Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Thougts Whispered To A Wind

The general coughed; choked by the pungent smoke
His eyes reddened nay swollen by tears withheld
From his vantage point hidden far in the hills
He looked down at his soldiers’ bodies lying awkward
Their souls long left their bodies cold.

His sigh echoed amongst the trees bent to eavesdrop
A vast army lost to the war and the element fear
Shaking like a newborn exposed to the harsh elements
Flashing back to his past victory-a legend afore created
He heaved, weighed by his manliness and death.

Heart heavy from worry and guilt of dragging in a friend
To the torments and guilty pleasures of gorged flesh
To the bitter sweet taste of the godly power of death
To the memories of happiness slowly drained from one
To the edge of a glory whose craving intensifies by the minute

The smell of smoke now became a visible and thickening sight
Becoming a backdrop for a vision of a strangely light filled day
An idle lingering on a straight path without corners or re-routes
A writing of a memoir weakening him with confusing emotions
A release from his body limp from thought.

A yellow light illuminated the smoke awakening his senses
His vision slowly becoming a fate to which he was chained
His blackening body now somewhat blushed by the heat
The general’s dying thoughts whispered to the dry wispy air
His soul’s judgment beginning by the lick of a flame

Monday, September 12, 2011

To Love...

Those devoid of self love cannot love another,
for "thou shalt love another as thou loveth thyself".
Only in accepting yourself with your faults shall you find peace,
and room creates itself.

Thus it is only logical to reprimand yourself gently
To settle scores with your demons...
The inner ghouls with such blood-thirst
that killing your own soul becomes attest-able.

Thus your inner soul should ignite,
let the fire grow large...
Let the tears that you cry be in mourning of that which has refused love.

When love is abundant in one,
all religious and moral duties are somewhat fulfilled.
All fears banished...
only then can one find comfort in their own skin.

Friday, July 29, 2011

The Burial I would not attend

when i first got word of his death,
my heart momentarily pained..
i searched myself for an emotion
but my soul was drenched in emptiness..
and my eyes dried up
i yearned for strength but that was not what i required at the time.
i refused to be strong in the face of sorrow
i found no comfort in modesty... nay meekness
and malice beckoned.

i was not happy still, for in rejoicing in another's death meant malevolence
and yet i did not hate
yes.
i had no capacity to hate the dead.
and this story i tell had a twist.
maybe the evil could wage a fair war this time.
and winning depended solely on me, the puppet master of my own emotions.

the story, i say again, had a twist.
for this man knew not of his death.
he went through life with a spring in his step.
maybe he found happiness in his semi-life.
this poor soul i had killed in my head.
his death was not at all heroic.
both in life and the beginning of the end he was a coward.
yes, this war was a secret only i knew.
but i made his death public.
And the burial i would not attend.

''let the dead bury their own dead''..

By Kui Kubai

Sunday, May 22, 2011

The Burial Of the She-wolf

She could feel her future oozing from him,
and she refused to look into his eyes
for she knew she would not be able to look away..
For the past and present haunted her..
But the future scared her
He stood strong against her currents..
She was tempted to raise her battle axe, just to watch him flinch..

so she hid..and wished away her happiness.
In trouble and hurt she found solace
in confusion she found peace
in battling the darkness she found order..
It was almost selfish, what she felt
Defending a non-existent wound..
She forgot that in pain there came strength

His offering of light made her scream with doubt
and the idea of needing someone other than herself made her shudder..
She did not want to have to carve out her heart as an offering..
She doubted his deserve.
So she buried herself in doubt..
Buried herself in her past present.
And watched them sing dirges to her..
Watched her clan fall apart.

By Kui Kubai

Saturday, May 21, 2011

The Broken Toy

The toy looks so lovely from the outside of the window shop...
And oh so beautiful in the wrapping
but really it was broken in the most unfixable of ways..
It was not warm nor was it soft..
For it was a toy so humanlike such qualities became expected of it..

