(Expressing for an anonymous friend)
I have proacted drama involuntarily, or so I say
Because my choices do not make me look good at all;
And Euthanasia disguised as Euphoria lays its stage,
Bringing forth all players in my head, all dressed as fools.
Their dialogues are noises, though one meaning they accord:
My fate is seared. I am not wanted. Please make it change!
…But I can never change her who
Had made me, at every second split,
Aware that I try to breathe
And aware that I’m unaware.
(A collaboration with Rona Fe Almazan)
Noble, as you bestow yourself to me,
Conniving with freedom and so with secrecy.
But there is nothing epic in the plot you reckon
To weave me tangled in the sultry burrows of your being
I’d leave my sentiments, dry up these dreadful illusions
And burn my amusement with bitterness or deceptions
For it all boils down to preferences fit for moral, no, mortal, convenience
All far from the magnitude of scarcely explored greatness.
With ties locked tight and further aggrandized
In social displays and celebrated reputation,
He stands out with elaborate audacity
To ramp around, take interest, give interest
Call forth reciprocity so mockingly
While presenting himself as one unattainable?
It is not a good game to play
For the superficial eye and wisdom of age tags a winner beforehand
And losing to such, appeals and stalks invitingly
But there is yet a way to overcome him- through Him.
On what expense does a man bare his soul
to a woman he does not intend to keep?
And on what expense does a man keep
a woman he does not intend to bare his soul with?
What does a man tell himself when he realizes on what expense?
And what does a man do to not realize on what expense?
On what expense does a man love
And on what expense does he not?
Also published in xyldrae.deviantart.com. Feel free to change the perspective to male to female.
Can’t confuse memory to exist in the present.
Can’t confuse spiritual action to be memories.
I am two things joggled by a clown in coma
I live in spite of unseen casualties in both –
The regularly beaten, unbeating heart;
The indefinitely unfavored flavored soul…
Can’t confuse choice with what’s looked at for it,
Truth. Must distinguish aftermath from effects of choice.
I am one thing to a man, a jerk, and the moon,
And love in spite that one thing which is Nothing.
Nothing but every thing I’ve been considered to be not;
Nothing but a thing, considered merely, inconsiderately.
Must not be blind to distinctions.
Must be distinct from the blind.
So I worry not.
This poem and image is also published in xyldrae.deviantart.com.
Everybody knows her story… branded Cinderella:
She was born. She lost her mother.
Some witch took over. She lost her father.
Her properties coveted by step-women.
One day with the help of pests for friends,
And her bored fairy godmother,
She catches the lead clown in a social circus most grand
Leaves one of her shoe pair upon unethical eluding
Per chance to be found.
And she was.
Clown boy puts her back in her original place
And they flatter happily ever after.
Here are the non-moral lessons:
Cinderella is a loser.
This has nothing to do with parental loss.
She simply lost her sense of self
When she chose to be coveted
She had no role in the story
Aside from being the conflict for the doers of deeds.
Pests got to be friends.
Fairy godmother existed purposely and looked good.
Clown boy is tagged heroic
And step-women were made necessary for all.
Okay. Okay. MORAL LESSON:
To be not mundane, know yourself and be.
This is also published in xyldrae.deviantart.com.