anXience

Creative Writing: Journal

nobody@vox.com(ﻍﻔﻱﻑ "Azrun" ﻍﻯﻗﻯﺸ) — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 09:38:04 -0700

Cry of the Unborn Jesus

I have heard about the child in the manger from the unseen mouths of the people outside my dark world of sickening salt and slimy water. I have tasted it from the bread of life through your reptile-tongue which then slithers lovingly in the holy words of God’s prayers. The Amen and the Hallelujahs are music to my ears----------now deaf in the muffled cries and the cursing when you found out I was there. A tiny spectacle swooshing and whooshing. A tiny spectacle of blood and sin…..

I was then afraid of the rumbling sounds of the streets and the clattering of glass wines, but oh how you, my own Mother Mary, laughed and laughed as you danced and danced in the small, dingy room. These delighted me in my innocence. The laughter, which then led me to the thought that I was after all, loved. I will soon see the manger and my angels would come to anoint my head with their perfumed oil. The laughter went on but the bouncing and the shaking makes me ache, and so does the smoke in your breath. Your kiss of venom, and again, I grew wary and afraid. You bathe me in your strong liquor and I would wait ‘till you pass out so I could sing a lullaby to myself.

As you sleep, I dream. I dream of the world outside and see the things you see, feel the things you feel. And I wriggle my still invisible nose to the scent of fresh air, its coolness envelopes my forming limbs, and I was happy. Your snores comfort me, for sure enough; I know I was safe from your sobs, from your choking disgust. I have your womb to comfort me and make me warm like the humble hays that warmed the little Jesus. Perhaps I’d grow up like him. Bearing the light of the star of Bethlehem, I could grow up like him and everyone will love me. YOU will love me.

But a dream is a dream. And I am but a rotten trophy of your lust. I saw a smile in the mirror through your eyes and you looked beautiful in your evident triumph. But I was sulking and barely weeping inside my soul, for yes, I have my very own soul. And I know what is about to come.

Remember your own screams mother? Your body felt sore all over so you screamed, and you screamed, and you screamed. And I was crying inside. My weak limbs tried to move desperately as I grope for vain escape. I hummed to myself like a nightingale in the last minute of its breath. The whooshing sound is so loud that I imagined myself covering my ears. Then, the strong current of the salty water and the blood that surrounds me starts to go whooshing out as I gasped for breath. Still, you screamed. And I was longing for the manger.

I was drowned in pure agony that I could’ve screamed with you. Oh why have you let them in? The clinking metal that touched my undeveloped skin. And though they seemed blind, their persistence allowed them to find what they solely seek. YOU allowed them, and they we’re biting and clamping and grinding!

Few more months and I could’ve touched you with these fingertips, but now my clay-soft bones are crushed and the clamps went on crushing. Still, I gasped and I resist to be dragged out into the lying manger, but the pain is too much to bear and I am but a brave weakling.

Do you remember all? The stink and the filth. The bottles of antiseptics, the syringes, the sheets damped of blood and mucus and urine……and pieces of me which tried to reach out for you in vain. Do you remember all? And the cold stainless pail, have you seen it? For I was there in my last attempt to see love in your face; hoping you’d forgive me that my blood---your blood----- had stained your white dress.

Have you seen your work of art? The moldings of your lust and the metal clamp? Now the feast of the rodents and the flies and the worms. They gnawed lovingly at my torn flesh and I was rotten….forgotten.

Still I dream. Your ivory fingers gathering what remained of me. My flow of tears that puddle the old rustic alley. The blood which dried out from the kisses of the starved. You we’re gathering the fragments of my broken dreams, my little skull grinning in all its fragileness as it crumbles and forever bleed in your palm.

And I hate you……

But don’t you see? I still need you mother, for I am alone in this dark pit where you’ve thrown me away. Where are the angels to anoint my head? I see them in the manger gathered around Joseph and Mary. Let them be, but lie in my cradle mother. Let me drink the milk that now curdles in your breast for it was solely meant for me. Has it gone sour? Or will it be sweeter if you cry in pain? Ahh…the Amen and the Hallelujahs, but the manger now grows dim and I see the newborn Jesus in the midst of his own slaughtering.

Now remember your own scream, mother……scream….for it will be the sweetest thing.

written by: Azrun (August 03,2009)

(week 05)

I Confess…..

I have my thongs hidden in a pile of small boxes underneath my bed. Bright neon green, sassy pink, bright sunny yellow.

Now welcome to my room and please make yourself comfortable. Mind if I smoke? Go on, you may open the windows. So what else can I tell you aside from the fact that I wear thongs? Ah, my room. Did you expect me to paint it pink or something? No, color blue will do. And no, I don’t have Winnie-the-Pooh hidden in my closet. Not even a single Barbie doll or even a Johnny Bravo for that matter. But that’s another story. Ah yes, would you like some more coffee? I’ll pour you another cup---------which again reminds me…….

Years ago, I met him; my Johnny Bravo. He’s a tall hunk from the gym where I was once enrolled. Nice curly hair, smooth talk. The next thing I knew, he was inside my room, lying down my very own bed. And I was there setting two mugs down the bedside table, then lighting down my cigarette while waiting for him to wake up. I still remember him saying something like he cares and he loves me. Some kind of shits, and with a couple of hugs and kisses, I’d be his fool. And he would still be here the next day, and the next, and the next. His underwear scattered on the floor. Imagine me picking it up and putting it somewhere near him so he wouldn’t have any trouble looking for it when he wakes up.

And my kitchen, it always smells like garlic. Forever Sinangag! And he like his eggs sunny-side up and served with bacon strips. His mom always serves it for breakfast he says. Damn the stink of garlic; in the tiles, in the sink. Breakfast in bed, the birds and the bees, and again the stinking garlic. The tub will be full of warm water for his bath. And I will leave for work as he dozes off with his naked ass covered by my wool blanket. My credit card lies cold beside his empty wallet…where I once had a glimpse of this pretty girl-------smiling like shit.

Pictures--------- oh see that framed photo on top of the dresser? Its okay, you can take a closer look. That was taken when I was 10 years old, inside my father’s camp. That handsome old man grinning in his damned army uniform? That’s him. Now you have an idea where I got these ugly scars on my arm and legs. I used to hate him for that. I used to think that if he’s a plain businessman or something, perhaps he wouldn’t even try beating me for playing dolls with Lala. She lived next door in our old rambling apartment. I heard she became a whore as early as she stepped high school. But let’s not talk about her.

