Just another rainy day/night poem.
“Crucify him!” The crowd chanted in passionate frenzy. Here they were: united, one nation upholding their belief, crying out against a blasphemer of their faith. This is justice, they thought. We are doing this for righteousness.
“Burn the witches!” The crowd chanted in passionate frenzy. Here they were: united, one community purging an evil in their midst, freeing themselves from the clutches of fear. This is justice, they thought. We are doing this for righteousness.
“Kill the criminals!” “Impeach him!” “He does not deserve to be honoured and buried!” “Why should they be forgiven?!” “She deserved this!”
Everyday, we crucify people: politicians, celebrities, strangers, friends, family. Some of us heckle, some of us shake our fists in rage, some of us smirk condescendingly at their plight. They are wrong, we assure ourselves. We are in the right of things.
And in our unsaid thoughts, we judge: Crucify them.
Something I wrote last night. Not dedicated to anyone in particular…
Random 4:00am mood poetry. Move along. Continue reading
Someone screamed again.
The relative silence that separated our worlds was broken by a brief commotion. The girl was halfway-up on her chair, her face contorted by childlike terror. Fellow ladies stood back, away from their cubicles, as if some horrible creature lurked in the shadows beneath respective desks. The guys looked amused, grinning.
It was a small rat, one that our utility personnel had a hard time getting rid of.
As long as it stays away from my area, it’s not my concern.
* * * Continue reading
Just some office poetry to release some introverted mood.
Sometimes I wonder if I annoy people. I know I do. I’m sure I do. I annoy myself, too. It’s so easy to get annoyed at people like me, dark and gloomy and brooding and oftentimes just too cynical. Who likes a harbinger of negative vibes— even if not all negativity are bad vibes?
Can we fault the storms for what they are, for what they bring?
Are we all meant to be sunny skies?
“I realized,” my friend confided, “she wasn’t that pretty after all.”
I kept silent. I didn’t know how to react. Was he simply sourgraping the breakup? I couldn’t honestly tell; I am not the best judge of physical appearances, as I admittedly am as vulnerable to the usual biases as other guys when it comes to beauty.
But as embarrassing as this might sound, I am indeed judgmental when it comes to appearances. I am quick to ask myself, “What in the world did that girl see in that guy?!” (or vice versa) And yes, at the end of the introspective argument, the only explanation that makes sense: “S/he is in love.” That’s it.
Love is blind, and we often quote it with sarcasm. Yet— is that such a bad thing? Continue reading