Inter-Species Genocide

It is a war of eons; a reflexive and instinctual savagery that must go on. Unrest between our two species has been perpetual, inevitable and some would say even necessary. For each fights to survive and sustain its own self and its species by being dependent on the other’s discomfort or demise.

The war has been raging for a few weeks now. In past years, the battles have been typically isolated and fought between individuals upon chance encounters. But now, they come in numbers too great to be merely slapped out of the way. They come in with strategy and force too terrifying to be conceived by souls untainted by battle. No longer do they cover under the protection of darkness; they ride in the open, with a single-minded ravenous appetite for blood.

I must say, I am a reluctant warrior. Only in the confines of a life devoid of sanctuary from the enemy can one truly unearth the animal of self-preservation. I am no longer kept captive by civility. I unlatched the gates and allowed a more primal me to take over.

And so, today, I purchased almost every available arsenal at my disposal – sprays, coils, and electric thingamabobs that were supposed to eliminate the enemy. I was tired of smacking away at my knees, claves, thighs, hands, toes and ears. They were more silent these days. You didn’t know they had been on you till they had left, with a portion of you tucked away in their bellies. They just came like a lose black cloud and distracted you while their comrades violently pierced your flesh and systematically drained you of your life source.

So, I sprayed and lit and switched my weapons on. Then I sprayed some more. The doors are shut and they cannot escape. I sprayed without restraint and shut doors as I made my way to my one and only safe place, my room. As I close my eyes, I can almost hear their cries of disorientation and agony. But, I failed to consider one factor – the space under my door.

Even as I write this, the stench of the poison in the air, meant to destroy my mortal foe, seeps through the cracks and into my lungs. If I should not see the light of another day, humanity must know I went down a warrior. It’s them or me now.

Never go into battle alone. I am in my room. Send aid. Send deliverance. Send me a prayer.

After the last bite…

The best part of any meal is dessert. The worst is that last bite.

A piece of cake, a bit of chocolate or a spoonful of ice-cream, it doesn’t matter, they’re all the same. Not only is it full of sugar and calories that you really didn’t need in the first place; not only is it going to keep you from reaching that taut body that has been nothing but a dream for all these years. No, but it’s also a harbinger of a vile poison that curdles the sweetest of sherberts and creamiest of chocolates; as you scrape the bottom of your bowl or bite into that last dilectable morsel, you take a hippo-sized bite of guilt along with it. GUILT.

That sinking feeling that this bite has cost you all that you thought was possible when you woke up that morning. The dream of living just a day when you spent more calories than you consumed; a day when you willed yourself to obey your resolutions that have collected cobwebs since 2003. A day when temptation was trampled under foot for a change. But no; your weakness is what you swallow with that last mouth. Your lack of commitment and self-control are heaped up and stuffed down your throat. O lovely sweet treat, how you have deceived your way into my gutt, literally! How weak you make me feel? And now that I have had you, I must taste the bitterness of my guilt and feel myself swell under your weight, which is now my weight. But if I died tonight, I would be glad I had you. Yet, if I do not, I will live to see myself once again consumed by that last, tantalising, most desirable bite; writhing shortly after in pungent guilt.

image from here

Stop Blowing in the Wind

Just when you think you have it all figured, you surprise yourself. It happens when you are most confortable, most complacent and most confident. I don’t think I will ever really understand myself, or how I work… I strive to construct a version of myself that I can clearly identify with but each time I think I’m there, I turn around and spite myself.

I wish I were as constant as a character in a novel. You know who they are, you meet them and they greet you with familiarity each time you pick up that book. They are sealed and constant; comforting because of that constancy. But I am one person today and another tomorrow. Or rather, a different version of me.

There is nothing left to do but move on and keep attempting to develop temperance and consistency of character, virtue and behaviour. If you get tired of trying to be who you know you should be, you’ll find yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the deceptively soft ground that only wants to swallow and use you to fertilise the next generation.

 

 
“Praise in the morning
Praise in the evening
Praise when I’m laughing
Praise when I’m grieving
There will be dancing
There will be singing
Upon injustice we will tell of our God”
                              – planetshakers
 
I’m so glad that I finally know what this means. It’s a shame that I didn’t know it sooner… I’d have put my youth to better use… It’s not too late… but I cry for the the time wasted, the energy spilt over black holes, the love thrown to the wind and the scars that won’t go away… 
 
But,
 
 “The hope of all hearts… is You… Your love never fails,” 

wearing your heart on your sleeve

It’s walking around with
your panty-hose ripped from
thigh to heel and you hadn’t
shaved in a week, and you didn’t care
but they did
 
It’s smiling at people and
waiting for them to smile
back but they snicker and
roll their eyes instead
 
It’s singing a song with
all your heart in a large group
but when the music suddenly
dies, you find you’re the
only one shouting your gutts out
 
It’s saving the last piece of food
on the tray for someone else
and they leave it untouched
because it was left out too long
 
It’s not bothering to pretend
to care, because you know once
you start, you’re just not of those
who can stop.
 

Organic Cherry

I bought a fistful of organic cherries the other day. As in all things carrying the accolade ‘organic’ it had a pricetag that made my stomach curdle at the check-out counter. It’s not a common fruit from where I come from, so I supposed that organic cherries had the privilage of flying first class and could order a glass of Moet & Chandon to soothe them through the long journey, should they so desire. First class seats may have been too spacious and chilly for the poor things. Maybe they needed to be tucked in under a vintage silk blanket, woven from the silk of a million proud silkworms, which once belonged to a historically significant Chinese empress (the blanket, not the worms).

To minimise my over-indulgence, I invited my Indonesian domestic aid to try it. When she was told how much it cost, she had a response that is typical of Indonesian light-hearted yet sardonic humour, “In my village, if a dying man, was told on his deathbed, that this cherry would save his life, he’d rather succumb to his fate.”

May the ‘organic’ industry have mercy on us all.

image from here

Neverending Spring

Neverending Spring

(Inspired by Dance with Me, Jesus Culture -play before reading)
Even in these tropics, the winter was long,
darkness always lurked,
the sun hid behind a thick veil
yet, no one knew it was all wrong.
 
Still a sound, that had played for ages,
ran up the steeper hills
and mountains too high to look down from,
to break the cramped, icy cages.
 
it was heard, then heard no more
though it had still played
all through the bleakness,
and plays evermore – on every desserted shore.
 
It was the sound of Spring blowing
first a whistle, then a horn and a trumpet
“Pass the winter! Dance into spring,
Turn your ears to the song of my calling!”
 
And it ran over winter, over it all on a wing,
ever fruitful, ever growing, ever reaching
up and up, no trellis – just to dance
in the wind – for it is Spring!
 
Here at the field, Finally I meet,
my Fair One; there will be
no other lover for me, who will play the
song of songs – as we sway light on our feet.
 
(video from Youtube, thank you )