The woman beside my father? That’s my mom. Isn’t she lovely? I’ve always adored her. I loved combing her long brown hair when I was kid. Yes, I know there’s a very distinct resemblance between us. When I was in college, I wore my hair long as hers in that picture to remind me of her. It’s the same brown which enticed my father. And although it’s not as soft and silky, it’s still beautiful enough to make my father so angry, he could actually crawl up from his grave with his belt or that paddle made especially for me and my older brothers.

I didn’t cry when he died 6 years after that photo was taken. I hated him-----of course I was a kid then who has so many questions about the beatings. The paddle? I took it away with me when I ran away from home just after the funeral. My mom was so worried that she died the same year. Guess it was my fault.

Will you please hand me that Kleenex? Thank you. Do you still want to hear about my private affairs? Damn my father’s ghost if he’s listening. And to hell with my Johnny Bravo. I’ve been with some other guys after he has gone, but it’s always the same story. Longganisa and Sinangag forever but this time he wants it with Tinola or Kare-kare. Serve him the breakfast then pack the rest of the food in my Tupperware for his fuckin’ wife.

It’s okay to laugh. I laugh about it myself. The fool that I am. Sometimes I pray for my father’s beatings, hoping it would somehow knock me out of my senses.

Mr. Longganisa? He left me when I started putting too much peanut butter in his Kare-kare. The other guys just come and go. I’m not interested in them anymore so don’t be so surprised if you find me sitting down the bar alone, the way you found me last night.

And I feel sorry that I looked beautiful and appealing in my solitude that I was able to catch you eyes…..

Here, let me pour you another cup of coffee. So what else can I tell you? What are these tears for?

I have my thongs hidden in a pile of small boxes underneath my bed. Would it hurt you more to see them? To feel their silkiness in your own palm? You were asking me to tell you the story behind my “nays” and now here it is. I have poured out my soul to you the way you once poured out your heart to me.

I’m just trying to be fair. I can never be yours my dear. Now you must end your pursuit. Am I still handsome to you? Yes? Then I might as well appreciate it. But then again, let me see you smile despite this shocking heartbreak I gave. Let me fix your hair and make up before you leave. Beautiful! And you deserve someone else; that will never be me darling.

Here, take one of my thongs….and despise me…….

written by: Azrun (July 26,2009)

(week 04)

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The part where I started screaming out your name-----

nobody@vox.com(ﻍﻔﻱﻑ "Azrun" ﻍﻯﻗﻯﺸ) — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 10:42:42 -0700

It was then the day when the summer-rain starts falling above my head.It was all in a piece of paper...a nice blue one....that blue index card she likes so much.March 28,2009.She asked me to stop seeing her please.....and blah! It was like---what was that? what had just happened? Before that...it was quite okay.I even remember her...arms around my waist----that same day when she told me that "you can tell someone loves you when they're still wearing your shirt"...and damn she was wearin' my shirt! And now I don't see her anymore----oh...yes I do see her still-------but then again no....for I've managed to try pretending that I don't and that she doesn't exist (0_o) Aww fuck! I love her! But WHAT HAPPENED??? Why'd she suddenly pushed me away from her and why is she cutting me off from her world like I've done something really bad to her??(Like deleting me from her friendster list and sending me message sayin' "pls stop this Symea stuffs...she's dead...let her sleep...I swear I won't bother you anymore" those fuckin' craps) (0_o) Why can't we just be friends atleast...we can still talk with each other...or laugh with each other (not 'till the pain is gone of course).....why'd she have to go with that kind of goodbye? Aww shit I'm fuckin' confused (0_o)

Last Christmas was the happiest moment I had with her (oh...before they "took her away from me" that 24th day)....it was then that we we're holding each other like there's no more tomorrow...her face next to mine everytime I open my eyes and say good morning to the sunlight-------damn.....it was like...I'm seeing a different person now each time I had a glimpse of her along the corridor.It's fuckin' crazy how I lost her....that fuckin' blue paper----I don't need that crap! I need her---- need the girl who once told me she'd never leave me! Aww fuck...enough of these dramas-----------

"Hey,remember Pablo Neruda's poem?If You Forget Me......you said it was for me....wow if you noticed...I've dedicated that to you.I love you Arraine and if you stopped caring about it and about me then fuck if I'd care about it and about you!"

Mood: Irritated/Confused/Fuckin' drunk and wasted
Music: Change by Deftone

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+++

nobody@vox.com(ﻍﻔﻱﻑ "Azrun" ﻍﻯﻗﻯﺸ) — Sun, 05 Apr 2009 09:07:10 -0700

Dear Father,

Silly how I cried out your name
In all it's splendid holiness
In the midst of thy storm
Where the walls collapse
Leaving me aching,needing,naked.....

Do you remember me?
Once bathed in your altar
Where this child was sacrificed
Wrapped in white to be thy lamb

And the scars remained
From thy madness painted in your cruel Eden
Where I've lost you...
Among the greased faces of the manic crowd

Let me bleed...

Let me hear your angel's berceuse I beseech you
For I hunger for this plosive silence
Let them not cry....

Remember me
Now tracing back the memory of your silent shadow
My limbs now weak I lay aside....

I only came to say goodbye.

Headlines
(August 25,2008)

Mother loves him.Father loves him
At the dining table they pray
Mother's arms laid before them
He took the fork and knife...

Mother poured her tears
In a plastic cup for her little boy
Sweat and blood.
It quenched the thirst of the maggot

Dinner was served
And he slept with a bellyful of gas

Then mother is gone.
And there's no more breakfast
(As if there's always one)
Father is there
Assuring him with a crooked grin
Everything will be alright

Father loves him
For he would hold him at night
And he would read the newspaper
Like a dimwit scholar
While he makes his coffee
Of burnt grains of rice

Mother is gone
Father is alright.

Little boy ran away
And father is kind
Home again,the boy would climb the shelf
Father's newspapers would smile
And he is safe

Father loves him
For he would caress him at night
The neighbors were asleep or went gambling down the streets
He would whimper
And father gets mad

And his tattoo gets wider and wider
Swallowing his naked flesh

Father was satisfied.

