I’m standing in a Gothic Cathedral with its arches, pillars and stained-glass windows, comprehending how Lilliputian and inconspicuous I am. All my life I dreamt of power, control and fame, but I now realize that I’m simply a journeyman looking for an upset. When you’re young, you dream of swords, shields and combat, and usurping […]Read more "Acquiescence"
I stood at the edge of the precipice and looked at the meadows below but didn’t see lush greens or rich browns, I only saw shades of the dullest grey and wondered if I should plunge and let that fog of despair enwrap me and have its victory. After all, I’ve never lived; I’ve only […]Read more "Tentative"
A utilitarian Descartes: I am, therefore I think A modernist Descartes: I think, therefore I think I am? A postmodern, millennial Descartes: I think, therefore I’m not A postmodern, Generation Z Descartes: I am, therefore I’m not A middle-aged, crisis-ridden, trapped-in-an-existential-loophole Descartes: I think to think I am, but am I or not? A Puritanical […]Read more "Descartes"
I think I’m too daft to comprehend e.e.cummings’s style of writing, lines projecting out like horizontal stalagmites, spaces, words meshed together like they’re thrown in the blender, an i outside the parenthesis probably symbolizing loneliness and an i within probably embodying wholeness with another. Experimental fiction was never my forte, and maybe that’s because fate’s […]Read more "Experiments"
They programmed me during the age of wars, bigotry and intolerance to predict and prophesize destruction, to make people await their impending doom with cries of “Woe! Woe! Woe!” To let them know that suffering is all there is, and even death offers no respite. But seeing the world in shades of dull grey altered […]Read more "The bane of optimism"
Today, after years of servicing jazz musicians and circus clowns, I call it quits, I’m rusty and feel like an old gigolo who has had enough and wants someplace quiet and idyllic where unsatisfied wives and mustached men with pictures of Ted Bundy in their wallets don’t harass him anymore, I need a beige shelf […]Read more "The trumpet’s lament"
Melpomene, are you the only muse I’ll know? I look for other dances filled with joy and mirth but shadows of each year and age clearly show a caricature of a man denied rebirth. I tell myself that I’ll transcend, and fiercely glow, no longer held by puppeteers of loss and dearth, no longer dregs […]Read more "Tragedy"