Danse Macabre

 

 

Saffron daubed dancers on bowed legs
Gold tipped fingers tilted upward
Wide eyed but expressionless
Beckoning with uncertain malice

Peacock headdress strutting, eyes like
Black dots darting left, then right
Oblivious of the boisterous, crass crowd
Heads cranking on the plink of the gamelan

Foot bells tinkle at the angklung’s hollow beat
Earthy auburn songket sarong with gilded edge
Glittered playfully with each half turn of
Pretty boys masquerading as nubile dancers

At the last clang of the agong they scampered
Sucked into the emptiness of the night’s void
Piercing sounds shrieked from the dead quiet
Augured that somewhere tragedy has struck

It was a chilling, killing night in Bali
Terror struck with hellish ferocity
Blood striped pale faces run helter-skelter
Minced by shards strewn by wrathful blast

Mangled limbs dangled on dancing carcasses
The hapless hobbled and crept, lost in terror
The pall of the blackened smoke draped heavy
Kuta reeked with zealot’s pungent hate

In nearby Nusa Dua, the merriment ran on
Youthful artistes plied their age-old trade
While revelers loud with obscene laughter
Unaware of the other despoliation elsewhere

In the morrow they washed their bikinis
To rid of the red that came with the tide
Batik now indelibly stained with carmine blot
A stain in the land’s richly textured tapestry

Where now the inimitable Balinese smile?
Where now the art of the woodcarver, the painter,
The smithy, the batik dyer, dancer and the wayang maker?
Where now the white sands, the majestic promontories?

Senseless slaughter of anyone, anything, everything
Not for all the promise of virgins, white horses and
Heavenly gates can ever make right the selfish injustice
Pancasila violated by militant butchers of the faith

The music and gaiety of the festive stambul   

Drowned by pained moans of the stricken
And the wheezing whines from mutilated throats
Cry anguish, echoing strong even in distant lands

What a waste, what a shame! Why Bali? Why?
Fountainhead of art, island of beauty and amity
God’s pearl crushed by the ugly hand of inhumanity
Of ignorance, of intolerance and of manic zeal

 

How Soon

 

 

The clock’s pendulum strikes the gong

The pulley pulls readying it for another strike

Outside the leaves have been swept in the curbs

Even before they turn brown, flame red and gold

Impatience goad the blossoming and ripening

Not allowing them to stay awhile as green and sour

Hot housing and hurrying their reddening

Sweet and acrid to the taste, gritty to the tongue

 

 If it has not been by now it will never be

You have shunned others and they, in turn,

Have left you recalling false remembrances

Fantasies trying to be real yet in a blink are lost

In desolate streets as you nail signs on rickety posts

 

 

Reflections



I heard the moan huffed by the sullen hills

The granite hardness of my core was untouched

Have seen too much to care, to show grief for ills.

Around me I saw a thousand clones or more

My eyes closed while others blinked for cues

Golgotha hid behind a leaden mirror

I rallied the rest to raise the gloomy panel

Just by us the screen seemed heavily set

Some unexpected force we sought to intervene

Wretches Abroad

From within, glowing in all directions

The pit of the mango pulses

Touching strange forests and alien strands

Self numbed into nothing, nothingness

All senses are divested from self

A wearisome travel to borderless regions

There the life nectar freezes still

Like hail stones roll, rolling

All the feelings and emotions are roused

A burning sunburst on bare heads

Searing a presence that will not be doused

From their infinite perch stars drop, dropping

Trapped like mangy wild beasts

Scurrying in every which way

Toil animals quivering at each whip snap

Waiting for the sun to die, dying

Sea Escape

My eyes pulled down the window shutters;

