Sunday j.pegs

hello, and welcome to staying awake.

I often need to defrost when I wake up, so I stay sitting up on my bed, staring blankly at the wall– barely aware of myself, waiting for my mind to be thawed from its partial lull.
the state of dreaminess and unawareness that sleep slips my mind into …

-alcopop

dreams …

There are only a few things more dreadful than helplessly watching your dreams go down the drain
as you passively stare unable to salvage any of it.
what used to be a bubble around you now feels like a forcefield disallowing your release
your cries for help are muffled and go unheard as though trapped in a dome.
your heart argues with your head as you pore and ponder, wondering if it is all vain.
–a going in dizzying circles, like a dog in pursuit of its tail…
this is the tale of many a person

-alcopop

made with Love.

If God were to speak to everyone’s understanding in a common language what language would He speak?
I saw a quote from Rumi that said “God speaks in silence, all else is poor translation” that may be quite right, but I think if God wants to speak to us, He would do so in a language understood irrespective of culture, background or upbringing, one that transcends time and space, a language that even the dull of understanding can understand. I think he would have chosen to speak in love– and He does.
You can just tell when something is made with Love; that’s how I know a loving God created the world.
when I see and experience it all, I can tell, ’cause often, love is quite like braille, you may not see it but somehow you can feel it (in your heart) and trace around it and it tells you something; it’s the same with God.
Love has a way of showing up in what we do, it reflects in our efforts, passion is evident in the attention to detail.
when things are delicately made to the most intricate bit, the dedication is obvious. when things are passionately crafted and made from the heart, the outcome is never haphazard, it’s always beautiful in some way; and it tugs at the heart, because heart communicates with heart. you perceive that hands that gracefully and immaculately measure made these things from chaos into order.
and if you observe close enough to the tiniest detail, you can tell and you can’t dismiss that God is indeed in the details.

-alcopop.

FLAMES

While you were busily rehearsing your disappearing act on me, I kept losing my balance. It took me a while to be roused out of my folly and begin to practise my balancing act, took me more time than I carved out for myself to catch on and improve, but I finally mastered it. In between those moments where I learnt by experience, you made your reappearances only to vanish again, destabilising me some more

but more time passing allowed for growth and the capacity to cope.

the last time you showed up without warning I was not startled, I didn’t lose my footing, by then we had both practised to perfection what we spent our time improving upon …but you don’t seem pleased that I had finally found my balance.

It seems to me now, or rather it has become obvious that you loved to see me losing my balance…

-alcopop

Sunday jpegs. A father and his children.

married to the game

Back then I already made a vow, but now I swear an oath anew in the hearing of all witnesses present
my guardians reluctantly offer their blessings
pursuing this path feels like walking down the aisle to the sounds of cheering and objection, muted yet visible laughter
time seems slowed, everything drags and lags, then quickly picks up in an abrupt fast forward.
I catch a glimpse of smiles forming and others fading— all in a flash.
I seem to be (at) the centre of attention,
I stroll past everyone to unite with the object of my passion.
I see the faces of my contemporaries who gave up on dreams and following their path, having their creative mind dulled, diluted and deadened from the rigour and routine; the interaction with the corporate world.
I respect their decision, but I value my destiny, so i press on.
Dramatic gasps fill the room as I take my place before the bride, the priest between us ready to ordain.
I unveil the one I cherish and make my vows anew from my heart, to remain with these words, through sickness and health, for better for worse– the thing I think we say for lack of better words.
I share a kiss with words and determine to stay writing them till death parts us both…
this is what God has put together

-alcopop

a song of the sozzled…

a past dear friend,
the voice still rings in my head …
my cheek is still moist with the kiss of betrayal,
the memory remains vivid and intact.
I still lightly feel the texture of your pursed lips pressing against my skin
I still feel your hand –now departed– as though it were still there, when it affectionately rubbed my shoulder,
your gentle loving whisper in my ear,
the known nod of friendship, followed quickly by the unfamiliar handshake of ‘traitorship’.
your graceful smile contorts into a malevolent grimace…
I pass my hand on my aching back and pull it back to glare in shock at a splodge-like stain of blood
the pain persists, with the dagger stuck in my back from the repeated stabs I was never aware of…
everything slowly zooms out of focus and the memory fades into a blur.
I heave a sigh while still recovering. I gasp. I’m still alive. It doesn’t make sense to leave these offences unavenged, and yet, I inhale deeply, a great measure of air with a whiff of your lingering fragrance, and choose … forgiveness

-alcopop

So I got challenged…

when the war is ended and you lie wounded and in agony,
heaving heavily and barely able to breathe,
oozing with blood mingled with sweat and tears running down your cheek into your mouth through your parted lips.

your sword, half out of its sheath, in the loosened clench of your palm,
one hand on its hilt, the other limp in your bosom,
and you nod your way to your fading existence.
you look around a last time to see fellow soldiers who’ve met their restful quietuses. you sip on saliva hard to swallow, your heartbeat –inconsistent and heavily persisting.
your draining blood gone cold with shivers. painful coughs with half gasps for air.
your whole life unfolding in memories before your eyes, your whole being stilled, ready to breathe your very last–
would you smile?