I Sijo

 
 
 
 
And I would light you a fire and I would show you the way
If you walk with me for a while, I will tell you stories and tales
And if you don’t heed my call, I shall take my path and let you stray…
 
I always have something to say,there always is some thought to try on
Through these cold streets and warm lights, walking when happy or alone
There always is a song to sing, I always have a memory to cry on..
 

Anger: Thou cometh again

Indignation and anger. They are the things that have the power to unleash all the suppressed feelings I possess. They have the ability to charge each and every pore of my body and flush my fair cheeks scarlet. I can feel blood rushing to my face and the adrenaline surge clearing my view. I am angry and times are gone I let it in and run away or give up. Yes, it is not worth it. Every person is not worth being given a dose of Haibar at the peak of indignation . Karma is enough a friend. What goes around comes around. I am a writer. I am proud of it. I can write my frustration away while you can suck on it

I was right. I am right. I always leave space, a large space, for anyone else’s thoughts. Why? This is a big world and I do not live alone. I don’t want to. Twice in my life I have made the mistake to let my work seen by the totally close minded, or stuck up. Because we have been writing and reading and talking and being talked to or with for a long time does not make us the supreme ruler, nor does it give us the authority to say anything anywhere. There is no limit to learning. No limit to learn from others. But pardonne me, this road runs two ways.

Learn to respect others and what they have to say. If you find anything wrong, humbly point it. Nobody is going to listen if you act and talk crap. Everyone is not Mommy daddy or Uncle auntie. Nor is everyone a friend. If you want to be respected, learn the verb and noun yourself

And don’t judge me till you don’t know me. I am the most humble person on Earth. But when the rotation goes counter-clockwise, I no longer stay quiet

Jee, now that I have written it. My heart is as clean as it was, I hate fighting back. Makes me weary and tired. Makes me someone I am not. From the core of me, I am not brutal nor am I a pay-backer. But when I have to, I fight alone

Was born and bred that way…

Letters: Andrew replies

 


Hey Busty,

 Are you a five-year old? Because your letter gave me that impression. I opened it and BAM got hit by all the superheroes. Tch Tch *kids*

Go on scowl. I am first going to answer your timely questions. This place is kinda cool. I mean I had mentally prepared myself for this for a very long time so even if something goes out of hand, I accept it readily. Food comes under my heading of *so so* but I never expected to have five-star stuff did I? Yes I did make quite a few acquaintances, it’ll take time to make friends man =) Training is super cool, I always used to imagine all this now it is so damn real. And I can’t complain! Professors are highly qualified, with a few exceptions of course. Professor Mansfield is just like gym teacher back at school. So naturally you know my reactions in his class. DUH. It is fun, yes. And you will be disappointed that we are in our first year so the hostels are nicer. As the training proceeds, they say, life is gonna be tough. So for now, we are bug and mostly-sweat-free.

As for the story about that freaky friend of yours, I was so ANGRY. I toldja before that gal was an idiot. Why don’t you talk to the Head about switching rooms with that girl whom-you-kinda-liked, Joan was it? And be strong man! Just because they are stupid, you don’t have to breakdown and feel bad! It’s going to be JUST fine alright. Moron =P

Batman sticker? Hahahahahahahaha alright I am SO jealous =P =P =P

We are all out sightseeing. It is part of our training to go out on our own and all that. Claire if you could see this! The mountains the valleys the water! It is about evening and the wind is chilling me as I write. I am glad Dad decided to send me away. I am glad they keep us cut off from the world. I am glad you can write to me. I am glad I can write back, These five years will be the best in my life. I can feel myself changing already. Getting a stack of letters every Sunday and Thursday from Mom, Dad, Sis, you, May and Steve. I feel loved and happy. If you could see me sitting on this rock wearing my khaki shorts and green shirt. Oh, I wish you could see how peaceful I feel. I wish you could see me smile as I write

You don’t have to cry and succumb to all the crazy people you have to hang out with now. It’s going to be ok. I do miss you and I do understand you.. I am learning yoga and so much stuff. Hey, Claire. It’s gonna be ok you’ll find nicer people. Just keep looking. ok? 

Hey sorry if I did not answer anything or overlooked stuff in your letter, Just know I read every word of it and I care. We are going back to the campus. I have got a cool bicycle you know =) 

Hate to leave you alone, I really do
Ciao Ciao,
 

Andrew

P.s. I love you

(Don’t worry, I am also searching for something original. Haha)

In the corner, into night

(I found this in a lost folder in my computer, I guess I wrote at night after some party or wedding ceremony)

There always are these eerie feelings. They have been there. And they shall remain

And I sit here. Again. As the slightest of the prick finally blows me apart. Again. Been fighting all day. But in the low hours I cease to be what I tend to become. So I just fall back. Let my hair loose. Let them fall free and wild on my shoulders and I retire to face the corner of my bed. Time to just, let go

I remember the pendant I wore. Black. All set with stones. Beautiful. Lying heavily around my neck. I just want to say what I want to say. And I know, there is that opening in me, from where vibrations or feelings enter or leave. I just pick them up. Or let them leave my world. My body, my existence

And I have truly nothing to say. There are just these feelings that inhabit me. I cannot put down what I feel because this pain is rooted so deeply in me that at the end of the day it will, it will force me to repay for all the happiness and laughter of the day. It will make me curl in my bed and call people long dead and places long left.