Flushed the bowl, turned off the high cool,

And shut the casita door with a slam

Summer now stored in a box of pixel images

Your watch says go now, the desk awaits the keys

Keep the cockles, half shells and dry kelp

Even as the tide wanted to take it back to sea

But soon these, too, will be lost in the shimmer

No goodbyes, go as you have come

I won’t be by the parasols nor the divers’ stand

Promises now as paper boats riding the waves

Crashing, dissipating into frothy crests

I walk alone by the fringe of a churlish sea

Midst the commotion of sea birds

Fighting over wide eyed crabs scurrying

As I gather precious shells washing in

Already I have forgotten you

Nothing but the soft whisper of waves

And the sparkle of bejeweled sand

Spoil me as I bask in the motherly sun

I cannot go home ‘cause I am home

My soul is imprinted on the white sands

The call of great whales sound my coming

Mermaids on dolphins wave in greeting

The sandy depths now my garden patch

With corals and the barnacles in bloom

I cling to driftwoods and wrecked derelicts

Happily counting seashells and chasing wee fish

Souls In Waiting

The nether world looms big in our consciousness

Yet it remains to be unexplored and unproved

We regard it with baseless dread and terror

Very much a place revealed only in reverie

Dark valleys and abysmal chasms though imagined

Seem vivid and real in location, and all too palpably felt

A place where the recent dead reside as in collocation

It has to be there even it does not please us to think

We cannot countenance legions of the dead displaced

It is a must that we invent one where there is none

Too many restless souls loose on earth searching for

A comforting lodge to rest before the final reckoning

Death At Sea

The sandy delta, as always, was overrun by urchins

Even before the water set in to wash out their foot prints

It is the children across the beach who laid claim to it first

Ahead of the predictable and often tardy tide

But now with the water ankle deep and rising

The little ones with perked up ears caught sounds

Threatening them to cross the bar now or else

Words screeched at a frequency even clogged ears hear

It was a noisy and raging night at sea

The roar of angered waves dominated the din

And the blistering slash of briny water stung mercilessly

At hands, arms, a thumping chest and reddened cheeks

He did not hear the chanted prayers from a seaside hut

Nor the muffled cries of wife and children huddled

In his mind he heard a remembered warning at shore

Wife beseeching for him not to sail an ominous sea

It was as if he was reborn upon waking from a reverie

He floated in the stillness of a pacified but listless stream

Sea gulls flew overhead shrieking for edible flotsam

Now he was one with derelicts cast out by an enraged storm

A cruel sun shone mercilessly with searing ferocity

He could hear faint sounds carried by the easterly

Was it children’s laughter or a mournful dirge?

He doubled up into a fetal crouch to get back into his dream

The cold water slapping his sides made him aware of his demise

Scarecrow

The scarecrow with fluttering hands

Thought he scared away the blackbirds

Cawing in feigned terror, they dart about mockingly

The tattered suit, the dotted grin

Remained as timeless as the stacks of grain

From the paddies marking time by shadows

He only moves by wind, the only one

Trusted by heaven to be its witness

As the silent monitor of the passing of time

And all the human bumblings and errors

Lost to the pecking of ravens and rice birds

Ah, forlorn monument in the paddies

Who placed you there is the real fool

You cannot even scare away the tiny mice

Frolicking about your ragged hem.

Are you the stalwart sentinel designate

Who has concern over all?

Leave Me, Muse

Hey Muse, Get off my back!
Leave me alone now that I have reached my door
I have escaped your relentless pursuit abroad
Pestering me with your endless lays and lies
In the solitude of unfamiliar towns and climes


Why could I not lose you in winding streets?
Not outrun you in wide avenues in traffic?
You are a persistent hound with a flawless nose
Seeking me out in thick heaths and endless marshes
Always at arm’s length away from your clutch


Must you talk to me of love and heroic deeds?
Inspire me with quests I know I could not attain?
Oh, what a wretch am I to even dare think
Of glories and fame unattained by anyone mortal
Leave me be Muse, sing your song to someone else

Foreboding

I flaunted faded glories in the still air

Like the banderitas of last year’s fiesta

The leaves of the big acacia tree by the wayside

Also waited for a cue from passing breezes

There is no slamming of front doors

And window shutters on the second floor

Are slightly ajar as if the slats had eyes

Peering expectantly at a desolate street

But the wind hung like heavy drapes

Despite the whistling of an urchin

The dust remains settled on the ground

Only the shimmer of the heat is seen

Even mangy dogs did not patrol

The narrow lanes of the interior commune

Cats did not move from window perches

A girl stares blankly at the stillness of life

Love Letters In the Sand

Ah, the serenity of daybreak at the strand

With you and a scatter of little birds at hand

Early morning sea breeze's amiable touch

Still without the harsh sting of a late day sun

Caressed and livened your reddened cheeks

I dared express sweet thoughts with my toes

Etching them on the sparkling morning sand

You rushed to trample on the words with bare feet

Conspiring to erase with the oncoming foam

Racing water rushed with frothy leads

Taking with it words and foot marks on the sand

As it ebbed back from whence it came

I thought that I would immortalize the nonce

Oh how briefly the moment savored

My love written on inconstant sands

Flew away with the sand pipers

Even before the end of the dawn

Yellow Letter Day

With quivering lips we muttered “there goes our hero”.

Her harp made silent by destined mortal passage

But her song reverberates over the mangrove trees

And on white sandy stretches of countless strands.

The regal crests of this country's mountain heights

Intones in the breeze a requiem of a million bird-songs.

Yellow bells trumpet incessantly a heavy hearted eulogy

For the people's beloved one, for an irreplaceable loss.

But the lady knows no death, her legacy is etched on

Peoples' faces; hopeful and happy, proud and uncowed

Carved on the granite walls of justice made available to all

The spirit of this heroism lives on despite the unkind climes.

But the flame will not be doused by evil men and evil deeds.

For as long as there are the just, the brave and the good

Who will rekindle by a hundred, a thousand...a million fold

The gift bequeathed to the people of these restless islands.

What Will I Wear Tonight?