Loves him,loves him
And he would climb the shelf while father sleeps
And the gush of hot,sticky liquid is another puzzle
On his back down to his legs...

Days goes by and still the neighborhood stinks
Drunkards and whores won't bother

And the flies waver where he hides peacefully.....
Behind the paper the little boy plays-----------

Behind the paper...
Behind the paper...

signed:
Azrun

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New Poetry Entries

nobody@vox.com(ﻍﻔﻱﻑ "Azrun" ﻍﻯﻗﻯﺸ) — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 17:16:25 -0700

The Death of My Heroine

She once curved her lips in a smile
Suppressing thy rage of a million solitude
Once was lost,finally found....
But that was too long ago
Like an hour trapped in this barred stillness
The passing of the wind was once called love

And these moments died-----
Where everything went black and white
My senseless dreams.Romance.
Acid burning my tight-tied tongue
Like a pungent silence---my disease
Creeping down the veins of the once blazing sun

The roses she once held in her bossom
Are the ones I've kissed with longing
Her arms once wrapped around thy thorns
Are vines clinging to the depths of my memory
Last spark in her eyes frozen
Sealed in those marble stones which coldly stares

Now she rests in peace where I last left my shadow
Where I left my heart in her empty tomb
Flowers at her feet to rot and whither
Where the moon shall shun above and weep....

Tears all dried...
Burned all we bled..
Sweetdreams...sweetdreams....

Tamielt Azrun Kahlil

March 29,2009
03:06 am
8:10 am

"For Symea......"

Atrophies
(April 15,2009 12:05pm)

There's a rat
Nibbling nuts
Squeaking,running across the floor...

There's a rat
Happy-go-lucky rat
Partying inside the open cupboards...

This little rat
Oh my gray friend rat
Gnawing life like there's no more...

Squeaking,nibbling
Partying,running....

Comes the cat.

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ONCE.......

nobody@vox.com(ﻍﻔﻱﻑ "Azrun" ﻍﻯﻗﻯﺸ) — Fri, 26 Dec 2008 08:23:27 -0800

_______________

The Other Side of the Story

(Jack and the Beanstalk)

Before they finally lived happily ever after, he held the ax in both hands and swung it hard.

Thuck!

And with one final blow, the gigantic stalk was cut down. It fell down the ground; the massive leaves with an approximate size of a traditional rooftop, the wickedly enormous legume; the beanstalk itself fell down with a loud crash, and along with it, the giant came tumbling down with a horrible cry. Another crash that shook the earth, the giant tried to scramble up…to get up on its feet but couldn’t.

Thuck!

The ax swung. Another horrible cry.

Thuck!

Followed by silence….and the giant is dead.

Everything was then forgotten after some decades and people even question if such event really occurred. Jean Louise thinks so, but was quite beguiled or if not, afraid to admit it. And after waking up to those nightmares she’s been experiencing for the past few days,again,she finds herself being entice by the golden harp resting above the old mantelpiece. Atleast four feet in height, all strings intact, and the whole of it is carved in intricate designs like that of a gothic ornate------------the instrument is such a spectacle to behold. Where did it come from? This she knew very well and she always shudder at the thought of it. As the sole heiress of her great,great,great grandfather Jack as they call him, that harp is but only one of those priceless inheritance she now has. Almost like an heirloom.

Now talking about the nightmares, Jean Louise is quite agitated. The giant is after her. Always after her and this giant was long dead! Killed by her ancestor; grandfather Jack!

--------Thief! Thief!

--------Please come back! Don’t take that! Come back!

That voice. That deep,low voice. Booming. Shrieking.

It is always hunting her. What could it possibly mean?

The harp seemed to gleam from a distance. Then finally the giant fell in his pursuit of getting it back from the hands of the thief who bears the very contour of her face! And now as she opens her eyes once again, she knew she is not dreaming, not anymore…

Jean Louise woke up to find herself lying down the cold damp ground. She couldn’t tell whether it’s dawn or twilight. It is somewhat dark with but little light enough for her to see the vast land that surrounds her. It is barren save for only a couple of grasses that which inhabits the place. And the air is dead still. No chirping sounds, no howling, not even a single sign of existence. She stood up. She was still in her night gown she noticed. The white silk is smooth and glossy against her skin. Barefooted, she started walking but after taking a few steps, she heard a voice.

“Do you know where to go?”

She spun around to see a woman standing behind her. She was startled. She slowly took a few steps backwards as the other woman took her advance on her. Her icy blue eyes are somewhat probing.

“Who are you? What is this place?” she asked.

“Stellar Nemesis. This is paradise Jean Louise Robinsons and you are most welcome”

“How do you know my name??”

“I’ve been watching you Ms.Robinsons Ever since you we’re born. You who most likely resembles him”

“What are you talking about?! I don’t understand you!”

“Come. Follow me”

Stellar walked past her with steady steps. She meekly followed as she subtly studied her. She’s wearing black tights, with a heavy ornamented belt made of something like leather where a long dagger was strapped. Her long blue tunic looks miraculously soft enough for a lady’s nightgown despite its ruggedness. Her short raven black hair seemed to bounce with every move she makes.

“You see this place? It is not what it looked before. No, not until your ancestor took away the life in it. You must’ve known what I mean, or…don’t you?”

She turned to look at her and perhaps seeing the look of puzzlement in her eyes, laughed a bit to herself.

“It’s been decades since that young man came to visit us. He has the same dark eyes like yours, same hair pigment, same fairness of skin, oh yes he’s as beautiful as you are now”

“It’s my ancestor Jack I suppose…”

Jean finally said as if in a tone of surrender. This is it…..she thought. The dreams she had. She knew there’s something sinister coming and this is it. The inheritance is no more but a curse…

--------Thief! Thief!

--------Please come back! Don’t take that! Come back!

…murderer....murderer….

Cacophonous-------Like the very sound of her death.

“Yes. Jack Robinsons----”

Stellar’s voice interrupted her thoughts. Her voice has that tinge of iciness which made her wince almost in pain. She didn’t say a word. She looked down her feet which are now sore and continued walking following Stellar’s brisk footsteps. She noticed that another dagger gleamed beneath the strap of her boots. The sight of it makes her shudder. Stellar could kill here right there and then if she wants to.

“----the great magician as he call himself. He made his way up here through those beans. I’m sure you’re aware of that Jean.”

