My name: AdonisI long for you like a day without you is long.
I long for you like kissing lovers long for breath,
I long for you like time longs to progress,
Like the seconds long to vanish, to die.
My longing for you stretches the spans,
The distances that separate us.
It blankets, wraps, coils around us.
My longing for you brings me ever closer to you.
My longing for you takes my heart and your heart
And marries them.
My longing for you turns my initial sadnesses
Into rejoicing for having such a lover.
Longing for your lips thus reassures me
That you were, are, and ever will be mine.
I long for you with the fervency of the sun.
I long for your name to be spoken,
For my ears to welcome it in, put at ease by its mention.
I long to fall asleep with you, on your neck.
I long for you like I long for Neruda or Qabbani,
Like I long for the land I call home,
Like I long for heaven,
You, my eyes, my life.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
7/17/2010 10:09:00 PM - How Do I Long For You?
7/17/2010 10:06:00 PM -
I never meant to kiss you--
I never mean to.
It was all accidental,
A wonderful plan
Of a phenomena.
All of the stars
Galaxies
Planetscometsnebulae
Pushed me,
Thrust my lips
Ontoyours.
We kiss because nature cannot otherwise
Maintain equilibrium.
Thus each of our kisses
Savestheworld.
Each of our kisses aligns the stars
And keeps all of the planets
Inharmoniousmotion
Around you, Ell.
Around us.
When we kiss.
I never mean to.
It was all accidental,
A wonderful plan
Of a phenomena.
All of the stars
Galaxies
Planetscometsnebulae
Pushed me,
Thrust my lips
Ontoyours.
We kiss because nature cannot otherwise
Maintain equilibrium.
Thus each of our kisses
Savestheworld.
Each of our kisses aligns the stars
And keeps all of the planets
Inharmoniousmotion
Around you, Ell.
Around us.
When we kiss.
7/17/2010 10:03:00 PM -
When we lie in our hammock
And intertwine,
The yellow of our woven home
And green of the rustling canopy
And blue of the buoyant sky
And white of the beatific clouds
And brown of the meek earth
All turn to fulgent red
When we kiss.
And intertwine,
The yellow of our woven home
And green of the rustling canopy
And blue of the buoyant sky
And white of the beatific clouds
And brown of the meek earth
All turn to fulgent red
When we kiss.
7/17/2010 10:02:00 PM -
I loved you kissing the rain off my chest
When I stood there in the rainstorm
And my hair was wet
And my shivers were so obvious.
I loved you kissing my collarbones
When the lightning danced around us
And we were alone,
And all of heaven fell on us.
I loved you telling me
That you love me more
Than the rain in the afternoon.
When I stood there in the rainstorm
And my hair was wet
And my shivers were so obvious.
I loved you kissing my collarbones
When the lightning danced around us
And we were alone,
And all of heaven fell on us.
I loved you telling me
That you love me more
Than the rain in the afternoon.
7/17/2010 10:01:00 PM -
If ever I do not say it
The trees get angry
And hiss and whisper
Urging me excitedly to say
I love you.
The trees get angry
And hiss and whisper
Urging me excitedly to say
I love you.
7/17/2010 10:00:00 PM -
I want you like a child
I need you like a child
I fear you like a child
I kiss you like a child
I love you like a child
I need you like a child
I fear you like a child
I kiss you like a child
I love you like a child
7/17/2010 09:59:00 PM -
In your presence I discover
That I am a child,
That I need to be nourished
By your hand,
That without your lullabies I am
Incapable of sleep.
If you shall sing me to sleep
Every night
I shall give you all of the kisses
My lips can conjure up--
Nay, my lips themselves shall
Be yours.
That I am a child,
That I need to be nourished
By your hand,
That without your lullabies I am
Incapable of sleep.
If you shall sing me to sleep
Every night
I shall give you all of the kisses
My lips can conjure up--
Nay, my lips themselves shall
Be yours.
7/17/2010 09:56:00 PM - Freckles
Your freckles are oases for my nomadic fingers
On the desert of your skin,
And water wells for my caravan lips,
Trading in kisses and passion.
I want to dwell on them,
Each one for a year,
Until I am old
And ripe with love.
On the desert of your skin,
And water wells for my caravan lips,
Trading in kisses and passion.
I want to dwell on them,
Each one for a year,
Until I am old
And ripe with love.
7/17/2010 09:53:00 PM -
I want to drink you in.
Drop by drop--
Not all at once.
Not altogether.
No. Just--
Slowly, tantalizingly.
First, your eyes.
Then your nose,
Then, your mouth.
And once I've quenched
All of my thirst,
I'll kiss all of those things
Right back on.
I'll kiss your ears,
Your chin,
Your neck,
Your mouth.
Your mouth.
I'll linger there for some time.
Quite a bit of time.
And last of all,
I'll kiss your eyes back.
And I'll thirst once more.
I'll thirst for you once more.
Drop by drop--
Not all at once.
Not altogether.
No. Just--
Slowly, tantalizingly.
First, your eyes.
Then your nose,
Then, your mouth.
And once I've quenched
All of my thirst,
I'll kiss all of those things
Right back on.
I'll kiss your ears,
Your chin,
Your neck,
Your mouth.
Your mouth.
I'll linger there for some time.
Quite a bit of time.
And last of all,
I'll kiss your eyes back.
And I'll thirst once more.
I'll thirst for you once more.
7/17/2010 09:51:00 PM -
The rain is hard
On our skin
As we run
And breathe it in,
And when we stop
I kiss your spine
And tell you "Woman,
Just be mine!"
In your beauty
You're still there
With your bright eyes
And soaking hair,
And ever will
Your allure be
Emblazoned on
My memory.
On our skin
As we run
And breathe it in,
And when we stop
I kiss your spine
And tell you "Woman,
Just be mine!"
In your beauty
You're still there
With your bright eyes
And soaking hair,
And ever will
Your allure be
Emblazoned on
My memory.
7/17/2010 09:50:00 PM -
Only the street lamps see us tonight
As we sit out of sight, hidden
In the darkness, and your chin rests
On my shoulder, and love let's kiss
Tonight, for the first time, and bliss will
Be ours forever--until our lips
Are parted--and your hips carry
You into a hurried goodbye.
As we sit out of sight, hidden
In the darkness, and your chin rests
On my shoulder, and love let's kiss
Tonight, for the first time, and bliss will
Be ours forever--until our lips
Are parted--and your hips carry
You into a hurried goodbye.
7/17/2010 09:48:00 PM - While You Paint
Paint me a canoe lying on the sand
Waiting for me to take your hand
And push out into the peaceful sea
And there as lovers we shall be
Alone, except for the salty breeze,
Our kisses shall span eternities
And measure all the depths of time,
And we'll take Pablo for his rhyme,
And love, we'll forget all our scars
And stay all night and watch the stars.
Waiting for me to take your hand
And push out into the peaceful sea
And there as lovers we shall be
Alone, except for the salty breeze,
Our kisses shall span eternities
And measure all the depths of time,
And we'll take Pablo for his rhyme,
And love, we'll forget all our scars
And stay all night and watch the stars.
7/17/2010 09:40:00 PM - Your Neck
I could live on your neck, forever.
There, where my kisses can wander freely,
Where I'd sleep all night on your collarbones.
My thoughts escape me as I sit here
And they go to you,
They long for skin.
They look for passion.
They find it only on your neck.
So all I can write, think, breathe,
Is the fragrance of your neck,
And my love for you roams all night
Between my heart and yours,
Between my mouth and yours.
There on your neck I left
A trail of kisses to mark my way
Back to you,
I left my blood, my tears,
The tears of my whole life.
I left the tears of all my prayers.
I left the anger of my pining
For you, I left the scent
Of spit, Of sweat, of faint perfume,
Of all the intimacy we command
In our dark kisses.
There, where my kisses can wander freely,
Where I'd sleep all night on your collarbones.
My thoughts escape me as I sit here
And they go to you,
They long for skin.
They look for passion.
They find it only on your neck.
So all I can write, think, breathe,
Is the fragrance of your neck,
And my love for you roams all night
Between my heart and yours,
Between my mouth and yours.
There on your neck I left
A trail of kisses to mark my way
Back to you,
I left my blood, my tears,
The tears of my whole life.
I left the tears of all my prayers.
I left the anger of my pining
For you, I left the scent
Of spit, Of sweat, of faint perfume,
Of all the intimacy we command
In our dark kisses.
7/17/2010 09:39:00 PM -
As we lay by the sea
Our joy is a burning passion.
If I don't seize my opportunity
A ghastly figure--Time--
Will forever steal you from me.
So let's not neglect our love
Making this moment last(s) forever.
Our joy is a burning passion.
If I don't seize my opportunity
A ghastly figure--Time--
Will forever steal you from me.
So let's not neglect our love
Making this moment last(s) forever.
7/17/2010 09:36:00 PM -
We are not lovers, nor shall we,
My lady, love as we might, ever be.
For you are to me a whisper,
A moment,
A vapor,
A glance,
A drop.
But on your own,
A beautiful clamor,
An endless eternity,
A violent current,
A steadfast gaze,
A wondrous ocean.
My lady, love as we might, ever be.
For you are to me a whisper,
A moment,
A vapor,
A glance,
A drop.
But on your own,
A beautiful clamor,
An endless eternity,
A violent current,
A steadfast gaze,
A wondrous ocean.
7/17/2010 09:35:00 PM -
I hate your feet--
They take you far from me.
I hate your eyes
That cannot hide our secret.
I hate your smile
That tells the world our lie.
I hate your hands--
They always have to let go of mine.
I hate your back,
I hate it with a passion,
For it teases me as you leave,
And when you're gone I can no longer
Kiss it.
They take you far from me.
I hate your eyes
That cannot hide our secret.
I hate your smile
That tells the world our lie.
I hate your hands--
They always have to let go of mine.
I hate your back,
I hate it with a passion,
For it teases me as you leave,
And when you're gone I can no longer
Kiss it.
7/17/2010 09:34:00 PM -
Lady, you are the poet,
I am just the hand.
You are the goddess,
I am just a man.
Yours is the beauty,
Mine the feeble lines.
And yet my love, they say
That the poem's mine.
I am just the hand.
You are the goddess,
I am just a man.
Yours is the beauty,
Mine the feeble lines.
And yet my love, they say
That the poem's mine.
7/17/2010 09:32:00 PM -
Breathe my breath.
Breathe me in
Like a desperate lover.
Let's pretend that I'm
Your first male;
That you're my first female.
Let's pretend that we
Are innocents,
And ignorant.
Let's pretend that
I'm your first lover,
That before me you knew no one,
And that before you I was yet
Unborn.
Breathe me in
Like a desperate lover.
Let's pretend that I'm
Your first male;
That you're my first female.
Let's pretend that we
Are innocents,
And ignorant.
Let's pretend that
I'm your first lover,
That before me you knew no one,
And that before you I was yet
Unborn.
7/17/2010 09:31:00 PM -
I love you more
Than I ever loved them
Any of them.
I love you more than
I ever loved then.
You, my favored lover.
Than I ever loved them
Any of them.
I love you more than
I ever loved then.
You, my favored lover.
7/17/2010 09:29:00 PM -
Your kiss is a fresh breath I long to taste,
Your scent is a fog, a cloud surrounding me,
Your hair is the forest I dwelt in during my youth,
Your skin is the home I come to in the dark,
Your mouth was the bridge I crossed between youth and manhood.
Your spine is the trail I traced in the dark to find true love.
Your scent is a fog, a cloud surrounding me,
Your hair is the forest I dwelt in during my youth,
Your skin is the home I come to in the dark,
Your mouth was the bridge I crossed between youth and manhood.
Your spine is the trail I traced in the dark to find true love.
7/17/2010 09:29:00 PM -
7/17/2010 09:26:00 PM - Close Your Eyes
Close your eyes and dream of us
As we shall never be
Close your eyes and listen to the whispers
Of your dreams
Close your eyes and sleep in lands
Long given to the moon
Close your eyes - the rising sun
Will be here very soon
Close your eyes and think of our
Farewells that last too long
Close your eyes and I will sing
To you one final song
Close your eyes and retrace all
The steps that we have trod
And as you close your eyes love me
For those who love know God
As we shall never be
Close your eyes and listen to the whispers
Of your dreams
Close your eyes and sleep in lands
Long given to the moon
Close your eyes - the rising sun
Will be here very soon
Close your eyes and think of our
Farewells that last too long
Close your eyes and I will sing
To you one final song
Close your eyes and retrace all
The steps that we have trod
And as you close your eyes love me
For those who love know God
7/17/2010 09:24:00 PM -
On your back,
You turn your head away,
Your chin raised,
Your neck an addiction,
Your collar bone arresting,
As we grow closer,
Ever closer,
And your hands clenched,
Your nose scrunched,
Your whispers heavy,
Declare the moment
(you bite your lip)
When eternity stands still
And we being one
Become everything.
