Tony's blog

Limerick of the painted paper

2012-02-26T22:02:00.000-08:00

Found this boy from Carlsbad,
Who didn't know good from bad,
but when it was paper money,
he never lost his honey,
not in Iowa or Utah,

We are listening to "Silly song" by The unpredictable guys.

© 2012 untony.

A bad day

2012-02-23T19:52:00.000-08:00

It was one of those days when you wake up and start the day with your shoes laces cutting off when you are tightening them; then you hit your thumb against the kitchen door at breakfast, you put your foot into a muddy pool when you go out to look for your car, the electric system of the car decide to take the day off, and all the cabs seem to have taking another street to go downtown!

In the office building only two from seven lifts work, you must climb into a overcrowded car trying in vain not to touch anything nor anybody when the pretty secretary of the next door office sinks the stiletto heel of her left shoe into your right toe, and looks at you with her most charming deprecatory smile, which you accept (what else can you do?) and start counting up to fifty wanting your brain to ignore the pain that is getting up your leg.

Sitting at your desk you try to finish the document scheduled for 9 0'clock by your boss and find that the keyboard is missing the 'r' key and every two words use an 'r' in this paper! You change the keyboard with the next desk computer but after crawling on the floor and reset the cables you find out the the power cable is too short to reach the wall socket, so you start all anew with another keyboard, making sure it has a long power cable.

You finish the job at 9.04, rush toward the boss's office and find out that he is with flu and would not come to the office this day.

You come back to your desk to find an angered colleague accusing you to have "stolen" his keyboard; after a harsh argument you go crawling again to give to your co-worker his due and re-attach your r-less keyboard to your machine.

When you can be seated again at your desk, you take the phone and call 'Maintenance' to get a new keyboard, you are informed that because the regulation No. 34876, it is impossible to have more that one spare part of a computer at once, with the intention of keeping a strict control over expenses, and the one in stock have been used the day before, so you will have to wait five working days to get another spare part! But only if you fill the form No. 18723 with all data asked and send it to your boss, who should sign the form and send it to Maintenance. It is highly recommended to do so ASAP since parts are assigned by the order the forms are entering the support office.

You ask the man in charge to send you the form No. 18723, only to learn that the forms must be asked to the floor secretary who is in charge of sharing them. You leave your desk, approach to the secretary cubicle and knocking on the glass door you say: Mildred, can you give me a No. 18723 form to ask a new keyboard? Mine is broken!

Mildred looks at you over her steel glasses and answers in her motherly voice: I'm sorry, you need the boss´s authorization to get that form, and he is not coming today!

With a slight trace of anger in your voice, but just a slight trace, you ask: Mildred, can you let me fill the form and then I will leave it with you until we can ask the boss for his authorization as soon as possible?

Mildred opens her big gray eyes displaying all their size, and in a shocked voice she says: You know it is against the rules, and what is worst I KNOW it!

You try all day to work, with a pen without ink, borrowing ink from your mates since Maintenance needs authorization to bring you an ink pot. You ruin a new contract with your best client, and lose the work order of one of the most interesting jobs you had got after a month of following the customer to convince him it was a very convenient situation.

At 5:00, you try to go down but now only one lift was in working order, so you must wait till 7:30 to get a place in a descending car. You get out into a pouring shower and realize you have left the umbrella in your car, so you run to the corner where some twenty persons are trying to get a taxi from the none that are riding the street.

Finally wet and despondent you reach the elevated train station in time to see your train to go away from the platform, you wait 45 minutes to get another one and when it is at 20 blocks from your house, it breaks down and refuses to keep going, blocking the rails and not letting pass the other coming trains.

You walk the last 20 blocks under a total rain that reaches the marrow of all and each one of your bones. With the last strength on your body and soul, you get into the garage, look for a rope, make a thoroughgoing noose, go up to the strong beam that crossed all the ceiling, tie the noose to the beam, step over a barrel nearby, pass the head through the noose and with a final kick throw the barrel out of your reach...

Seven second after that, the beam comes out of its supporting walls bringing down most of the roof down over you!

After a few moments of surprise, you look up to the rain that still is falling over you and with a beatific smile you let your mind be invaded by a deep and repairing slumber!

We are listening to "Rhapsody" by Sergei Rachmaninov

© 2012 untony.

American Dream?

2012-02-19T16:34:00.000-08:00

I started to re-read my first steps diary on the subject "How to earn your place in the World and justify your being alive"

It was funny, at least!

Funny as strange, not as ha ha.

I was young and full of promises, mine and from some persons, even Elf was somewhat expectant seeing the many options life had put into my hands.

Only after a while, and with some experience balancing the eagerness of youth, plus the ever present whispering of Elf, I started to sift through the sands of success.

On the beginning, Elf used to tell me, it all depends on where your job is located. If you work for a big store in a Mall, you will get some cheers at first, but with time it will bring the shivers to your life. Any other similar job with less glamour than the lights of a Mall, will bring worse shivers, the more you go down the stairs, the worst the shivers!

So what is the net step?

You must specialize, I am using my experience, I am talking about general worldly set, not local, which are very unique.

You must specialize and learn some languages, look outside your country borders, and then go for the Major Leagues, a big multinational enterprise, a world spread store, a well international recognized business, anything but the small grocer store in the corner.

Before applying, remember to buy your best "ninja" clothes and as many weapons as you can afford, I mean knowledge, skulking, sleaziness, deceit, double face, and booby-trappings!

Then start to climb, no friends, no mates, you are alone and lonesome in this quest. Any attachment is a drawback and you must not be loaded with any heavy weight, especially at the beginning! You will get plenty of challenges, opportunities, and struggles, and plenty of adversaries. Remember, said Elf, you must kill them (not physically, of course, or you will end in jail), you must kill them while they are pigeon, before they learn to fly, if you don't, you got a deadly foe in your hands!. Nice, eh?

All this is not enough, you will need a bit of Luck, but Luck is a voluble presence! It can be your best friend or it can be a perfect rascal! So be careful.

If everything goes well, and I mean everything, which is not as simple as the sentence shows, you will achieve your "American Dream", that ultimate state where you, and most people in the world think you are so happy, wealthy, and admired that you cannot but live besides your skin.

This famous "American Dream", even if in disguise, have been turning around the world since many, many eons ago. It is a subtle worldly cultural and educational penetration, not new!

If you follow History you'll find it, with other names, in Greek and Roman cultures. But nowadays, this Dream depends on where are you trying to get it, outside America it can be a perfect Nightmare! (I avoid to say that in America it is also a Nightmare! Oops I already wrote it!) This last sentence was approved by Elf!

So you are safe, you got your "Dream", your "Golden Years" are provided for, paying the price of solitude... I mean, you won't be alone, plenty of unscrupulous characters will surround you, they will create a rarefied atmosphere for you and will consume you if you are not smart enough to see through their machinations, but in your core, in your inner core you'll be alone!

I went through most of this, I started in this Roman Circus that is our world some years ago, not as a Gladiator, of course, just as a manure cleaner from the Arena. Fortunately I could get off the train in some unknown depot and find a small way of my own. I have not achieved the security for my Golden Years, and probably never will, but I achieved a good and funny (now the ha ha kind) life.

My learning: Get a first class living now, even if it means you will get a third class funeral! But do not confuse "first class living" with the American Dream. There are so many differences that they would make a nice volume if written.

Oh, well, these are only silly oinking form the sty, thank you for reading this pseudo-philosophical-biographical writing!

We are listening "Mystical Dream" from EKBTV as opposed to "American Dream"

© 2012 untony.

Mighty Master Mr. Money

2012-02-17T17:29:00.000-08:00

Who is my one and only bonnie?
Money!

What can I get from its flaunt?
What I Want!

Is any other bonnie so much?
Nonesuch!

That's why I succeed
it gives me always much
and all that I always need
keep me out of touch:
Money, What I Want, and Nonesuch

We are listening to ABBA in a fragment of the song "Money, money, money" by Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus

© 2011 untony.

Those words

2012-02-15T16:44:00.001-08:00

I love this whiff of air,
And its bringing of delight,
Those loving words that alight,
Into my heart in a flare,
Chasing away grief and despair,
Being the hope of my life.
The support in my strife,
The end of the deep searching,
Of new and joyful teaching
To enjoy love in all its might!

We are listening to a fragment of Zero-Project in "Romance" from his album "Dying Moon"

© 2011 untony.

Confusion

2012-02-15T07:44:00.000-08:00

If you keep your ideas in the right pocket, do not look for them with your left hand!

We are listening to Bleach Soundtrack in the song "Encirclement Battle"

© 2011 untony.

Knowledge

2012-02-12T17:44:00.000-08:00

"I can speak fluently ten languages!", said the disciple proudly.

"I can be silent in many more languages!", retorted the Master humbly.

This is an old Sufi adage and we are listening to a fragment of "Fairytale" by Enya
© 2011 untony.

Flowers

2012-01-30T18:13:00.000-08:00

I was walking the Life Garden under the soft light of endearment, feeling the smooth soil seep into my feet skin and communing with Nature when Amiel came down from the shining footstool of the Throne.

Spreading a white radiant smile, the spirit addressed to me saying: "Why you walk away through one of the best gift you, humans, have been presented with since Creation, and do not pay attention nor hommage to its charm and beauty?"

Surprised by this remonstration I stopped my walk and looking around could see the beautiful sight Amiel refers to.

On a heart shaped flower bed to my right I could see a special arrangement of flowers following a marvelous pattern.

"See", Amiel whispered in the heavenly voice all these creatures express themselves:

"You can see young women up to their 30th birthday, there on the upper part of the heart shaped bed represented by the Wallflowers that crowned it, full of strength, sweetness, and candor, and that spread their aroma giving sweet scent to the beginning of life"

"Just next to Wallflowers, you can see Jasmines, from 30 to 40, women are those jasmines of life, exhaling the purity of a perfume that surround everything with the power of feminine beauty".

"Next, from 40 to 50, you see the Roses, here women are magnificent, bedazzling the world with their loveliness, scent, and exquisite presence"

"Then there are Orchids, from 50 to 60, women are unique and perfect, one of a kind, there is a special touch of life in each one of them."

"Following is the place of Blue-Bells, from 60 to 70, giving frame, color, and joyfulness to the space they fill with their sweet soft aroma"

"From 70 to eternity, they are Violets giving scent with their humble love and experience, bringing bright life to the rest of the World."

"There are no better present than these wonderful beings, full of beauty and life, and owners of the miraculous gift of giving life, which only they share with the Creator!

I could not supress an awesome feeling when Amiel pointed to all these wonderful things we do not see clearly even if we have them in front of our eyes!

The Feminine Royalty is not defined not closed into any definition, they are the next thing close to God in the Universe.

Thank you for letting me tell you all how much I love you, women, our face in Infinity!

We are listening to "Bésame mucho" (Kiss me endlessly) by Ray Conniff and his Orchestra

© 2011 untony.

Nightmare

2012-01-23T15:09:00.000-08:00

Dream walks in its lushness,
of mixed truths and big lies.
A sun reluctant to brightness,
handles the darkest desires,
And in nights of lesser moons,
Love loses all its sweetness.
I know not if I'm alive,
I know not what is its reason,
the soul just quiver in fright,
alone and lost in cold treason.

When dream-mist arises,
When the fantasy vanishes,
The heart is filled by fears,
Cowering, holding tears,
In the shadows of the mind,
Of the unaware sleeper.
Just wait and you'll find,
The dream has been vanquished.
Awake into real life gripper
where the actual and worthy pain flourished.

