Don’t say good night,
for you will not see it,
you’d better not say it
it’s better that way
so your spirit won’t
leave for a night’s work
across the starry skies
riding on the moonlit
waves of silence
to the ghosts, it knows
from your pasts
you know not
to inform them
of your secrets
deepest, darkest.
So, you see it
better that way
that you say not
good night
at least for a while
and let not your spirit
tell it all to the ghosts
haunting you even if
you do not want.
What makes you nervous?
I get nervous with people. Many people, a few people, or just one person of no or little acquaintance. Not because I am misanthrope but because I don’t want to make a fool of myself by opening up a conversation that no one may be interested in.
I also become nervous when alone in crowds, making me feel like a visible target for being a loner that no one takes an interest in talking to. It’s not because of low self-esteem that is automatically associated with such a tendency. Instead, it’s a survival instinct not to be seen as vulnerable in public.
Given the above, I am a paradox, half moon, half sun, north-west, south-east, making me neither wholly human nor entirely ethereal. Or I may be a changeling, a human-born, a fairy-bred, which makes me less nervous about who I am or may be.
Some indulge in drinking, some gaming, but mine is binge-watching supernatural/suspense movies when I am under dark spells. Hence this past weekend, I wallowed in the below visceral world of make-believe with my cats as guardians perched next to me on both sides like Odin’s two crows, Memory and Thought.
Vivarium (2019): This is one of the most surreal movies I have seen. Some classify this movie as Si-fi, but it is Horror because it has no hope of escaping from the cycle of repetition with no end to the movie’s end. The young couple’s hopes of finding a new home could be this sinful. I am only asking because the movie’s central theme stems from the globally realistic issue of housing problems in the context of planning and paying. And the question of conformity dominates throughout the movie. Readers familiar with the YouTube sensation of the Backroom series will find a kind of deja vu phenomenon while watching this, but this is scarier because it happens to good people.
The New Daughter (2009): Kevin Costner plays an affectionate father who wants to bring up his two young children to the best he can as a newly divorced father. It’s refreshing to watch such a movie that portrays a loving single father caring for his children when most movies show only single mothers struggling – of course, loving, with their circumstances. Although the film does not feature my favorite ghostly characters who are purely spiritual, it can be forgiven for the sinister consequences that show no mercy to good people.
Half Light (2008) – Demi Moore is a novelist in this movie who can’t get over the death of her beloved young son. She blames herself for him to drown to death while she is writing her new novel. The guilt-ridden mother retreats to a coastal village in Scotland, where she experiences supernatural phenomena so tangibly that it all seems too visceral to accept because of the preponderance of the awe. The lighthouse on a deserted island within such a small coastal village serves as a beacon of her spiritual guide, or could it be an alarm for the impending danger? But one thing is confident that the living must let go of the dead because once the soul leaves the body, then the soul belongs to no one, not even in the streams of love’s salty fires. If you really love them, set the departed free.
Stephen King, whose name befits the sobriquet of King of Horror, once said that fiction is the mirror image of reality, sort of an alter ego of the real world. Horror reflects fear that hopes are only a vanity of imagination or, as Thucydides says, a dangerous daydreaming made of bodacious hubris. What if what we think of or see as real is not real but only the likeness of truth? That is Horror, which is all reflected in these movies.
There are stairs called “Nancy’s Steps”
at the London Bridge on the Thames
where Nancy used to walk up and down
from her den to the world, back to the den
to live a life God cared less with neglect
with nothing more than her untainted heart
flowing milk of kindness and compassion
into the neverending faith of humanity alone
Even if it betrayed her and bullied her in tatters;
She pitied an orphaned boy named Oliver
And protected himself from the world under
Until the blindfolded Goddess Fortuna span
The Wheel of Fortune to the fateful turn
To which all her wishes were forefeited
As her already wretched body was battered
With the compass of the wheel bludgeoned
Her life with the heart cherished with love;
With the blows upon her still young head
all her hopes for the beauty of life shattered
and her tears rolling down her cold cheeks
turned into liquid drops of pearls and crystals,
and then, with a cry of the heart, she departed.
or thought she, for she knew not what happened
from dusk till dawn, wandering and waiting
on the fateful steps, asking if you’d seen the boy.
Why do they always do it
knowing it will be hurting
regretting it happened then
And doing it all over again?
It could’ve been all better,
if you should’ve been kinder
It would’ve been untouched
The vase already cracked;
You may not see the cracks
Insignificant it may seem
But you will see the drops
of water smear from within,
And the flowers will soon
be gone in despair forever.
What is a shape of love?
Have you seen a shape of love?
If you have, tell me about it.
Does it look like a heart?
-Pumping the red streams
Gushing the river into veins
Thumping, pounding,
Speeding fast forward
The reason of the mind
Covered with dessicated
Leaves of the dreams
Where joy once danced
Frolicking, humming
Like a beautiful butterfly
In derilious delight. –
Is this what you have seen
The shape of love?
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