I still want to see the world
even if it has hurt my heart
even it’s full of the imperfect;
The Sky, the Sea under the Sun
The Moon, the Stars at Night
Blue, Green, sparkling, iridescent-
I still want to see the beauty
if given one more chance to see it
and not to lose it with a promise
to keep the beauty in my eyes,
even if the world still hurts me
even if it will always be imperfect.
I am not a baby anymore
than you are a girl never;
The hours, minutes, seconds
we have traveled together
How could we have known
where we would be now
when I see you in my eyes
And me in your glass palace
reflecting the liquid dreams
forming the shapes of memories?
The shadows of melancholy
cast upon the liquid eyes
filled with emerald dreams
Will be cleared away soon
When your lucky star finds you
and the whole universe conspires
to rebel against the malice of gods.
No pain, no gain!
Who said that?
What a sadist!
Break the heart,
what do you want?
Blow the spirit,
does it come again?
Some may regenerate
like an inveterate clown
when some can’t take it
with the heartstrings pulled
tweaked, pinched, and torn
Till their souls refuse to stay
besieged, assaulted within.
So, never say once again
Pain is s necessary gambit
with stacks of aces hidden
because it simply isn’t
but a swaggering fiddlestick.
What seems abnormal may be normal to you. Seeing dead people may not be the most pleasant talent, but if that’s what you are born with, then it’s normal, and you have to live with it through Kubla-Ross’s famous five stages of dying. That happens to Jamie in his narrative of the coming-of-age proclamation of his identity in this story.
Dead people are like quiet people lurking in the background of Jamie’s life. They appear to him as the last moments of their earthly lives, talking and joking to Jamie, who can see and hear them, albeit rather unreluctantly, because he’s not much pleased with his uncanny ability. But then it’s the discerning talent -says the Bible – that helps him know who he is, like an epiphany of a family secret locked in his uncle’s lost memories, thanks to nature’s force of dementia. However, this story is not so much a psychological thriller as a supernatural drama that is so characteristic of Stephen King’s novels, with a level of uncanniness combined with realism that makes his stories all the more real and relatable. The settings, the dialogues, and the jobs the characters have are not far-fetched, fanciful, or bourgeoisie, all of which attest to King’s engagingly realistic storytelling skills.
Later is a three-fold story of horror without goriness, mystery without glamour, and bildungsroman without teenage angst. King has a unique knack for incorporating popular entertainment with serious literature that attracts readers of all generations and classes. He is a literary descendant of Nathaniel Hawthorne, Washington Irving, and Edgar Allen Poe, who defined American literature in the constellation of the World’s Literature for the joy of the beholders from generation to generation. All in all, this book will be one of the stars in the constellation.
There’s no such thing
as a classless society
even if the patriots sing
No blue blood aristocracy
but those trembled in needs
with no jobs, no money
are a class of their own
pushed and patronized
by the joy luck classes
chanting in Salem’s fervor,
“Beggars are losers!”
As the first day of the new year has almost ended, I feel the urge akin to duty to make a new year’s resolution. There’s not much but high hopes for low heaven, with a reasonable scope of expectation and humble measurement of happiness. And since none other writers know about the depth and breadth of humanity than Shakespeare, I deem it fit to match his quotes with the contexts of what I have resolved to make this year of Rabbit fruitful and blissful.
Nobody says life is easy, and we know it to the point that such a saying has become a cliche. But life itself shouldn’t be and is not because we are such stuff made of spirit, fire, and dew, harvesting sunlight and starlight. Now that I have listed my New Year’s resolutions as above, I feel fresh of spirit charged with new energy like the Energizer bunny to keep going in my life, even if perils will lie ahead. But in the meantime, let me be that I am who I am as I write this post in my tiny room with my two cats, Toro and Camille, and seek not to alter this moment of simple pleasure.
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