

They thrive in shadows. Spun from the World Wide Web, they are faceless nomads of this techno dream. Soldiers of fortune; they fight for freedom from being known, from being recognized and from simply being. Idealists or pessimists, they embody our plundered souls. Ironic in an era of social networking that allows us to project our every thought and fancy to the furthest reaches of the globe, it seems inevitable that we should lose our moorings. Why is there a downside to every progress? Every leap for technology is a leap away from nature. And if we continue in our journey, we destroy our home, and we turn into vagabonds drifting from place to place without finding rest. Then, let us pretend we can be innocent again as children. Let us hold hands and form a line extending from the earth to space, as far as our imagination can roam. Thus, we never lose touch of the green grass even as we wonder at the myriads of galaxies in front of us. Let us vow to always hold on, to always support each other without rancor, and to be happy for each other’s perspective. That is my vision but who am I? Am I not a lurker with a plundered soul?

They are Born in Shadows

They are born in shadows. A product of the internet era; they wear masks of many faces surfing from site to site. Mercenaries, they fight for a cause not their own because they own nothing, not even themselves. They are our indifference, our alienation, our selves bereft of hope. Reality or fantasy, they are the misbegotten children of our rape. Strange that in this day and age where every aspect of our lives is connected and online, we are still without a clue. Why are there no happy endings? Every progress comes with a cost. And if we ignore this cost, we lose our purpose, and we simply drift without direction. Then, let us make-believe we are children once again. Let us recapture our ideals and make them tangible; let one child hold on to it with one hand while the other hand extends to another child who is also holding on to another child. Let this continue to the final child reaching the threshold of the future bearing all that we envision because the first child and all the rest did not let go. Let us make a pact to stay true and never let discord, greed, or ambition sway our course. Thus is my hope but I am just a lurker, nothing more.

Epitaph Trilogy part 1

an epitaph



i lay my head in bliss repose

from the cold night dread
from the world i shunned
ever a coward
i hid, i run
in here, at last,
a resting place

stay, fair stranger, stay
share a love long held bound
share a need that will not die
i wait eternally
as i dream in sleep
for thee – a friend
to come to me.

Chackie
1991, PSHS-MC

...drifter

“Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus.” – Umberto Eco

...somethings you just can't leave behind

on the merit of baggage

they weigh you down and chained you to the ground
never to soar the sky
earthbound
ever haunting the shadowed groove

they will not let you forget
in the dead of night
hear the groans
and whispers of what might have been

i will go up the rooftop
and sing you a dirge
come back to me
though only rage can set my voice free

.... only forgiveness can give it wings.

...of beggars and empty names

i offer you a grain of sand
may you be patient as the land
to fashion your dreams
a grain at a time

i offer you a wildflower
may you always remember
that happiness is not cultivated
but grows amongst weeds

i offer you the palm of my hand
because, at last, i understand
we are all beggars before him
we hold empty names

Inspired by William Blake’s Auguries of Innocence

...these dreams

...though only rage can set my voice free,

only forgiveness can give it wings

Armchair speculation on the nature of matter and energy in vain emulation of the ancient Greek philosophers…

            An incontrovertible truth of nature is birth and death.  All that has life will perish.  The earth is dying they say; citing the increasing pollution of air, water and soil as proof.  In addition, there is the possible extinction of numerous species.  That is accepting the proposition that death is destruction.  However, if death is a transformation instead; how could the earth and creation itself end?  The fundamental law of nature is the conservation of mass and energy.  Einstein derived the equation energy is equal to mass times the square of the speed of light.  Atoms prove the truth of it, converting mass to energy to bind protons in the nucleus without repulsion.  Science fiction imagines the truth of it, inter-converting matter and energy to beam intrepid explorers from the transport room to the surface of an uncharted planet.  Matter and energy are two halves of a whole, neither created nor destroyed but simply converted from one form to another.  Birth and death are illusions shattered by a mathematical equation. Incontrovertible truth lies in numbers that can be rational and irrational, real and imaginary.  Life is energy, the ability to do work and leave a legacy of a singular event when the ego is self-aware before being absorbed into the sea of consciousness that is the cosmos.  Life on earth and the earth itself will not end, simply transform.  Humanity will not end but evolve in time to a race more equipped to survive.  A race more attuned with the rhythm of the stars, the dance of the sun and moon, and the shifting of the tides and breeze.  There will be a race of angels to populate the new heaven and earth where philosophers can bask in contemplation of the one true light.

the fetus monologue

They want to make abortion legal in my country; the debate is all about the side of women, of the family, of the state and of the church.  What about the side of the one who will be directly affected by this issue?  What about the side of the fetus?

an open letter

…to a young and unmarried woman

i know you are still a child in many ways
unprepared to become a mother
but still i would ask this of you
can you be the strength in my weakness
can you be the protector in my helplessness
can you be brave enough for a chance to love me
if you cannot
if you would only seek pleasure without the responsibility
if you would only see me as a mistake to ruin your future
then i say to you
you are not worthy of me
and i will be taken from you

…to a rape victim

i know the horror you endured         
but still i would beg for this grace
to see me as a blessing
a living and breathing healing for your wounded spirit

a balm for your broken body

or am i just a parasite growing within you 

an abomination borne from an act that cannot be forgiven

if i am, then you are not ready for the wholeness

that i would bring to you
and i will be taken from you

…to an unhappy wife and mother

dear lady
if you would consent, i have a dream
to make your heartbeat my lullaby
to nestle in the burrow of your arms
to nurse upon your breasts
to run in your arms with my triumphs and woes at day’s end
to seek your comforting touch for every nasty bruise and scrape
to gaze in wonder at my boundless possibilities reflected in your eyes
but if you can only see me as another mouth to feed
another yoke on your overburdened shoulders
then you are not worthy to hold me
and i will be taken from you

addendum on Osama bin Laden's death

death came like a thief in the night
a clandestine operation
an execution
was it justice or vengeance?
where is the line drawn?

is it in the scale of the crime?
a million voices silenced in one fell stroke
or one solitary dream trodden underfoot unheralded and unmourned

is it by majority vote?
an accused tried before the worlds’ court
or in the silence of a heart gnawed by bitterness and rage

i am not here to judge
but to ask this question
not if it was justice or vengeance
i am here to ask
does it matter?

running on one cylinder

i had a cat
he died
i grieved
but i was fine

i learned that death
comes to us all
i witnessed famine, war and disease
i remain to be fine

then someone told me
that hell exists along with heaven
since then i have been
running on one cylinder