(nothing outside of our radius exists)
And suddenly we know
That satisfaction.
(temporary, only temporary)
You turn your head away,
Your chin raised,
Your neck an addiction,
Your collar bone arresting,
As we grow closer,
Ever closer,
And your hands clenched,
Your nose scrunched,
Your whispers heavy,
Declare the moment
(you bite your lip)
When eternity stands still
And we being one
Become everything.
(nothing outside of our radius exists)
And suddenly we know
That satisfaction.
(temporary, only temporary)
7/17/2010 09:22:00 PM -
Your kisses are corrosive.
Curious.
Spurious.
Scintillating.
Fascinating.
Your kisses are corrosive.
Curious.
Spurious.
Scintillating.
Fascinating.
Your kisses are corrosive.
7/17/2010 09:19:00 PM -
Your love like snow covers me,
All of me.
You blanket me and I cannot,
No I cannot resist.
And nothing is left that is not
Engulfed in love.
Your love like rain drenches me,
Yes all of me.
I can't escape your waters,
Your love currents.
All of me.
You blanket me and I cannot,
No I cannot resist.
And nothing is left that is not
Engulfed in love.
Your love like rain drenches me,
Yes all of me.
I can't escape your waters,
Your love currents.
7/17/2010 09:17:00 PM -
I love your notional cheek,
I love our kissing games,
I love your hair in rain,
I love our singing voice,
I love your aching knees,
I love our silences.
I love our kissing games,
I love your hair in rain,
I love our singing voice,
I love your aching knees,
I love our silences.
7/17/2010 09:15:00 PM -
You kissed me with all the foolish innocence of a child.
You kissed me with all the curious passion of a child.
You kissed me with all the wanton intensity of a child.
I kissed you with all the painful memories of an old man.
I kissed you with all the heavy baggage of an old man.
I kissed you with all the unspoken hesitancy of an ancient man.
You kissed me with all the curious passion of a child.
You kissed me with all the wanton intensity of a child.
I kissed you with all the painful memories of an old man.
I kissed you with all the heavy baggage of an old man.
I kissed you with all the unspoken hesitancy of an ancient man.
7/17/2010 09:13:00 PM -
I will not legitimize our love
By mourning you,
Nor will I ever remember how
You smelled while we danced,
Or how you squeezed my hand
On our long beach walks,
Or how you placed your fingers
Around your coffee cups,
Or how you ate your ice crea.
Your smiles, your songs, your simpleness,
Are long forgotten.
As is our nonexistent love.
By mourning you,
Nor will I ever remember how
You smelled while we danced,
Or how you squeezed my hand
On our long beach walks,
Or how you placed your fingers
Around your coffee cups,
Or how you ate your ice crea.
Your smiles, your songs, your simpleness,
Are long forgotten.
As is our nonexistent love.
7/17/2010 09:10:00 PM - To A Muse
I am beyond being in love with you,
I'm at the point of worship,
And you not deserving such adoration
Fractures my heart to a point I can't understand,
Or accept. And your silence,
Your muted explanations,
Only insult my intelligence,
Only drive me deeper into madness,
So stop your hateful ignorance,
And simply focus on loving me.
Or else, stop being my muse.
Be dead to me, and never
Let me remember you
Or write for or of you
Ever, ever again.
I'm at the point of worship,
And you not deserving such adoration
Fractures my heart to a point I can't understand,
Or accept. And your silence,
Your muted explanations,
Only insult my intelligence,
Only drive me deeper into madness,
So stop your hateful ignorance,
And simply focus on loving me.
Or else, stop being my muse.
Be dead to me, and never
Let me remember you
Or write for or of you
Ever, ever again.
7/17/2010 09:08:00 PM -
Come, love me.
Don't shy away.
Just dive in.
Just love me.
And if you ever have any doubts
Or any fears
Just turn the lights off.
Let's love by feeling,
By touch, by our most receptive
Sense to passion.
Come, let's forget
Previous fears,
Fracted sentiments,
Memories not worth dwelling over,
Not while we love.
Don't shy away.
Just dive in.
Just love me.
And if you ever have any doubts
Or any fears
Just turn the lights off.
Let's love by feeling,
By touch, by our most receptive
Sense to passion.
Come, let's forget
Previous fears,
Fracted sentiments,
Memories not worth dwelling over,
Not while we love.
7/17/2010 09:04:00 PM -
You turn your head
And guide my kisses to your neck.
The warmth of our bed is a shelter
For indescribable passions.
Your red lips are a clear target,
Your lipstick perfectly imperfect,
Your eyes looking away,
Rarely meeting mine,
But when they do, you whisper
Your love to me.
I kiss your palm and wait,
Mesmerized for a moment by your eyes,
Then I bite your chin as we dance
The dance of ancient passions,
As we make up the steps
To this ceremony we never learned.
And guide my kisses to your neck.
The warmth of our bed is a shelter
For indescribable passions.
Your red lips are a clear target,
Your lipstick perfectly imperfect,
Your eyes looking away,
Rarely meeting mine,
But when they do, you whisper
Your love to me.
I kiss your palm and wait,
Mesmerized for a moment by your eyes,
Then I bite your chin as we dance
The dance of ancient passions,
As we make up the steps
To this ceremony we never learned.
7/17/2010 09:01:00 PM -
I closed my eyes and waited but you did not kiss me.
Your lies break my heart.
I'm torn apart
By all the times you've left and did not miss me.
Late in our evenings, love, while we were laying
Near one another
I discovered
I did not care for anything that you were saying.
We're falling and falling further and farther
Out of love, my love.
Your lies break my heart.
I'm torn apart
By all the times you've left and did not miss me.
Late in our evenings, love, while we were laying
Near one another
I discovered
I did not care for anything that you were saying.
We're falling and falling further and farther
Out of love, my love.
7/17/2010 09:00:00 PM -
You are languid in love,
And timid, like a child.
Your passions are subdued,
As tears run down your cheeks
In the ardency of our desires,
Expressed in the dark.
And timid, like a child.
Your passions are subdued,
As tears run down your cheeks
In the ardency of our desires,
Expressed in the dark.
7/17/2010 08:59:00 PM -
It seems the lines have been erased between us,
Lines have faded as we have shared the time
Together. We were never meant to be
Closer than what we started out hoping to be.
But we've eclipsed all of our dreams,
We've outdone innocent desires.
We slipped.
We fell.
And I want to go back, to return to newness.
To return to newness.
That's all I want.
Lines have faded as we have shared the time
Together. We were never meant to be
Closer than what we started out hoping to be.
But we've eclipsed all of our dreams,
We've outdone innocent desires.
We slipped.
We fell.
And I want to go back, to return to newness.
To return to newness.
That's all I want.
7/17/2010 08:57:00 PM -
Numb to your smile which pained me when you smiled it,
Numb to your presence, in which you torture me with consummate ease,
Numb to hearing the nicknames you once called me lavished on others,
Numb to the memories once triggered by my dreams.
Numb to your presence, in which you torture me with consummate ease,
Numb to hearing the nicknames you once called me lavished on others,
Numb to the memories once triggered by my dreams.
7/17/2010 08:56:00 PM -
I don't need your mouth, but I want it.
More than anything, I want your mouth.
Put out your cigarette, the smoke makes
Me cough after kissing you.
More than anything, I want your mouth.
Put out your cigarette, the smoke makes
Me cough after kissing you.
7/17/2010 08:56:00 PM - Once Upon A Daydream
I can imagine sitting with you on a bench on the banks of a small river in some small European town, in the shade of large trees, with the breezes playing with the leaves all around us, and the river running through playfully in front of us. I can feel exactly what we're feeling, as you're lying on the bench, with your legs propped on one arm of the bench, and your head in my lap. I feel my fingers in your hair, and my right hand on your chin. My thumb slightly covers your lips; I can feel them move as you talk. We spend hours in conversation, as people walk behind us speaking a language we don't understand, marveling at our love. Your eyes meet mine often; I see the love bursting from them, those beautiful eyes that I can never forget, or get out of my head. I recite poetry to you, Arabic poetry that I've known since childhood, and you laugh as I try to translate every word, struggling as poetry can never be perfectly translated. You are tanned, no doubt after a few days of swimming on the beach. Children laugh all around us, and a dog barks; the village is peaceful, and the scenery perfect, like our love. We have no computers or phones or passports, we have no identity but one another. We have nothing that identifies us other than each other's love. We know nobody within ten thousand kilometers, yet everyone is welcoming because they see how we love. Everyone can see me laugh as you stand up and put on a show, so entertaining, playing with your skirt, hands on your hips, and feet on the grass, near the water. I stand up to dance with you, humming, and you start singing the words to the song, as we dance, clumsily, a dance with no steps or rhythm; a dance based on love. We stumble and fall on the grass; your hair in your face, my laughter so loud, your skirt becomes wet in the water. We crawl back up the slight slope,closer to the bench, on our elbows and back, staring in the air. You tie your hair back; it's amazing how many styles you can fix it in, and you ask me which one I like, trying three or four different ones. I can't ever decide how you should wear your hair... You're always beautiful, no matter what. As the sun starts setting, we start walking back to our hotel, holding hands, still talking, but the talk becomes more serious as the streets get emptier and the sky darker. You get chillier because of your wet skirt, and I give you my jacket to wear around your waist. We go up small stairways and down quiet sidewalks, the constant breeze our only companion, as it flits through your hair. Our steps are flirtatious as we finally get to the hotel. Ours is room 16, we walk up a few steps, and enter through the old wooden door. I open the creaky door for you, you glide inside so elegantly, and I lock us inside.
7/17/2010 08:50:00 PM -
We cross invisible lines whenever we're alone,
Imaginary lines never meant to be crossed,
Into distant, uninhabited worlds,
As darkness surrounds us, and the silence
Only briefly interrupted by your sounds of love,
Spurs me on into the forbidden, or the frowned upon.
In that strange land, where only lovers exist,
We remain foreigners, unless
I am kissing all of your spine,
Unless you are whispering a pleasure
Understood from ancient times,
A pleasure sacred since the ancient times,
As my fingers run through your hair
Until exhausted, we collapse
Back into reality.
Imaginary lines never meant to be crossed,
Into distant, uninhabited worlds,
As darkness surrounds us, and the silence
Only briefly interrupted by your sounds of love,
Spurs me on into the forbidden, or the frowned upon.
In that strange land, where only lovers exist,
We remain foreigners, unless
I am kissing all of your spine,
Unless you are whispering a pleasure
Understood from ancient times,
A pleasure sacred since the ancient times,
As my fingers run through your hair
Until exhausted, we collapse
Back into reality.
7/17/2010 08:46:00 PM -
Star gazing with you is a dream I can't control,
Like the tide of emotions rising when I see your eyes,
Like the current of your scent, taking me away from shore,
From safety. From my world, and into
Yours.
Like the tide of emotions rising when I see your eyes,
Like the current of your scent, taking me away from shore,
From safety. From my world, and into
Yours.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
8/15/2009 12:40:00 AM - Typewriter Writing # 2
My typewriter and my fan are the only sounds I've heard for three months, a day, and two hours, since you left. The birds outside my house left with you. The breezes are now silently avoiding me, trying diligently not to remind me of you, or to carry and spread your scent, still embedded in all the furniture, through my house, or to ruffle the curtains, so that I may not look outside or have any fainting, false hope of your return. In abject loneliness I sit, not eating, not shaving, not caring. My Marlboro is the liveliest companion I have. I type robotically, not giving the words much thought. All of my thoughts run freely to you. They run--freely--to you, their prison. "You're my prison, my prison are you... and you're my freedom. You're the one I loathe, and you're the one I adore..." So the clicking disguises the muteness of my room, of my life. And only the TING of the typewriter, announcing another major accomplishment in my moot life, the writing of another line, can force me into moving or snapping out of the abysmal state I'm in. The fan clicks in a melancholic rhythm, and hums a mournful tune so unlike the tunes that played in your presence... At night, some crickets join the threnody. The cigarette smoke floats like a spirit in the room, and moves slavishly, directed by the whim of the fan. So I wait for you, in my hopeless state and my aposiopetic writing.