Yes of course. She is aware of that. Along with the inheritance comes the story of great grandfather Jack. Of how he got his beans and of how he had climbed up to some sort of heaven which was inhabited by bad giants. As a child, she would always look up to grandfather Jack as a hero while she sit on her granny’s lap and listen to the story which has been passed from their ancestors for how many decades.

“Y-yes…” she answered wondering and yet knowing what is to come.

The sky remained dim as if time had stopped and that the sun nor the moon would shine no more. Stellar stopped walking and looked up as if in trance. Her eyes seem to wander around. She too did the same. They are still in the middle of the barren land as if they hadn’t moved from the same place where they came from except that there seemed to be a shadow of a citadel which loomed not far ahead.

“Come now young one, you must meet the jurors at once”

Again, Stellar walked in a more hastened pace that she nearly wanted to collapse rather than to follow her steps. They entered the fortress where a great mass of people fashioned like that of Stellar awaits. They passed through a massive gate and entered a torch lighted hall.

The council is made up of at least five jurors and an alchemist or so she thinks. All eyes were on her. Same icy blue eyes like Stellar’s. Same cold stares which she couldn’t meet.

She looked around and studied the room as a leeway. The walls are made up of green marble. So high are these walls that she couldn’t see what lies above them. The torches blaze all around them. They create shadows illuminating the said room. At the far end is an altar. Nothing more.

“Come forward Robinsons!”

There’s almost an outrage in the way he calls her, this red garbed juror. Her head starts to spin. What is happening? And what is to happen?

Stellar is standing behind her like a cold marble statue. If only she would look at her. She feels more at ease that way. Dazzled, she slowly moved forward.

“Speak of your guilt lady!” the other juror said. This one looks older than the others.

“But----!” she started to protest in vain. They were all looking at her and she knew that there’s no point in arguing but it’s all she could do.

“---- guilty of what?? What have I done for you to torment me like this?! I don’t even understand how I got here and what has it got to do with Jack Robinsons!” she shouted frantically. They didn’t stir a bit. There was a moment of silence.

“I was the one who brought you here” Stellar said calmly and talked no more.

“Aye! It was Stellar’s duty to bring you here for your trial. You Jean Louise Robinsons, the thief Jack’s heir who now holds the golden harp in her possession, the harp which was then the very heart of our land! You saw it for yourself, this paradise turned into a purgatory because of your ancestor’s doing! He could’ve just stolen the golden eggs and any riches he could but not that harp!” the other one said. Jean is now trembling.

“But that wasn’t me…no it wasn’t me! And how could I have known? I’ve heard a different story! The inheritance came from a monster! My ancestor Jack got it, yes, got it from a giant who then died after falling down the ground------“

“Monster?? Died after falling down the ground?? Incredulous! I pity you child for being a victim of your own kin! Indeed heroic! Jack Robinsons held a hero for MURDERING Humphrey after stealing gold and other jewels from our land after we accepted him wholeheartedly; fed him, clothe him! And after befriending Humphrey and winning his trust, he finally took the chance of taking the harp away from his care and ran away with it!” the alchemist spoke with profound rage and sorrow. Jean couldn’t help but cry.

“Without the harp, our land is more likely dead. No trees will grow, no more animals, and we are surrounded by darkness which you yourself witnessed. Everyone in each other’s eyes is considered edible…and all the people you saw outside are hungry. They are also thirsty Jean Louise….thirsty for the blood of Robinsons”

Jean was stricken with insuperable horror. She stared dumbly at the one who spoke. It was Stellar, whose cold eyes stared blankly into nothing; the tiny flames seem to dance wildly in its luminescence.

“T-the harp, it’s what you need right? I... I can give it back to you! Even all the riches I have! Just let me go home to get it and I’ll give them back!” she is almost pleading.

The room is now spinning around her and the air in it seems to grow denser and it’s choking her. The six old men infront of her near the altar are like statues merely looking at her.

She felt Stellar moving beside her until they are only inches apart.

“I’m afraid it was too late for that Jean…” it was almost in a whisper…in a sad whisper….

“If I bring the harp back, your land will return back to its original form right? ------“

Stellar didn’t answer. There was no answer coming even from the jurors. All she could hear was the beating of her heart and the cracklings of the fire from each torch.

“-----and, and….the giant---- Humphrey I mean. His death was an accident! He fell down in pursuit of Jack! He slipped and fell down and I am sorry that it happened that way!”

“Jean Louise, listen to me. It wasn’t your fault-----“

“Then let me go back home!” she spun around and grabbed Stellar’s shoulder with both hands. Stellar didn’t even wince. She just stared back at her with the same apathetic arrogance she’s been displaying all throughout the whole masquerade.

“It wasn’t my fault! You’ve just said it yourself! I’m not the one responsible for Humphrey’s death! You should’ve just taken the harp away from my family a long time ago! Why does it have to be in my time??”

“We tried Jean Louise. But your father hid it away from us the way his father did. Yes, it could have been you who is willing to give it back but then it was too late. This land died the moment your father scorned our bidding….” Her voice seems to grow fainter now.

“You are now here in place of the harp Jean Louise…as the last of Jack Robinsons’ kin. The sole heir of our riches”

Jean looked around but couldn’t find the old men anymore. Where did they go? Her eyes searched the room for a possible escape. It is hopeless. Unjustifiable. Is this what they call trial?

Fee-fi-fo-fum,

There goes the blood of the Englishman,

She breathed life, now she be dead

We’ll have her bones for Humphrey’s head….

“Do you hear them Stellar? The people outside are happy for you. Do you hear them laughing? Cheering? Humphrey was a nice fellow…. he was everybody’s friend and we all grieved for him. He took really good care of the harp but was soft hearted enough to trust Jack------“

There was a sudden quiver in her voice

“---who finally gave end to his life”

Stellar Nemesis. Nemesis…. Jean wanted to scream but her tongue seems to have left her.

There was a pause of silence between them. Then Stellar came forward like a sleek jaguar upon her prey.

“Now you must die Jean Louise”

Nothing has changed in Stellar’s expression as she lifted the ax from the cold marble floor.

…going back in time------

Humphrey ran after him like a madman but Jack was too far away now. Still, he followed him through the meadow and at last, to the end of the cliff where the beanstalk still looms. He looked down and was startled to discover how far it goes down below. He was terrified. A giant like him would most likely to be terrified of heights. From behind, he could hear Stellar’s voice but it was too distant.