This does not mean I am weak. This does not portray that I am falling apart. This is just a part necessary for my survival. I am what pain and happiness make me. The stages in between ends up making me.. one of the crowd
Maybe that is the place where I belong. Maybe someday I will not be left alone here. Maybe someday someone will keep me away from crowds. Or stay as I sway with the suffocation burning my lungs away

I am not waiting. I am not yearning. I don’t possess such feelings anymore. I have left and I will never come back. I will not be and I don’t want to be pursued

You know, this time I mean it…

My stuff from “the Negative Sign”

I started that blog to experiment stuff and I do that a lot so here is a some of the stuff over weeks I’d say

Haiku:

Day 1

Going deeper
And deeper still
Diamond Supreme Foam
 

Day 2

Lied, laughed, lived
Three seasons did go ahead
Then a  summer death
 

Day 3

Out from the lonely Hall,
A long lasted test in Summer
Your dead body, My tired soul
 

Day 4

Packed, gathered
An Autumn trip to boredom
Uncle oh Uncle…
 

Day 5

Emails, ninety nine
Sitting up all night in Summer
Waiting for the one
 

Day 6

Walking along the way
I now lost a friend, old mate
Crossroads
 

Day 7

Four choices lie 
One answer to choose
Multiple choices.. ah the Mcqs!!
 

Day 8

After the storm
I hold a little sparrow
Dead home, broken song
 

Day 9

Dad’s watch
Ticks on my wrist
Two-fifteen
 

Day 10

Sweat touches my brow
As I mow the wet grass
A midsummer morning
 

Day 11

Cold December wind,
Walking through the fields one morning
Blew my shawl away
 

Day 12

There was pain in my arms
And in my brain I knew the imaginary never existed 
Still, the phrase hurts
 

 

Day 13

One late afternoon
Dancing jumping racing squirrels
Disappeared in my tree
 

The Negative Sign

 

Yeah, I am busting and you want me to add a title


You see I am just staring. Just staring at the screen. Pausing after typing every second word. Fighting off all that is boiling to just burst its way out of me. Biting back my tongue and breathing deep, just enough to evade an anger attack. I have said this before. Don’t piss me don’t offend me. You have no idea what anger does to me.

And yes, again it is thrashing its way through me threatening to blow my arms away. I hate this pain. I hate every stupid single thing at the moment. This is not the cheery understanding or the good me. This is the part of me that exists only to destroy me. And frankly and so ironically speaking, I let it

I don’t need stupid old speeches. Let me be in my situation I will get over it. I have made all those rants. I know it all. If not much, that enough to crawl into the darkness and curl into a pathetic ball while you live a life in which I don’t exist. I want to kill you with my bare hands.. I really want to kill someone.

Well, sounds so brutal but hell I am not one bit like that. My friend says any of these days I’ll snap into a werewolf (my furry little problem). Phuff

If you don’t want me around.. I will never poke in your life and try being a part of it. Just trust me that one bit. And drop that small penknife you have in your hands. I have been bruised by bigger tools.. Leave the small patches left in my heart. It does you no harm by beating that faintly. You can’t even hear it Sir.

Letter One: Claire writes

Okay, This is really strange

I know you asked me to write letters since your stupid boarding house does not let you use internet for communication. What sick rule is that and what sick place is it! And you are not supposed to have cellphones, what are you training to be, a nun? Come on man you have no idea I had to go to the store to buy this “super-hero” letter pad. Well, kind of cool yes but this sounds so STUPID. This is the third time I am writing I just trashed two beautiful pages (The letter-pad is kinda expensive ok) 

Al-right, as far as I remember letter writing, we start with asking about person’s health, right? Hey Andrew how are you? I hope you had really bad food accompanied by really bad bowel movements. Yeah that’s right. I am not concerned. As for my health.. you are so surely not concerned either.. So I am not wasting my pen (I bought it at the stationery store around the corner, man can you believe I got such cool batman sticker with it! I pasted it on my pc, yes that’s right, you are so jealous :D)

Ok now you are smiling or yawning if you are reading it for the second time. I am really bored over here. Just.. so bored. I should have made more friends before you left for your stupid training. I mean, it is so idiotically vacant and distressing to check my phone and read a couple of texts from the crazy blood sucking phone company. I am just going on and on right? Huh well, this is my first time writing a letter you know (and probably your first time reading it)

Well. I wrote a really nice poem but somehow it got deleted and I can’t write the same thing again. It is so lonely I mean huh. I really have nothing to say I am just missing you. I mean yeah right I am,shut up. Will you write me back soon? This is so romantic lol (I still care for this expression) but of course, I am not interested =P

So I guess. Well, I mean. Everybody misunderstands me here. The difference is now I care because I am alone. They think I am just a stupid old cheat and I care what they think because these are stupid people I have to hang out with. Even my room-mate called me a freak last night. I cried all night you have no idea. She thought I left for the auditorium without her on purpose so that she misses all that while I was already in there when the whole briefing started and I couldn’t leave because Professor was standing by the door and well I wouldn’t get a seat of I left and came back..