8/15/2009 12:38:00 AM - Typewriter Writing # 1
Let me rewind time
One thousand and one nights.
Let me win you back.
Let me realize that,
For those thousand days
I have you.
And let me know a thousand days
Ahead of time
That tonight's our last night
Together.
One thousand and one nights.
Let me win you back.
Let me realize that,
For those thousand days
I have you.
And let me know a thousand days
Ahead of time
That tonight's our last night
Together.
Friday, August 07, 2009
8/07/2009 04:17:00 PM -
Pretty eyes,
For all you've done, I forgive you;
For all I could not give you,
I apologize.
Pretty eyes,
You're not the person whom I thought you were,
And now it sadly seems as if you wear
Some wicked guise.
Pretty eyes,
From a million miles away you broke my heart,
Yet I'll go on--turn to my written art,
And to my lies.
Pretty eyes,
You've left me helpless but to mourn;
You've shown me how great love is born,
And how it dies.
Pretty eyes,
You still daily haunt my mind
As I don't know how we could find
No compromise.
Pretty eyes,
Who says that true love comes and true love goes?
How can I now live without your hellos
Or your goodbyes?
-Adonis
For all you've done, I forgive you;
For all I could not give you,
I apologize.
Pretty eyes,
You're not the person whom I thought you were,
And now it sadly seems as if you wear
Some wicked guise.
Pretty eyes,
From a million miles away you broke my heart,
Yet I'll go on--turn to my written art,
And to my lies.
Pretty eyes,
You've left me helpless but to mourn;
You've shown me how great love is born,
And how it dies.
Pretty eyes,
You still daily haunt my mind
As I don't know how we could find
No compromise.
Pretty eyes,
Who says that true love comes and true love goes?
How can I now live without your hellos
Or your goodbyes?
-Adonis
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
6/23/2009 12:36:00 AM - Notes on Love
Love is a hand strumming the chords of reality; the vibrations thereof are feelings. Life revolves around this plunking; enthusiastic plucking of the chords is indeed the essence of joy, and lethargic playing, the root of dismalness.
Love is a piano, the symphony of which is joyous, but the young hands playing always manage to get hurt. Who knows the perfect keys to combine; who has the patience to play the whole symphony; who knows how to read the notes?
Love is the color of beauty, the lips of desire, the sound of needy beings.
Love is a clothes moth feeding on our cloaks of security.
Love is mania; amantes sunt amentes.
Adonis
Saturday, April 25, 2009
4/25/2009 12:01:00 AM - Holding Hands
Lead me, baby
With your left hand
Holding mine...
Let's run away
From this great crowd,
From space and time.
Intoxicate me with your
Every word, my love,
And make me rhyme...
Take me somewhere
Where kissing you
Is not a crime.
With your left hand
Holding mine...
Let's run away
From this great crowd,
From space and time.
Intoxicate me with your
Every word, my love,
And make me rhyme...
Take me somewhere
Where kissing you
Is not a crime.
Friday, April 24, 2009
4/24/2009 11:38:00 PM -
How can I tell them
That you are my poetry?
How can I show them
How your name has become
The answer to all my questions?
How can I share you
With a cruel world?
Don't you know
How selfish I am with you?!
That you are my poetry?
How can I show them
How your name has become
The answer to all my questions?
How can I share you
With a cruel world?
Don't you know
How selfish I am with you?!
4/24/2009 10:36:00 PM - It Was A Dream
Lost in the crowd,
We're casual,
Or so we seem.
You're whispering
'I miss you, Love...'
It's all a dream.
'I miss you more'
Is my reply,
And for a while,
We simply stand
As, secretly,
We share a smile.
We're casual,
Or so we seem.
You're whispering
'I miss you, Love...'
It's all a dream.
'I miss you more'
Is my reply,
And for a while,
We simply stand
As, secretly,
We share a smile.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
2/14/2009 12:15:00 AM - Maybe Alone Isn't Me
In the stillness of the night,
In the twilight hours
Meet two lovers out of sight
In dimness of candle light
'Twixt the fallen towers.
A hid chamber that is meet
For their sacred passion
Is their simplistic retreat.
Here they come on cat-like feet
In secretive fashion.
Underground in solitude
Lies their destination.
There, their love o'er time accrued
As they happiness pursued;
As they found elation.
In the bitter cold they laid,
Yet the repercussion
Of the winter chill was stayed
By the simple blankets, made
Shelter for discussion.
There in darkness, sounds of cheer
Wriggled through the covers.
A few echoes, strange, unclear,
Quieted themselves in fear
They'd expose the lovers.
In the twilight hours
Meet two lovers out of sight
In dimness of candle light
'Twixt the fallen towers.
A hid chamber that is meet
For their sacred passion
Is their simplistic retreat.
Here they come on cat-like feet
In secretive fashion.
Underground in solitude
Lies their destination.
There, their love o'er time accrued
As they happiness pursued;
As they found elation.
In the bitter cold they laid,
Yet the repercussion
Of the winter chill was stayed
By the simple blankets, made
Shelter for discussion.
There in darkness, sounds of cheer
Wriggled through the covers.
A few echoes, strange, unclear,
Quieted themselves in fear
They'd expose the lovers.
Friday, February 13, 2009
2/13/2009 10:07:00 PM - Our Dance
Our slow dance
Is an eternity
Of your shuffling feet,
And nervous eyes,
And perfection...
Your excuses
And laughs
And missteps...
I adore them all!
But most of all,
I love clasping your hand...
I love holding your hip...
I love dancing you.
And every graceful moment,
Every flutter of your white dress,
Every push of your fingers
On my neck
Is a euphoria
And a glorious symphony
Of love. I adore nothing more
Than kissing you
After another
Stellar dance.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
1/31/2009 03:28:00 PM - Pretty Eyes
You want me to write you?
Tell me how…
Which pen could I use?
Which hand?
Which language could encapsulate
Your beauty?
You want me to fall
In love with you,
For a certain time,
To write you, then abandon
Your beauty?
You want me to describe you,
Pretty Eyes?
All my life I've written,
Filled countless notebooks…
Six months have passed,
And the book entitled
Pretty Eyes
Still is wholly blank.
I'm at a loss for words…
You've rendered me silent
With a single look;
Your eyes have muted me.
What are you, woman?
You're something new…
You're greater than my words,
Superior to my thoughts…
I haven't yet learned
The language with which
I could write you.
Teach me a language
Lovers speak,
A private language,
Spoken in whispers,
Too marvelous
For the passersby…
One only understood by your
Pretty eyes.
Then…
I would write you,
I would tell the world
Of your serene smile,
Of your fervid smile,
Of your unrivaled smile.
I would tell them all of
Your beauty.
You ask me to fall
In love with you?
I have…
I do confess, and
Every second without you
Reassures me…
I've fallen.
There is no need for me
To plunge…
I am already plummeting.
You ask me to fall
In love with you?!
Do the beaches
Ask the ocean
To bathe them?!
Does the Sun
Ask the roses
To bloom?!
I was bound by your
Pretty eyes;
They stole my love…
When first our eyes met
I loved you,
My heart was conquered then by
Your beauty.
You want me to write you?
Where would I begin?
Your fingertips?
Your hair?
Your voice?
Your neck?
Do me a favor…
Be complicated;
I can't write your simplicity…
Be crude;
I can't write your delicateness…
Be awkward;
I can't write our comfortableness…
Be less beautiful;
I really can't write
Your beauty.
I've paced my apartment
Ten thousand times…
Ten thousand steps…
One million thoughts…
How would I begin writing you,
Pretty Eyes?
What words would do you justice?
Eventually, when on my deathbed,
I'll have figured it out…
I'll simply write
Three tiny words…
Eight simple letters…
One sincere thought…
I love you…
Friday, January 09, 2009
1/09/2009 11:57:00 AM - Found Out
Our passions burned,
Our smoke rose up,
And clouded the sky.
All the world knew
Of our secret love;
They read your eyes,
And noticed my smile...
We are accidental lovers.
Tragically we collided,
And ever since, our warring
Has been the greatest struggle
Love has ever seen.
We are pathetic fighters,
You and I...
So easily we surrender
One to another.
With a kiss our enemy
Is subdued.
And all of this in secrecy?
Our war, our passion, has raged.
The flames and smoke have risen.
Now the whole world knows.
Our smoke rose up,
And clouded the sky.
All the world knew
Of our secret love;
They read your eyes,
And noticed my smile...
We are accidental lovers.
Tragically we collided,
And ever since, our warring
Has been the greatest struggle
Love has ever seen.
We are pathetic fighters,
You and I...
So easily we surrender
One to another.
With a kiss our enemy
Is subdued.
And all of this in secrecy?
Our war, our passion, has raged.
The flames and smoke have risen.
Now the whole world knows.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
12/21/2008 07:16:00 PM - You Left
You left
And the writer in me left,
And followed you.
Because wherever you are, there is my creativity...
And there, my poetic ability.
You left,
And stole my poetry,
And my mind and heart.
You left,
And until now...
My blank notebooks
And hollow apartment
Long for your return.
The record player longs
To play our dancing tunes...
The bedsheets long to be
Wrinkled by our love.
And the writer in me left,
And followed you.
Because wherever you are, there is my creativity...
And there, my poetic ability.
You left,
And stole my poetry,
And my mind and heart.
You left,
And until now...
My blank notebooks
And hollow apartment
Long for your return.
The record player longs
To play our dancing tunes...
The bedsheets long to be
Wrinkled by our love.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
11/11/2008 10:42:00 PM - Confession
Ever since childhood, I have been captivated by your stirring brown eyes, thrilled by your long hair, and by your quiet, wide smile--wide as the horizon, and serene as its sunsets. I can hear your voice always when I think of you; I hear it clearly--though it's been seemingly many lifetimes since I've truly heard it. I can only imagine how time has changed you.
I ask myself what might have been if we weren't separated--if those children that are so vibrant in my memory ever grew up.
I ask myself, would we have still competed each year for top class honors? I wonder, how many years would it have taken me to tell you how beautiful I thought you were? How many boring teachers would we have endured together in the same muggy classroom before we started sitting next to each other, joking and enjoying our time? Would we have gone to a deeper level, I wonder? Would we have passed notes, or held hands? Would we have spent mornings before school, sharing delightful senseless and meaningless conversations? These thoughts eat at me whenever I think of you.
What would have become of us, I ask? Would we have been merely acquaintances, or best of friends through thick and thin? Could we perchance have shared a deeper bond?
I really hate that so much was stolen from me. Everything... my home was taken--my bedroom, my front yard, my fig trees, my cat... It pains me that I didn't fully grow up in my country, on my land, amongst my people. It kills me that in one day, I lost my friends, I lost all those I loved. One day you were there--beautiful brown eyes, long hair, wide smile--the next, without saying goodbye, I had left all behind.
And I miss you, I miss you very much. I do not lie if I say I am in love with you, purely and utterly infatuated with your beauty.
I love you. I've said it.
I ask myself what might have been if we weren't separated--if those children that are so vibrant in my memory ever grew up.
I ask myself, would we have still competed each year for top class honors? I wonder, how many years would it have taken me to tell you how beautiful I thought you were? How many boring teachers would we have endured together in the same muggy classroom before we started sitting next to each other, joking and enjoying our time? Would we have gone to a deeper level, I wonder? Would we have passed notes, or held hands? Would we have spent mornings before school, sharing delightful senseless and meaningless conversations? These thoughts eat at me whenever I think of you.
What would have become of us, I ask? Would we have been merely acquaintances, or best of friends through thick and thin? Could we perchance have shared a deeper bond?
I really hate that so much was stolen from me. Everything... my home was taken--my bedroom, my front yard, my fig trees, my cat... It pains me that I didn't fully grow up in my country, on my land, amongst my people. It kills me that in one day, I lost my friends, I lost all those I loved. One day you were there--beautiful brown eyes, long hair, wide smile--the next, without saying goodbye, I had left all behind.
And I miss you, I miss you very much. I do not lie if I say I am in love with you, purely and utterly infatuated with your beauty.
