Wiser -- A Purposeful Fool

I now believe that I am a little wiser, and see a little more clearly than I had before.

I now understand that there isn't very much reason to be upset about; much less stay upset at that. Because you're happy now, and that's what matters more to me.

I now understand that we're alike, even though we made different choices. I now understand that your "mistakes" were nothing that I would not / have not done when I was in your position. Only I had the blessing of learning my lessons before you did.

I now understand why I loved you in such poetic fashion; why everything you did seemed beautiful to me, and why I still think so. Perhaps our only mistakes were our youthful vanity and naive notions of making the temporary last longer; both you and I took that step, though one before the other.

I now understand that there is still beauty in what we shared, regardless in what we don't now. I now understand what love is to me, and what it could be to you. I also understand why you don't understand what I write so very often. It's not your fault.

I now understand what it is to forgive, and what it is to get in touch with myself again. This was a favour you did for me through your actions, albeit unintentionally. It is appreciated nonetheless.

I now understand that I think too much -- not for me, but for you.

I now understand better the mystic beauty of the printed word, and the sensual illusions of my incourigible imagination. I am a romantic at the worst possible times, and remain so even when I am obviously playing the fool. You are right -- I am a fool for love, but at other times, I am merely a fool. I'm happy in the knowledge that I'll never be alone.

I now understand that I have an unhealthy obsession with searching for answers, and in the process defining myself - for it is not just the process that I'm attached to, it's the insatiable desire for an unachievable end that drives me. In this search, I see, I learn and I get by. Of course, this is what the romantic do: we love the unlovable and see beauty where there is none.

I now understand that it is futile to live for one, but quite dull to simply live with another. A constant game and mystery is essential. Nothing destroys the fragile illusions of naivity and hope like truth and indifference.

I now know that I can be and am happy. Well, the best I can be, anyway. Thank You.



JKLM
the madpoet

D.N.A

I swear that if Mother Nature had plans for evolution and created each and every creature with love and care, I'd probably belong to the bunch that were adopted. Either that or during the conception of my breed of people, Her perfect womb must have rejected me as some sort of mutant -- a defect in the great DNA of life.

You see, my main flaw is my temper; the apparent short-lived nature of it, rather. I could never stay seriously mad at people for long. I'd sooner absorb the grieviances between two people and fill the resultant gap with a sort of hippie-tree-hugger-whee happiness. Not that I'm a fool at disregarding and considering the potential faults that people have, or the complications of human relationships; I'm just not one to hold onto anger. If anything, anger would probably be a means to a suitable or desired end. Ironic, but rational, if you took a look at my mutated logic.

Anger would and should never serve as a means to an end; the end would hardly be desirable in the first place. If it should so be desirable, then anger is not justified, but will simply cease to exist because it would become a form other than simply "anger". I guess you could interpret it as a form of wisdom and even a skill. However, this thin line is one I have tried to tread too often, loosing myself in many ways and stumbling over myself more often than not.

Anyway, this is my defective survival instinct: I get over and I move on; not before I pay for the incident with a piece of my naivity or idealism. You see, the dust can get kicked up and will soon settle down -- this I'd surely make certain of. However, the lessons are kept (burned, perhaps) inside, and that's where the damage is done. Anger, if any, is suffered and not externalised. Cynicism and doubt which would surely surface is turned upon my own beliefs instead of on other people. Foolish? Perhaps...

While love can't keep us alive, it certainly can make a lot of things right. While to love is to risk getting hurt etc..., the former would soon loose its meaning without the latter. As Bon Jovi croons in Learning How To Fall, "... just like the poet needs the pain."

So many times, I have felt trapped in the cycle of my own flawed logic and reasoning. I know that it'll be a matter of time before I move on. I know that it'll be a matter of time before the inevitbale happens for her. I know that things will be alright, whatever it may entail.

I know that I would, for some reason, forgive her for all that she's done, in exchange for a fragment of what we had formerly. Heck, I'd forgive her for next to nothing at times. I know that my actions might stand for and achieve nothing, but there seems little that I can do otherwise. I know that I shouldn't go ahead and hurt myself. But I do anyway, because it's the logical thing to do, when you refuse to dishonour others.

What does the knight do when he gets upset with the politics and royal affairs?

Yeah, that's right. He goes to the tavern to drink, and maybe get into a fight or two with the local riff raffs. He'd sooner die than abuse his squire, best mates or princess.