We are listening to a fragment of "Nightmare" by Avenged Sevenfold

© 2011 untony.

Never leaves...

2012-01-08T17:35:00.000-08:00

The last tendrils of the old stem opened its holdings to the tree bough and as a discarded thought the ochre-colored leaf fell slowly down swinging in the soft fingers of the gentle Fall breeze.

The preceding leaves down below prepared a tender bed to receive their sister adding its lean and dry body to the whole.

Time seemed to stop for a while.

Then the strong prongs of a rake swept unmercifully the ground around the tree forming a small hillock of dry leaves on a reserved place of the big yard.

Again time seemed to halt its pace.

The matchbox produced a slender stick with a tuft of fire by head and the hillock of leaves lit as a small bonfire translating the red and gold mass into a transparent column of gases getting up to the high, almost naked branches of the trees in the garden.

This plume of chemicals was gladly received by the remaining of the plants growing around and greedily stashed waiting for Spring to produce new and glowing dresses to receive life again.

And time, again, receded into an active stillness...

We are listening to Nat "King" Cole singing "Autumn Leaves" (Les Feuilles Mortes) a french song by Jacques Prévert and lyrics by poet Joseph Kosma, English lyrics were written in 1947 by the American songwriter Johnny Mercer

© 2011 untony.

Underworld woes

2011-12-24T13:23:00.000-08:00

Azarifel was trying to get over the shock the interview with Beribel left him in!

He never thought his action would bring such a terrible situation. After all it was just a little kid the one he took out from the wheels of the speeding car. What benefit can bring a tot's death to Mighty Azazel?

There you are, but it was interpreted as High Treason and Azarifel was defenestrated; not by a window, of course, there are no windows in the Caves, it is just a way of speaking; he was defenestrated from his position, treated with utmost scorn and contempt, and condemned to roam the world for the eternity minus one day!

This was his first time out of the Caves, he was sitting under a big elm, trembling with each waft of air! He tried to cover his small body with his membranous wings, but it was to no avail. The "cold" of the exterior world was disgusting!

While our little character was suffering the first pains of his punishment, some miles away, Afriel was tending the blossoming of a field of lilacs when a strong scent of brimstone reached her nose!

She raised her head alert for any harmful happening; even if it was full day light and those activities never occur except at night, she decided to investigate; following the aroma she approached to the elm where Azarifel was cowering trying to be brave and face the bright sun.

Afriel was astounded, she never thought she would find a Cave Dweller in open field, she knew how much they hated bright light and sunny days.

"What are you doing here" she asked, getting Azarifel almost jumping out of his skin in fright.

"Who you?", asked the little being wholly scared and unable to speak rightly.

"I am Afriel", she said.

"Who?!", the poor thing had not idea of who it was that perfect being standing over him, and used to the mishapped beings in the Caves, she seemed a spirit from the Garden, he never had seen one of those but at least so was told to him by HH, the Horrid Hag, when he was learning the very beginning of time.

"Tell me your name" Afriel asked.

"I am Azarifel", said he, getting a lot more red than he usually was, he was being bashful for the first time, but didn't know it.

"OK, Azarifel, why are you out here now", Afriel asked in a soft way.

"'Cause I saved from death a little boy last night, while I was turning the cows milk sour and so make neighbors fight one another" answered the little being not too proudly as he thought he should be; he was being truthful without realizing it, normally he would have lied through his teeth! "The boy run from his mother and a speeding car was coming on the road, I took him out of the road and put him near his mother before they realized I was there"

"Oh my!" Afriel was very surprised, "you did a good deed, no punning intended".

Azarifel was very embarrassed; he said while drawing circles with the point of his narrow pointed boot on the dust near the old elm, "Yes, but it was just without thinking, anyway Beribel, my boss, was very upset, he said; yelling, you know!, I would never be a real Critter of the Caves, and dismissed me out as a discarded scumbag! Excuse my French", he added as an after thought, it seemed that some words should not be spoken in front of a beautiful being as Afriel was.

Afriel smiled amused and taking a piece of her tenuous clothing wrapped it around Azarifel.

Almost at once, he lost his red color, and started glowing as a star, his membranous wings changed to soft velvety feathers.

The light lost its terrible brightness and the sun looked beautiful to him.

Afriel watched this metamorphosis satisfied and said almost to herself:

"Hmm, I knew there was a mistake here. Your being sent to the Caves was an error from the beginning. Come on, from now on you will be named Azariel and you will be commissioned to different jobs from those you usually did!"

So, after a terrible starting in life, Azarifel could find his real name and his true vocation.

The moral in this story seems to be that even in gracious places mistakes are made! How weird!

We are listening to Prophetess Group in the song "Back to the place I once knew" from the game "Escape from the Underworld" by Banov.

© 2011 untony.

Lullaby

2011-12-22T18:28:00.000-08:00

I just woke up and saw them.

The spectacles were on the tiny cloudy knoll at the right side of my resting place, the lens were thick and inserted in a horn-rimmed frame.

Why there were spectacles with heavy and myopic lens on the cloudy boulder near my resting place?

I never needed them!

As I fought with drowsiness to get an educated thought, I heard somebody clearing the throat as if to call my attention!

I looked with half opened eyes at the time piece hanging out of the cozy soft cloudy room I called mine, it showed the Universal vector, it was early in our sector.

Still my... eeh! my... I didn't know what I was going to say.

Confusion is a difficult lover, I could not understand her... The sentence reverberated in my... mind? What's mind? Where have I heard this before? I thought again: lover? What is a lover? I was... what was I?!

What were the spectacles doing on my tiny cloudy knoll?... and who was the person that cleared the throat in my cloudy resting place?

I was sure I isolated myself before turning in.

Finally, with a great effort I could open my eyes wide enough to see a tall man in a dinner jacket, a cape and a top hat standing nearby. He rubbed his eyes, took the spectacles and put them on, looking at me from far away since his eyes seemed lost in distance due to the effect of the lens. Coming from the weird glasses a soft blue aura surrounded us.

"Are you ready?" he asked

Ready? Was I ready? I did not understand? Ready for what?

"Oh, I see, they've already erased your just created slate! Come on", the man said, "we must do it while it is night there yet!"

Do, what??

There? Where??

He made an impatient gesture, and raised the right hand letting out a sparkle from the big gem set in his golden ring, the light went out, a soft music started in the background... but it seemed to dissolve into a little baby's wail, and then...

...and then, life began!

We are listening to "Lullaby" a song composed by Johannes Brahms

© 2011 untony.

Miracle

2011-12-20T16:12:00.000-08:00

The Carnation is a red blooming dot,
And a Bird is singing from a bough.
The Breeze speaks tender words aloud,
the Sun is warmer than it ought,
In my Soul a romantic ballad abides,
While sweet Happiness resides.
And my Heart flutters like a wave,
Yes! Yes! I saw HER today!

We are listening a fragment of the beautiful song by Charles Aznavour "La Bohème"

© 2011 untony.

Wrong foretelling

2011-12-11T05:22:00.001-08:00

Old hermit Ganghor was in a long pilgrimage to the sacred Cave of Golthar where it was said Lord Swihina dwelt.

One night he arrived at a small and poor hut at the middle of the Goble's Forest and asked the needy couple that inhabited it for a place to rest.

Clomar, and his wife Beram, though indigent people, took many pains to make the hermit stay comfortable, and Ganghor was thankful for that.

When he was ready to leave, asked the couple what they wanted him to do for them, they said that if Ganghor could find Lord Swihina, please, asked Him if they would have children. And let Him know they pray often and a lot for it.

After many days Ganghor reached the sacred Cave, sat in a inner niche and enter in deep ecstasy. He was in that state when Lord Swihina appeared and smiling said to him:

"Blessed are you Ganghor for your virtues. I am pleased with you."

The Lord's presence started to blur softly when Ganghor remembering his conversation with the people in the hut, said:

"My lord, can you tell me if Clomar and his wife will have children?"

Lord Swihina, looked straight at him and said:

"No, it is written they will not have children," and with these words He disappeared.

Ganghor stayed a long time in the Cave of Golthar, and then one day he decided to go back to his monastery.

After a long walk during several years because Ganghor moved slowly and meditate often, he arrived at the little forest clearing where Clomar's hut stood.

As soon as he reached the door, he was surrounded by a gang of little children playing and crying "hello" at the top of their voices. Suddenly, Beram, Clomar's wife appeared at the door threshold and shooed the gang out giving each one of them a small rice cake, then she was very happy to greet Ganghor and thankful for his help with Lord Swihina who has listened to her husband's and her prayers and have given them all the children they have now!

Ganghor was surprised but said nothing and after a while he decided to go back to the Caves to ask Lord Swihina how come He was wrong in His prediction.

After the trip Ganghor arrived at the Caves and sat to meditate. Some days passed away and then Lord Swihina appeared again in his mind and greeted him:

"Welcome back, my son! Why have you returned so quickly to visit me?"

Ganghor could not keep an edge of disappointment from his voice when he asked the Lord why has He made a wrong foretelling, explaining what he had found at Clomar's hut.

Lord Swihina smiled friendly and answered:

"I never told you a wrong augury, Ganghor. It is written in the Book of Life that Clomar and Beram will not have children."

"But then, milord, why have they so many of them anyway?!" asked Ganghor astounded.

"My dear son," answered Lord Swihina with a broad smile, "you, of all people, should know the power of prayers!!"

We are listening a fragment of the song "Don't give up" by Peter Gabriel performed by the German group Gregorians

© 2011 untony.

Secluded valley

2011-11-30T17:18:00.001-08:00

There were solitude and darkness in the valley.

The heartless hand of the wind touched coldly the rough walls of the mountains and there was a soft hoot from the nude boughs of the scrubby vegetation that covered the hard soil.

Except for the wind there was no movement on the deserted glen, life banned by the horrid face of an extreme climate. At night the place was a vast dead territory.

In some instant of this timeless moment there was a small spark of light over the high peaks of the mountains, seemingly looking for a gap between the steep walls of the motionless barrier.

It was a tiny shred of sunlight, created by dawn that acted as a harbinger of the Sun. It took some seconds to reach the floor of the deep valley but as soon as it got a holding there, it spread quickly touching with its warm finger any single rock, and greenery on the still ground.

The acute cold was immediately disturbed by this interference and the pain that the warm touch generated in its entrails made it to shed several tear of brilliant dew.

It was in this precise moment that the miracle started to become real: the moist places in collusion with the warm rays coming down in profusion became the magic wand of Nature to bring into the desolate valley the miracle of Life!

We are listening Celtic Mystique performing "The Foggy Dew", a suave and relaxing folk song

© 2011 untony.

My Shadow

2011-11-17T17:52:00.001-08:00

Sometimes I follow my shadow,
Sometimes it comes behind me,
I wonder where it may be,
If no light outline its arrow.

It never leave me for long,
Is enough a slight radiance,
for it to cancel absence,
and make its presence strong.

I would like to be a seer,
To see the future and know,
What will it do when I'd go,
And weren't any longer here.

While reading this slightly ungrammatical little string,we are listening to the slightly 'slangish' pronunciation of Jessie J., in her new song, titled: "My shadow".