I love you. I've said it.
Monday, June 09, 2008
6/09/2008 02:01:00 PM - Return
Return to me
From your long voyages,
From ships at sea,
From trains and carriages,
That took you far from me and all we had,
And made you think that you were free, and drove me mad.
Return and stay;
I can no more endure
Another day
In which I am unsure
Of where you are, my love, or how you do;
I'd surely die if I wake once more without you.
Return for good--
Without you I'm a wreck--
I'm in the mood
To kiss your lovely neck.
I promise you, my love, should you return,
My heart for yours forever will with passion burn.
Return, my dear;
You must no longer roam
Troubled by fear
And guilt; you must come home
Where only our love dwells, and nothing more.
I love you dear; I love you now more than before.
Adonis
From your long voyages,
From ships at sea,
From trains and carriages,
That took you far from me and all we had,
And made you think that you were free, and drove me mad.
Return and stay;
I can no more endure
Another day
In which I am unsure
Of where you are, my love, or how you do;
I'd surely die if I wake once more without you.
Return for good--
Without you I'm a wreck--
I'm in the mood
To kiss your lovely neck.
I promise you, my love, should you return,
My heart for yours forever will with passion burn.
Return, my dear;
You must no longer roam
Troubled by fear
And guilt; you must come home
Where only our love dwells, and nothing more.
I love you dear; I love you now more than before.
Adonis
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
12/11/2007 08:22:00 PM - Frozen Dreams and Rainy Echoes.
Another night, another dream,
And we're in love all over again.
Your love has now long been the theme
Of all my dreams, but nothing yet
Has changed; I still am awoken
With my heart newly broken.
Another day; I crawl on through.
It's always raining without you.
I used to dance while drenched with water,
But now I've lost my waltzing partner.
Now--as I stand there on my own--
Each raindrop screams "You're all alone."
In back-allies, I hear your voice;
I hear it echo everywhere,
And then I turn--I have no choice--
I'm all alone. My vacant stare
Hides deep inside this giant fear,
Yet out escapes a tiny, lonely tear.
To live, to sleep, to dream, to die,
To stand alone and, hollow, cry,
Everything is because of you;
Yes--everything--it's all of you.
You've cornered me, and shattered me, and strangled, wrecked, and murdered me.
And now, a year after you're dead, why will you never let me be?
I shiver, as it's snowing now quite heavily,
And every thing is clean and cool and white;
My frozen fingers dance, writing so steadily,
Yet in the pain and cold, it's hard to write.
I'm sure that every inch of me will be frost-bitten
But I won't leave a single word unwritten.
Adonis
And we're in love all over again.
Your love has now long been the theme
Of all my dreams, but nothing yet
Has changed; I still am awoken
With my heart newly broken.
Another day; I crawl on through.
It's always raining without you.
I used to dance while drenched with water,
But now I've lost my waltzing partner.
Now--as I stand there on my own--
Each raindrop screams "You're all alone."
In back-allies, I hear your voice;
I hear it echo everywhere,
And then I turn--I have no choice--
I'm all alone. My vacant stare
Hides deep inside this giant fear,
Yet out escapes a tiny, lonely tear.
To live, to sleep, to dream, to die,
To stand alone and, hollow, cry,
Everything is because of you;
Yes--everything--it's all of you.
You've cornered me, and shattered me, and strangled, wrecked, and murdered me.
And now, a year after you're dead, why will you never let me be?
I shiver, as it's snowing now quite heavily,
And every thing is clean and cool and white;
My frozen fingers dance, writing so steadily,
Yet in the pain and cold, it's hard to write.
I'm sure that every inch of me will be frost-bitten
But I won't leave a single word unwritten.
Adonis
Saturday, October 13, 2007
10/13/2007 11:51:00 PM - She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not
When we were kids and growing up, we used to play a game, She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not. We'd get one of the neighbor's flowers, all in secret, naturally, and run to a safe location, out of sight, to play. We never used to have a person whom the She represented, but we'd play anyways, just to see if we were loved. Innocence, how beautiful!
We'd tear a petal off the flower, and the quick wind would collect it from our hands. We'd watch it fall to the earth, tumbling through a current of air without source or cessation, ending up on the dirt, or between blades of grass, out of sight.
She loves me.
We'd move on to the second petal, the same thing would happen, except the wind has suddenly changed course and the petal goes in a different direction. How appropriate; perhaps Nature's playing along?
She loves me not.
We'd go through the whole flower, petal after petal, hypnotically repeating, "she loves me, she loves me not, she loves me..." and the anticipation when only a few petals remained, what a thrilling feeling it was. Eventually, the second to last petal would be in its resting place, on a God-forsaken bit of garden, ready to to be trampled upon, yet having served its purpose...
She loves me not!
We'd look at the last petal on the flower admiringly, happy. She loves me. Thus the flower, looking lonely with a single petal, would find its rest with the rest of the petals. She loves me!That's a relief. Of course, we would never accept her not loving us; we'd redo the whole ceremony if we were unloved.
D'you know those days in which life's just a big game of 'she loves me, she loves me not?' When nothing in the world is meaningful, or worse, everything in the world is meaningless. D'you know when you feel like an orphan and a cripple, and when you're so tired but you can't sleep a moment; so hungry but you can't eat a bite?
I have had those days for quite some time now, in rapid yet eternally slow succession. I wake up, and it's there, I try to sleep and it's there; I am once more a slave to it, all my thoughts, my inward interactions and conversations are all focused on that one thing, on that one person, on the cure to the fix, to the aching, the swelling desire and longing, the desperate need for completion.
You reach for the one person, the cure; you want to love them, to feel their breath as they whisper into your ear, I love you. You yearn for the kiss that unites you two, forever and ever, amen. You imagine the tenderness, the passion, the purity. You imagine how everything precious in the world is encapsulated in such a moment, wrapped within a simple, closed-eyed gesture, where everything is blown away; where only union and love exist.
It's all a big game.
She loves me, she loves me not. It's a shame, really--and I think they should rethink the whole idea--but in real life, there are no redo's.
Adonis
We'd tear a petal off the flower, and the quick wind would collect it from our hands. We'd watch it fall to the earth, tumbling through a current of air without source or cessation, ending up on the dirt, or between blades of grass, out of sight.
She loves me.
We'd move on to the second petal, the same thing would happen, except the wind has suddenly changed course and the petal goes in a different direction. How appropriate; perhaps Nature's playing along?
She loves me not.
We'd go through the whole flower, petal after petal, hypnotically repeating, "she loves me, she loves me not, she loves me..." and the anticipation when only a few petals remained, what a thrilling feeling it was. Eventually, the second to last petal would be in its resting place, on a God-forsaken bit of garden, ready to to be trampled upon, yet having served its purpose...
She loves me not!
We'd look at the last petal on the flower admiringly, happy. She loves me. Thus the flower, looking lonely with a single petal, would find its rest with the rest of the petals. She loves me!That's a relief. Of course, we would never accept her not loving us; we'd redo the whole ceremony if we were unloved.
D'you know those days in which life's just a big game of 'she loves me, she loves me not?' When nothing in the world is meaningful, or worse, everything in the world is meaningless. D'you know when you feel like an orphan and a cripple, and when you're so tired but you can't sleep a moment; so hungry but you can't eat a bite?
I have had those days for quite some time now, in rapid yet eternally slow succession. I wake up, and it's there, I try to sleep and it's there; I am once more a slave to it, all my thoughts, my inward interactions and conversations are all focused on that one thing, on that one person, on the cure to the fix, to the aching, the swelling desire and longing, the desperate need for completion.
You reach for the one person, the cure; you want to love them, to feel their breath as they whisper into your ear, I love you. You yearn for the kiss that unites you two, forever and ever, amen. You imagine the tenderness, the passion, the purity. You imagine how everything precious in the world is encapsulated in such a moment, wrapped within a simple, closed-eyed gesture, where everything is blown away; where only union and love exist.
It's all a big game.
She loves me, she loves me not. It's a shame, really--and I think they should rethink the whole idea--but in real life, there are no redo's.
Adonis
Monday, August 20, 2007
8/20/2007 12:18:00 PM - Hello there!
It says I haven't published since March 25th of this year. That's horrible, as I've been meaning to for quite some time. I don't have many readers anymore, I presume, now that I've abandoned the blog for so long. But in case anyone's reading, I'm back. I'll try and start posting more and more often.
Here's a poem to begin with, folks. We've all had dreams, and it's hard to express dreams. Sometimes they're incomplete images, sometimes they're absurd happenings. I love dreams.
In the following, each stanza was a dream.
Dreams
When we are sharing glances,
Enjoying lovely dances
In total bliss,
I love our romances,
Your simple, pure advances,
Your subtle kiss.
When on the beach we're talking,
We're laughing, hugging, walking,
Feet in the sand.
The seagulls are all gawking
At us, as if it's shocking
We're holding hands.
When on a short vacation,
We're stuck in a train station
In some small town.
You're quiet in frustration,
I'm loud in conversation.
You wear a frown.
When in a wavy motion
We sail through the commotion
Of a blue sea,
And oh, the great emotion
While on the breezy ocean
Your eyes I see.
When in the dark we're standing,
I take a knee--I'm handing
You a red rose.
I see you, understanding
Your beauty that's outstanding,
Then I propose.
Here's a poem to begin with, folks. We've all had dreams, and it's hard to express dreams. Sometimes they're incomplete images, sometimes they're absurd happenings. I love dreams.
In the following, each stanza was a dream.
Dreams
When we are sharing glances,
Enjoying lovely dances
In total bliss,
I love our romances,
Your simple, pure advances,
Your subtle kiss.
When on the beach we're talking,
We're laughing, hugging, walking,
Feet in the sand.
The seagulls are all gawking
At us, as if it's shocking
We're holding hands.
When on a short vacation,
We're stuck in a train station
In some small town.
You're quiet in frustration,
I'm loud in conversation.
You wear a frown.
When in a wavy motion
We sail through the commotion
Of a blue sea,
And oh, the great emotion
While on the breezy ocean
Your eyes I see.
When in the dark we're standing,
I take a knee--I'm handing
You a red rose.
I see you, understanding
Your beauty that's outstanding,
Then I propose.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
3/25/2007 11:34:00 PM - Writings.
On nights when we widowers miss our loves and lovers, we turn to the drug of the pen. We write away in the blur of the emotional moment, describing out goings through the motions of life with no companion. We widowers wander the trails of lonesomeness, with the moon's shadows across our backs and the stars' gloom taunting and haunting. This traveling truly is daunting. Eventually, a combination of loneliness and anguish develops in us these small, bad habits. We bite our nails and drink too much too often, we let our facial hair grow. We start looking the part of heartbroken folks who can't move on, especially as they dream of their lovers constantly.
And, like we treasure this time of writing--not the writings themselves, we think them worthless--as it reminds us of our loves, we treasure reading their writings--anything they've left. Quotes like "They say never say never, well I say... I will never leave you because I want you to have me forevermore" make us cry, others make us laugh. It is only then that we are not crashing into the reality of life and being ripped apart by the shards of its memories. Then, we are feeling real feelings; then, we are laughing or, probably, crying.
Adonis
And, like we treasure this time of writing--not the writings themselves, we think them worthless--as it reminds us of our loves, we treasure reading their writings--anything they've left. Quotes like "They say never say never, well I say... I will never leave you because I want you to have me forevermore" make us cry, others make us laugh. It is only then that we are not crashing into the reality of life and being ripped apart by the shards of its memories. Then, we are feeling real feelings; then, we are laughing or, probably, crying.
Adonis
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
3/13/2007 01:18:00 PM - Lovesick Blues
I loved you and loved you 'till love was no more, and more than loving you, I loved loving you. I loved having someone to write into endless poems and books, indeed into History herself. I liked being able to say
But now, wrecks of memories that scar both wrists and lives aggravate me. For love grows thin, and love grows silent. Smiles turn into contorted mouths, unable to voice the monstrosity of the pain within, unable to end the asphyxiation. Temporary pleasures become eternal pains. Those lovers that felt newborn forget all feeling and withdraw into outer darkness, into the realm of the hollow, of shells, of stillborns. And they suddenly find themselves outside of Noah's Ark, knocking to no avail, knowing the magnitude of the coming destruction, coughing and shivering in the barbarous rain. Their infatuation in that peerless gaze of their lover becomes a nagging nightmare, and they start waking up, screaming "Et tu, Brutè?"
