A Bump in the Dark

A couple days ago, I read of this American-Korean guy in Korea who broke up with his girlfriend (of unknown length of time, perhaps a year or two), whose father had just passed (succumbing to cancer). Apparently, she is anemic, but also wanted to travel the world for a year, alone, after the ordeal.

Today, well insulated from the many horrors of nature, modern man (or Man or Mankind) still seeks and finds adversity in life.

Perhaps that is the true meaning of life.

Edit/Update: Actually, I would like to add some context here – about a week ago, having supposed to have gone to bed, I ended up writing in this notebook (actually my classmate’s, which I picked up in secondary school and remember not how I actually procured it). The first two attempts were not completed, so I resorted to attempting to sleep, then my idiot brain reached again for said notebook and the nearest pen my reverse-turned hand could find and wrote a host of blurbs in the dark. Minimal editions were made.

 

Lights Out

I write in the dark knowing no
one
None shall see the light of this until
it is deemed
Complete. My
Psyche is master of its
Composition
Authority is all given
Respectfully might I add
To the lines of dark ink on
Light paper
Which blends – only
Separated in the moonlight
I am tempted to glimpse at my
Script but the temptation,
Fleetingly being, passes

 

Insignificance

Wither a tree
Plow through the grass
Forget the ages come to pass
Burn out the sun
Freeze up the sea
The cosmos cares not what is meant to be

No god would give as much a care
Neither beast nor human knew
Still the winds rushed throught the air
whilst ignorance pushed earth askew

So sleep through your dreams
And waste every hour
Relish each day in your ivory tower
Then utter each silence
And bleach every page
For all the world is but a stage

 

冷性

I’d never guess
That passion spent most
Time as a glacier
Too cold and it froze in its
Tracks – Too warm and it but
Melted – into nothingness

Nay, not nothing, but something
Not quite measureable but
Given time to congeal
To find itself again
Transmuting – or, recrystallising
Love would
Reform instead

 

14th February

I wrote you this letter
Hoping you would like it
Knowing that any attempt would be
Far superior to what I can say
For in writing will I not
Blush or stutter when I
Say that I want to be
More than friends, and
In so doing
So would I
Get to the point without mincing
Words

I hope you like it.

 

4am, @ New Midnight

Lucidity arrives at the doorstep
When no one is available to
Answer – but now I feel that
I must take the leap of faith
In the moment when lucidity
Hails me in the middle of
Nothingness. I must
Greet it
Invite this bosom friend,
Long lost, of
Clarity
In
And speak at great length
With lucidity
and Laugh and Cry and perhaps
Spend a moment of
Silence with it

 

P.S. Work on the unfinished ones in progress

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About jfkwt

A little person on a little island in a little planet

Posted on February 22, 2012, in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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