Ornate Ritual

In our home there are a lot of over-sized Victorian
furniture that are really impractical. Like a round wooden table
we rarely use because a vase of arranged flower
takes up most of its surface, or the piano

that nobody ever touches anymore. Our balcony
is a garden with flowers of every color, hidden
fifteen floors above the ground. Visitors probably do not notice
the tea set of translucent burgundy, on our intricate coffee table,

beside the polished leather sofa, between the golden lamps.
They may not notice the chandelier, or the white candles
on the wall, not before they sniff through the lavender and jasmine
which, never happens because of the paintings.

Paintings on every wall capture their attention the moment
they step in: classics of roosters, rivers, streets and salons, with golden
frames so heavy that it is impossible for one person to lift
them in place. Visitors may not notice, that our lights are dimmed.

But I notice,
I notice the twin bone towers
overlooking
the round wooden table.


( Afterthoughts... )

I look out of the window and it is mostly dark.
Lights of orange and white dot the city at night.
Cruising through the sea, I leave not a mark.
The closer are the jewels, the brighter are their light.

Lights of orange and white dot the city at night,
ever so slow the clusters of street lights shift.
The closer are the jewels, the brighter are their light;
touching the glass window, I can feel the rift.

Ever so slow the clusters of street lights shift.
Between the stars little headlights traverse,
touching the glass window. I can feel the rift
ten thousand feet below. There is the universe

between the stars. Little headlights traverse
in the milky way. I too am just moving along.
Ten thousand feet below there is the universe,
like firework, yet that does not last this long.

In the milky way, I too am just moving along,
entranced by the brilliance of prisms
like firework. Yet that does not last this long.
With nothing but a duffel bag, I dive for the chasms

entranced, by the brilliance of prisms
cruising through the sea. I leave not a mark
with nothing but a duffel bag. I dive for the chasms.
I look out of the window and it is mostly dark.


( Afterthoughts... )

Because there were so many tourists then in Pura Tanah Lot,
Appreciating the Temple in the Sea was nigh impossible.

I thought so as I set foot in the parking lot.
Treading across the soft mud, my concerns were confirmed.

So close to nature, the tour could have been my creative lot.
Yet, I could not see anything here worthy of my signature:

Catching the salty sea wind was probably harder than winning the lot.
There was plenty of spicy food though, I smelled that on the way.

Everyone was excited about it all – they were a cheerful lot.
I cannot see how I could share their enthusiasm, though.

Noisy chat and banter, there definitely were a lot.
The sound of the waves cannot be heard at all.

I thought I should pay the sea God my humble lot.
But when I saw that line up for the ritual? Never mind.

So it makes you wonder why did I stay there.
With patience I found a new page in my album:

By dusk, the foreground has become nothing but a shadow;
The outline of trees and spires against the orange sun.


( Afterthoughts... )

I am tough. I am strong.
Yes, I am tough I am strong,
with my entwined bastion of solitude.
Pentagon, octagon,

its shape may sway in the wind,
but once you get in, there is no escaping.
With the skills of a craftsman,
I weaved my home -

an ethereal chateau
sheltered from the elements.
A ray of light reveals
its beauty, shrouded

not by the reclusive location.
Quiver Quiver
Who is there?
Oh, my guests are here.


( Afterthoughts... )

Hankering thoughts characterize dreamy smile; tight
Embrace tops sweet prose by a mile.
Inspiration comes knocking on the cheek; take flight
Now, with the wings of the muse still sleek.
Excellence is always, the lofty goal; but my night
Light has only, ever aimed low!


( Afterthoughts... )

I can't help but look
      at the pink plaid elephant -
           a cute guy from class.


( Afterthoughts... )