It's the truth, I've known such times, I've lived through them. I live through them still.
Adonis
"Thou dearest one to me,Of whom I ne'er speak darkly,
Lest it e'er come to be,
I love Thee in a sort of worship,
Second but to God,
And for the world shan't let Thee go,
But following Thee shall live away,
Treading where Thou hast trod."
But now, wrecks of memories that scar both wrists and lives aggravate me. For love grows thin, and love grows silent. Smiles turn into contorted mouths, unable to voice the monstrosity of the pain within, unable to end the asphyxiation. Temporary pleasures become eternal pains. Those lovers that felt newborn forget all feeling and withdraw into outer darkness, into the realm of the hollow, of shells, of stillborns. And they suddenly find themselves outside of Noah's Ark, knocking to no avail, knowing the magnitude of the coming destruction, coughing and shivering in the barbarous rain. Their infatuation in that peerless gaze of their lover becomes a nagging nightmare, and they start waking up, screaming "Et tu, Brutè?"
It's the truth, I've known such times, I've lived through them. I live through them still.
Adonis
Thursday, February 08, 2007
2/08/2007 07:08:00 PM -
Monday, February 05, 2007
2/05/2007 04:38:00 PM -
A little fun at church...
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
1/03/2007 01:51:00 AM - Presents
I bought you pens, but you forgot to write. All I thought of when I was buying them was how many letters I'd be opening, all by your glorious hand. Letters of passion, thought I, letters from the heart. Yet for all these months, not one letter has found my door, not one writing has delighted my eyes.
I bought you a dozen roses, but you never bothered with a vase. You snatched them from my hand with a thank you that was more feeble than my smile, and quieter than the wind whistling outside your window, fluttering the curtains and fluttering my fragile soul in agony with them; you placed them on the dusty wooden table where they lay and aged and rotted and blew away.
I bought you a camera, imagining the photographs, the memories, the beauty of you captured, encapsulated, and hung in frames all over my room, and--more importantly--thoroughly through my mind. But the photographs never came and and the photographer never became. And the camera rusted near the flowers and was dirtied by the dust which they'd become over time.
I bought you an ice cream cone in hopes of having you actually look at me, for once. Vanilla and chocolate, your favorite, remember? I remember. I had to eat the cherry on top, because you're not too fond of them. Not the artificial ones, anyways. Yet the ice cream was unfinished and melted with my hopes of having your eyes meet mine.
I bought you all these things in hopes of getting from you some things that can't be purchased in return: a careless smile, a laugh without restraint. All I wanted were some emotions... enthusiasm, passion, regard--love, respect. All these emotions I gave you freely with my gifts, but until now, I've gotten nothing back.
Adonis
I bought you a dozen roses, but you never bothered with a vase. You snatched them from my hand with a thank you that was more feeble than my smile, and quieter than the wind whistling outside your window, fluttering the curtains and fluttering my fragile soul in agony with them; you placed them on the dusty wooden table where they lay and aged and rotted and blew away.
I bought you a camera, imagining the photographs, the memories, the beauty of you captured, encapsulated, and hung in frames all over my room, and--more importantly--thoroughly through my mind. But the photographs never came and and the photographer never became. And the camera rusted near the flowers and was dirtied by the dust which they'd become over time.
I bought you an ice cream cone in hopes of having you actually look at me, for once. Vanilla and chocolate, your favorite, remember? I remember. I had to eat the cherry on top, because you're not too fond of them. Not the artificial ones, anyways. Yet the ice cream was unfinished and melted with my hopes of having your eyes meet mine.
I bought you all these things in hopes of getting from you some things that can't be purchased in return: a careless smile, a laugh without restraint. All I wanted were some emotions... enthusiasm, passion, regard--love, respect. All these emotions I gave you freely with my gifts, but until now, I've gotten nothing back.
Adonis
Saturday, December 30, 2006
12/30/2006 12:09:00 PM - Lips of an Angel
I recently heard a question being asked about the lips of an Angel. This poor soul didn't know what they were, and he could only get all the wrong answers. I didn't answer him then because at the time I hadn't yet found the words to describe what the lips of an Angel are. But now, I've found his answer:
The lips of an Angel are not lips of angels, naturally; they're human lips. They're the lips of the world's prettiest maiden. Upon seeing them, I was taken up in a tornado, wildly flung about by winds of passion, by a storm of love. Upon kissing them, I felt the purity of heaven.
Perhaps they're called the lips of an Angel because they seem like gifts from God, or perhaps they're called that because of their ultimate purity. Either way, they truly are something to behold and experience, and indeed joyful are they who find someone whom they esteem as the prettiest person in the whole world; someone who enraptures them to heaven with a kiss and makes them speak in the most beautiful language--the language of love-- for the rest of their days.
These are the lips of an Angel, but no matter what answer you get for your question my friend, you'll never truly understand it until you have found a maiden whose kiss makes you float to heaven: a mere mortal in the realm of immortals, a foreigner among angels.
Adonis
The lips of an Angel are not lips of angels, naturally; they're human lips. They're the lips of the world's prettiest maiden. Upon seeing them, I was taken up in a tornado, wildly flung about by winds of passion, by a storm of love. Upon kissing them, I felt the purity of heaven.
Perhaps they're called the lips of an Angel because they seem like gifts from God, or perhaps they're called that because of their ultimate purity. Either way, they truly are something to behold and experience, and indeed joyful are they who find someone whom they esteem as the prettiest person in the whole world; someone who enraptures them to heaven with a kiss and makes them speak in the most beautiful language--the language of love-- for the rest of their days.
These are the lips of an Angel, but no matter what answer you get for your question my friend, you'll never truly understand it until you have found a maiden whose kiss makes you float to heaven: a mere mortal in the realm of immortals, a foreigner among angels.
Adonis
Saturday, December 16, 2006
12/16/2006 03:03:00 AM - Flavors
It is during nights like these, when the only thing I hear is the ticking of the clock hanging above my head, and when the only things I see are my empty cup and dark window, that I miss you the most. Nights like these make me wish we could disappear to an empty place, with nothing that can hold us back; nothing but each other. Nights like these make me stare at the phone, begging it to ring. Sometimes I plead out loud, “Please, call me, Love,” but no reply.
I wish that you’ll just call me one of these nights; surely I’ll not be sleeping—I can not sleep with thoughts of you ever waltzing around my head. I wish we can spend one night away on the phone, like we used to.
Did we use to talk on the phone? It all seems so distant now, I have forgotten. And our romance, our comedy, our passions, I have forgotten their flavor. Remember when I told you:
Kiss me now or never…
…I might soon forget the flavor,
So my Love, do me a favor…
…Before we part kiss me goodnight.
Remember? I wrote that long ago, jokingly, when I was inspired by your stubbornness. You didn’t want to kiss me, for some reason or another, you teaser. I remember.
But not only do nights like these torment me with thoughts of you, but they also make me realize how lonely life is now, without you. “Is it natural,” I ask myself, “for a human to contain so much love without bursting?” I wonder, “How could someone love this much, and get nothing in return?”
I hate nights like these; I miss you to death, I question my love for you, I look outside to see the darkness that’s inside, deep inside. It’s pure solemnity, breeding with loneliness, and its only offspring is tearful disaster. I sob and whisper, sob and whisper, sob and whisper.
Monday, December 11, 2006
12/11/2006 12:59:00 AM - Farewell Prayer
Lest thou shouldst dash thy foot upon a stone
My heart, my love, lest thou shouldst ever moan
Lest thou shouldst ever lose me 'fore our time
Let me leave you and leave this wicked clime
Leave me princess, leave me prematurely
'Tis better my dear, 'tis better surely.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
12/06/2006 01:06:00 AM - Letters to the Past
My Dear,
They tell me that love comes and goes, like the eternal tide. They tell me that each man can love a hundred women, and each woman a hundred men. They tell me, also, that it's never over, this game we play. The game of love. They tell me that it's much like gambling, except one never runs out of chips. They tell me to just go to sleep, to forget all about what once was, and to move on to something better. They tell me to smile.
But when they're telling me these things, all I can think of, like every other moment of my life, is you. I remember that when you left me, you took with you the tide, and the beautiful sunsets with it. I remember that I've only loved you all my life. I remember how serious our little game was, how magnificently serious. I remember how I loved to gamble with you. I remember that when sleep finally overcomes me in those long, painful nights--nights without goodnights--I always dream of you. And how can I smile, dreaming of you nightly? How can I move on when visions of you come to me at night? Or when I see you crawling into the bed where I'm sleeping, the bed where I'm nothing? You wake me up with a kiss. Not a kiss of betrayal, rather an apologetic kiss, a have me back kiss. How can I smile then?
I can not forget you, no, and no, I can not live without you. You are the fuel for the fire. You are the inspiration for it all. From your hair stems my passion, from your eyes my poetry. Thanks to your smile, I keep alive, and due to your embrace, I am whole. From your lips the songs of life proceed, from your tenderness warmth beyond measure. Your thought makes me question, your kiss gives me flavor. Every day, I am more thankful I met you, every day more mournful I lost you.
I picture you every second of my life. I loved nothing more than loving you, I love nothing more still. I lost my great inspiration, then, with your departure; I lost my love, my hobby, my entertainment, my heart. I am gradually losing my sanity and my fire. I am certainly broken.
I think maybe one day I'll send you this letter, and you might receive it, even though you are worlds away. Then, I wonder what you'll feel. I certainly hope you don't feel regret. I wonder, what do I want you to feel?
Yours wholeheartedly,
Myself.
They tell me that love comes and goes, like the eternal tide. They tell me that each man can love a hundred women, and each woman a hundred men. They tell me, also, that it's never over, this game we play. The game of love. They tell me that it's much like gambling, except one never runs out of chips. They tell me to just go to sleep, to forget all about what once was, and to move on to something better. They tell me to smile.
But when they're telling me these things, all I can think of, like every other moment of my life, is you. I remember that when you left me, you took with you the tide, and the beautiful sunsets with it. I remember that I've only loved you all my life. I remember how serious our little game was, how magnificently serious. I remember how I loved to gamble with you. I remember that when sleep finally overcomes me in those long, painful nights--nights without goodnights--I always dream of you. And how can I smile, dreaming of you nightly? How can I move on when visions of you come to me at night? Or when I see you crawling into the bed where I'm sleeping, the bed where I'm nothing? You wake me up with a kiss. Not a kiss of betrayal, rather an apologetic kiss, a have me back kiss. How can I smile then?
I can not forget you, no, and no, I can not live without you. You are the fuel for the fire. You are the inspiration for it all. From your hair stems my passion, from your eyes my poetry. Thanks to your smile, I keep alive, and due to your embrace, I am whole. From your lips the songs of life proceed, from your tenderness warmth beyond measure. Your thought makes me question, your kiss gives me flavor. Every day, I am more thankful I met you, every day more mournful I lost you.
I picture you every second of my life. I loved nothing more than loving you, I love nothing more still. I lost my great inspiration, then, with your departure; I lost my love, my hobby, my entertainment, my heart. I am gradually losing my sanity and my fire. I am certainly broken.
I think maybe one day I'll send you this letter, and you might receive it, even though you are worlds away. Then, I wonder what you'll feel. I certainly hope you don't feel regret. I wonder, what do I want you to feel?
Yours wholeheartedly,
Myself.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
11/28/2006 08:14:00 PM - Thoughts
There really is nothing like walking in the cold and rain after you've been heart-broken. Because of the great physical discomfort, you are most likely alone. And solitude is a great friend of yours when you're experiencing such bitter heartache. Soon enough, you are thoroughly drenched and feel justified when your tears run two rivulets--they soon mix with the vast ocean of water covering you, and you are left wondering whether you drowned in your own tears or Nature's. You don't know whether the sobbing or the wintriness started the violent shivering; all you know is that they helped produce the most severe trembling you've seen in your short, moot life. And when the sounds of bitterness leak out, little whimpers, the echoes of the great shouts from your torn soul, the sound of rain gladly drowns them out and hides your agony from the world. You find yourself helpless, wanting to thank Nature for always being there, for crying for you with great affection, for hiding your whimpers and tears. But thanks don't proceed from your lips; Nature is only nature. And the only thought repeatingly going through your mind is the scream echoing throughout all of your recent dreams: "Sometimes the broken never heal."