What gown will I wear tonight? she mused,

As the early scatter of the fading light settled and

Gray banners fluttered in the twilight air

Festooned over an elegant black and white horizon

What fineries will be fitting against a classic motif?

Will she wear a cape dotted by a million sparkles?

Or gems formed by light years from distant blasts

Made more brilliant by the absence of the moon?

Would she dare wear a tiara of a burning disc with

A backdrop of dying light from flickering candles?

A sturdy rack sagged with the weight of arrayed vanities

Each one hopeful of being blessed by the lady's choice.

Her gaze moved from one brilliant creation to another

Oh the quandary she faces though not only this once

But never apologetic for such an embarrassment of riches

Moon Glow

How bright the full moon shone that night

Reflecting a chalky whiteness on public squares

Furtive movements uncovered by random light

Revealing silhouettes in the bush of lovers in pairs

Its fullness stirred compelling demented dreams

A breeze scattered stardust into a shimmering glow

All stood moonstruck by the sprinkle of brilliant beams

The world, on this bewitched night stood still in awe

Lines

My life has been spent drawing lines

Thick and threatening, a warning to others

Not to cross over lest they be thwarted

Demarcations that shut out people and dissent

Straightest of lines to get somewhere fast

Rigid and orderly, a fine way to think

Never meandering nor considering other paths

I drew a line that excluded all, a narrow lane

Deeply rutted through countless hours of pacing

Fixed strides from one point to another, back and forth.

How much longer can I walk the straight and narrow and

Break out into the light from the dark cages of my lines?

Dead Stars

The star that so inspires many tonight
Has long been an emptiness in the universe
Yet it shines prominently, ever lively
Dead yet alive, what a wonder
Is its inspiration of any worth?
A dead brilliance, a fake shine
Magnificence that doesn't exist in time
A holographic icon, a cosmic mirage

I heard a politician talk today
How truthful he seemed to be
With glittering credentials to match
A studied honest face and mien
Does his history hold true
Or the idealism he once had
Been tarnished and smudged
Swept behind an ornate tapestry
A rich textured arras
Woven with craft by masters
Of design and sleight of mind
In looms of lies and deceptions

Dead stars how pretty you are
Shining bright in a firmament
Made of tarp, a cyclorama pasted
With bubbles, sequins and glitters

A Day In August

Today the rays of the sun lost its radiance
Flew away with the winter birds to kinder climes

The breeze no longer warmed, instead, an alien cold
Brought in by the August rain hang clammily in the air


A few runted fruits clung on lichened branches
Abandoned by a beneficent sun of a summer gone

Nothing to reminisce by the glorious time of plenty
Or of the gaiety of summer’s floral celebrations


Newborns once romped and leveled wild flowers
In robust green spreads of curling fields of grass

Today they huddled in the shepherd's wooden shed
Shivering in their sullied and stringy fur covers


Through the abruptness of seasons, the bleakness of days
One ponders pensively life's inconstancy and whimsy

Good Morning Manila

I pulled up an errant leg from bedside
Back into the safety of the mosquito net
Digging a pointed finger nail into a swelling spot
The itch made more cumbersome by the summer heat
Night shadows like moths chased lights on the wall
Fluttering and blinking white splashes and darkened dots
A broken reverie, a serenity disturbed suddenly...rudely
Mind wakened, every rustle, every flicker felt at the window
Light from the lamp post piercing the framed capiz squares
Dry leaves from the Macopa brushing the wooden panels
Skittering of mice feet and crinkly sounds of nibbled wrappers
Reverberate like thunder in the still and vacuous space for hours

Sitting up from the bed a street scene emerges...a momentary relief
The glimmer from the east now easing dark shapes into light
A new day comes with an annoyed welcome by sleep deprived eyes
The metallic scratching of many sparrow claws on GI sheets
And the honk of the early bread monger's horn invited the
Howling of a dozen hounds as if responding to a primal threat
Jeepneys revving up spewing noxious fumes into the morning air
Another day in the city is born, just so, with typical fatuous fanfare

The Spin

Comfortably surrounded by familiar chimeras
Snugly rested underneath a self woven tapestry
Depicting grandiose deeds and epical conquests
The thinness of the fabric given rich texture
Only by the magical spins of prodigious spiders
Giving sheen to drabness through lustrous webs

With the vision of a thousand reflections seen
Magnified and multiplied by a house fly's eye
A glorious brilliance of a thousand cut-glass reflections
Beyond the ersatz dazzle created by self conceit
Conscience shakes us from our illusions and scatters
The notions created by our futile and inane charades

A God At the Intersection

He has the power to stop the flow of life,
To hold the pulse with the wave of a hand
And resume in stop and go the motion,
Humanity in suspended animation.

Unruly wheelers are held on their tracks,
An impudent hack, a road menace stilled
And hurtling pedestrians freezing in mid stride,
All eyes on one wielding the magical might.

What godly power is this
In the hands of one so mortal?
Suspending life as he pleased
All for so trivial a notion.