“Father stop! It’s dangerous!” the girl’s little voice wailed.

“I must stop him! I must get the harp back!” with these words, he finally clung to the body of the enormous beans and suddenly was out of sight.

On the other hand, Jack Robinsons jumped down the ground and grabbed the ax from the woodpile near him and started chopping the beanstalk to his mother and other neighbor’s surprise.

“Help me bring this down! A fierce giant is coming down to get me! He will eat us all!” he lied.

Frightened by these words, the woodcutters nearby went to help Jack and soon afterwards the beanstalk fell down with a loud crash followed by the body of the giant Humphrey.

Humphrey moaned. Still calling out Jack’s name, he tried to get up but the impact of the fall made him unable to move. And before he knew it, he’s being tied down with a thick rope by atleast fifteen men...Jack was one of them.

“Jack,please give me back the harp. Please…my people need it…” he groaned. Nobody seemed to hear or understand him. The rope was getting tighter around him.

Thuck!

He felt the first pang of pain on his throat.

Thuck!

Followed by another one. Hot liquid started to gush out of his pierced skin. His vision started to blur.

Thuck! Thuck! Thuck! Thuck!

Pieces of meat were scattered on the ground…

Fresh meat torn into pieces. As the days went by, it gave off a foul odor. It slowly decays. The bone on which they used to cling on now starts to show. Maggots emerged. They warmed themselves on the putrid belly. Millions of them. Like the gold that now gives warmth to every child of Jack. Millions…and even more…

Still, the days went by. Years went by and Humphrey who gave birth to the larvae now hides beneath the piles of dust and mud.

He rested beside the fallen beanstalk-----

Once upon a time.

-----Tamielt Azrun-----

December 01,2008 06:05 am

image from: http://images.hugi.is/manga/124169.jpg

Send in the Clown

(Rain for Sahara)

I remember her too well. A stark figure at the back of my mind. Her hair the color of proud ebony hangs loosely down to her shoulders up to her waist. Her eyes were almost ancient; the dust pigment of the sick moonlight.

Now let me tell you about the moment we both stepped into each other’s life….

I saw balloons. Beautiful white balloons flew up high above me….up into the pale colored twilight. For a split second which seemed to me like eternity, I was mesmerized. I was so high that for a moment, I didn’t hear the screaming. In a flash, I saw the red car and heard the wheels screeching down the pavement. Then the world stopped. I could hear the stranger’s heartbeat; felt her chest pressed against my back. Her gloved-hands were pressed against my bosom…..her arms around me. Her black tress was falling down on me like a protective veil upon my naked shoulder.

“What are you trying to do lady, kill yourself?!”

I heard him yell; the man inside the red car.

“I’m sorry monsieur!”

Before I could utter a word, a voice already gave an answer for me. It was the stranger whose arms were still wrapped around my lithe figure.

Still murmuring and perhaps cursing, the man drove away fast.

The crowd stood breathless as if in trance or probably just curious as of to what have had happened or what might’ve happened.

“Are you okay?”

“What happened? Is she really trying to kill herself?”

“Is she hurt?”

Flood of questions. Murmurings.

In a blur, I could see her; the stranger, nodding and smiling and answering for me.

“Yes, she’ll be fine. Don’t worry Mesdames, merci beaucoup” were some of her polite replies.

That summer afternoon is hot, and I could feel the stinging heat in my eyes. My throat was dry and the smell of cocaine seems to still linger in the air around me. I felt sick! My body seemed to soar up high like a weightless sylph.

“The balloons…they’re lost…”

I remember myself uttering those words deliriously. So softly.

The bright colored patches of her clothes like that of a jester were wonderful. So lively. They seem to be hypnotizing.

Then everything went black.

The next thing I knew, I was propped up in a tidy bed of soft laces and quilts. She was standing there by the window smiling. Oh how enigmatic she looks! Her arms crossed infront of her as she stood magnificently, back against the creviced wall-------- a delicate work of art; painted with pale green color like that of a summer mint and cream shake. The graffiti, most of all, caught my attention; the white roses, the size of my smallest nail seemed to cling around the crevices, the leaves carefully painted in darker, yet light shade of green-------- and she stood there. Her dress was as white as those roses and she herself was looking exotically wild utmost.

“So how do you like my place? I see that your eyes are quite perplexed”

I was astounded to hear her melodious voice once more.

“I-I’m sorry…it’s just that--------“

“You don’t like it?” she said pretending to be in pain.

“No, no! I don’t mean that!” I said in an almost panicky voice. Again she smiled. A good natured one.

“So how are you feeling now?”

“I’m….I’m fine. Thank you” I answered as I gazed out the open window past her. The stars are beautiful outside.

“What were you thinking this afternoon? You just stepped out into that curb. I saw it. I know you saw the car approaching” it was almost in a manner of scolding, and it seem to me that she was probing me with that last line.

I couldn’t meet her stare. How could a stranger make me feel helpless as of that moment?

“N-no I didn’t…”

If only I could stop my heart from beating so fast. Racing. Pounding in my chest.

There’s an utter silence. I took the chance to look around the room. The door in burnt umber color was ajar. Behind is a rack of canvasses…finished and unfinished paintings.

There were masks on the far side of the wall. Bright colored masks, feather masks…all with happy thoughts. The tapestries were in miraculously harmonious set of colors; heavy pigments of emerald green, mandarin orange, and purple.

My eyes finally rested upon a warm looking couch of deep crimson color. In it lies the white glove, the “bright-colored-patched” clothes she was wearing that afternoon. Beside the couch is an iron table and in it stood a lone figure of a clown---a dainty painted piece of ceramic.

“It’s not really a complicated job you see. Sometimes, it does really ease one’s burden…” perhaps reading my mind, I heard her say. I looked back at her and their was a glint of amusement in her beautiful round eyes which seemed to grow lighter yet darker at the same time.

Meekly, I smiled back. My very first real smile after what it seemed to me like an eternity! I was even more surprised than she was.

Then I remembered something.

“The balloons! You lost them because of me!” I nearly sprung to my feet upon remembering how the white balloons flew up into the air as soon as she let go of their strings to be able to pull me out of the red car’s way. I could almost see the flush of red creeping all over my face up to my ears.