With the toy came a disclaimer..
But the broken toy's beauty was soo great one did not notice it..
I did not know the return policy,
and i struggled to fix it.
And though the crack was minor..
It seems like a canyon..
Thus the name..the broken toy

i sat on my bed..with my broken toy,
torn,
torn between kissing it and crying
Staring at it, i realised that i was confused because i too was broken..
I was a broken master...
With a broken toy.

By Kui Kubai

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

This single brand of Heroine..

Here are some words/pieces of writing by some great men...(such is the nature of most lovers)
...some great men of/to the women they love...

John Rolfe in writing to the governor asking for permission to wed Pocahontas who was also known as Rebecca after her baptism ''motivated not by the unbridled desire of carnal
affection, but for the good of this plantation, for
the honor of our country, for the Glory of God,
for my own salvation... namely Pocahontas, to
whom my hearty and best thoughts are, and
have been a long time so entangled, and enthralled in so intricate a labyrinth that I was even a-wearied to unwind myself thereout''...


In the romantic tragedy of Mark Antony and Cleopatra, Antony loves his vain Cleopatra,despite being already married to Octavia. He abandoned her and their children for Cleopatra. They later divorced of course..
Back to my story(well according to Shakespeare), when Mark was told by Mardian; a servant of Cleo's; that she had died..he said these words
'' I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and
Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now
All length is torture: since the torch is out,
Lie down, and stray no farther: now all labour
Mars what it does; yea, very force entangles
Itself with strength: seal then, all is done.
Eros!--I come, my queen:--Eros!--Stay for me:
Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand,
And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze:
Dido and AEneas shall want troops,
And all the haunt be ours. Come, Eros, Eros!''

Cleo wasnt dead, and her attempt to gain back Mark Antony's love caused both their deaths..
Read the whole play at > shakespeare.mit.edu/cleopatra/index.html

Compiled by Kui Kubai

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Darkness falls

I have become too afraid to sleep,
too afraid of the dark...
Sometimes the shadows come alive
and i cower like a child
Though none touches me,
i hallucinate...
And my blood rushes..
My hearts tries to outdo itself

so i cling to myself..
For a moment i feel abandoned..
My sins haunt me..and they seem too great to be pardoned.
I dare not cry, for even when i'm alone i still want to seem brave.
The fear..
That fear is paralysing.

The ghouls..they sing to me
and no, not a lullaby
and no, no one else can hear them...
Sometimes i wonder if i myself hear them..
Thus i'm afraid to sleep..
For in feigning vigilance my heart slows.
I feel safe..
Safe until darkness falls again.

By Kui Kubai

Monday, May 9, 2011

In The Temple of my Skin

Now she stands over me,
Hovering like a cloud...
lost amongst the skies.
My heart grew cold,
My soul darkened...
And i reluctantly spread my arms to welcome her home.

She is my past, my present, my future.
I cannot dare deny her..
And jealously she guards...
My entitity she surrounds with walls of solidity
to never be soothed...
That i am to cry, in silence.

Behold!
In this temple,
There is no warmth...
The slabs on the floor grow colder
-at least i imagined they did..
The moon struggled to shine through the cracks..
And i touched the beams..like a starved child.
I remain a slave,
In the temple of my skin.

By Kui Kubai

DESIDERATA

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there
may be in silence. As far as possible
without surrender be on good terms
with all persons. Speak your truth
quietly and clearly; and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and
aggressive persons, they are vexations
to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for
always there will be greater and lesser
persons than yourself. Enjoy your
achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career,
however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery.
But let not this blind you to what virtue
there is; many persons strive for high
ideals, and everywhere life is full of
heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not
feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and
disenchantment it is as perennial as the
grass. Take kindly the counsel of the
years, gracefully surrendering the
things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not
distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and
loneliness. Beyond a wholesome
discipline, be gentle with yourself. You
are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right
to be here. And whether or not it is clear
to you, no doubt the universe is
unfolding as it should. Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And
whatever your labors and aspirations in
the noisy confusion of life, keep peace
in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery
and broken dreams; it is still a beautiful
world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. --- Max Ehrmann, 1927