Lost in My Plastic Hog Heaven

Leaving- when home doesn’t feel home at all

     is an uncertain yet liberating decision

when decisions are made out of running out of choices.

     But where you are right now is still stranger than home.

You always feel like you don’t belong here, not at all.

Why do you keep searching for a place

     which is so imaginary, you know it is not real?

And why do you keep on holding on to that thought

     Which doesn’t give you certainty?

You see it in your dreams all the time.

Orison

I choose to stay in such a trust in you, if it could be called one,

Notwithstanding all circumstances indicating that all has been done –

Yet to no desirable effect, oh such a wearisome misery!

If a hope had been bestowed, a hope it should remain to be.

Oh please, remember me who at times had been good and obedient

It might not be always and I’ve never been consistent

But please, do remember me, now before you a humble suppliant

Whom you love all the time with a love so pure and pleasant.

At times I’d been thinking of turning for help to your adversary

For they said he can bear a hand but it’s not for free

And knowing all imaginable prices to pay and the fact that he hates me –

To destroy me in such a deal would be his great opportunity.

What I am asking of you is not for myself as you know,

Partially it may be and I humbly bow to you so low

Oh, please do not turn your back, hear me out redeemer,

One last appeal, what is it to you and your great power?

For where should a man or woman turn to if life hits rock bottom?

But to a father’s shoulder or a mother’s bosom

And father and mother you are, I know you cannot bear-

To see an evil ruined child who was once so good and fair,

For what do time and life’s persecution together do to a mere child

But to turn its pure heart into a stone so dark and wild.

So with all humility I am on my knees my savior

Hopeful for a chance to gain both your mercy and favor

So that the one I love will be spared through consideration,

You are my one last hope and only redemption.

I-like-you-but-i'm-a-douchebag letter

Dear Ty,

     This is a love letter. So if you’re the kind of person who happens to hate reading love letters, you can throw this piece of trash into the shredder. I will not be offended.

     Otherwise if you get into this part, that means you have at least the tiniest interest – not in me but in reading this love letter.

     I hardly even noticed you when I saw you for the first time (it’s true you are not a head turner).  And to make the long story short, I began to like you when I saw you again. I don’t know what it is about you that I like. You’re not the best looking awardee in class yet, you’re not ugly to me. Sure, others would say it’s because you’re popular but hello!! I don’t even know you personally. My friends don’t know you or your existence at all (now they know because I told them all about you).

     You know what Ty, forget it. I don’t even know how to go on with this letter. It’s just that I feel like crap when I think of you. You got beautiful eyes and a smile that makes me want to kill myself. You are no superman. You could even be considered LARGE – which is so-not-my-type, but for me, you’re absolutely perfect. You’re not a song bird but I’d die listening to you when you speak than listening to my favorite song (Unintended by Muse). You don’t even need that wink-wink-nudge-nudge-and-perfect-grin effect that most handsome guys do just to draw me in. All of these make me want to wish that I should have never been born at all. I feel like I am not good enough to even look at you considering what and who I am. I might not have even the slightest right to think about you. I am a mess and it makes me feel bad.

     My friends told me that I can protest all I want but the truth is that when I talk about you, there’s that strange softness on my face and that look in my eyes that reflects an explosion of devotion within (I told them “whatever!”). They may be right.

     You might not like what I told you here (or you might not give a damn because you don’t know me at all) but Ty, with all due respect, I like you. I don’t even know if you’d be able to read this letter but I like you. I like you, despite everything. And saying it did a hell of a lot of good.

Love,

Me

When all manifestation of hope abandon a wretched soul, is it not liberating to consider that hope itself is dead in the said soul and thus, rots into oblivion?

- NASHEEVA DYCA ARIEL

Is it not amazing how passion, when unabated, can result to something dumbfounding and rather incredible?

- NASHEEVA DYCA ARIEL

Light

To lie upon thy bed of stars and midnight pillow clouds-

An irrevocable wonder woven to the so-called life.

A cup of blood stained this core of being,

Nothing was left but these empty eyes.

They were once so full of delicately created bliss

and innate loveliness and purity,

Bethink of thee gives one more chance

to redeem the once possessed vitality.

The universe is nothing but an undesired vortex

taking everything to black nothingness

of frozen- dead lilacs and odorless rotten daffodils,

But thy existence swept away all its darkness.

The cracks of passion never get any chance

to be healed yet they never once bleed to death,

They kept on growing like a cancer of endless sufferrings

bestowed upon the graves of namelessness.

But the felicity brought by thee to almost everything

stops the world’s fixation in just one blank stare,

And all the raging sturdy silhouettes broke into pieces

and were blown by the wind of a loving nightmare.

Untitled

I know not why the night is much colder than before,

And the fear it brought becomes black more and more.

The stars disappear one by one now before me

and any hint of light is lost in eternity.

As I walk the rocky road with no more eyes,

Stumbling down a lot is not anymore a surprise.

And each time I get back on my feet,

I feel nothing else awaits me but a certain defeat.

I reached out my hands but I touched nothing

It seemed I have never stopped wandering,

Everything became strange to me in total darkness,

Or it’s me who became strange to them I guess.

I am going to sleep in the blackness of night,

And I hope tomorrow I will regain the light. 

Love, Love, Love

Sing with love and prepare to lie down

in your very own box of eternity.

Intoxicate your head with the sick concept

and you would be surely found in insanity.

Eternally lost in a forlorn wisdom

indulged by vicious frankincense of mystery,

Yet it would drag you down to resignation –

one married to the famous misery.

Craze yourself with such thing of no definition

just to fit in what they treat as noble norm,

and looming in the distance is the great fate

of being covered by soil and feasted by worms.

Enjoy the smile and sweet laughter

and be ready for a very palatable slaughter.