She made a soft chuckling sound, and then looked at me teasingly.

“You’ll have to pay for it”

“Y-yeah of course! But h-how mu------?”

“It’s Sahara Jehan.Call me Sahara. How about you…what is your name?”

And before I knew it, there I am, very much at ease, entrusting her my name…and what it seemed to be my happiness.

Now what I am going to tell you next may seem to be atrocious that I would like to ask your whole open-mindedness as I went on with my story.

I would like to point out that I was drawn to her secretive charm instantly. As you know, my life had been so wasted before she came to me. The moment I stepped out of that curb to meet the fast approaching car, I’ve already told myself that it will be the end. But then she came and snatched me from the cold hands of death. And the drugs that curdles their way right into my veins were finally nothing compared to what I am now about to tell you.

Yes, I was drawn to her. The next day that I woke up in her chamber, I was finally accustomed to the colorful rayon of her laughter, her smiles, her presence, her life.

Sometimes she would play the violin with all those gay tones and harmony. And every time she wears her make up and dresses up like the jester that which she portrays; seeing the sad faces in each individuals disappear, I feel envious. Of what? I don’t exactly know. Of the people she entertains? The people who loves her? Or perhaps,

I am envious of Sahara Jehan herself. Of how she managed to live her life like that. I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m starting to see the world I was once deprived of.

Every now and then, she would sit beside me and read silently. And I would then study her in silence. For the third time, let me cite you this…..I was drawn to her….

Love her? Oh, but that’s too much of a word! But then, my mind would always wonder of what could possibly go on inside her mind. And as my mind wander, so does my eyes.

That night her hair was tied behind her with a black ribbon, showing the contour of her face more vividly. Her eyes were luminous under the soft lamplight. Her delicate lips somehow compliment the arrogance of her nose. She was holding the book in a not so delicate manner….engrossed of what she must be reading. A smile won over me as I thought of this….oh…but she looks even handsome rather than beautiful that way! Her white long sleeves crumpled up to the edges-------

Then she caught my eyes and we both stared at each other. My heart seemed to throb inside my head. Too much pounding. And too much silence for that matter, except for our hoarse breathing. Then slowly, her face came closer to mine….closer…closer….

Her lips brushed mine. Wanting to kiss but wouldn’t and she just kept me yearning for it.

“I have been inlove with no one, and never shall----- unless it should be with you…..”

She whispered in my ear. Her fingers brushing the hair off my brow. Then my eyes met hers. Mine bewildered and hers were twinkling with some sort of amusement. But what was that she just said? Love…oh yes…love her-------

But before I could speak, she suddenly got up and softly chuckled to herself. She looked at me as if nothing really happened.

“Ahh….isn’t it romantic? I have been inlove with no one, and never shall-----unless it should be with you… the very words of Carmilla towards her beloved.Oh…I should very much like to read the rest”

And as she threw me her most teasing smile, she picked the book once more and continued her reading and I was left dumbfounded, if not…embarrassed. For a moment, it’s as if I wanted to go back to that afternoon where the red car nearly hit me.

Love her….

And yet the drugs called out my name once more and this time I gladly obeyed.

It was then a bright sunny afternoon and I was left all alone. Or was I? For her shadow loomed above me as I was about to let the syringe kiss my skin. And my cheek tingled with sensation as she boldly slapped me like a small child. Her eyes looked so cold for the very first time. She stared at me with contemptuous animosity.

“Then the next thing I know, you’d be once again walking aimlessly down the street praying for another car to come and really hit you this time”

Her voice is neither that of a sweet-natured scold nor an angry one. It’s just so…apathetic. I couldn’t speak a word. The slap she gave me seems to have awoken me from a deep slumber. My eyes were fixed on one of those tiny roses peering across the crevice of the wall. Such a nice graffito…this white-petal rose---------

“I won’t lose another set of balloons just to pull you out from the streets from your attempted suicide…no, not again”

She knew it. She really knew that I did it on purpose. I saw the car approaching that afternoon and I intended to get hit by it. She knew it all along and yet she didn’t make me feel like a victim of any circumstances. She just made me feel… alright.

I looked up at her. She was bathed by the afternoon sun coming through the open window. Her face is almost like a shadow passing. A beautiful silhouette. And I was almost crying. Blubbering-----these words I do long wanted to tell her. Love her….

And before I end that chapter of my story, let me tell you that while I now write of these things, understand that my heart still grieves for that love I once lost. Jehan------ and you will later understand why I choose to call her that way instead of Sahara------ ah yes, Jehan…. I could almost feel the softness of her hair even as I now sit here alone. But before I meander lost of ways, let me go back to that scenery.

“Stop crying…it will do you no good” she said softly. Her tone has finally turned into that of a sympathetic friend. She kneeled down in front of me and wiped my tears with her thumb. Before I could help it, I buried my face into her neck and cried more shamelessly.

“I’m sorry..I’m so sorry!” I kept on wailing.

She held me close to her. And that very moment I finally made up my mind. There’s more to life than I had ever imagined. Definitely not the kind of life which she snatched away from me but the kind of life she was then trying to show me. And I have to find it on my own…

I looked up to her face. That dignified look on her never faltered.

And she was staring down at me lovingly! I tried to open my mouth. I tried to speak in vain.

“I…I’m going home..”

Still, her expression didn’t seem to change. It was as if she’s been expecting this and was now urging me to speak more.

“…and I promise. When I come back, I’m a better person…I promise!”

There was a glint of hope in her eyes. Her lips curved into a faint smile as she seems to trace my face with her finger as if trying to memorize every inch of it.

“Didn’t I tell you that I love you?” she said carefully.

I was a bit surprised. Had I known!

Her smile widened and it seemed to me that her eyes were brighter than before. Then she kissed me to my utter astonishment…this time, it’s for real I suppose. Not the prank joke she had once played on me. Or was it just a prank joke?

“Yes, I believe I told you that once before…..I have been inlove with no one------yes no one….’till then there was you….” She said almost talking to herself. As we both stood up, she finally turned her back and headed towards the door and stopped to look back and say:

“Go now until you are ready to return….this door will always be open for you” she smiled and finally she’s gone.

The little clown figure at the table grinned at me. Soon after, I left.

