a life less ordinary

"I love you like certain DArk Things are loved..secretly, between the shadow and the soul.." - Pablo Neruda

Thursday, July 28, 2005

A little story...Part 2

"And there she was yet again….Back from a lost time yet again....It always starts with a sigh....and ends with inaudible cries. How I wish this string of dreams would end....night after night it starts the same way and ends peculiarly the same. I have the sudden urge to change it...to change tiny little details just so, to the very least, change my dream. I am an idiot though, I am dead to her. I have told myself that single fact for the thousandth time. For that thousandth time I touched her.... that very last time I ever touched her.....it wasn’t her....not anymore.....she was something else....something cold....cold and empty...and different. So I awaken every morning....I admit my faults and carry on....burying everything with books and work....life and people. But every now and then, somewhere between reality and haunting dreams....my heart catches a breeze with her scent in it. The light soft chuckle she puts out, echoing in my head. That taste of her puddle sweat in my tongue. In the darkest hours of the morning I remember her. I didn’t know I’d find her one day. It wasn’t the kind of morning I’d expect to find her in. But then, I had a whole year of nights to practice this day. The sweat was cold in my chest, my throat was a cup of sand, and my heart just started to pound and embarrasses me yet again. But this time, I capture my voice....what passes in this life as a voice. I greet her and ask her how she’s doing. How her work and review were doing. We talked about her immediate fears....never dwelling on concerns about our personal lives. Just like reflex, I try to help her out....with probably useless wisdom and words of encouragement. They all fall flat in her face...she just shrugs them off and smiles....barely. And after minutes...or hours......or days...she needed to leave. I tell myself instantly, “Let her go. Be quiet and learn this time you moron!”...........

I didn’t say a word, not a sound or even a single sigh. I just fell in her shoulders, and crushed my lips upon hers. I hugged her as tight as I possibly can without causing her harm...or discomfort. And with that....her heart skips....her breathing budges.....she flinches........and then she left, but she never looked back. It was a small split second. For reasons I never really understood...I was happy. Not gleefully happy, but like a drop of pure happiness that fell upon me. It was sincere. It was enough. And then there was nothing but my own life again. My own life and people....and more books. The priest was right though. “You must let her go”, he said. It seems she wasn’t haunting me. I was haunting her......And even though our passion and love was a fire that was hot and blistering across every street in history....I was cold. I was left someplace cold again. Then, I take a second to make sure...I collect myself....I lifted myself up....and still continued reviewing for the biggest exam in my life......”

Sunday, July 24, 2005

THE BOY WHO STOOD UP AND ASKED, WHAT IF I DO?........by JB ABANO

THE BOY WHO STOOD UP AND ASKED,WHAT IF I DO? Cazpic7
By John Benedict Abano, 07/24/05

What if I do?
What am I suppose to do?
What does it all come down to?
Where would it all lead to?
Does it bother you too?

What if I do?
What does that mean to you?
What would you do?
How would you know it’s true?
How would I know it’s true?
Would the world know too?
Will it change you?
Will it change me too?
Will that be alright with you?

Don't wonder, I am confused too...
It’s just too much to chew.
It’s all just tiny little clues.
But all my guts are saying,
What if I do?

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

FOX...by a fox

"FOX" by JB Abano

I am a watcher, a describer of sorts;

who has a thousand ideas of absolutely nothing.

With my little brown eyes...I shift swiftly,..only to move slowly. To capture every breath and every detail life gives me.

And thus,i capture them all. All the tiny little sounds...All the fluttering fleeting movements...All that scattered wasted emotions...just hanging, in this rusty dew air.

It all comes so vivid and so real...So strange, yet so natural. It's almost astonishing. It's almost cruel..