Venus closing in

Version 2At dawn she stood in front of the door,
steaming cup inside of her hands,
she noticed a star in the eastern sky.
It was dancing brightly towards the earth,
or so it almost seemed to her.

“Venus” she thought.

For a while she remained, the star in her gaze.
The air still carried the chill of the night,
with the hint of a promise of a new day bright.
But her brain spun stories
of planets  erased.

“Nonsense”, she mumbled.

She moved her limbs, collected her thoughts,
returned inside to continue her chores.
When her life got a blow
later that day, it took her only
by semi-surprise.

 

 

The life of the dutiful kind

Version 2

Earlier I turned the corner, the sleepy morning had casts its fog
embracing the buildings, concealing the rivers and folding its breath
around those men and creatures who’d already risen to go find their chores.

I tightened the collar around my neck, and wondered how I could hardly remember those warm days that just had flown by, when sunrays tickled the earth to cough up the crop, and a dog that lolled in a bed of grass. The present blurred my sight, I had lost the vision of bygones and past.

“Press on, press on!”, a wind gust was urging, “life lies before you and regret’s left behind”.

I crossed the street, a figure flitted by.  A life just like mine:
joy and family, sadness and work. No sooner come, it had already gone,
and of none to no importance to me.
One day we’ll both be dead.

“Others will follow and look to the future”, the river was chuckling, when spring and summer still lie ahead”.

I shivered and shuddered; The cold or the thought? Not sure if the that water
under the bridge looked alluring for a moment or two.
I quickened my step, I pierced through the mist, and focused hard to conjure up a sun.

“No dutiful life is dire and vain”, the leaves started rustling, “you still have your autumn; and snow is too far.”

Generation Y – A fine response

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Somewhere, this morning, I read
that Generation Y is burdened with fear.
They have grown on digital satisfaction,
a cyberspace world quite at their command.
They hardly ever had to resist,
did rarely know of serious plight.
All they have learned, is based on consumption,
twitter me this, and poke me on that.

And now there is this:
a new somber age of living has dawned.
It cracks into their synthetic existence,
and muddles their lives of instagram smiles.

But fear is not the fine response.

Somewhere, this morning, I read
that Generation Y finds itself
bombarded by a daily dose
of unsettling news into their accounts.
It muffles, alarms, and startles them greatly,
they cannot clash, unless it is game.
They never have learned on how they could cope
when real world trumps technology.

And now there is this:
new laws on exclusion, partition, and greed
and new decrees on how to subdue,
which maim their hope of glitterling lives.

But fear is not the fine response.

It can be resistance, rage, or resentment
that goes beyond a smartphone or facebook
it is to shout and break fraudulant dogmas,
Generation X may teach them on how.

Redefining positions

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how could i not be myself?
how could i not listen to what earth was telling me?

nature pulled away and i disappeared in appearances
i lost my laugh between the third and fifth floor of success
age raced, stars kept falling;
their stories extinguished
never to
be retold.

can’t prevent nature from fading
can’t prevent the laugh from wasting
can’t prevent the stars from smothering
can’t prevent the earth from swallowing
those
stories.

it is just that…
luck is not to be found in people or prosperity
it is something to be saved little by little
in my attitude
towards
the world.

Uncertainty of a life ahead

(because every now and then I ask myself: is it still there,
the willingness to choose the less obvious path?
)

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When fog has slid off the up-rolling hills,
Will I take the footprints captured in snow
or choose to climb the rough path of thrills?

When angst has left the up-growing child,
Will I tend the bench and watch people flow
or climb the boat of destiny’s wild?

See, the tree standing age-old
has felt the world of ages unfold
The woodpecker’s knock pounding the trunk
I listen in vain for secrets to thunk.

When cold has fled to un-distant shore,
Will I swim the creek my custom in tow
or ride the ocean to se
arch and explore?

When fear has left the un-certain youth,
will I till a land quite painless to sow
or plod through the mud to find out the truth?

See, the cliff mounting the guard
has watched the sea for years without part.
The sea gull’s complaint screeching the rock
I listen in vain for stories to squawk.

But! Hear, the water lying so quiet
underneath the snow waiting to riot.
The primrose’s push breaking the earth
will bring me the tales of thousands of births.

Absurdity of an ordinary existence

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I

The rains of eyes have left a stream;
the thoughts of morn upset the mist

II

I’ve lost my footsteps in the mud;
have searched the skies and found but void;
believes and truths have overturned

III

The bark of dog proclaims new light;
a virgin breeze affects the ridge;
a noble drop commends the seed;
small hopes pervade the rays of dawn

IV

I choke until I breathe again