marie antoinette

the bells rang like banshees screaming death
another morning, it said
another sunrise, another sundown
the trains would be full
and the the streets would erupt,
the tables would be set
and the candles would burn.
come on, little moth
the lanterns are lit,
spread those wings
and set fire on it.
what’s life if it’s not ablaze?
what’s death if it’s not faced?
the pied piper leads the pack
with music sweet as cake
but i listen to the banshee screaming death
another morning, it shrieks
and i rouse and i gasp,
i take a long hard breath
and flick off marie antoinette,
for the piper drowned with its pack
and no one shall feed me cake.
 

travel light

my luggage sits on the floor, patiently waiting for me to stuff it with clothes and finally shut it to a zip that will bid the night “sweet dreams and rest well.” but i try its patience, because instead of hurrying to pack, i’m glued to this screen, delaying the inevitable and challenging the drowsiness descending upon my eyes. quite possibly the two things i dislike most doing would be packing and unpacking, right up there with having to wake up with a bad hangover.

i pack for chicago. funny, only half a year ago i was cursing the entire state and its whole entire population and promised i would never set foot in that wretched city again. interesting how certain people affect our lives without them even knowing it. interesting also, how certain people can change the tides with just one text message. butterfly effect…my touche. for all the roads i have tread, i know that everything happens for a reason, and that the roads we take are not of our own choosing–rather, we put one foot ahead of the other so that roads are made in our wake. there is no selection of pre-made pathways for us to choose from. while the destination has long been decided, we still have to make our own path. and so, i create my own, day after day, one unzipped luggage after another…

 

Clasped Together

Feed off me, feeding on you
This is a cruel world
With cruel men and cruel whips
Taste this blood, its yours and mine.
When the last boat docks
I’ll be the one in red,
Sifting through the crowd
A siren in the dead of night,
A nymph in the face of death,
A smile, in place of tears.
Feed off me, i dare ye
I clench my fists and swing
I quench this thirst and sing
I stand here stout and free,
But let me feed on thee.

hey you

golden streaks of blonde,
fetter thru deep shades of brown and black
those eyes drill holes on my skull,
eats up every word from my mouth,
shake it off, i dont buy it
none of it.
striking smiles and subtle brushes
hold my hand already,
kiss these lips so deeply,
get it over with and then go,
just go.
zip that mouth,
years are years, ive been here longer
“soul years” are your made-up lies.
don’t be smart, don’t be fun,
don’t be cool, don’t be coy,
don’t
make me
fall.

cheese, anyone?

i need air, i need food
i need the sun, i need the rain
i need my tv shows and my music sets,
i need my home and my subway pass,
i need this phone, i need its hum,
i need a drink, i need a bath.
i need a lot.
but none as much…
as i do you.

tick-tock, says the clock

it appears as though spring is really here. where had the winter gone and was it ever really here? time is really taking a number on me. so much to do, so little time. the phrase has never been as convicting as it is now.

my friend C texted me this afternoon and i told her i would call her after i get off work, to which she replied…”yeah i’ll wait for your call tomorrow. last time i remember you were supposed to call me 15mins after we (briefly) talked. that was like 24 hours ago…still no call.”

the funny thing is, i like to think im pretty good at returning calls and getting back to people asap. apparently not. i somewhat apologized for my actions and somewhat promised i would work on communicating more. but apparently, C wasn’t backing down easily. she forwarded me an email. i’m not sure who wrote this (and neither is C) but i liked the allusion and it got me thinking. so i hope it does the same for everybody else.

The Mayonnaise Jar and Two Cups of Coffee

When things in your lives seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the 2 cups of coffee.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full.  They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with an unanimous “yes.”

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

“Now,” said the professor as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things–your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favorite passions–and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.

The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car.

The sand is everything else–the small stuff. “If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

“Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your  spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first–the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.”

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The professor smiled. “I’m glad you asked.

It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.

on laziness

quite a glum saturday morning in brooklyn, new york. i woke up a little before 7am. yes, on a saturday. such is always the case. i tried to make myself go back to sleep and couldn’t. i am wide awake and my fingers are aching to dance on the keyboard and strum on the guitar–among other things. i have a plane ticket to chicago that needs to be purchased. i have tax statements that need to be submitted. i have a book to write. and checks to sign off on. and a business plan that needs to be, er, planned. and i also have laziness pinning me down on this couch. mark my words: i shall emerge victorious over this multi-headed hydra.

my mother once famously said, “if you are homeless in America, you’re either lazy or crazy.” while it is arguable that all homeless people actually have mental health issues, it cannot be denied that a great many of them do. no, i don’t have statistics–just obsessive observation. laziness, on the other hand, poses a whole different issue. many lazy people hold high-paying jobs and lead lucrative lifestyles. in the event that overt laziness drives one into homelessness, i think it would be pretty safe to assume that such laziness is also accompanied by some degree of mental illness; or that it has become an illness itself.

there was a homeless man on the train yesterday. of course, i didn’t know this before i walked in the stench-infested car. in fact, i remember thinking how lucky i was to have that one uncrowded car stop right in front of me. i walked in and realized immediately why that particular compartment was almost empty during rush hour. i told the incident to a coworker who then explained how it’s winter and the homeless would take shelter in the train stations to somehow avoid the cold. she said when it starts getting warm, they’ll be back on the streets.

lazy or crazy, nobody should have to live in the alleyways, eating garbage, smelling like the dead while they still breathe. there must be something we can do, no? im not one to do volunteer work since, well, im too lazy for that and im not particularly fond of rubbing elbows with stinky, dirty people. yes, i know, that sounds brash but hey, it is also the truth. thankfully, there are people who are committed to helping the homeless on the front end. check out The Bowery Mission and donate (or volunteer, if that’s your cup of tea).

most of us aim for a better life and most of us also have the fortuitous favor, not only to device means to reach such goals, but also to have a competent frame of mind to even have the idea of improving our circumstances. shouldn’t we also have the compassion to help those who don’t have such privilege?