Aversion

2011-11-01T21:04:00.000-07:00

I do hate it very deeply,
Because it moves me so!
Grips tight, do not let go,
Values my soul so cheaply,
Turns me in a way so bleakly.
It flatters me, my soul dilate,
It always tempts me to overrate,
My truth, and my rights,
My reason, and my might!,
That's the reason I hate HATE.

We are listening a fragment of "A time for Us" from "Phantom of the Opera" by Andrew Lloyd Webber

© 2011 untony.

Raffle

2011-10-24T15:44:00.000-07:00

Chapter 1

Li'l Zebwas pushing his wheelbarrow on the uneven lane.

He liftedhis head and could see a large part of the nearby Smokies slopes; it was awonderful sight as it always was.

Again; he tried to make his brain work but it was not easy.

He has noteaten a morsel since he awoke at dawn and this time he could not get a swigfrom Ma' Looner's moonshine bottle because she has taken the distrust lane andnow marked the level of the moonshine with a band aid.

So; it tooka lot of time to remove the band aid; clean the old position; and mark the newlevel with his hands that have taken a will of their own lately moving aroundwithout his consent!

Oh yeah!; he went on thinking; they have taken me to that fancy medicine brain in Knoxville; guy does not even took his bodyout of the chair and barely looked at me. Then; while writing something on ablue paper; he said my hands trembled because of a Mr. Parkson. I looked at himfrom under the brim of my soft hat; set my teeth on the stem of my cob pipe;and spinning on the ball of my heels I went out.

"A Mr. Parkson"?; is the man nutty?;what was he trying to prove?; that he was a psychic? Well; a sham he was!

I do not know no Mr. Parkson; nor other personor thing with that name.

Since Letty-Ann died; Ma' Looner; bless hissoul; let me live in the loft of her barn; and I live alone!

There was no Mr. Parkson there; and if there washe would have to pay me a rent if he wanted to live there; too. Unless he couldproduce good whisky or moonshine!

He wasdelving so deep into his thoughts that almost run the wheelbarrow wheel over aleg crossing the lane. He stopped short and looked for a long time to the legthat protruded from a bush at the side of the lane.

Bushes do not have legs; he thought painfully; or even one leg! Then looking closely tothe dirty sneaker; he thought he had seen it before.

Yeah!; some kind of idea formed foggily in his mindeye! Yeah!; it was Elmo's sneaker here...but what was this bush doing with Elmo's shoe?

It tookLi'l Zeb some more minutes to gather his courage; first he thought that theSmokies Little People were trying to make him fall in a trap; you know howtricky that bunch is! Then; since there was a deep silence in the place; hethought that the Little People can't be so quiet when concocting their 'ivilies'; he should be able to hear some giggling!

Finally he approached the bush and with a trembling hand; (he didn't know if it wastrembling from fright or because Mr. Parkson was to blame; but he did not knowany Mr. Parkson; and there was none in town; he has asked); with a tremblinghand; he put the twigs apart and looked into the bush...

Chapter 2

Some hourslater a very pale Li'l Zeb entered Ma' Looner's house and; forgetting his goodmanners; if he ever had them; dropped on the living room old couch withoutasking if he could do that; rising a cloud of dust with anti-moth smell.

Ma' Loonercame out the kitchen drying her hands in her apron; seeing Li'l Zeb's state sheran to the cabinet and looked her moonshine bottle; but everything seemedundisturbed.

Easier inher mind she returned to the living room and looking at him through the leftlens of her glasses; which was her best eye; asked suspicious enough: "What now?!".

Even ifthey were of the same age; Li'l Zeb was always intimidated by this Popeye kindof look; he stood quickly up and removing his soft hat said bashfully: "Found Elmo's shoe on the mountain;have it in my 'eelbarrow!"

"You found one shoe of Elmo's and you haveit; so why don't you go find Elmo and give the shoe to him?!" Ma' Looner spoke kindly and slowlyas if to a small child.

"Can't!" Li'l Zeb answered stuttering; "the sh--shoe is in Elmo's fo--foot!"

Ma' Loonerstood silent for a while; then she went again to the cabinet but the bottleseemed undisturbed as before.

She cameback to the living room and asked softly; dreading the answer: "You have Elmo's shoe in your 'eelbarrow; and you also have Elmo's footthere; now; where is the rest of his body?"

Li'l Zeb;moistened his lips and looked longingly to the cabinet room but did not dare toask for a drink; he just answered: "A--Alongwith his fo--foot; in me 'eelbarrow!"

Ma' wasflabbergasted: "You mean he isdead?!" she asked whispering.

"As a doornail; Ma'; said Li'l Zeb to thin air becauseMa' Looner had sped out of the house.

Chapter 3

ReverendJethro was standing on the porch of the little church shaking hands with allvisitors; this was the funeral rites for Elmo and nobody in town will beabsent.

They talkedin whispers while they looked Elmo’s all white and made up face to hide the lotof stings he has there.

"Poor thing"; said Abby-Lou; shaking her mob-cap;"I didn't know he was allergic tobee stings!"

"Oh yeah!"; said Old Pop Mose; he was consideredthe wisest man in town and the most learned; "and this time he faced «'frican bees»; you know; these foreignthings are vicious enough; they come from 'Frica; as many of us; we know howthey manage strangers!".

Everybodynodded wisely.

"Now that he is gone who is going to betwith us?; askedGin-gin Clem; you may guess why he is called Gin-gin; "I will miss his «I betcha!»; and the luck he always had.

"Yeah!; we will all miss his eagerness tobet against all odds knowing he would win anyway" whispered Mae-Ann; she alwayswhispered and the rest of the group looked at her in pity; they all knew shefelt "something" for Elmo; even if they do not know what thatsomething could be. It was generally thought that Mae-Ann didn't know; either!

When thecoming of mourners dwindle to a stop; the Reverend closed the doors and went tothe altar where he started a good-bye speech for Elmo.

"Here we are; brethren"; he said; "to say good bye to a dear man of our community"; somerestless feet moved on the waxed floor as if to contend that «dear» word but novoice raised from the crowd.

"He was one of those men that was aprivilege to meet in life!"; again the restless feet; "andI had this privilege; Elmo was an honest man" the restless feet werelonger now; "and except for his waysto wager about everything; he was a good man". Silence seemed toconfirm the last statement.

"We know that we are dust and will returnto dust; but it was a pity to lose this man in the ripe stage of his life".

"Now; we want to put his soul in the handsof the messenger Angel that will carry it toward heaven".

There was akind of a loud burping sound coming from the coffin!

Everybodystood up alarmed; the Reverend said "Donot fear; brethren; sometimes there are a gathering of gasses into a body andare released in the way you heard".

No soonerhas he said it that with the creaking of the platform under the coffin; Elmosat in his velvety decorated casket!

He blinkedseveral times and then assessing his surrounding laughed aloud.

TheReverend could not believe his eyes and asked: "Elmo; are you alive?"

Elmo's wellknown voice answered: "Ibetcha!!"

"So"; words were reluctant to leave the Reverend'sthroat; "you were not dead?"!

"Oh; I was!"; Elmo's voice was now stronger. "Those "ivil" bees knew howto ground me right! I could not breath and the divilish things went on stingingme; just in case!; so I was dead; oh yeah; I was; you betchit!"

"But; but..." the Reverend was lost; "how come you are now alivethen?!" "Are you a ghost?!".

"Oh; that; no, no ghost!; well you see; I arrived at thePearly Gates right when a thousand and a half years had elapsed from the lasttime"; Elmowas distracted looking for a way to get down from the coffin.

"One thousand and a half year of"what" last time?!"; asked Old Pop Mose; angry to learn something he did not know.

"The last time that started those onethousand and a half year; you see?"; retorted Elmo.

"No; I don't!"; said Old Pop Mose; "explain that!"

"Well; every one thousand and a half yearthere is a raffle in heaven!"; said Elmo that finally got out of the garlands and white satin bows.

"So?!"; asked a bewildered Old Pop Mose.

"So; I won it; I betcha!"; finished Elmo leaving his coffinand a open mouthed audience while he went to the pub to quench the thirst those"ivily" bees have put into him!

We are listening "Barnyard Banjo Pickin'" sang by Stringbean

© 2011 untony.

Summon

2011-10-07T15:45:00.000-07:00

Day closes its bright eyes,
Night wraps its mighty arms,
Darkness strew around its charms
In thousands clouds of fireflies.
Before the Moon starts to rise,
Breeze wafts its weightless song,
Bringing sweet memories along,
From far away and tender hands,
Calling from warm and lovely lands,
To go back where life and soul belong

We are listening a fregment of "Love Story" by Francis Lai, performed by the orchestra conducted by Henry Mancini
© 2011 untony.

A place to rest

2011-09-22T13:13:00.000-07:00

Like dandelion dust, my soul
soars away, in the air,
with bright and powerful might.
I want to fly and be there,
reposing in a bright light,
where your heart rests alone,
safe from the usual affairs.

We are listening to a fragment of "Passage into Midnight" by Omar Akram
© 2011 untony.

What you mean?!

2011-09-13T18:00:00.000-07:00

I was perusing a draft about an eerie idea of mine posted recently and following a trail of scattered details into the recess of my mind, trying to decide if it was worth the effort to elaborate on it or just let it be.

The idea was, it always is, to take the entry as a skeleton crew story so it could be filled with some details, or to remove some of them, up to a new finished product.

That was the idea, but Mind suggests and then...

Elf raised his head from the deep dark corner of a crate full of written papers and told me:

"Do you really think so?"

There we go, I thought, and retorted in a somewhat acrid way:

"Think how, about what?"

"Hey, buddy", the imp seemed in a good mood, "you never follow your own thoughts?"

"Elf", I made a kind of straightening movement of my mind to show my annoyance, and added academically and pronouncing each word slowly and clearly so as to make it, my annoyance, marked without any doubt, "would you be so kind and explain your cryptic meaning?"

As it always happens, Elf didn't pay any attention to my message and answered as if I would have asked "What you mean?":

"You are thinking about the impression that passion and other feelings, especially when in turmoil and pain, make on material things, and showed a kind of mystical induced belief about it!"

"Am I thinking about... what!?", I was bewildered, never thought in those terms but if you look at my thinking from afar, maybe... just maybe...

Elf never cease surprising me, not that his comments do not help about my writing, that is evident, but the way he makes contact with my, let's call it, self, is astounding to say the least!

"Oh, come on. You know what I mean!", he finished his sentence with a big smile, no doubt the guy was in a real good mood!

"Eehh, yes... well, if you put it in that way! I was thinking about the way some places are, let's say, charged by an atmosphere where you can feel bygone times, see?"

"No, no, no!", Elf cried as if harmed by some weapon. "No, and no! You don't even know your thoughts! How can you say there is an atmosphere where you can feel bygone times!!"

"That's not true!" proceed the gnome vehemently, "or at least it is not entirely true. Let's say you have the atmosphere, but there are no «feelings of bygone or 'bycome'" (the midget flashed a wink of complicity to show his intended pun, as if I could not understand it beforehand), "there are no «feelings of bygone or 'bycome' times!»", he repeated pointedly, "there is an impression of those feelings on material things and people, and also there are some people, who detect this presence. That's all!"

"What is more important, that is exactly what you wrote", kept going the little guy, "why you change your meaning when you try to explain what was in your mind at the moment of writing?" he finished looking intently into my eyes!

Seeing my bewilderment, he follow with:

"Go and read it: Ship Graveyard post!" he added as if I did not know what whas he referring about!

I finished reading and honestly find it exactly as I have described the piece, and so I told to the impatient and ironic face staring at me!

