Tag Archives: Human

The Wild Child

- Tursiops truncatus A dolphin surfs the wake ...

I wake up when I wake up but lie still, as I contact the Unseen Creator.
I go through the day as if it’s the best day of my life
I dress in ways that generate debate yet not sexually suggestive or haggard
I don’t live by DEPENDING on things, like money, around me yet I use them
I live all too aware of the fact that I am mortal yet I am unusual
I live uninhibited by my own hormones and basic drives yet I am comfortable with having them
I don’t depend too much on others, whoever they may be, so long they are only humans
I am unattached to traditions I don’t understand yet I do not slander or pontificate
I do not fully understand the supernatural/unseen world yet I do not doubt its reality
I live like I have 100 more years yet completely fearless of death
I am softer than water, tougher than the rock, freer than the breeze, more passionate than fire
I am not God and I do not contribute to a universal mind
I am just a wild child who belongs to the Creator.

*Song* Of Time

English: Two girls playing the classic harp, C...

English: Two girls playing the classic harp, Caracas, Venezuela. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sing us the *song* of time
*Pitch* that widens our possibilities
*Lyrics* that spells out our boundaries

The *recording* of history and *playback* of present
Good days that have caused smile lines
Evil days that have caused scar lines

The *melody* of rewards and *tune* of consequences
Reminds us of the good seeds we have sown
Reminds us of the evil monsters we have spawn

The *harmony* of hope and *beat* of caution
Tells us where we were yesterday
Shows us where we should be today

The loud *volume* of the unseen yet real
*Rhythm* that God understands perfectly
A Being that runs the *scales* of eternity

P.S.: But the *sounds* of time we hear today

Will not tell us where exactly we are going
Will not tell us when our time will run out
Will not tell us when time itself will cease


Explained -The Mad Village Poet 10

Monkey in Bali, Indonesia

Please refer to my post @ https://ifeelshadows.wordpress.com/2012/07/16/my-idyllic-village-experience/ for a background to the story.

Original(O): You can call the frog cute
Just so he can help rid you of mosquitoes.
Explained(E): Just as you can call the cow pretty just so she gives you milk. This is about ass-kissing -pardon the use of the term “ass”. When we think about ass-kissing or foot-licking, we usually think of pleasing those “above” us. But, besides royal(and gorgeous) asses, what about that “low-life” or “social misfit” of a person whom we don’t really feel the slightest admiration for as a fellow HUMAN; whom we just keep around us for the things we stand to gain from them. Worse still, we keep them believing they matter to us. Such pitiful, scary emotional vampires some of us make! I can’t imagine what thoughts will run through the mind of that young man when he learns that his “girlfriend” is just keeping him “around her ankles” for some bizarre reason remotely far from attraction.
O: A long road ends in heartbreaks
When your heart grows sick from longing.
E: Some will claim distance breeds longing! Indeed, I’d like to know the definition of that distance -one year, across one continent? Not that there are no EXCEPTIONS. I’d like also to know the meaning of EXCEPTIONS. I know of a friend of mine -distance of about 6 time zones and 3 years. It appeared he wasn’t an exception.
O: Though one may prove brave and strong
By walking the length of it,
Is the journey any more fun?
In the end, anyway
You will earn the Purple Heart for boredom.
E: I would applaud such a friend, for instance; but, they are no more together today. And such a man he was! Such a man!
O: How fast time flies
When its wings are unclipped by the pen.
E: Sometimes, I would start writing around the stroke of midnight, and get lost till it’s around 2am. Writing has such great pull on one.
O: Life turns up great
When played by the book.
E: And where is such a book?
The only one that’s given my life any semblance of sanity is the Bible.
O: But spare me the throes of reading music.
E: A just-by-the-way comment. But, if there’s any reader here who can also read music, my respectful bow. How is it that reading something so liberating and wonderful be so seemingly boring?!
O: I’d rather be just another croaky-frog writer,
Who sings his words with a bang
Even though he plagiarized.
E: And I can’t count the number of them. Writers who photocopy others’ ideas and words. With no originality on their own part. And they blow their own trumpets loud with it.
Anyway, let’s acknowledge some creativity there. They remixed another’s song and made best-sellers with it.
O: Then what advantage does free-styling have,
When the monkey also has his stunts?
E: I would give more credit though, to some fledgling writer who shows some personality/originality.
What then makes anyone earn the title of a “writer” when just anybody can freestyle.
NB: I do not mean to sound derogatory or insulting by using the word “monkey”. From my past writings in this series, you will see more clearly how I have used the term to refer to human beings in a poetic way.
O: But, can we all be poet laureates?
E: The answer would be a banging-croaky “No”!
O: You don’t need wisdom to choose which to be.
You only need monkey soup.
E: By saying monkey soup now, keeping in mind past usages of the word “monkey”, I am referring to creativity/ingenuity.
O: And don’t even begin to think
You know the choice I made.
Humour me if you can
Not forgetting that you’d still the monkey soup,
So we can speak the same lingua.
So long, fellas!
We shall meet in the jungle.