Why do I work so hard now? Yeah, go figure.

I'm no knight or hero. I'm just trying to look for some form of truer love. Is it so bloody hard, seriously? I'm such a pathetic sucker for this notion that I always find myself playing the fool for it. Now all I have is an idea I can't get out of my head and a suggestion of what it may feel like.

Find another? Dare, I risk it all again? Dare I even risk waiting?

I'll just be saving up for it. Both Europe and New Zealand are pretty far away... But I'm sure it'll be worth it... It had always been worth it anyway.



JKLM

Good Bye

A good-bye. An end to a chapter; the unglamorous and unabridged end to the fairy tale that would never make it to the printers. Without lavish drama or emotionally-charged partings, the end came swift and firm. We both didn't want any of that. Not really.

There were no tears on my worn pillow. Its tattered corners, familiar smell and uneven surface spoke to me like an old friend, giving silent obliging council to my numb fingers. I marvelled at how much my pillow resembled the one on another bed, and its beating distant cousin -- my weary heart.

Hello, old friend.

Perhaps it is time I learnt to spend some time with myself again; not to shut out the world or to escape within. To be familiar with oneself again, and to be able to move on through life, whole again. I couldn't help but wonder about my tragic romanticism -- my eternal blind hope that we as wandering souls were like mysteries, and the answers to us were somewhere out there. Except this time, there was no enigma, no blurry clouded vision. If I were to have been charged as a fool for love, I would not possibly be one this time because it was real.

Sometimes you are a fool for love, and at others in love with a fool.

A cryptic warning; a scarlet passing. Another tear in the romantic fabric that shrouds my world. I am the fool. I am the mad rhyme. I was the lover. I was the crime.

Perhaps the inevitable tears will come some time. The proverbial storm lingers on my horizons, poised for my shores, full of melancholic intent. But I don't think so -- you are now happy, and I should weep for none but the stage death of my romantic character. You are now happier, and that's always worth giving and being happy for.

I will be happy. Eventually.



JKLM

Two Songs (Part 2)

Where'd You Go

(Where'd you go
I miss you so
Seems like it's been forever
Since you've been gone)

She said, some days I feel like shit
Some days I wanna quit
And just be normal for a bit.
I don't understand why
you always have to be gone
I get along but the trips
Always feel so long, and

I find myself trying to stay by the phone
Cos your voice always helps me
When I feel so alone.
But I feel like an idiot
Working my day around the call
But when I pick up
I don't have much to say, so

I want you to know
That it's a little fucked up
To be stuck here waiting
At times debating
Telling you that I've had it
With you and your career
Me and the rest of the family here, singing

Where'd you go
I miss you so
Seems like it's been forever
Since you've been gone
Please come back home

Home, you know the place you used to live?
Used to barbeque some burgers and ribs?
Used to have a little party every Halloween
With candy by the plow, but now
You only stop by every once in a while (shit)
I find myself just fillin' my time
With anything
To keep the thought of you from my mind
I'm doing fine
And I'm planning to keep it that way
You can call me if you find
That you have something to say
And I'll tell you

I want you to know
That it's a little fucked up
To be stuck here waiting
At times debating
Telling you that I've had it
With you and your career
Me and the rest of the family here, singing

Where'd you go
I miss you so
Seems like it's been forever
Since you've been gone
Please come back home

I want you to know
That it's a little fucked up
That I'm stuck here waiting
No longer debating
Tired of sitting, hating
And making these excuses
For why you're not around
And feeling so useless

It seems one thing
Has been true all along
You don't really know
What you got till it's gone
I guess I've had it
With you and your career
When you come back
I won't be here
And you can sing it.

Where'd you go
I miss you so
Seems like it's been forever
Since you've been gone
Please come back home

Surreal

I don't recognise any of this... I don't know what all these mean anymore...

You have no fucking idea...



JKLM

Wanted

"Have you seen these hands?"
My imagination inquired
At a crowded bus stand
Wearily inspired

A pair of hands
That played the ivories
That took a stand
Amongst binary keys

A pair of hands
That drank all they were given
That could help to mend
The mind tired from livin'

A set of supple digits
Little miracle workers
At times they fidgit
At times they turn drummers

At work or at play
Their undeniable presence
Could turn my day
Into effervesence

Have you seen these hands?
They've gone away
Perhaps to another land
To play and to stay

There's no reward
For their return
Nor any award
Because...
Only they are balm
For this burn



JKLM