He looked pained and given a theatrical sigh said:

"No wonder you, all of you human beings, are so great morons! I know you deserve it because the wrong way your species took when asked to choose sides, but this is ridiculous! Reading your post made me think, there was a slender hope, that you, at least you, who had the advantage of my guide, will understand easily!"

Morons because I do not think as he want me to? all human beings? who take the wrong way? I could not stop myself and asked the always same question:

"What are you talking about? This is only a small piece of writing with almost no significance, why you talk about human beings, and wrong taken decision?"

"Ah, well!" Elf seemed resigned, "it must go by the normal course, I cannot make you take a detour, sometimes I forget that and try to help you, but as I had already said several times, you are a lost case"

And following his old ways he lost himself into the pile of crates.

I was left with my questions and a weird sense of having lost an opportunity to learn something important!

We are listening to a quite mixed musical composition titled "Mass" from muyo.org which shows clearly my mind state after the intellectual exchange with the little Nemesis!
© 2011 untony.

Equal unequal

2011-09-05T14:40:00.000-07:00

Mysticism is to Reality as Reality is to Quantum World!

We are listening to a very short introduction to "Sufi mysticism" a song to share

© 2011 untony.

Unfitted

2011-08-29T19:16:00.000-07:00

There was this boy called Peter,
And this girl who was a babysitter.
He madly wanted to marry her
But she could not give an answer
Because she was not a good fitter

We are listening to the opening music from "The Addams Family"

© 2011 untony.

Awakening

2011-08-22T09:28:00.000-07:00

Epa stopped short... something was amiss, raising its head, Epa tracked the tepid air of the valley.

Epa could not think with straight thoughts, only waves of semi-awareness that changed its life since... no, Epa did not know since when, it was such a mess, Epa could not get the right idea, Epa could not define what an idea was, Epa could not get clear how it was that in a moment its self changed from... Epa did not know what, to... Epa could not say that, either. Only awarenes was there. After that, Epa started to think of its self as Epa, and couldn't say why.

Yes! here it was again, an unknown trace, a new smell touching slightly Epa's nostrils, it was totally different to any other smell-memory Epa had experimented, but not too different.

Epa hurried up the small mound and turned around a big stone on the top of the hill following the clue of the scent that reached its nose.

There it was, Epa was... it didn't know how it was, difficult to define, out of normal, maybe "surprised" but that feeling was not part of Epa's self yet, so Epa has not an idea how to name the feeling.

Epa looked to the other Epa curiously, it was an Epa, all right, but a different Epa from what it should be. Strange motions were inside Epa's chest, Epa didn't know what to do. Then the other Epa, extended its hand and jumped in its place, making small noises with its throat.

Epa didn't know how, but Epa understood. Epa put its hand in its fern-made pouch and taking a morsel of taka offered it to the other Epa.

The other Epa neared quickly and accepted the morsel, eating it avidly, after that, it extended the hand again. Taka was difficult to get and the only nourishment Epa had. Epa didn't know why, but..., reached for another morsel and gave it to the other Epa. After eating, the other Epa showed Epa a small stream nearby and they went together to drink.

The valley air was very quiet, there was not any strong noise around, only the soft wind and the faint murmur of some bugs.

They sat on a boulder, side by side, looking toward the West and watching the slowly sinking sun behind the distant range of mountains.

Epa found a small yellow daisy near "his" knee and cutting it offered the flower to "her"...

His knee? To her? why was "he" thinking like that? What does "his" mean?... and "her"? He could not answer, but that seemed the right thing to do! They started to experiment happiness, even if they could not define the feeling.

As the sun disappeared down the horizon, completely unknown to the characters of this tale, they were starting the love story of Adam and Eve.

We are listening Sonny James performing the folk song "Since I met you, Baby"

© 2011 untony.

Ship Graveyard

2011-08-19T23:18:00.000-07:00

The wind howled onto the hard cords of the old ships forgotten on the rugged shore. The seagulls soaring on the sky let hear their far away cries and the sunset hour filled with wind and noise

There was no life around but there was a secret living aura surrounding the forsaken vessels, it was the high sea longing of many souls from the past that manned these derelicts, the ships were now the heirs of that longing through the obsession of long ago lost creatures who felt the drawing of the unknown and the song of mermaids calling from the lost horizon.

But it only was the ghost of a feeling embedded into the boards and walls of the spoiled woodwork as the resultant of the long intimate work of men and ships. The phantom of the desire to sail again scouted the rigs and mountings in the vain hope to be alive and seaward once more.

We are listening to "Romance" a bittersweet composition by Georgy Svirido and performed by the Bolshoi Ensamble

© 2011 untony.

Breadwinning

2011-08-16T21:15:00.000-07:00

I know a silly girl from Madras,
Who wants more money than she has.
She tries to be paid,
By a lad who is well made,
But he is asking her being too lax.

We are listening to Roguish Folk Hero playing his song "Portrait"

© 2011 untony.

A Childish Tale

2011-08-10T19:13:00.000-07:00

I was reading some excerpts I had taken from old legends, trying to find a subject to write a story, when I found a little script about one very popular goblin in the Brazilian countryside, he was a small one legged colored guy, with a red bonnet and a big pipe named Saçi-Pererê (pronounced sas'i perer'e)very active in his ways to bother human beings, so here we go:

Little Saçi-Pererê entered the woods as a minor hurricane, he loved to disturb the quiet place and feel the lower tree boughs tremble under his mighty dust devils.

There was a strong undercurrent in his muscled body, a lurid powerful force that drove him into the need of applying all that strength to the helpless environment surrounding him, and being an incorrigible prankster, he was looking where to apply his annoying powers.

Not far away from the place where the imp was trying to find victims for his practices, on a bend of the Paraná river, sweet Panambí, the best voice of the Guarán, was washing her lush black hair while singing beautiful melodies.

Attracted by the wonderful songs, Saçi approached in a small whirlwind of dust and dead leaves, and hiding behind a big fern watched Panambí to soap and rinse her hair repeatedly.

Some yards down-current standing on a handmade canoe, mesmerized by the wonderful singing of the girl, was young Rainí the hunter, provider of game for the tribe.

The bend of the river prevented Saçi seeing Rainí, so he thought the girl was alone and quickly devised a trick to upset her.

Starting to whirl around himself, Saçi used the holes in his hands to create a localized whirlwind and aiming to Panambí's head, let go all his power. When the gale reached its target, all the beautiful hair started into a frenetic dance in vertical locks as if trying to extricate from the girl's skull!

Scared and surprised by the sudden change, Panambí whimpered as a little kitten, and then when pain established on her she shouted loudly.

At the first cry from the girl, Raini was galvanized into action! He went straight for the girl, but as soon as he was free from the bend of the river, he espied the little goblin starting to laugh so hard he had his eyes closed.

As fast as a good hunter must be, and with the same way to react to unexpected situation, Raini changed his direction and reaching the imp, quickly stole the red hat off the little creature head.

Immediately the gale stopped and the hair went limp down the head of Panambí, while Saçi reached up to the hat but too late!

"Gimme th'at back" he cried!

"Not until you grant me three desires" said Raini, putting the hat in his belt, while trying not to let the disgusting smell the hat emitted go into his nostrils.

Saçi had a tantrum, dancing on his lone leg and crying old evils to fall onto Raini head, but without the hat, the imp had no power nor magic, and all his jinxing effort was lost in the small devil dust he was creating in his dance.

After this performance, tired and angry, stopped and looking back to the hunter, he capitulated:

"Watcha y'wanna"?!

"Firstly, you will clean Panambi hair and will leave it as beautiful as it was", said Raini.
"Secondly, you will leave my people in peace and never come back!", added the man.
"Thirdly, you will make the reek from your hat to disappear from me and all our country", ended the asking Raini.

Saçi, was reluctant to concede the wishes, but he was powerless and weak without the hat, and as time passed he felt worse, so finally accepted, promised and made a deep oath to be damned if he did not fulill the promise.

Satisfied, Raini gave back the hat to Saçi, who put it in and disappear in a gust of air.

Raini turned to look at Panambí, and there she was splendid in her beauty and so grateful that it was only natural she fell in love to Raini as soon as he had fell for her.

From then on they were happy, eating different meats and eggplant, I didn't get any because I didn't want!

I closed the tale with this old sentence. Just as I wrote the las exclamation mark, the voice of Elf said:

"This is the most childish and stupid tale I ever heard"!

"Besides, Saçi Pererê cannot take off the smell of his hat even if he tried. It comes from the lake where his protector sank it before giving it to him, and is the source of all the magic he can perform"

"And if Raini had really taken the hat from the gnome, he would be jinxed out of this world and would never seen Panambí again"

"Also, there is no way to avoid the pranks of a goblin like Saçi"

"So everything is silly, childish, and foolish"

"Clean this, throw it away before anyone can see how sadly poor you are as a writer!"

This last sentence reached me while Elf was losing himself into the archive.

I was left looking sadly to the screen, with my finger hovering on the Suppress Key, and then I felt a rush of angry thoughts!

Why would I believe the words of an imp about a tale where imps lose the battle? That's why he showed so hostile behavior!

So I decided to leave the tale as it is. If it is childish, as Elf says, then it is a tale for children!

"Good for you" I whispered while giving myself some virtual pads on my shoulders!

We are listening to the traditional Brazilian dance "Lambada" performed by Kaoma.

© 2011 untony.

Frustration

2011-07-31T09:14:00.000-07:00

There was a guy very astute,
That liked to play drum and flute
He blew keenly the last
And hit on the drum with a blast
But forgot to cancel the mute.

We are listening to Spirit Pride, Native American Group, performing a fragment of "Ghost Dance", a folks' spiritual song

© 2011 untony.

Life...

2011-07-19T18:53:00.000-07:00

Oligophrenic story, full of nothing, with a total outcome of nothing...

But... there is not a life in history that had not left its mark in the tissue of time!

We are listening to Zero Project playing a fragment of "Celtic Dream" by Zero Project

© 2011 untony.

Chores of the Wind

2011-07-19T18:22:00.000-07:00

The fresh breeze was running through the park field carrying many errands around the colored flowers, but it took some moments in its rush to caress the chubby cheeks of the little child sitting royally in the perambulator.

We are listening to the group Buenos Aires 8 singing "Bailecito (Little Dance) by A. Ginastera - There are no musical instruments but human voices.

© 2011 untony.

Tell me a tale...

2011-07-17T19:04:00.000-07:00

You that have the gift of words, tell me a tale.
Just tell me everything, do not keep anything.
Stop this foolish spinning of the waterwheel,
Grinding this thing called "Truth"!

Tell me a tale, different from all others,
A beautiful lie that provoke to dream.
Take off me this sad mood to see my lonely soul,
And this smell of death of my solitude.

Tell me a tale.
Lie in my ear,
A sweet fable of a loved, dreamed and better world.
Open a door to let out,
The soul fever that smells as pain.
Tell me a tale,
You, who are my brother,
Let me go into a drunkenness that make me believe,
That even if the world keep spinning in jolts,
It is worth to try and live!

Tell me that there are good guys,
And candid women who know how to love,
And people with money that open their heart,
If they find out that life put you in need.

Tell me about a rose garden.
I am so tired to live with no aim!
Tell me a tale with a different taste,
And on my soul skin put a disguise.

Tell me a tale,
You, who are my brother,
Let me go into a drunkenness that make me believe,
That even if the world keep spinning in jolts,
It is worth to try and live!