I don’t care. I know I have a friend who is somewhere in the world who understands me no matter what. I am right, right? Gosh.. I didn’t wanna sound like a cry baby alright that’s it write back soon, I hate you, oh I so deeply do.

WAIT. There are a few questions I wanted to ask before but got caught: How’s food? How’s your room? Made new friends? What is the training like? What are the professors like? Having fun? Are there mosquitoes and flies?

Love, Bbye :)

Claire

P.s I love the concept of P.s and I have thought of many cool P.s’ but still can’t come up with one. Still *keep your fingers crossed*

Unread and Untitled

This is my letter to the world,
That never wrote to me,–
The simple news that Nature told,
With tender majesty.
Her message is committed
To hands I cannot see;
For love of her, sweet countrymen,
Judge tenderly of me! 

To my heart’s core, I feel sick. Sick and tired and worn out. Enough is so darned enough.

When I look at myself and say or state, I never assume that what I am saying is true for everyone or what I am saying is a pure FACT, why? Because I know my heart and I don’t know anyone else’s. I don’t know what stages or circumstances the other person goes through. For stuff I always give MYSELF justifications. But I am sick of that. Sick of cutting myself open for people who will do nothing more than cut more. I am tired. I am half-crazed keeping my damn mouth shut. Sick of letting everyone have their way. You don’t trust me? You don’t like me? You think I am a liar a fool a cheat a player or other terms you so frequently and tonelessly use. Leave me alone. I am not gonna sit here let you say all that or I am not going to prove myself. I am purple. I don’t exist

But, if for a second you thought of knowing me, rather than making up baseless assumptions as per your life experiences. YOU NEVER MET SOMEONE QUITE LIKE ME. And I swear that you won’t. And what did you do? Make me a victim of indirect accusations? You know who I am? I am a kid who is barely of age. I am a kid that met so many liars and cheats than putting your thirty years together I am a kid who watched her dad die right in front of her bloody eyes in that bloody ccu I am the kid who’s gonna die of cancer in just a couple of years to come AND STILL YOU THINK YOU KNOW ME?

Hear me, oh stranger. I too possess a half-healed soul. I too die every night and still wake up every morning. I am a kid who never quite understood how to play games. For a second there, when I met you, I thought I found a friend. But you smashed me with the perceptions that my soul never tasted. Just because you know my name doesn’t mean you know my life! I am as pure as that wind that talks to me every morning. Hate me if you may, leave me if you may, don’t mistake me, don’t accuse me. I am not asking you back. I never had anyone from the beginning and oh stranger, I have long been standing far from the maddening crowd.

Now I walk away

(Stanza from Emily Dickinson)

Grave of the Fireflies

My house was burning

And I sat. Sat overwhelmed. Sat numb and pale. I just sat there. Sat watching everything burned away. I saw Dad’s picture eaten up by dancing yellow and orange flames. I saw Mom’s ornaments smashed on the hard floors. I saw the tablecloth I made last month stained with blood of my sister. I sat there. In my torn clothes and in my dead soul

What could I do?There were blackened bodies all around me. Blackened by the hatred that was never ours. Destroyed by the revenge that we never bore. Where could I go? I was stoned. Held to ground by a force that somehow spared me. Spared from the fate my family just witnessed. Spared from the end my whole city saw. What had happened?

All I remember was that air raid siren. Over the cries of the dead that is all I hear now. My ears ring with that gong of fear and death. All I see is Dad running towards me, beckoning me to run. All I hear is my sister dragging herself away, from the flames licking the house fast. All I know is Mom is somewhere beneath those hot logs. I knew I ran. I knew it was all over. In the fight to make the other lose, I had lost it all. Lost my beloved in a war that was never ours..

I knew I ran into the chaos. Those streets with men women and children for something. Life, loved ones what I don’t know. I don’t know why I ran. To save my life? My life? In that wild moment I just knew what Dad said. And I did it. Ran faster than everyone. Maybe from death itself. A race which every one in my family lost

Stumbling back to my burning home, sitting among the ashes of my love and my life. I never won I guess. Because this is what they gave me as my consolation prize. To sit with my bashed knees on grandpa’s soot covered sofa, to see this with these crazed eyes of mine, shaking with fear; Fireflies. All.. fireflies…

(for Japan and every single person who died and dies in my country. A reaction to the movie “Grave of The Fireflies”. The depression doesn’t leave my mind)