Tag Archives: Neanderthal

Explained -The Mad Village Poet 1

Please refer to my post @ https://ifeelshadows.wordpress.com/2012/07/16/my-idyllic-village-experience/ for a background.
Original(O): “How fast time runs! Can it overtake fate?
Are they even in a competition?”
Explained(E): Having to report to the hospital everyday, devote time to prepare for my specialisation programme in Psychiatry, and sit by the window of opportunity to charge my gadgets in the village left little time for all else. So, time really did run by; but, I was making good use of the time. Besides, one can’t exactly skip the days of preparation. So, landmarks of progress are achieved with time. Both time and life’s achievements work hand in hand.
O: “The rain falls on the sun. The rivers run fast and dry.
The seas overflow and cease.
Who can see the end of it all?”
E: I wrote this after half my time was done, and I was re-living how much had passed. The rainy season clashes in on the dry season. The river I saw one moment, in the rainy season, running fast and over-flowing left no prints in the harmattan. We all just come, to leave the earth. None lives forever on earth. True it will all end one day, but who here now can claim will see the end of the earth?!
O: “I am just a lonely man, tired of keeping the company of a biro and book.
Boring speechless brothers.”
E: I slept alone in the bedroom in a large cottage hospital compound, which is usually deserted in the nights and on weekends. Make no mistake though, because I wasn’t FEELING lonely.
O: “Who can tell a good story? Maybe a good tale of boredom.
Whilst I shamelessly flaunt my hatred for writing poems.
And am I to regard myself as a thinker.”
E: The above are just as stated. And I have always been careful about calling myself a poet. Except of course I speak as a particularist!
O: “Are Homo Sapiens better than Neanderthals? Are spirits better than mortals.
Does the cup of immortality come cheap?”
E: well, homo sapiens have the superior biopsychosocial system. But, along with it comes the issues of ghastly wars, heartbreaks, social discrimination/seggregation, etc. As for immortality, it also comes with boredom(when you do same things, eg. fight wars and endlessly exist, year after year. Or millenia after millenia! I wonder how many men would still pursue life itself with passion when they realize they are all going to live forever. I also wonder how many couples will stick together after aeons of living with the same person. The pursuit of immortality in this plane of existence is wreaked with it’s own freaky ills also. But, what do I know?! Am I even to regard myself as a thinker?
O: “Is boredom so costly?”
E: from another pespective, someone who has had a very stormy life would give anything for a lazy change of life; a very simple life; a sweet relief from the heartaches and torments and pressures and lacks!
O: “Am I just another croaky bull-frog, or a quiet cute toad?”
E: Am I just another self-aggrandizer trying desperately to blow his trumpet and set up a plate for himself -as a writer? Or, am I just quietly acknowledging my deficiencies?
O: “Tiredness comes easy; sleep comes hard.
And because of the delay, I have to waste precious ink,
And shed blue blood on white dress.”
E: Sometimes, I’d be writing at 2am with the torchlight, tired at midnight, but not feeling sleepy at all. And I’d try all sorts rather than jus placidly wait for sleep to meet me idle. I was using blue biro(blue blood) to write my drafts on a white paper(white dress).
O: “Many days of some man’s short life are crowded with boredom.
So, let me broadcast my boredom. Or, is it that obvious?”
E: The first line is as meant. As for the second, I guess it’s clear I was just bored and trying to pass the time till sleep came.
O: “Oh! And not a bored fellow who has enjoyed reading this piece to tell me that.”
E: As meant. Hehehe!

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The Mad Village Poet 2 (original)

This is the second excerpt of the poem I wrote whilst working in the village/countryside setting. Please refer to my post @ https://ifeelshadows.wordpress.com/2012/07/16/my-idyllic-village-experience/

Why did I have to grow up to become burdened with a life of minimum wage.
To be deceived by cassanovas and vixens.
To be sold into a life of rents, mortgages and bankruptcy.
To die of broken hearts.
Wouldn’t cancer have been a better deal or ordeal?
Why can’t I grow young?
To become burdened with gifts and food.
To be sold into a life of toys and overfeeding.
To be deceived by mum and dad.
To die of paediatric delinquency.
Wouldn’t a child-soldier’s death be more honourable?
And now I am even being deceived by some semblance of orderliness to my thoughts.
When my torch is failing.
I might as well set my house on fire tonight, so I can see clearly.
Is the life of a poet graceful? Does not the monkey display mastery of the arts?
What makes humans better?
I like monkey soup though. Little wonder I think and write like one.
At least I should have a fulfilling life in the pot. And brace myself for the fire that will try me.
God help me if the cook should doze off.

PS – The “monkey” used above is purely referring to the animal, and is in no way racist.

The Mad Village Poet 1 (original)

English: Homo neanderthalensis. Skull discover...

English: Homo neanderthalensis. Skull discovered in 1908 at La Chapelle-aux-Saints (France). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

These are a collection of poems I wrote whilst working in a village/countryside setting. Please, refer to my post @ https://ifeelshadows.wordpress.com/2012/07/16/my-idyllic-village-experience/

How fast time runs!
Can it overtake life?
Are they even in a competition?
The rain falls on the sun.
The rivers run fast and dry.
The seas overflow and cease.
Who can see the end of it all?
I am just a lonely man,
tired of keeping the company of a pen and a book.
Boring speechless brothers!
Who can tell a good story?
Maybe a good tale of boredom.
Whilst I shamelessly flaunt my hatred for writing poems.
And am I to regard myself as a thinker?
Are Homo Sapiens better than Neanderthals?
Are spirits better than mortals?
Does the cup of immortality come cheap?
Is boredom so costly?
Am I just another croaky bull-frog, or a quiet cute toad?
Tiredness comes easy; sleep comes hard.
And because of the delay, I have to waste precious ink,
And shed blue blood on white dress.
Many days of some man’s short life are crowded with boredom.
So, let me broadcast my boredom.
Or, is it that obvious?

Oh! And not a bored fellow who has enjoyed reading this piece to tell me that.