We are listening a splendid tango by Eladia Blázquez, titled "Tell me a tale" sang by Rubén Suárez in Spanish, the English lyrics are a free translation of the wonderful poem about the need to find a reason to believe and live.

© 2011 untony.

Deeply in the heart

2011-07-15T15:46:00.000-07:00

Be careful when you look deep into your heart
You may find yourself there!

We are listening to a fragment of "Adagio No.3" by Zero Project which starts with the vacuum of the inner door and the bells warn about the uneasiness of a encounter falling into the silence of communion.

© 2011 untony.

Syllogism or sophism?

2011-07-13T18:43:00.000-07:00

Major premise: We are a gregarious species.

Minor premise: Authors write stories alone.

Conclusion: An author is a misanthrope

We are listening to a fragment of "Playa Somnolienta" (Sleepy Beach) performed by The Shadows Band.

© 2011 untony.

Desires...

2011-07-02T19:07:00.000-07:00

Tame your mind, ambitious fellow,
Always wanting, always yenning,
Let your anxious soul get mellow,
And forget the wish of winning.

Remember: the sadness of hearts,
is always not granted desires,
You keep wanting, and that smarts,
and against your wellbeing conspires.

We are listening to Itzhak Perlman playing "Meditation" from the Opera "Thais" by Jules Massenet

© 2011 untony.

Badinerie

2011-06-15T21:22:00.000-07:00

Spring sprung on Earth
and color effused on the place
Song and love announced the new life
and time opened the door of a new age rife

Summer simmered on Earth
and heat brought out perspiration
The sun and the stillness
loosen all tension

Fall fell on and put a comma
with breezes and fallen leaves
flowers exhaled their last aroma
and the world stood still in disbelief.

Winter with cold fingers did not allow escape
and blizzards struck the helpless ground
snow blanketed the landscape
and Thanatos reigned in his playground

We are listening "Badinerie" (French meaning 'jesting') this type of music design a light and fast pace playing that agree with the singsong of the little opus written above. The performance is from the Ton Koopman, Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra

© 2011 untony.

Who?

2011-06-06T19:24:00.000-07:00

"Who are you?"
asked the song from the poem.
"I am the soul of the words."
"And who are you?"
the poem inquired.
                  "I am the voice of the words."
                  "So, who is best?"
                    they both wanted to know.
                   The nightingale sang the answer:
                 "the mind...
                   that brought you both into existence."

We are listening to Yehudi Menuhin rendering a fragment of "La Campanella" (The little bell) composed by Franz Liszt

© 2011 untony.

Hobgoblin wind

2011-05-27T16:22:00.000-07:00

The wind came down the slope of the mountain in a rage! There was a thousand voices in its whisper and its howl!

People hid into their dwellings scared from the terrible destiny that would befall on them if the wind reaches their souls!

While humans cowed into their houses, the wind took possession of the little town on the shoulder of the plateau and gathered in whirl after whirl, all things loose and all those unfortunates beings who had not time to dive into their places.

For some hours there was only the crying of those spirits owned by the wind, lamenting their fate!

Then as suddenly as it began, the howling faded into the the painful muttering of the doomed, and the wind climbed back into the narrow valleys of the mountain losing its strength and burying its multiple voices in the silent massive range!

This is a free version of a legend from the Huarpes, native people who lived on the high plateau of the Andes range. We are listening to a fragment of "Hobgoblin Wind" (Viento Duende) performed by "Las Voces Blancas" (The White Voices)

© 2011 untony.

Beliefs

2011-05-23T18:45:00.000-07:00

I was looking some ways to re-interpret a few of my last sentences in a stanza I intended to write, so I was searching in the chest of drawers where I keep my half ideas and incomplete phrases when I noticed, some paces away, a heap of words scattered on the floor of my mind.

If there is something I hate is disorganization in my mind, it is a real mess to look for anything and only find forgotten pieces of written nonsense, usually I try to throw away everything I see is useless, but... yes! there is a scavenger living in my mind that, like a magpie, enjoys keeping all those things! And not even sorted by some order! I am, of course, talking about Elf!

I approached the pile of words and surprisingly found a good adjective on top of it, so I lean down and took it up, just to see a little foot wrapped in a soft felt shoe disappearing quickly under the knoll of words.

"Hey", I cried, "I saw you! Come back!"

I heard an annoyed grunt and following a shake of the rubble, appeared the head of the gnome.

"Hey", he said nonchalantly, "Howdy?!"

"What are you doing here?" It seemed the right question at the moment, only it was a foolish question since the ill-fated imp live in my mind!

"Oh", he said, he looked distracted and somewhat guilty, as those young tots you find doing something wrong. "I was looking for some Grammar Rules I lost somewhere".

"I am not surprised", I told him, "seeing the mess you have here!"

"Oh, spare me the sermon", he seemed somewhat recovered now, "it is not easy to keep things right here, unless one is a magician!".

"You are the guilty party", I said venomously, "I am a ordered guy because I believe in order!"

"There, there, that's what I want you to elaborate about".

"What?!" I was completely surprised, "you want to start organizing this mess?!"

"No, no, there is no mess here", he said that without a trace of shame!

"I cannot believe you think there is not a mess here!" I continued to press him.

"That's what I want you to elaborate about: Your beliefs!" and proceeding to sit on the heap, he added:

"What are your beliefs?"

"My bel... What do you mean?!"

"C'mon, you know what I mean, tell me!"

"Ah... I believe the sun is going to rise tomorrow morning; I believe..." I said trying to humor him but I stopped short seeing he was wearing a sad face and shaking his head in despair. "Now what?" I asked, against my best judgment.

He looked hurt, then raising his big eyes up to me, he said sadly: "I ask about your beliefs and you talk about your knowledge!"

"Eh?... What are you talking about?!" My annoyance growing up!

"Now, look" he said wearily, "you KNOW the sun is rising tomorrow morning!" "You do not BELIEVE it is going to, but you KNOW that it is what will happen! See?"

"Ah... yes I guess!" I said this somewhat lamely because I had not all my senses with me. You know, each time Elf starts to challenge me I get confused and vulnerable!

"So then, c'mon, tell me whatever is, or are, your belief or beliefs!", he likes this kind of sentences; I do not know why!

"Well", I was doing a extreme effort to find out my beliefs, any beliefs, but my mind refused to answer something coherent!

"OK", Elf went on, "as it is normal, I am not surprised that you, human beings, do not understand the magnificent gift you received at birth, and of course, just for that lack of understanding, all of you do not know how to use it rightly"

"Gift, you say?! At birth? What gift? You mean life?" Again and again despite my efforts I always look like a young child not knowing what are adults talking about! ~~Himmeldonnerwetter!!~~

"No, moron, no life! But «Faith»!" added as a martinet the insufferable sprite!

I was lost in a fog of confusion, birth, gift, faith, what was his point, anyway! So I asked:

"What is your point, anyway?!" Nice and clear, isn't it?

"My point is that, most of you do not know you have received the gift of «Faith» and consequently most of you do not know how to use it!" "See?" He asked again, looking directly to my eyes, as if everything was said and explained!

He blinked once and then put up that sad face of him again! "Oh, I see you do not understand", his sad eyes seemed to feel genuine pity for me! I began to long for a hard rope to hang him!

"Now, stop patronizing me, you... you... small... small shadow of a mouse!" I finished weakly; my intended hard worded sentence losing character as I pronounced it unconvincingly!

"You are pathetic!!" he said, then he changed his countenance with a smile, and in a casual way, added: "Look, faith is a strong way to find reasons to "know" difficult matters that cannot be explained in any other way, but if you start to mix its meaning with that of "knowing humanly", as you were doing before, and showing how easy it is to fall in that trap pit; since for a person with faith "knowing" is the feeling about the theme of faith; then you are losing the real meaning of such a great gift."

"Even if when speaking about that theme of faith", continued the imp, "out of respect for those who have not faith, a person says "I believe", in the deep core of the soul, that person "knows" it to be truth!, but the real meaning of faith is very different of that of believing or knowing, since faith is moving on a higher level of knowledge.

Finally, I realized I was swimming in dark waters of confusion, discord and bewilderment. The darn gnome has carried me into an eddy of reasons and explanations that were echoing into my mind creating the effect of being on a small board on an unrestrained sea! Knowing, Faith, Truth, explanations, difficult subjects... What's the... Where was I?! I guess all this chaos showed in my face because Elf shook his head and said:

"Oh, well, it is useless!" and turning on his heels was lost into the heap of words again.

I looked somewhat lost to the adjective I had picked up at the beginning of this conversation, and then a thought crept into my mind: Wouldn't all this be a stratagem of Elf to distract me so I would not ask him what was he doing? What could he be possibly doing that do not want me to know?! This is really exasperating!! ~~Himmeldonnerwetter!!~~

But then again, isn't it possible that we really receive at birth that gift and...? Oh, well, I'll never know if Elf was telling me the truth or just pulling my leg while unhooking himself from a embarrassing situation!

We are listening to India Arie singing her soul song "Video" from her Album "Acoustic Soul" (this is a kind of reassuring song for my self-esteem after Elf pitiless assault)
© 2011 untony.

Hush

2011-05-19T19:34:00.000-07:00

There is that kind of hush,
it only exists in the soul of lovers.
Nobody else can hear it.
There is a secret to reach the frequency of that hush:
The sweet Fairy of the Golden Dust must shake her Magic Wand on you
and when the Dust reaches your heart you start to vibrate
from your inner tissues with the song that sings Israfel,
the Angel with a lute for his heart
and with the most graceful voice in Heaven.

There is no way, walking on our own feelings,
to find the lush path to this hush,
It is pointless to exert your will to conquer it,
and you may not realize the moment it changes you forever.
If you are between the chosen, you know what I mean
If you are one of those poor beings who was not
spruced up by the Golden Dust yet, be patient, and pray
for the Sweet Fairy to favor you with the delirium that
change a mortal being into an eternal light.

We are listening to a fragment of the Adage No. 1 from Autumn Prelude by Project Zero.
This feeling of hush was created at a cherished friend suggestion.

© 2011 untony.

Lavender Scent

2011-05-13T13:37:00.000-07:00

Pedro was a peddler with a vast area of sales on the south of Spain, he was used to make long trips looking for customers in the countryside.

This time he was tired and thirsty, the lonely and dusty lanes through the Andalusia, in the South of Spain, were a torture. He yearned for a drink, and wanted to take a bath but in the last three hours, he has not found a decent place to lodge.

Just as he reached the top of a hill, he could see a small hamlet in the valley with a few houses, and even an inn, or 'albergue'! He shot the motorcycle down the slope, happily thinking in a good bath, drinks and rest.

He entered the 'albergue' and found himself in a comfortable room with a stone counter and a rubicund man behind it.

After having secured a room, the nearest to the only bath on the second floor, and having taken a shower, Pedro asked for a meal and was served a very good dinner.

Contented, he asked the host:

"Where can a man have a moment of diversion in this town?"

The host looked outside the windows and answered:

"You are lucky, there are no many places for diversion here but tonight, July 10, 2010, there is a big ball in Juan's barn. All town will be there. We celebrate the 200th lavender harvest, 200 years of our local production, and the greatest of them all!"

"Nice", Pedro said, "how can I go to Juan's barn?"

"Oh, you have a motorcycle, so it is easy, just follow our lane and after passing the cemetery, two or three miles farther, you'll see the barn, it is a huge wood warehouse, you cannot miss it, besides it would be all alight!", described the host.