You think I gave up on her? That I’ve forgotten all about my promise? No, I haven’t….

It was then the month of June and the streets were always wet. I went up the stairs towards the door of her apartment. As expected, the door was open. The excitement rose inside of me to see a glimpse of warm light inside the room behind the burnt umber door. Slowly, I entered…adjusting the ribbon of my hair. I’m afraid the rain outside had finally messed it all up. I peeped inside and was quite disappointed to find no one. But then I could wait, perhaps she’s just somewhere and she’ll be back any moment.

I looked around and was mesmerized. The room hadn’t changed a bit. It was just like the way it looks the day I last had a glimpse of it…almost a year ago. As I was busy studying the rose graffito on the crevice----that which I was so long fond of---- I heard someone standing behind me.

I spun around and was again disappointed to see a stranger’s face. I frowned and so did the man standing in front of me.

“…could it be that you are the one mademoiselle Sahara was talking about?” the man said.

“W-where is she?” there was a lump on my throat. My mouth suddenly felt dry. The man took out an envelope from his old coat.

“This letter has been waiting for you for nine months now…”

The sight of it gave me an odd feeling. He gave it to me and with trembling hand; I took it from him and slowly tore open the old piece of paper….

It’s been years now since then….since I have last got a glimpse of her. And the letter the old man had given me is still stuck in my pocket up ‘till now. You must now know that it’s only been hours since I’ve found out that Sahara------my Jehan------ is already gone. So long gone…

Had I known that she’s been struggling for her life while I was then trying to waste it away? Now I feel miserable for it. Oh too miserable that I couldn’t control nor stop myself from crying as my hands clumsily scribble these words for you to comprehend. Her smiles back then….they were all like the masks she wore. The colors that enlighten every part of her were the only stolen happiness she then has…which she gladly shared with me….

“Stop crying…it will do you no good”

It’s as if I could still hear her voice inside my head…and she’s calling out my name…

Arraine…..

The white balloons….I could still see them flying up above me….up into the pale colored twilight.

----Tamielt Azrun-----

December 02,2008 02:29 am

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no title

nobody@vox.com(ﻍﻔﻱﻑ "Azrun" ﻍﻯﻗﻯﺸ) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 22:20:47 -0700

Histoire pour Endomer

Sylvan

ivory

1814

Some of my scrap-paintings.Hope you enjoy it =)

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Collections(from my Poetry subject file01-02-08)

nobody@vox.com(ﻍﻔﻱﻑ "Azrun" ﻍﻯﻗﻯﺸ) — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 09:41:07 -0700

+Samples+

Fibonacci

One..
Two..
Makes three
Make it odd
And devil makes four
They row the boat with silver oar
The saint and his bible with the goat in his table
They wander forever with the prince and his soldier,they row the boat with silver oar.

Acrostics

..S.T.I.L.L D.O.L.L..
Shake hands with the glass mirror
Twilight shades of gray
Ice drops in her lover's burning tongue
Locked in her candy cage
Locked in her dreamy cage

Daybreak...
Over the fields of wild roses in bloom
Locked in her cold embrace
Locked in her casket rage

..M.O.S.Q.U.I.TO..

My dear,come and kiss me
Once more let me slap
Stay for the night
Quietly,my love
Unaware of your touch
I writhe beneath the sheets
Tease me with your hum
Onslaught you with a clap

T.U.T.A.N.K.H.A.M.E.N

Through the stargate,
Under the black sun;
Take me with you
Anoint my head with your perfumed wine.
Night shades your ancient eyes
Kingly,divine.
Hail to thee!Cats meowing in the temple
All yearning for your milk to fill their empty bowl
Men at your feet;slaves and prophets endow
Ethereal greed for the promised treasure
Night meets twilight and I guard your nest----and we both fall deep into that endless slumber.

P.I.G.L.E.T
(woot!I love piggy's^_^)

Puffy,huggly thing
It snorts,sniffle,sniff
Giggly,glaring at my plate
Let him have a piece of cake
Elf-lock-twirl-tailed piggy-puff
Tumble-scramble wait for scraps.

List Poetry

First on the list
Princess kissed by the prince
And Cinderella found her lost pair of shoe

Rumplestillskin's name
Was made known to the queen
And Belle got her new tattoo

And how 'bout Thumbelina
In her daffodil fields?
Who won the football game bet with brother Grimm

Rapunzel's new haircut
She flaunts it with style
The dragon ate the maiden with his fork and knife

So much happy thoughts
That I myself could fly
And wear that happy mask which Peter pan inspired

And look how sleeping beauty
Dreams in her cot
Of meadows and dead prince;she smiles as he rots------

And before I spoil my theme and meander,
That ends my list of happily ever after!=)

Alphabet Poetry

Azrun (The Exodus)

Ashen star towers over the gate of Babylon
Calling all saints to burn their scripted dogma
Exploit the angel's flesh
Gracefully,gracefully,they dance around the hearse...

Illusory----again I saw her fly.The winged juvenile
Kissed by the innocence of sunrise lash
Mislead by the sensous beauty of the night
Oh how she loved Him to everyone's perplexity!
......
Quibbling in disgust,golden wings to rust...
So on,the heavens glorified in it's holy tavern
Unfrock her,wrap her now with mortal vine.

Withered----still she smiles
X's and O's----lost in her eyes
Yore of days in His embrace;stained forever with thy sin
Zephyr cries,zephyr cries...calling all saints;angels die.

Spine

Cactus
(Another Love Story)

Another night in the dessert field,two hearts entwined

Love----oh love,they couldn't touch for both will bleed if they collide

Story of an odd affair,two lonely figures stop and stare,for both will bleed if they collide...

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Ebony loves Ivory

nobody@vox.com(ﻍﻔﻱﻑ "Azrun" ﻍﻯﻗﻯﺸ) — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 21:27:15 -0700

Lie again,she talks to me

I wait and listen,wait and see

Cry to sleep,I kissed her lips

With broken teardrops turns away

The last few months in an embrace

She talks of love to mask her face

A make believe of nothingness

She talks of love in empty space

Say it's over in this sheets

Wrote the words in crimson ink

I'll take the vows you're bound to break

The only thing I'm bound to keep

And when this lilies turns to red

Then I shall wake to meet the end

Will you be lying in my bed

For me to hold when all is dead

Now last few tears so I could see

Love in those eyes which lies to me

Cry to sleep,we both believe

Until we meet we're meant to be.