Thank you!

The Mad Village Poet -9 (Original)

Fields north of the Protva River. The west end...

English: West Rock, Warwick Warwick is a hill ...

Please refer to my post @ https://ifeelshadows.wordpress.com/2012/07/16/my-idyllic-village-experience/ for a background to the story.

Time to walk the open streets of poetry
Though many preferring safety-sheds and lookouts.
However, the monkey struts in it
Having mastery of arts,
And immune from trial in court.
The wisdom of the Creator.
The beauty of art.
Is the writer just a creator of words,
Bored with the very essence?
And, knowing there is no end to words,
Shouldn’t there be enough to go round?
(Give hear, you unemployed ones!)
And, now, some will say:
Some writers have command of the literal world.
And after the elaborate journey into literal insanity,
Won’t the mad poet get bored?
(Wonder if his rants are not considered insults
To the job description of the writer.)
Won’t he then do what he knows best
-Thinking and writing like one who loves monkey soup!

Midnight Song: Thoughts of Conflict…


moonlight (Photo credit: *Psycho Delia*)

Red Moon

Moon again

I have had a very long day, and am supposed to be sound asleep by now. I am on the first floor of the hospital building, being the doctor to cover for the 24 hours between Saturday and Sunday mornings.
Screeching cars rushing by and screaming motorbikes won’t let me sleep. Lost-puppy-looking questions begging for just a little consideration submit their application letters at the table of my skull. I do not discriminate between cats and dogs, being a lover of all nature -including frogs and snakes. So, how can I turn these seductively nagging questions away. Maybe I just love the medidative calmness that controversial questions bring.
Without darkness, there can be no light:
Where do I start from? Who even started that line of thought? Was the person there at creation? Who said there was no light initially?
Okay! Granted the person was not present at the origin of all. (And I am definitely not asking the bold-faced scientist with hypotheses to step forward. I need some real thing here!) Is it then because of the current state…
(And now a a real human being just came in, needing the doctor’s attention…)
…of things? The evil and the darkness in the human nature as we see it today? So, we say without the realisation of evil, we can appreciate good.
Taking a cue from the origin, the beginner of life was never dead, so he didn’t have to face death to realise the importance of death. There was no threat of death to him.
Introducing the child growing up: he/she doesn’t necessarily have to be abused before he/she appreciates life. Infact, chances are that the child grows up rather on the “gloomy side” of life, the scars alongside thriving in good health, whether hidden or open scars. Give light to a child and you are doing it right by life/nature/providence.
Am I saying that experiencing darkness bears no value at all?
I am saying that the experience of darkness is not necessary for the appreciation of the light.
To come home: I won’t hold any grudge against anyone who paints bold the darkness in the world today. After all, the darkness has ALREADY come.
And now, humanity today probably doesn’t even know how it would have fared in the absence of the darkness. We have no complete clue as to to if we would really appreciate light without darkness. We probably came about this line from the experiences in this same darkness-ridden world, what we have observed, from the deductions these same darkness-affected senses of ours are making.
So, can we at least admit to our limited understanding and observe that:
You don’t have to abuse a child in order to teach the child a lesson…
You don’t have to retaliate or pay someone back in one’s own coin to satisfy some “sense of justice”, and teach senses to one…
You don’t have to cheat on your partner in a romantic relationship in order to show the partner how independent or not-a-looser you are…
And you don’t have to turn a murderer in order to learn the value of life…

Can all these other puppies come back later, please. Mother Bulldog -Sleep barks!