Thanking the host, Pedro went up the stairs to select the clothing, and wait for the time to go to the ball.

The chimes of the hall clock awakened him, it was 9:00 pm and the night peered into the room through the open window.

Shaken the last shreds of sleep from his mind, Pedro washed his face and combed, donned his best coat and went out. The air was alive with fireflies and there was a suave vibration, of unknown origin, filling the sky.

He started his motorcycle and departed down the lane feeling a warm emotion in his soul, it was one of those wonderful Summer night in the country.

Some miles down the town he could see on the border of the lane a white shape that, as he neared, resolved in the soft form of a beautiful girl, brunette, with big black eyes, clothed in a pretty, old fashioned dress, and enveloped in a sweet lavender perfume.

Pedro stopped his motorcycle and addressed the girl with his best smile:

"Hello! Going to the ball? I am going up there, maybe I can give you a lift?."

She accepted with a big grin that hastened the beating of Pedro's heart! and with an elegant movement climbed behind him.

A few miles ahead, he could see the big barn full of lights and shrouded in music. He neared it and parked the bike some yards from the gate, among a variety of carriages, waited for the girl to step down and getting down himself, took her elbow and mixed with the throng that was dancing, drinking and being generally noisy, mixed up, and not paying attention to anything except dance and drink, as all crowds having a good time. In few seconds they lost themselves in the confusion.

Pedro had the best night of his life, drinking very good wine and dancing with the most beautiful girl in the place.

Time sled down to oblivion quickly, after what seemed just seconds to Pedro, the girl told him she had to go back home. A bit saddened for parting he led her to the motorcycle and again they climbed on it. The girl shivered in the early morning cold and Pedro offered her his new coat that she accepted gratefully.

The night was very dark so he could only see the path ahead, lit by the headlight of the motorcycle, but the girl seemed to know the lane very well and asking him to stop descended and run toward a side of the path. Peter cried:

"Wait, I do not know your name!"

From the darkness around came a sweet voice answering:

"My name is Lavender Scent!", and then silence!

Pedro went to the "albergue" and reaching his bed realized how tired he was and barely had time to undress and get into the sheets before being tightly asleep.

It was almost midday when the noises from the kitchen and the smell of a spicy stew reached his nostrils. He rose and after washing went down to the dinning room.

The host was setting the tables and received him with a smile:

"How are you, m'lad! All went fine yesterday night? I just saw you dancing for a moment but then you were lost in the middle of the crowd, couldn't even see who was dancing you with!"

This comment makes Pedro remember he had given his new coat to the girl and she have not returned it.

"Oh,yes! it was great!", said Pedro, "I met a fine girl and loaned her my coat. She forgot to give it back when we arrived her house, it was fortunate because now I have an excuse to see her again! Maybe you know where she lives."

"Almost sure", said the host, "do you know her name?"

"Ah! yes, she told me her name was Lavender Scent!", remembered Pedro.

"Laven..." stuttered the host! "Are you sure it is her name?"

"Oh, yes! She cried it back while she entered her house", asseverated Pedro.

"You saw where was her house?", inquired again the host.

"No, it was too dark, but it was very near here since I reached the 'albergue' a few minute after she left me", affirmed the young man.

The host smiled a sad smile and said:

"I know where is your coat. Just go toward the barn again but stop at the first big gate you find, get in there and you will find your coat!"

"Thank you sir", said Pedro and went to see if he could find the girl again.

The first big gate appeared in the morning light, it was old iron and strong. Pedro knocked on the gate and it just opened slowly, he went inside and the first thing he saw was his coat hanging from a rounded stone nearby.

He approached incredulous, there, among other graves, on the big tombstone where his coat hanged there was a picture of the beautiful brunette in a pretty, old fashioned dress, and this inscription:

Here sleeps our beloved Lavender Scent

She left us on July 10, 1810

But her presence is always with us.

This is a free version of an old, old Spanish legend, that I found around the world in different languages and setting, but strangely similar as if it were a common happening. We are listening to a quiet fragment of "Night Surround" by Anjey Satori.

© 2011 untony.

Charity

2011-04-30T17:58:00.000-07:00

I put my hand in my pocket; besides the cricket that I adopted last night I found the ten cents, Granddad gave me. It was a bit smeared with the apple jam from the apfelstrudel that remained from breakfast made by Granny, but was perfectly usable, anyway!

I looked again at the big glass marble, that returned my look as a big sad eye from the shop-window. I felt a huge pain seeing it so alone, I put my nose against the glass of the shop-window and asked it:

"Do you want to come with me?"

It accepted readily moving alluringly the little clouds, one yellow, and others of several blue tints, in its inside.

I thought: "Poor cricket!, now it is in company of a gloomy, and lifeless dime. Would it not prefer to have as a friend the big glass marble?"

"Sure it did!", I answered my own question, and felt a big satisfaction by doing such good deed!

There is no better thing than to be a good guy!

We are listening to a fragment of "Moria" a traditional Celt song by "The Brobdingnagian Bards"

© 2011 untony.

Events in Palabras City.

2011-04-28T18:39:00.000-07:00

--There is a kind of prequel of this tale in the post "Word City", July 2010, in this same blog.--

--.--

Palabras City, in Lexis Kingdom, was in turmoil. It was said that in a new incursion, Srta. Ortografía would roam the streets looking for spelling "horrors", and grammatical errors.

The poor inhabitants of the city were terrified, it is well known that Srta. Ortografía, that busty, sour faced matron, enjoyed displaying the differences between B and V; pointing to wrong placed diacritic marks; and many other mistakes that, following her own statements, plagued the city. She liked to walk around with her red pencil in hand marking and embarrassing the destitute words in error, and we all know the meaning of this: to be deported to the outskirts of the city and the terrible outcome of death by oblivion!

Palabras City is very near to Word City, they are separated by a small stream of soup of letters, crossed by several bridges where there are translators devices or equivalent gadgets in both languages, Spanish and English, since Words City is of Germanic origin even if with many influence from Latin and other languages, and Spanish comes from a Romance root.

The dismayed words decided to seek help with Ms. Spelling, a small, slim, and languid blonde woman with a long horse face that worked in similar functions as Srta. Ortografía, in Words City.

Ms. Spelling was a very pervious person not too concerned with mistakes and correct spelling; if we pay attention to what was whispered by conjunctions, those units that are always giving life to rumors because they belong to the group of syntactic links.

Under the cover of the nocturnal sky, a group of delegated words crossed the Babylon Bridge, donned the equivalents gadgets to translate between languages and went to seek Ms. Spelling.

They found her in the Reading Hall of the Dictionary House with a letter o in the left hand, a letter u in the right hand, and a perplexed expression on her face. As soon as she saw the visiting group, her countenance changed showing a slight sign of hope, and said:

"Oh, you there, girls! Can you tell me if it is easy to distinguish between the sounds of this two letters?!

She spoke in English, of course, but the equivalent gadgets used by the visiting words let them understand her clearly.

"Well, yes madam!", answered Bueno, the speaker-word of the group. "It is impossible to misinterpret them, I know because I have them both in my name!" Bueno was speaking in Spanish but Ms. Spelling has no problem to understand her due to the reasons already stated above.

"Really?!" Ms. Spelling asked dubiously, "but have you sometime tried to pronounce the word Ghoul?!"

"No, madam", Bueno recognized candidly.

"There you are!” Ms. Spelling exclaimed despairingly, "it seems as if one of these letters is superfluous!"

The group moved fidgeting not knowing what to do, but then Decisión, a word that integrated the first line of the group, addressed decidedly to Ms. Spelling, showing her nervousness shaking her accent tilde.

"Ms. Spelling, we are here to ask for your help!"

The academician looked confused and said:

"What can I do for you?!"

"We are in a predicament, madam!” said Decisión with decision. "Srta. Ortografía thinks to go through Palabras City correcting all the mistakes we have and we want to ask you to talk to her and make her forget being so strict, showing her to work as you do!"

At first, Ms. Spelling did not seem to understand clearly what was asked from her, she was still worrying about the letter o in her left hand, but after a second of indecision, she recovered herself and with some relief, as if a great weight was taken off her shoulder, she said, while throwing the letters o and u into the typographical box:

"I will help you gladly".

All of them went together, when they arrived to the bridge, the group left their equivalen gadgets and helped Ms. Spelling to put one on hers.

It was late, so “Otel”, the poor word without the "H" was very much scared by the possibilities of being deprived of her rights and card of residence, decided to invite to dinner and provide a free room for Ms. Spelling, who in the early morning would go to visit Srta. Ortografía. She also invited Cenar (to have dinner) and “Senar”, so these two could help her to explain the predicament “Senar” and “Otel” were immersed.

In the early morning, Ms. Spelling, who now knew the problem very well, started to look for Srta. Ortografía.

She found her in the office of the Organización Reguladora de Marcas Diacríticas y de Buena Escritura (Regulating of Diacritic Marks and Good Writing Organization) president, who was helping our strict academician to review the last rules and memos issued by the Royal Academy of Letters for the Spanish Language.

After the greetings, they had already met somewhere in the past, Ms. Spelling started to explain the reasons of her visit, stressing that there was no need to be so strict in the writing, lexicon, and syntaxes, giving examples of how they work in Word City and citing the best known local cases.

“If sometimes we may be a bit careless”, declared Ms. Spelling, “and we tend to make shorter words, so we change “You’re” in “Your”, or even include a little apostrophe in “It’s” when we want to write “Its”, we are not really making mistakes, only we are a bit lazy writing as we hear the words, which is the same you do in Spanish, right?

“You see”, Ms. Spelling was totally convinced of her speech, “the important thing is to communicate with our interlocutor, it is not significant the “how” we do it!”.

“It is not important if you write “aver” or “haber” (to have, in English) since the “h” is not pronounced in Spanish; and what’s, really, the difference between “v” and “b”, they both are part of our alphabet, with the same rights and obligations”, added Ms. Spelling with the presence of mind of a lawyer, “I can’t find any difference, so I cannot see why you must prefer one or the other, if you follow my drift”.

Srta Ortografía, who had been containing her rage during all the speech of the English woman, answered without hiding, as she never does, her displeasure:

“Look here Ms. Spelling, it is probable, I would say certain, that given the never ending internal quarrels in your language, especially those that make early typographic workers face one another for the reason that they were paid by quantities of letters in a word, so they added as many “o”, “y”, and “u” , and any other vowels or semi-vowels they could find near; it is probable, I said, that the words in your language never would know if their spelling is right!”

“And if to this you add the maniac use you people do with words, giving them many meanings, “to save time”, it is said by the practical Saxon mind, you only increase the problems of understanding, and making necessary to repeat up to tiredness a sentence to, as you so properly say, communicate with the interlocutor!”

“How can you reach an interlocutor with words as “bow”, pressed Srta Ortografía, “that means so many unrelated things, such as: arc; rainbow; bending forward of the head or body; front end of a ship; rod with horsehair stretched between its two ends (used to play the violin); weapon from which arrows are shot; bowknot, and who knows if I am not leaving some others meanings aside!. And bear in mind I would not try to define a word as “set”, that I think, can fill a whole dictionary.”