You know, when the gods smile on us, we often underestimate it; when they frown on us, we often exaggerate it. But when they break our hearts--that's when we truly look at them, and just before we scream at them, or worse, spit in their faces, we see our own faces instead.
You know, when the gods smile on us, we often underestimate it; when they frown on us, we often exaggerate it. But when they break our hearts--that's when we truly look at them, and just before we scream at them, or worse, spit in their faces, we see our own faces instead.
Monday, October 23, 2006
10/23/2006 01:09:00 AM - Suicide: Return to Paradise
Even he had turned his back
And left her floating in the black
And dark and lonesome empty room
Which, fittingly, seemed like a tomb.
Poor child, she ne'er could let him go
As sunlight turned to wretched snow
And oh! to think that even Time
Could never heal his wicked crime.
So, while in pain, she never slept,
She never smiled; she only wept.
'Till prayerfully she one day knelt,
And prayed to God she no more felt.
And as the darkness 'round her grew
Greater and greater pains she knew,
'Till she resolved to, with a knife,
End such a broken, loveless life.
She, resolute, the dagger grabbed
And closed her eyes and, simply, stabbed.
Dyeing her pillow with tears of red,
She bled and bled 'till she was dead.
(Adonis)
And left her floating in the black
And dark and lonesome empty room
Which, fittingly, seemed like a tomb.
Poor child, she ne'er could let him go
As sunlight turned to wretched snow
And oh! to think that even Time
Could never heal his wicked crime.
So, while in pain, she never slept,
She never smiled; she only wept.
'Till prayerfully she one day knelt,
And prayed to God she no more felt.
And as the darkness 'round her grew
Greater and greater pains she knew,
'Till she resolved to, with a knife,
End such a broken, loveless life.
She, resolute, the dagger grabbed
And closed her eyes and, simply, stabbed.
Dyeing her pillow with tears of red,
She bled and bled 'till she was dead.
(Adonis)
Friday, October 20, 2006
10/20/2006 09:54:00 PM -
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
10/18/2006 12:41:00 AM - Jour Nal Ism.
Hello, friends.
So, as of late, I've been quite interested in and considering studying journalism. I find it such a heroic occupation. The catch is, though, that I'd never be satisfied with a minute, pointless local TV waste-of-time, no-good, miserable job. If I delve into journalism, I'd want it to be something enormous: national or even international TV: something like CNN or ABC.
Also, I have discovered that Anderson Cooper is my hero. He's bold, intelligent, and daring. He's the modern journalist: honest, real, and very genuine in all of his reporting, and he can easily attract and persuade the audience with his approach.
He makes me think of journalism as a field of work that is made for Robin Hoods--protecting the weak and the poor by telling their story to the world. Mr Cooper is a hero, and by spreading the stories that he does so influentially, he gets my respect and deep appreciation.
Journalism is a field that looks more and more attractive the more I look at it, and at the same time, seems less and less reachable. It's a dilemma that I'm working on solving, and that is why I'm writing about it.
So, as of late, I've been quite interested in and considering studying journalism. I find it such a heroic occupation. The catch is, though, that I'd never be satisfied with a minute, pointless local TV waste-of-time, no-good, miserable job. If I delve into journalism, I'd want it to be something enormous: national or even international TV: something like CNN or ABC.
Also, I have discovered that Anderson Cooper is my hero. He's bold, intelligent, and daring. He's the modern journalist: honest, real, and very genuine in all of his reporting, and he can easily attract and persuade the audience with his approach.
He makes me think of journalism as a field of work that is made for Robin Hoods--protecting the weak and the poor by telling their story to the world. Mr Cooper is a hero, and by spreading the stories that he does so influentially, he gets my respect and deep appreciation.
Journalism is a field that looks more and more attractive the more I look at it, and at the same time, seems less and less reachable. It's a dilemma that I'm working on solving, and that is why I'm writing about it.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
9/24/2006 06:33:00 PM - Rings
Have you worn a ring for a long time, and one day, in disgust, thrown it from you into the corner of the room, screaming in disappointment? And, after years, perhaps healing years, perhaps worse than that day you threw it, you still grasp the finger it was on often, because you feel its presence. It's as if you are still wearing it. Well, I still feel its presence. It's as if I never took it off. And this ring has been choking me, not letting go. I hate it.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
9/23/2006 02:33:00 PM - What Beauty!
I ran across this poem, and was amazed. This is my kind of poem.
Sonnet 75
One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
Vain man, said she, that doest in vain assay
A mortal thing so to immortalize,
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eek my name be wiped out likewise.
Not so (quoth I), let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your virtues rare shall eternize,
And in the heavens write your glorious name.
Where whenas Death shall all the world subdue,
Out love shall live, and later life renew.
-Edmund Spenser
This is just superb, isn't it??
Adonis
Sonnet 75
One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
Vain man, said she, that doest in vain assay
A mortal thing so to immortalize,
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eek my name be wiped out likewise.
Not so (quoth I), let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your virtues rare shall eternize,
And in the heavens write your glorious name.
Where whenas Death shall all the world subdue,
Out love shall live, and later life renew.
-Edmund Spenser
This is just superb, isn't it??
Adonis
Monday, September 18, 2006
9/18/2006 01:48:00 PM - Now, Let Me Explain...
...As you first read the upcoming poem, it may seem weak, needing adjustment, or perhaps, ugly sounding. But, in my opinion, humble though firmly expressed, it is very good. I understand that the rhythm is halting often, and the fluidity is murky. But, dear ones, as is the idea. Read it once, twice, even thrice. Understand the idea, see how the hesitation in reading it applies. Tell me if I'm still sane.
Once and Now.
Once, when love was not forbidden,
People fell in love publicly,
And never was pure love hidden.
They spoke with signs and whispered low,
And watched the sunrise silently;
They held hands, walking in the snow.
Now, love is sadly long, long gone.
With it, lovers, disastrously,
Now abandoned, remain alone.
That's all.
Adonis
Once and Now.
Once, when love was not forbidden,
People fell in love publicly,
And never was pure love hidden.
They spoke with signs and whispered low,
And watched the sunrise silently;
They held hands, walking in the snow.
Now, love is sadly long, long gone.
With it, lovers, disastrously,
Now abandoned, remain alone.
That's all.
Adonis
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
9/13/2006 10:54:00 PM - Never Again
At midnight on the darkest night the year has in store, when all men are lulled by sleep, I walk the dusty roads lit only by the misty street lamps, as the moon is out of sight. The cold is unbearable as my heart chokes in its agonies. In indecisiveness I wander, lost in the dust and sweaty, shivering, blinded by the darkness, and broken by sadness. Insomnia has haunted me for four months and a half now; how daunting is a life with no sleep. While I walk, lethargic with lassitude, quivering in the overwhelming algidity, feeling pain in every trace of skin exposed to the night, I think about those who once would have let me in to a warm bed, to a peaceful night's sleep. I think of ones I'd loved, of ones I wish I'd loved, and of ones that'd loved me. I think of broken hearts whose owners are never meant to be spoken of ever again. The mere thought of 'never again' makes a tear slide down my numb cheek, and as the tear freezes there, halfway between my eye and chin, near my red nose, I stop. I have run out of road, I have long left the town and its dust. I find myself in a snow storm somewhere surreal and strange, yet am more lost than ever. Suddenly, my heart decides to stop beating, and I die, an old man in a snowy desert, deserted.
Ad*nis
Ad*nis
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
8/30/2006 12:06:00 AM - A story.
Once upon a time, in a place not so far away as to have two "far's," but not close enough for you to have ever heard of it, two people fell in love. They were totally mad about each other and though there were often problems and doubts, love always came through.
They kept going and going, and thought everything was perfect, but because they were so young, they didn't see, or perhaps purposefully ignored, the many mistakes that they made. But they worked through problems on and on until eventually they lost track of everything, and it didn't work anymore. They stopped talking.
A song asks "When love has died, what more is there to say?" That's quite a scary question, and the guy was terrified every night, and sleepless, at that thought.
A while later, after they'd thoroughly tasted the bitterness of loneliness, they realized, through the many painful days, that love hadn't died. And they realized that they were more in love with each other than ever.
Up until then they'd still been quite young, but at that moment, they grew up.
With adulthood came responsibilities and they were entirely too busy for anything, especially each other. Because they so loved each other, they sacrificed much for one another, and eventually it started backfiring.
So, they decided that nothing on earth is important, except for love, and for a while they focused their all and gave everything for a relationship and were quite literally the happiest two people on earth.
Then, suddenly, as quickly as they fell in love, things fell apart again, for a reason or another, and she came to him and said, "I can't do this anymore, love; let me go."
After a momentary silence, so melancholic, so dark and resonant, he spoke...
"You don't love me?"
"I can't. My life's moving on, and we aren't."
"If you... change your mind, and want to love me, come here... I'll be waiting. If you come, don't say anything. Just kiss me. If I kiss you, you'll know I'll have you back."
Thus the lovers parted ways.
One day, after the seasons had changed hundreds of times, when the boy had become an old man and his beard had hidden his well-aged face, as he was outside on his daily wait for a return of the one he loved--since he'd never lost hope, and since that love had never died--her ghost appeared to him.
Coming near him, he was at first in disbelief... He tried to say her name, but the words wouldn't come out.
The silence was deafening as She went to kiss him, and he let her, but she was now a ghost; he could not kiss her, could not feel those incomparable lips, could not for the world grasp her.
With a voice sounding like the whispering wind, she said "I lived my whole life pretending to be happy, and sometimes I was, but I never completely fooled myself. And every day was a struggle, to stay away from you, to not think of you. But with every breath came a thought of you, and with every desire came a longing for you."
They both were crying.
"I waited for you here, like I told you. Each day I sang 'When love has died, what more is there to say?' to see if our love had died. I always thought, after I'd sung it, 'My, how I love her!'"
"I miss you. God, I miss you," the ghost whispered.
They sat in the sunlight, in a light breeze, and cried. After much lamentation, they started singing...
"Far away... you seem so far away,
But it was only yesterday
That you were oh, so close to me...
So close, that every sigh
Was like the whisper of a lover's lullaby
The way the ocean meets the edges of the sky
As close as we could be...
But now, you're far away,
So far away you're like a distant star away
And even though your hands
Could touch me if they tried
When love has died, what more is there to say?"
-Adonis
They kept going and going, and thought everything was perfect, but because they were so young, they didn't see, or perhaps purposefully ignored, the many mistakes that they made. But they worked through problems on and on until eventually they lost track of everything, and it didn't work anymore. They stopped talking.
A song asks "When love has died, what more is there to say?" That's quite a scary question, and the guy was terrified every night, and sleepless, at that thought.
A while later, after they'd thoroughly tasted the bitterness of loneliness, they realized, through the many painful days, that love hadn't died. And they realized that they were more in love with each other than ever.
Up until then they'd still been quite young, but at that moment, they grew up.
With adulthood came responsibilities and they were entirely too busy for anything, especially each other. Because they so loved each other, they sacrificed much for one another, and eventually it started backfiring.
So, they decided that nothing on earth is important, except for love, and for a while they focused their all and gave everything for a relationship and were quite literally the happiest two people on earth.
Then, suddenly, as quickly as they fell in love, things fell apart again, for a reason or another, and she came to him and said, "I can't do this anymore, love; let me go."
After a momentary silence, so melancholic, so dark and resonant, he spoke...
"You don't love me?"
"I can't. My life's moving on, and we aren't."
"If you... change your mind, and want to love me, come here... I'll be waiting. If you come, don't say anything. Just kiss me. If I kiss you, you'll know I'll have you back."
Thus the lovers parted ways.
One day, after the seasons had changed hundreds of times, when the boy had become an old man and his beard had hidden his well-aged face, as he was outside on his daily wait for a return of the one he loved--since he'd never lost hope, and since that love had never died--her ghost appeared to him.
Coming near him, he was at first in disbelief... He tried to say her name, but the words wouldn't come out.
The silence was deafening as She went to kiss him, and he let her, but she was now a ghost; he could not kiss her, could not feel those incomparable lips, could not for the world grasp her.
With a voice sounding like the whispering wind, she said "I lived my whole life pretending to be happy, and sometimes I was, but I never completely fooled myself. And every day was a struggle, to stay away from you, to not think of you. But with every breath came a thought of you, and with every desire came a longing for you."