For the girl who heard my screams in silence.For the girl who used to kiss me in my deepest slumber.For the girl who thought me what it's like to finally surrender.For the rain and dragonflies..

Thank you so much Joan Estolas...

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anXience

nobody@vox.com(ﻍﻔﻱﻑ "Azrun" ﻍﻯﻗﻯﺸ) — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 21:21:29 -0700

|La Ultimo Estada|

Pagal ang katawan sa walang humpay na pagtakbo ng panahon
Hapo ang kamalayan sa panimdim na sa tuwina'y gumagapang
Sa sigabo ng buhay na sa kawalan tila sa tuwina'y nalalamon
Sa pananampalatayang dagling nabitawan ng kamay na sugatan

Muli'y isusuko ang katawan sa lupa kung saan tunay na nagmula
Ihihimlay ang yayat na untag ng mga nagdaang lumbay at saya
Magkanlong sa pakpak ng mga anghel at sa kinang ng mga estrelya
Hayaang sumambulat mga lunggating tinupok ng huling hininga

Sa maikling pamamaalam nais maipabatid ang tuwina'y pag-alala
Sa walang humpay na pakikiisa sa bawat natatanging pagpapahalaga
Ang haging ng simpatya sana maabot ang iyong mga balisang teynga
Nawa'y bumalatay sa'yong anino ang balangaw ng mga duklay na salita

Sa huling tunog ng kampana patawad kung luha'y dagling dadaloy
Sa pilit na pagpipigil ng damdamin ito'y tila lalong mag-aapoy
Halik sa mga saradong mata sa pagitan ng mga impit na panaghoy
Huling paalam sa mundong yurak sa mga pithayang pilit kang itinataboy..

June 05,2007
11:33pm

|Satan's poem for Jesus|

I.
They do not understand you
They don't even care
Why'd you just let them waste you away like that...?
They do not fear you
Nor even care to show you love
And yet you were there bleeding for a senseless crime...

You are not God himself
Not even your people's hero
Your teachings mocked by the wise
And played fool through and through
You who was marked by the fallen angel's sin
Bathe in thy warm tub of blood..
You who was loathed;king of all kings
In a crown of thorns to wound your pride

II.
They do not hear you
They don't even give a damn
Why'd you have to forgive them like that...?
They do not believe you
Nor even see your sacrifices
And yet you pray for their lives...

You are like God himself
Wanting to be held a hero
A martyr for goodness sake!
And played fool through and through
You who was sacrificed by your slaves
Bathe in your holy blood of wine..
You who was once loathed;king of all kings
Nailed to the cross to wound your pride

III.
They do not feel you
They don't even wanna try
Why'd you have to love them like that...?
They do not seek you
Do they really know you??
For you to make yourself their suffering lamb...

You child of God himself
Always been a hero
For every innocent ones
Ever touched by you
For the pains cascaded by the unbelievers
Is a smile for you worth a price?
Oh..you whom I loathed;king of all kings
A friend and a foe I most admire..

June 05,2007
08:23pm

Bus Stop

Manengis y danget nunta ka inun-an...
Enshin shagos y nemnem kon mo enshil ni sakey'y ya onin matam..
Sepa'y mu'ka pan enapa?
Sepa emu'y mu'ka pan seskyra..?
Se'kak kuma...

The sky was cryin' when I saw you..
My mind was suddenly lost,one look and it was caught by you..
Who are you lookin' for?
Who might be you're waiting for?
wish it was me...

Ni na'ydekeb ja mata se'kam y inun-an
Aman a'mot ni sakey shi dekod ni shagem
Tua emu'y dinaban ni nemnem mun se'kak?
Eman pay ngata y namnama para ja subadit'a nakapan-ynapa?
Pegan emu'n maun-an y danget shita matam?
Singen aishi la...

With closed eyes it was you I saw
Hiding by yourself behind the storm
Where have thy thoughts of me gone to?
Is there still hope for the questions I seek?
When shall I see heaven in your eyes?
Seems like never...

Yet kuma nu enshi'la'y emin'na saket
Amtam ngatan y'yay'ak ngud shay'ya aman-seskyd ni anken'a sakey bengat'a namys ni mareket mon ngey'nge?
Tep haman bengat y singen pyan ja mabedin mon i'kan...
Amtam'a se'kam y pyan
Ni puso ja yte'y ni essel ja ag maikwan..
Nu naksheng y emin,nemnem mu nu bylang
Nunta ka'aman seskyd...
Naka'ngo aman seskyd sun se'kam...

Then if all the pain is gone
Would you also know that I was here waiting only for the sweetness of thy beautiful laughter?
Coz seems like it's the only thing you could give..
You know you're the one longed for by this heart that now dies with words unspoken
If it's all over just think of it
While you're there waiting..
I was also waitin' for you to come...

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Histoire Pour Endomir

nobody@vox.com(ﻍﻔﻱﻑ "Azrun" ﻍﻯﻗﻯﺸ) — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 20:54:52 -0700

Histoire pour Endomer

(A Bedtime Story)

The skies bleed----
And stains her purple pillow case
Soft brown curls in velvet yarn
To embrace thy anguish on her face
The meadows grieve outside the window
For baby's breathe she never touched
Hear the moans of summer breeze
Of silent cries in dewdrop rush..

The skies bleed----
Mourned for the innocence she embrace
Pastel sash to wrap her waist
Like cold metal ribboned chains
Hide behind the curtains shadow
And dream of neverending sea
Her soul wanders far below
The broken traps that sets her free..

The skies bleed----
That sad horizon's wilderness
Silhouette dreams she tries to draw
Are broken wings now bound to rest
Puts away her bunny ears
And tuck herself to sleep
Waited for another day
When she would wake again to weep..

The skies bleed----
For nine year's wasted apathy
Broken piano's lullabye
To patch her crumbled sanity
Hanged her teddy in a noose
Wrote this rhymes of cruelty
Rainbow paintings on her wall
Now sordid red blood scenery..

The skies bleed----
And stained her purple pillow case
Soft brown curls in velvet rags
To embrace this forlorn porcelain's face
The meadows grieve outside the window
For baby's breathe she'll never touch
Now hear the girl in silent scream
Who lays in fields of stones and dust..

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