This never occurs in our language”, she added proudly, “we have always kept an order and integrity that would surprise scatterbrained people (with this, Srta. Ortografía was trying to show the superiority of her language) that tried to understand the pristine essence of our expressions and words. I cannot deny we have some awful instances, especially in these last times due to the impudence of persons from your country, who making a cultural penetration to humankind, have sowed bad Grammar and a myriad of expressions not native to the world, adding affront to invasion!

“On the other hand”, followed Srta. Ortografía almost without breathing, “you must accept that for us, Spanish speaking people, is not the same “sima” than “cima”; on the contrary they are antonymous; nor are “revelar” and “rebelar”; and if to your example “aver”, we add a needed space after the preposition, it shows an incredible revelation: “a ver si me entiende”, she added in Spanish, that is: “let’s see if you understand me”, punning with the word, trying to taunt her colleague ineffectually since Ms. Spelling did not understand Spanish and the translator gadget she was using was not as good as to interpret irony and punning.

“So following these simple directives, Srta Ortografía finished victoriously, I can assure you there is not a remote possibility that I would stop editing with extreme fervor all mistakes, following the ruling from our higher authority in the language: The Royal Academy of Spanish Language!

Without waiting for a reply, and with the lack of courtesy that was characteristic in her ways, Srta Ortografía, turned and left the office.

Till that moment, during the harsh speech of the Spanish agent, the president of Regulating of Diacritic Marks and Good Writing Organization was with his head into the main drawer of his desk seemingly trying to find something in it. When the silence was too long, he raised his head and saw, to his astonishment that Ms. Spelling was smiling happily, and when she saw the amazed face of the president, spluttered:

“I knew the o was superfluous!”

From the next room “Aver” heard everything and with a heavy heart accompany Ms. Spelling; who tried to show concern about the outcome of the interview but could not stop smiling to herself; to the bridge and said good bye, thanking the English agent for her help.

After this “Aver” backed up to Bueno’s house where most of the other words were waiting her.

“Aver” told them all what happened in the interview and all the words started to bemoan at the same time, telling sadly one another how they would have to move to the far slums of the city.

While they were lamenting all these things, Bueno sat silently on her favorite armchair, thinking.

Suddenly, she jumped up and said: “I think I have a way out”.

Everybody shut up and looked at her expectantly.

“I see it is useless to argue with this harp…, I mean, aaahh, with Srta, Ortografía”, said Bueno soberly, “so we must look for an alternative way to fight her and all that she represents! There is a method I used before and it worked fairly well!"

“We will air a plea to all users of our language, added Bueno, in the sense that we will appreciate their use of all words, regardless if their spelling is according to the Spanish Royal Academy as the harp…, ehhh, I mean, Srta Ortografía wants us to do, or not, and so they will authorize the residence of all words in good neighborhoods of our city!”

With the heart and soul full of hope they wrote the following brochure and distributed it along the whole Spanish speaking world.

«Dear Spanish speaking people:

We, the words from Palabras City, addressed you all in search of your esteemed and respected help to save us from a terrible destiny. You already know that if a word is not used, it is exiled to dreadful quarter of the city to languish and die there.

For that reason we plea, beseech, entreat and ask from you that, sometimes, forget all the spelling rules from the Spanish Royal Academy, and use those words that do not fulfill those rules.

In this way you will rescue them from a frightful destiny.

We know we can trust in your help and support!

Thank you, we really appreciate your assistance in this predicament of ours!»

The paper was signed by: “aver” (haber); “composision” (composición); “atravez” (a través); “agradesco" (agradezco) “riquesas” (riquezas); “labar” (lavar), and a long list of wrong spelled words followed by their right written colleagues to show that everybody agreed.

We have not the final outcome of this requirement yet, but following some sites in Internet, it seems to be working very well, as much in Spanish as in English!

We are listening a beautiful composition by Ehma titled "Le jardin secret" (Secret garden) performed by the author.

© 2011 untony.

Misgiving

2011-04-25T16:50:00.000-07:00

How come that separated is written altogether,
and all together is written separated?

We are listening to a fragment of "India Arie" by "Acoustic Soul".

© 2011 untony.

Belly button?!

2011-04-22T15:44:00.000-07:00

Astonished, Adam looked at his waist and answered: "Eh?! What you mean a belly button?!"; What's a belly button!?"

We are listening to a fragment of "Silly Songs" by "The Ringstones Band"

© 2011 untony.

Adage

2011-04-20T23:41:00.000-07:00

An Arab proverb that briefly define the poverty of human values as they apply in the world is:

A dog with money is addressed as Mister Dog.

We are listening a fragment of "Grand Piano" by Zong of the Week.

© 2011 untony.

Blast

2011-04-17T18:15:00.000-07:00

The Operation Office was bustling with low noises, low voice talk, tickling of panels clocks, smothered cell ringing.

The man in the central desk was moving switches and following screen images while there were changes in the monitors.

Then, the small red phone next to his hand emitted just two rings and was quiet while its red light blinked with insistence.

The man raised the receiver and listened for some seconds, then hung up.

With his right hand he raised a capped button on the central panel and pushed the red button.

Immediately the silence of destruction and death entered the room!

We are listening a fragment of "Fading away" by Longnely and band.

© 2011 untony.

Inner bustle

2011-04-16T09:34:00.000-07:00

Mild as the light midsummer breeze,
Is your love, my precious jewel,
In my soul your beauty tease,
My lone heart, and adds its fuel,
To flare my yearning for you!

When you are so near me,
I die in ecstasy of love,
And when you are away, my dove,
I'm awash in bitter agony.
My soul lost in maelstroms.

Your love incite me so alive,
My senses blurred into frenzy,
And render me so clumsy.
Should run away to survive,
This crazy passion of mine!

We are listening to a fragment of the turmoil in Tchaikovsky's "Swan Lake" that resembles my soul anxiety

© 2011 untony.

Singing under influence

2011-04-13T15:51:00.000-07:00

I would like to start to sing,
following my guitar's rhythm.
A man with love pains have whims,
Memories and other things,
But as a solitary birdling,
singing can find consolation.

Miracles is what I need,
My voice is losing its tone,
My inspiration is gone,
Only my feelings to read,
Drinking a big glass of mead,
To keep the spirit alive.

After the booze it is not,
A good idea to sing,
It only will happen to bring,
Raucous noises from my throat,
Leaving the audience to quote,
About my falling apart.

The only way to overcome the preceding nonsense is listening to the adage of "Concerto of Aranjuez for Guitar and Orchestra" by Joaquin Rodrigo and performed by Narciso Yepes and the London Philharmonic Orchestra.

© 2011 untony.

Loneliness

2011-04-10T17:27:00.000-07:00

Then... in the cold moon and your pain,
The disclosing of the end,
in dark clouds, sorrows impend.
And then, hopelessly, again,
your absent eyes crying in vain.
Later, the giant night on the soul,
Your being too weary to be whole,
And my wish to fight but accept duty,
Then, your white skin and beauty,
with softly hand, death, stole.

The small hand of solitude caresses the edge of the soul with the sad theme of the movie "The Schindler List", performed by Itzhak Perlman, and it is the right companion for a being full of grief.

© 2011 untony.

Wraparound

2011-03-01T18:53:00.000-08:00

The last human being on Earth died whispering these last words: "Let there be light!"

We are listening to a small fragment of "Caribbean Blue Song" by Enya

© 2011 untony.

Crisis

2011-02-20T19:01:00.000-08:00

There was such phenomenal financial crisis in Ghostland that most of the spooks had to pawn their aura!

We are listening to a "Creepy Halloween Song"

© 2011 untony.

Nine words tale of a success!

2011-02-13T09:15:00.000-08:00

I bought the gun, but I forgot the rounds...

We are listening "Eye of the Tiger" by Various Artist Band

© 2011 untony.

Cultural misunderstanding

2011-02-11T17:28:00.000-08:00

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Asked the man to his neighbor.
"They said there is a guru in town", answered excited the latter,
"I want to talk to him!"
"What for?" inquired the former.
"To buy his 'gurudom'!"

We are listening the song "Munjane Manjinali"

© 2011 untony.

The dutiful Chinese man

2011-02-06T19:16:00.000-08:00

The dutiful Chinese man approached the gate with small steps, when he was near enough, he could read a huge signboard with the words "No 'Tresspassing'", so the dutiful Chinese man shaved his head.

According to the legend we are listening to an antique song played by the Gugin Master Bo Ya.

© 2011 untony.

Lack of control

2011-02-04T17:17:00.000-08:00

It was so easy to be a pretender
that when he had to be himself,
he had panic attacks!

We are listening to a short excerpt of "Fear Songs" by 'The Muddleheader'

© 2011 untony.

Are you?

2011-01-27T16:53:00.000-08:00

Who are you, little being?,
Who plays this beautiful chord?,
Are you the eternal word,
Never said, always fleeing,
So sweet and heart searing,
That can leave a person empty,
Feeling of nothing, plenty,
Making the soul so full,
And filling your heart brimful?:
You are LOVE, playing so gently.

We are listening to the nice voice of the lovely Karen Carpenter singing a fragment of the song "There is a kind of Hush".

© 2011 untony.

Free Will?

2011-01-25T19:30:00.000-08:00

Deadline was coming menacingly near.

I had to find something to write about the possibilities of any free agent to use his volition and power to change reality.

So, I tried to get some ideas from the archive.

While I was looking through the labels I was repeating, musing quietly, the phase: "Free Will", to palate its sound as the title of the essay. As usual it was a mistake!

"Whose free will", said the voice near my left shoulder.

"Oh, no!", I thought, I had forgotten Elf likes to roam into the archive changing, whatever he can in the ideas kept in there, «to a better condition», according to his weird sense of the difference between 'good and bad'.

The mistake was already 'en cours' and there was no possibility to gear back, so taking a deep breath I said:

"Nobody’s in particular, only a general explanation about the capacity of free agents, I mean human beings and all others, such as animals, artificial intelligence, and anyone else, to alter the future and the final scheme of things". As usual it was another mistake!

"Phaw!!", he blurted, "nicely put, but a totally mistaken concept".

"Mis-taken?", I stammered, "are you denying that «Free Will» exists?"

Another mistake, to give Elf a reason to speak, but it was out of my mind-mouth before I could think.

"No!", replied the imp, "What I am denying is the universal influence of the "so called" Free Will!"

"U-ni-ver-sal in-flu-ence", I stammered again, "whaddayoumean dud!?" I was losing the patience... as usual!

"Look", the sprite was happy to find an ear for his lectures, "there is a «Universal Scheme», as you put it, but it is an invariable and unique universal scheme, it cannot, and would not, be changed by any 'free agents' or whatever name you choose to use for them!"

"Oh, come on!", I cried, despite my efforts to control myself, "it is a ridiculous point you try to prove!"

"Anyone with a brain" I added, "can see that a free agent can change the future, and the general scheme thereof!"

"Besides, what can you know about the meaning of Universal Scheme", I finished furiously.

"It depends on your definition for «brain»!", said the imp sarcastically, "and you'd be surprised to learn all I know about that subject and others beyond your capacity of understanding!".

"That you know... beyond my capacity of understanding!", I repeated wildly, "Come on, you cannot differentiate your left hand from your right one!". This said venomously trying to offend him! I should know that it is easier to offend a cow or a pebble than Elf!

"Hear, hear!" he cried, "Knowledge himself have spoken!", and again his words were full of sarcasm!

"I shouldn't say this to you, but just to prove how mistaken you are, listen:", he said in a conspiratorial tone.

"There is a whole plan devised to let people, and others apply free will and do not change the final outcome!"