They both were crying.
"I waited for you here, like I told you. Each day I sang 'When love has died, what more is there to say?' to see if our love had died. I always thought, after I'd sung it, 'My, how I love her!'"
"I miss you. God, I miss you," the ghost whispered.
They sat in the sunlight, in a light breeze, and cried. After much lamentation, they started singing...
"Far away... you seem so far away,
But it was only yesterday
That you were oh, so close to me...
So close, that every sigh
Was like the whisper of a lover's lullaby
The way the ocean meets the edges of the sky
As close as we could be...
But now, you're far away,
So far away you're like a distant star away
And even though your hands
Could touch me if they tried
When love has died, what more is there to say?"
-Adonis
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
8/29/2006 01:49:00 AM - Quote
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
by Marianne Williamson
from A Return To Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles
That's amazing. I want to read this book.
Adonis
by Marianne Williamson
from A Return To Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles
That's amazing. I want to read this book.
Adonis
Thursday, August 24, 2006
8/24/2006 08:59:00 PM - This is for You.
Yes, you. Everyone else, sorry...
Whence cometh conflict, whence this strife?
So full of love, we kissed goodbye;
I never saw in all my life
A sweeter kiss, a greater lie.
Now: when we of all webs are clear,
Of confusion and pain and doubt,
Cometh The Spider, once so dear,
Snatching the trav'lers from their route.
This is an exaggeration, but writing is therapy. Forgive me for any disagreeableness. We are on the same page.
Adonis
Whence cometh conflict, whence this strife?
So full of love, we kissed goodbye;
I never saw in all my life
A sweeter kiss, a greater lie.
Now: when we of all webs are clear,
Of confusion and pain and doubt,
Cometh The Spider, once so dear,
Snatching the trav'lers from their route.
This is an exaggeration, but writing is therapy. Forgive me for any disagreeableness. We are on the same page.
Adonis
Monday, August 21, 2006
8/21/2006 01:15:00 AM - Passion
Ardent love. That's a good description of what he felt: what he felt when he saw Her, when he spoke to Her, when he thought of Her. What he felt daily in his life, but also especially with Her, as She filled his life. It wasn't a game anymore, nothing was casual about them. He loved life just because of Her, woke up in the morning smiling, went to bed at night, musing over Her. God, he even dreamt of Her at night.
And it all happened because of a realization, a confession to himself, when he said to himself "Ah, my soul! Life has become dreary. Your body aches, your mind aches. Your loneliness is a flood, and you are slowly drowning. Is there no end to this, no decrease to the deterioration, no eventual lesson learned? Surely, the thing you lack, the thing you need, is passion."
He decided then and there: passion is the rule to live by, to keep close to the heart, to feed the mind with. To be passionate about his daily life, about his behavior, his appearance, his affiliations, and most of all, to be passionate about Her.
Now, life is ablaze, and he is becoming happy again. All he can do now is wait and see the reaction of the world, of Her, to his passion.
"Only passions, great passions, can elevate the soul to great things. "
- Denis Diderot
Adonis A
And it all happened because of a realization, a confession to himself, when he said to himself "Ah, my soul! Life has become dreary. Your body aches, your mind aches. Your loneliness is a flood, and you are slowly drowning. Is there no end to this, no decrease to the deterioration, no eventual lesson learned? Surely, the thing you lack, the thing you need, is passion."
He decided then and there: passion is the rule to live by, to keep close to the heart, to feed the mind with. To be passionate about his daily life, about his behavior, his appearance, his affiliations, and most of all, to be passionate about Her.
Now, life is ablaze, and he is becoming happy again. All he can do now is wait and see the reaction of the world, of Her, to his passion.
"Only passions, great passions, can elevate the soul to great things. "
- Denis Diderot
Adonis A
Friday, August 11, 2006
8/11/2006 02:41:00 AM - What an Angel.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
8/09/2006 12:16:00 AM -
Sunday, August 06, 2006
8/06/2006 02:13:00 AM - Long Night
How many of you have these nights where you're all alone, and beside you there's a phone, in the darkness, some music playing in the background... who knows which song... just waiting for the phone to ring. And it never does.
These nights completely depress me. And the fact that You're there, Angel; that makes it worse... You're there, waiting by the phone just like me. God, that breaks my heart.
People sometimes treat you miserably. I don't know, perhaps they forget they love you. They take for granted that you've forgiven them every time they've wronged you before and so it keeps piling up. But it's disgustingly painful, isn't it?
Then, after all the pain and hurt subside--after their most recent crime, now long gone in the distant evening--something takes over you. You realize that the song that's playing in the background is perfect. Love Should. Moby strikes you as a genius, for the mere second that you make this discovery, and then you go back to thinking of those all around you. They're all relaxing in warmest beds right now, wrapped tight in those covers that protect them from the dark - and from the cold.
But you're sitting all alone; no covers. Darkness. Cold. Loneliness.
This'll be a long night.
Adonis
These nights completely depress me. And the fact that You're there, Angel; that makes it worse... You're there, waiting by the phone just like me. God, that breaks my heart.
People sometimes treat you miserably. I don't know, perhaps they forget they love you. They take for granted that you've forgiven them every time they've wronged you before and so it keeps piling up. But it's disgustingly painful, isn't it?
Then, after all the pain and hurt subside--after their most recent crime, now long gone in the distant evening--something takes over you. You realize that the song that's playing in the background is perfect. Love Should. Moby strikes you as a genius, for the mere second that you make this discovery, and then you go back to thinking of those all around you. They're all relaxing in warmest beds right now, wrapped tight in those covers that protect them from the dark - and from the cold.
But you're sitting all alone; no covers. Darkness. Cold. Loneliness.
This'll be a long night.
Adonis
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
8/01/2006 03:02:00 AM - Interesting Comparisons.
First of all, my dears, The picture off to the right is completely and utterly unedited. I took it. It is one of the most beautiful pictures I've taken, and the longer I look at it, the more interesting things I notice, things that amaze me and impress me, that scare and amuse me.
It is the same with this poem, by the great Edgar Allen Poe. I think the picture and the poem are the same idea in two different disciplines of art.
The poem goes:
TO ONE IN PARADISE
Thou wast all that to me, love,
For which my soul did pine-
A green isle in the sea, love,
A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
And all the flowers were mine.
Ah, dream too bright to last!
Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
But to be overcast!
A voice from out the Future cries,
"On! on!"- but o'er the Past
(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
Mute, motionless, aghast!
For, alas! alas! me
The light of Life is o'er!
"No more- no more- no more-"
(Such language holds the solemn sea
To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree
Or the stricken eagle soar!
And all my days are trances,
And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy grey eye glances,
And where thy footstep gleams-
In what ethereal dances,
By what eternal streams.
-E. A. Poe, 1834.
Read the poem once or twice. Stare at the photograph. Is it just me that sees the similarity??
-SinodadoniS
Thursday, July 20, 2006
7/20/2006 10:17:00 AM - Shift:7 [Home] Shift:1 [End]
As for me, I am quite optimistic regarding the escalations that have crippled the country. Although I highly disapprove of the loss of innocent life, wars are wars. So, for me, I see much good in this conflict, and hopefully these blind extremists will get what they have deserved for twenty, thirty years.
As for home, it has been naught but an idea ever since we left. You can't touch ideas, much less damage them. To me Lebanon is perfect and always will be. It's a beautiful thing. And no bullets or missiles are going to change that idea.
Other than that, I've been quite concerned with the idea of beauty as of late. Not physical, but artistic and poetic. I haven't written much through this period as I'm not sure what or how to write. I found a key ingredient for the next recipe, though... simplicity. I think one of the most beautiful tools the writer can use is simplicity. Take this by Edgar Allen Poe into consideration:
TO FRANCES S. OSGOOD
Thou wouldst be loved - then let thy heart
From its present pathway part not!
Being everything which now thou art,
Be nothing which thou art not.
So with the world thy gentle ways,
Thy grace, Thy more than beauty,
Shall be an endless theme of praise,
And love - a simple duty.
This is one of the simplest, most beautiful things I've ever read. I want to write something that simply beautiful. Or, beautifully simple.
It all depends on how you look at it. You could see this war as the end of home; I don't. And you could complicate matters and write complexly. I won't.
.sinodA-
As for home, it has been naught but an idea ever since we left. You can't touch ideas, much less damage them. To me Lebanon is perfect and always will be. It's a beautiful thing. And no bullets or missiles are going to change that idea.
Other than that, I've been quite concerned with the idea of beauty as of late. Not physical, but artistic and poetic. I haven't written much through this period as I'm not sure what or how to write. I found a key ingredient for the next recipe, though... simplicity. I think one of the most beautiful tools the writer can use is simplicity. Take this by Edgar Allen Poe into consideration:
TO FRANCES S. OSGOOD
Thou wouldst be loved - then let thy heart
From its present pathway part not!
Being everything which now thou art,
Be nothing which thou art not.
So with the world thy gentle ways,
Thy grace, Thy more than beauty,
Shall be an endless theme of praise,
And love - a simple duty.
This is one of the simplest, most beautiful things I've ever read. I want to write something that simply beautiful. Or, beautifully simple.
It all depends on how you look at it. You could see this war as the end of home; I don't. And you could complicate matters and write complexly. I won't.
.sinodA-
Saturday, July 01, 2006
7/01/2006 01:30:00 AM - It's Been a While, Folks...
Here's a new writing, enjoy. Or don't.
What a cure is this! Sitting in starlight, seemingly nothing around; an opera of crickets. How majestic is this cure for melancholic men! And, yet, today its effects are greatly diminished by more than one factor... my depression is paramount, and the crickets... ay, ay, ay, the crickets are an invitation for tears.
My, what stars all around! And, yet, what sad a night is this with no moon! And how lonseome. I struggle to find a companion, yet but for this pen I have none.
Where have all the good friends gone? And, where, oh where, the lover?
Send me letters wishing me a brighter tommorow, moon... For you I'll wait the night. But certainly, when the night is gone, the sun'll replace you!
Ah, my soul, 'tis you and me, tonight. You, me, and the crickets. And this cure for melancholy is the origination of the damned disease.
-Adonescence
What a cure is this! Sitting in starlight, seemingly nothing around; an opera of crickets. How majestic is this cure for melancholic men! And, yet, today its effects are greatly diminished by more than one factor... my depression is paramount, and the crickets... ay, ay, ay, the crickets are an invitation for tears.
My, what stars all around! And, yet, what sad a night is this with no moon! And how lonseome. I struggle to find a companion, yet but for this pen I have none.
Where have all the good friends gone? And, where, oh where, the lover?
Send me letters wishing me a brighter tommorow, moon... For you I'll wait the night. But certainly, when the night is gone, the sun'll replace you!
Ah, my soul, 'tis you and me, tonight. You, me, and the crickets. And this cure for melancholy is the origination of the damned disease.
-Adonescence
Monday, June 26, 2006
6/26/2006 12:26:00 PM -
My friends from last summer's German Academy came down for a reunion. They wanted to take a picture showing how much they adore me :P
Saturday, June 17, 2006
6/17/2006 09:59:00 PM - YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL'SSSSSS OUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTeh!
Friday, June 02, 2006
6/02/2006 02:58:00 AM -
Monday, May 22, 2006
5/22/2006 12:42:00 AM - Wind
I woke up to a dust storm. My tent was cracking against the blustering winds, shaking and rattling in terror before the storm. Too many holes to seal soon developed in my flimsy shelter, and Dust visited me for a lazy breakfast. It was such an irritation, that storm. It left its mark for a couple of weeks on my life; each time I felt the bother a few grains of sand in obscure parts of my body--which I previously had no idea I could feel-- I lived through its chaos once more. But most of all, sand in my mouth was an exasperation. I could taste its tasteless distastefulness for a long time. It drove me nuts during every meal for a month or so.
Other than that, it was quite a pleasant dream, in the desert.
Adonis
Other than that, it was quite a pleasant dream, in the desert.
Adonis
Sunday, May 14, 2006
5/14/2006 10:50:00 PM - Role Reversal, or, Alias
We've all had dreams, even nightmares. Few live those dreams out. Fewer live their nightmares.
This isn't the person she loved. This is a different person. When she was in love, she loved a person with an opened heart. You could see everything in it. The love which was in there, their bond, their joint passion, was in their smile.
Now he likes things... who knows what? He's a stranger. God, he's a stranger. She looks at him with amazement, in awe, and speechless. He likes things she knows not. He's become a new person. God, what's happened? When they loved, he was interested in things. God, he was interested in things that made sense.
And now... ever since it disappeared, she can't tell who he is.
She remembers a person, a ghost long gone. "Every day is déjà-vu. A déjà-vu of me and you. I see you, I feel you. I can smell your hair. God, I can smell your hair.
This isn't the person she loved. This is a different person. When she was in love, she loved a person with an opened heart. You could see everything in it. The love which was in there, their bond, their joint passion, was in their smile.
Now he likes things... who knows what? He's a stranger. God, he's a stranger. She looks at him with amazement, in awe, and speechless. He likes things she knows not. He's become a new person. God, what's happened? When they loved, he was interested in things. God, he was interested in things that made sense.
And now... ever since it disappeared, she can't tell who he is.
She remembers a person, a ghost long gone. "Every day is déjà-vu. A déjà-vu of me and you. I see you, I feel you. I can smell your hair. God, I can smell your hair.
-Me.
12/19/'94"
He wrote her these words. When he wrote them they were so romantic. God, they were romantic. But now they describe her daily life.
Few live out their dreams. Even fewer, their nightmares.
As for her, she's one of a kind.
Adonis Agha
May 14, 2006
Friday, May 12, 2006
5/12/2006 07:40:00 PM - Hello
Hello everyone. It's been a while since I updated. So I'll update.
Here's a poem I wrote such a long time ago that I forgot about it. But no more... I found it yesterday and here it is, being posted.
It has no title, maybe you guys can comment with a title or something.
Draw me nearer
And let me see
Thy beauty clearer
Oh Thou Mistress
Of the sea.
Leave me calling
Names of Thee
And thoughts recalling-
Thoughts of nights-
Of You and me.
Draw me nearer-
We are far apart-
You are dearer
Than the world
Unto my heart.
Don't leave me somber...
Let me lay and rest.
Let me slumber,
In the safe haven
Of Thy breast.
a-do-NIS.
Here's a poem I wrote such a long time ago that I forgot about it. But no more... I found it yesterday and here it is, being posted.
It has no title, maybe you guys can comment with a title or something.
Draw me nearer
And let me see
Thy beauty clearer
Oh Thou Mistress
Of the sea.
Leave me calling
Names of Thee
And thoughts recalling-
Thoughts of nights-
Of You and me.
Draw me nearer-
We are far apart-
You are dearer
Than the world
Unto my heart.
Don't leave me somber...
Let me lay and rest.
Let me slumber,
In the safe haven
Of Thy breast.
a-do-NIS.
Friday, May 05, 2006
5/05/2006 07:31:00 PM -
5/05/2006 04:06:00 PM -
5/05/2006 04:04:00 PM -
It was Amy's birthday, so she was granted the wish of teleporting. Coco nearly caught her in the act, but she was way too quick!
5/05/2006 04:00:00 PM -
Sunday, April 30, 2006
4/30/2006 03:53:00 PM -
Monday, April 24, 2006
4/24/2006 12:57:00 AM - Relationship Threnody, Or, Wishful Thinking
I wish that you never lose as much sleep
Thinking of me as I have, thinking of you.
I wish that you can say "I love you"
Without immediately thinking of me.
I wish that laughter won't remind you
Of a blissful time that was.
Adonis
Thinking of me as I have, thinking of you.
I wish that you can say "I love you"
Without immediately thinking of me.
I wish that laughter won't remind you
Of a blissful time that was.
Adonis
Friday, April 21, 2006
4/21/2006 10:53:00 PM - To Survey or not to Survey?
FAMILIAL STATUS
[Marital Status] Single.
[Parents still together] Definitely.
[Siblings] Jonathan David, 5.
[Pets] Christian, 20 years of age.
FAVORITES
[Number] 13 and 46. And 5.[Animal] The tastiest one...
[Drinks] Ooh, I like freckled lemonades. And pina coladas.
[Soda] Coke. Classic.
[Book] The Bible
[Flower] The Rhodora. Read the poetry about it. Beautiful.
DO YOU
[Color your hair?] errr... no.[Twirl your hair?] When it's long and not gelled. Meaning rarely.
[Have tattoos?] I have one on each eye.
[Have Piercings?] Ewe.
[Cheat on tests/homework?] I'm an honest fellow. Honestly. (whistles something obscure)
[Drink/Smoke?] Good one.
[Like roller coasters?] Is this a trick question? Like their engineering? Like riding them? AH!!!
[Wish you could live somewhere else?] Heaven, please.
[Want more piercings?] I hate this survey.
[Like cleaning?] I have to, my work requires it.
[Write in cursive or print?] I print. Except for my loopy "L's"
[Own a web cam?] One.
[Know how to drive?] Theoretically.
[Own a cell phone?] Soon.
[Ever get off the damn computer?] I don't know how you guys use computers, but right now I'm on a chair. Like usual.
HAVE YOU EVER
[Been in a fist fight?] Good times.[Considered a life of crime?] All the time.
[Considered being a hooker?] Not until I read this.
[Lied to someone?] Sorry.
[Been in love?] QUE??? Si.
[Made out with JUST a friend?] Yuck.
[Been in lust?] Umm, like in the German? Yes, tons of time. In English... I can't recall...
[Used someone] I'm an angel ya 3ammi.
[Been used?] Sera. Tsk, tsk.
[Been cheated on?] NEVAH!
[Kicked someone in the nuts?] Hahaha. Kicked, elbowed, punched, upper-cutted... And they deserved it.
[Stolen anything?] Nothing major...
[Held a gun] And shot it.
CURRENTS
[Current clothing] Boxers, long sleeved grey shirt. Watch. Axe.
[Current taste] Whoever made this is a moron.
[What you currently smell like] Axe. We established that.
[Current hair] Short, brown. Needs a trim on the beard.
[Current thing I ought to be doing] Reading.
[Current CD in stereo] Abdelhalim on the Computer.
[Last book you read] V for Vendetta graphic novel. Sweet.
[Last movie you saw] This movie about suicide bombers called Paradise Now. Very thought provoking. AND Arabic!
[Last thing you ate] Two packets of frosted Cherry Pop Tarts
[Last person you talked to on the phone] I yelled at some solicitor and hung up.
[Do drugs?] Ibuprofen 800 tablets for my bad tooth :'(
[Believe there is life on other planets?] I believe it as much as I love PETA.
Remember your first love?] She was so pretty.
[Still love him/her?] No, I'm over her.
[Read the newspaper?] I glance.
[Have any gay or lesbian friends?] Yes, a couple.
[Believe in miracles?] Definitely. Ever heard of the Resurrection?
[Do well in school?] Not like I try, but yes, superbly.
[Wear hats] Always.
[Hate yourself?] Only in the mornings.
[Have an obsession?] I want to make a difference.
[Collect anything?] Body parts.
[Have a best friend?] JA!
[Close friends?] Many.
[Like your handwriting?] Ughhhhh...
[Care about looks] It's important to present oneself as best as possible. But so many things are millions of times more important, baby-cakes...
LOVE LIFE
[First kiss] Very pure. It was right.
[Do you believe in love at first sight?] Not really.
[Do you believe in "the one?"] Yeah. God has a perfect partner for each of us.
[Are you a tease?] In English, but not in Arabic. Punk. You think you're smart, too. I know it. But I caught you. Ha!
[Too shy to make the first move?] Haha, oh yeah. The personification of Shyness right here.
ARE YOU A
[Daydreamer] No.
[sarcastic] Definitely.
[Angel] See the halo?
[Devil] I've already said I'm an angel you idiot.
[Shy] WLAK LA2!!!!!!
[Talkative] Often.
Adonis
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
4/19/2006 12:52:00 AM - Green Eyes
Milady, love is in thine eyes made manifest-
They have for a long time its abode been.
With one look, they give me a pure, eternal rest,
Like heav'nly forestry they're glorious green.
Love in them lies, a treasure hidden in its chest,
And I alone their untold worth have seen.
For this, I count myself of men by far most blest,
And call myself a king, and thou mine, queen.
Adonis
They have for a long time its abode been.
With one look, they give me a pure, eternal rest,
Like heav'nly forestry they're glorious green.
Love in them lies, a treasure hidden in its chest,
And I alone their untold worth have seen.
For this, I count myself of men by far most blest,
And call myself a king, and thou mine, queen.
Adonis
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
4/18/2006 02:15:00 AM - One Solution
How many of us are alone? How many are sad? How many are broken-hearted? How many of us are purposeless? How many of us are unsure of tomorrow? How many of us ask ourselves questions we can't answer... Questions of eternal consequence, questions about the coming eternity?
Are we sure of anything? Do we have comfort? Are we satisfied in what we do, or do we always want more, more, more, more... Do we go about our lives satisfying our bodies or our souls? Do we care about helping others or ourselves, about gaining knowledge and wealth, or gaining friendships? Do we live to accomplish something to raise our head and be proud of ourselves, or do we humbly go about our lives, living a life to help others? Do we, who say we love God and want to do what he wants for us, obey him? Do we love our neighbor as ourselves? Do we truly care for, not to mention, love, our enemies? Do we think of inspiring and encouraging those around us or are we clueless and careless about whoever is watching? Do we follow something just because, or are we driven, determined, and aware of our goals?
I'll tell you what, my dear readers. If you ever feel alone, if you ever feel weak, if you ever feel discouraged, if you ever feel unsure, if you don't know how to get satisfaction, if you don't know where your life is leading you, if you are stressed with the cares of life, if you think that you need some guidance, I have a solution for you. Pick up a Bible, open it, and read something. If only a few words, it'll make you think, if a few pages, it'll make you wonder, if a few chapters, it'll make you happy. It doesn't matter your religion, age, or any beliefs. It doesn't matter your race or gender. It doesn't matter if you believe in Christianity or not. Just find a Bible and read a few words from it. Compare it to your beliefs. See if things make sense to you. If you're tired, you'll find rest, if you're unsafe, you'll find security, if you're lost, you'll find a home, if you're proud, it'll humble you. Do you have a problem you can't figure out? Do you have a void inside you that you can't fill? I've just told you the one and only solution. Think of this post the next time you fall, think of it the next time you're tired, think of it if you're lost. It doesn't matter if you're a Christian or not, or if you even care about religion. Just read a few words of the Bible for their artistic value, for their historical significance, if you will. Read a few words from it and you won't be disappointed or discouraged.
How do I know it's the only solution? It's been proven to me several times.
Adonis
Are we sure of anything? Do we have comfort? Are we satisfied in what we do, or do we always want more, more, more, more... Do we go about our lives satisfying our bodies or our souls? Do we care about helping others or ourselves, about gaining knowledge and wealth, or gaining friendships? Do we live to accomplish something to raise our head and be proud of ourselves, or do we humbly go about our lives, living a life to help others? Do we, who say we love God and want to do what he wants for us, obey him? Do we love our neighbor as ourselves? Do we truly care for, not to mention, love, our enemies? Do we think of inspiring and encouraging those around us or are we clueless and careless about whoever is watching? Do we follow something just because, or are we driven, determined, and aware of our goals?
I'll tell you what, my dear readers. If you ever feel alone, if you ever feel weak, if you ever feel discouraged, if you ever feel unsure, if you don't know how to get satisfaction, if you don't know where your life is leading you, if you are stressed with the cares of life, if you think that you need some guidance, I have a solution for you. Pick up a Bible, open it, and read something. If only a few words, it'll make you think, if a few pages, it'll make you wonder, if a few chapters, it'll make you happy. It doesn't matter your religion, age, or any beliefs. It doesn't matter your race or gender. It doesn't matter if you believe in Christianity or not. Just find a Bible and read a few words from it. Compare it to your beliefs. See if things make sense to you. If you're tired, you'll find rest, if you're unsafe, you'll find security, if you're lost, you'll find a home, if you're proud, it'll humble you. Do you have a problem you can't figure out? Do you have a void inside you that you can't fill? I've just told you the one and only solution. Think of this post the next time you fall, think of it the next time you're tired, think of it if you're lost. It doesn't matter if you're a Christian or not, or if you even care about religion. Just read a few words of the Bible for their artistic value, for their historical significance, if you will. Read a few words from it and you won't be disappointed or discouraged.
How do I know it's the only solution? It's been proven to me several times.
Adonis
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