"That is not possible!", I interjected.

"Shuddup, you moron, and do as I asked you, listen!!" Elf is so much convinced of his excellence as lecturer that cannot endure an interruption!.

"If you want to predict the future you can do it, sort of!"

"No one can predict the future", I could not stop myself.

"Listen!!", said the gnome, "suppose there is a rag soaked in gasoline and you approach it to a flame, what would happen?"

"That's easy" I said, "it would be aflame in no time!"

"There you are, you predict the future!" replied Elf.

"But that is easy, you cannot be wrong!" went I.

"Yes, it is easy!, and why is it easy?" Elf was eager now!

"Because it have happened before and we know what is going to happen now" I explained satisfied with the clarity of my thoughts!

"No, sir!", Elf was smug, enjoying the fact that he has snapped his trap on me!

"How come"?, I could not stop myself to ask.

"Well, that it happened before is not the reason it is easy, and that fact does not make the future prediction any less important. Now, listen to the real reason it is easy: Because there are very few variables that can change the future!" See? Elf closed the argument as if it were crystal clear.

Seeing my blank stare, he shake sadly his head and said, talking as if he was telling a lesson to a stupid young student: You see, the variables are: rag, gasoline, and fire! That's all. No mystery!

"If you try to predict what will happen on Monday, September 5th, 2011 at, say, 4:00 PM, then things get complicated!", continued the imp.

"And why they get complicated?: Because the number of variables that intervene in the occurrence are almost infinite, and with only one that changes will get a different outcome!!", he pressed on.

"This is done so on purpose!", went on Elf, "so the free will of any agent would not affect the final universal scheme", finished the sprite with a big smile!

"Why not", I asked nonplussed enough! And then added while confusion piled over itself, "On purpose??!!"

"Because, no matter what is done by free will or how many agents apply it, there are enough variables to change all back to the original scheme!", explained finally Elf.

"But...!", I had to stop here a second to recover mental balance, "but, who is doing all these things you mention?!"

"Hush", Elf said, looking around guiltily, "remember I should not have told you this!"

"Let's end this conversation before there are serious complications!" he added, running toward an old story about Ancient Greece, and losing himself in between a Doric and a Corinthian column.

We are listening to Dmitri Shostakovitch "Second Waltz" performed by the "Banda Sinfónica Universitaria de 'La Laguna', lead by Felipe Neri Gil Marrero.

© 2011 untony.

Birdie

2011-01-23T19:10:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time there was a mockingbird, but it didn't know how to mock, so it was expelled from the community.

We are listening to a real mockingbird warble!

© 2011 untony.

Limerick of the whirl

2011-01-20T13:18:00.000-08:00

I remember this little cute girl,
that lived as in a big pretty twirl,
She was spinning in the morning,
made an afternoon turning,
and she was lost in a huge sprinkler swirl.
We are listening to a fragment of "Dream Spiral" by Hilary Stagg

© 2011 untony.

Age!

2011-01-15T16:48:00.000-08:00

There was a small coin on the sidewalk, Old Helen stopped with her feet almost touching the coin, looking the glittering point on the pavement she thought to get it, but the pavement was too far away!

We are listening to a fragment of a great version of "Sh-Boom" by «The Crew Cuts».

© 2011 untony.

Lyrics!

2011-01-13T19:00:00.000-08:00

Elf was amusing himself nitpicking a schwa from my last iambic sentence, one of my futile attempts of indigent poet!

Trying to keep him from destroying more stanzas of my uncompleted efforts of useless bard, told him to attract his attention:

“I have ticket to the Opera, tonight!”

He looked up from low hooded eyes and exclaimed: “Do you need to remember me of your «nerdity»?!!”

“What?!!”, I cried. (Yes, yes, yes, I know!!)

Oh, I recognize I should have asked softly: “What do you mean, my dear Elf?”.

But I couldn’t stop myself to spill my rage on his pointed ears!!

“«Nerdity», you moron!”, he repeated, not paying any attention to my anger. “Your quality to be a NERD!”. “Only a Nerd”, he continued impassive, “can rejoice seeing and listening those old, fat, ladies howling on a stage!”

That’s when I felt a tickling in the tips of my mind-fingers, a titillating that appears when I have a strong desire to relate those very mind-fingers, in a violent way, to the skinny mind-neck of this ill-fated goblin!

I gulped, open and shut my mind-hands several times making tight mind-fists and then relaxing them again until I could master the murdering feeling that seemed to be taking control of my mind.

“No, it is not so”, I mumble between pressed teeth, “there are not old, fat, ladies howling". “Dames Kiri Te Kanawa and Joan Sutherland, just to name only two, are beautiful women that delight us with the butterflies’ acrobatics of their voices, especially in «coloraturas»!”. “Do you hear me, you…, you… shred of a nefarious rodent!!” I finished crying in a regrettable analogy that destroyed all the poetic figure I have created of the lovely sopranos.

“Bah”, spat the gnome not moved by my attitude, “it doesn’t matter!, you are still a NERD!"

And left me boiling inside and wishing the mental-hammer were real!!

We are listening to Dame Kiri Te Kanawa giving a wonderful demonstration of her talent singing "Oh, mio babbino caro" («Oh, my dear daddy») from the opera "Gianni Schicchi" by Giacomo Puccini

© 2011 untony.

Quantum Mechanics

2011-01-12T16:21:00.000-08:00

The Scientist displayed proudly his invention, the group of men of science and rulers of several countries stretched their collective neck to see well!

“With this small gadget”, said the professor, “I will bring to our hands the mysteries of the microcosms”

While he lowered the lever on the face panel of the device, he said passionately: “At last we will know how much power there is in a quantum of energy! And I will be famou…

Misfortune

2011-01-11T16:58:00.000-08:00

It's my luck being unlucky,
And not being fortunate,
Your love is a spiny hornet,
That make my soul feel so scrappy,
Trembling and very unhappy,
Hurting from those prickly thorns,
I want not your ugly thorns,
I only want all your flowers,
Falling on me soft like showers,
On warm and lovely morns.

We are listening to Pia Zadora singing a fragment of "It's wrong for me to love you"

© 2011 untony.

Math

2011-01-09T18:22:00.000-08:00

The equation goes up to infinity, I am nearing the limit, I can almost see it…
Why cannot I reach it?
Is it that always there is another dot to reach before the end?
I cannot resist the desire to reach the final answer… but I am afraid!:
If I disappear, remember me: my name is X and I tend to zero!

We are listening to a fragment of "L'arrivée" from "La plage de Blâne-Est" by Ehma

© 2011 untony.

Longing

2011-01-07T18:16:00.000-08:00

Poetry lights with its beacon,
trying to fly as an arrow,
but if my Muse tries it on,
it's the dream of a sparrow,
watching the flight of a falcon.

We are listening to the overture of "La fría Roca del Calvario" of "La Dolorosa", zarzuela written by José Serrano, performed by Plácido Domingo.

© 2011 untony.

Intelligence... What?!"

2011-01-06T19:33:00.000-08:00

It was one of those quiet days!

Minutes slide slowly down the hours as molasses drip from a full spoon.

So I pushed my wing chair near the bay windows, looking toward the sea and sat with my book to enjoy, but the sluggish ticking of the cuckoo clock, added to the distant cries of the seagulls created a soporific atmosphere that induced a lethargic drowsiness, and I was asleep almost without realizing it.

I cannot say how long I was in this state when out of the deep silence exploded a big crashing that awoke me right away, while my automatic muscular reaction made me jump up from the chair and look around wholly taken aback.

Everything was quiet and neat in the room, and outside the seagulls were still flying around the old lighthouse, the sea seemed not to be disturbed, all these things added to my anxiety.

Then, I heard a muffled "Ouch", followed by another "Ouch", and realized all those sounds were not from outside my person, so, a bit relieved I "went" into my mind and found a great mess: most of the articles archived under Psychology were spread on the floor and Elf was trying to get up, slipping on the papers and holding his head while was uttering those "ouch" I had heard.

"OK", I said, "I'll keep asking my usual idiotic questions: What are you doing?!!!"

"Ouch", was the answer, "I am trying to find some articles I need"

"And for that, you are ruining all the organization in the archive?" I asked, as usual, a question with an evident answer.

"Ouch", Elf said again, "Organization?" "You call this disarray «organization»?"

"Now, look the archive is... was, organized with intelligence..."

"There, there, ouch" the imp interrupted me.

"Where?". I asked again looking around foolishly.

"No, no, nowhere! I mean the word «intelligence» that's the article I was looking for!"

"But what are you looking that article for?"

"None of your business", was the answer, and I started to get angry!

"Everything happening into my mind is my business, mister!" I almost cried, but could control the voice volume at the last instant.

"Ah, yes?" Elf was displaying all his best sarcastic self, only his hand on his head and his "ouch" face took some of his despising look out of his tiny figure.

"Yes!!" I said sternly.

"Aha!, then, can you define intelligence, please!?"

"Ah..., Intelligence, yes!... yes! ah... it is the possibility... ah... to intellectualize!; there you are!!". I finished lamely.

"Intellectualize?!", asked the sprite opening big his eyes, then went on showing one finger after another:

"One: didn't they teach you in college not to define a word with the same word, or one of its family since then you are not defining anything!?. Two: the American Heritage Dictionary define «intellectualize» as 1) To furnish a rational structure or meaning for, and 2) To avoid psychological insight into an emotional problem, for instance, by performing and intellectual analysis." "Can you tell me what have these definitions to do with «intelligence»?!"

Yes, as usual the darn imp has shown in a single sweep my poor general knowledge and destroyed without pity my pride! So, I tried to retaliate.

"OK, Mr. Smart Aleck, can you define «intelligence»?!" (Yes, of course, it was a mistake!)

"Easily, my dear ignoramus!" he said, "Intelligence is the recognition of two locations, one is where we are or «source» and the other is where we want to go or "target" and having the knowledge to apply the necessaries steps to subtract the difference between "source" and "target"! See?!"

"Two locations... source... target... What?!... What are you talking about?!" My head was in a turmoil of... of nothing!, there was a big vacuüm between the walls of my skull!

"Ah, gee!!" said Elf, shaking his head from side to side, and talking to himself, "how difficult it is to have an intelligent conversation with this human dross".

"OK", he said looking at me, "then it is better you get some information before we start to discuss if brain and mind are, or are not, the same thing!"

"Ah no", I said hurriedly leaving Elf alone to the mess in the archive.

"I prefer to get some Prozac and let things be as they may!" I was talking to myself to be reassured before the «panic disorder» be in command!

I swallowed two pills, sat again in the wing chair, and slowly, blissfully went to sleepzzzzzzzzz...

We are listening to a wonderful performance rendered in piano by Sehee_Kim of the waltz opus 64 No. 2 by Frederick Chopin.

© 2011 untony.

My light

2011-01-05T19:27:00.000-08:00

The sad whisper of the wind.
Brings of the night its low sigh,
because two stars twinkle and die,
when your eyes not a spark tind,
while sleep in its whirlwind,
sinks your conscience in dreamland,
losing me in a quicksand,
or in dreaded paths to follow,
I don't want to be a shadow,
I want to be light and stand.

We are listening to "Fairy Dance" written and performed by the Royal Pardesue Sarabande.

© 2011 untony.

Source

2010-12-30T21:30:00.000-08:00

Far away, going over the horizon several miles into the withdrawn fields of Magician Cape, we can find a quiet glen concealed by a soft mist of gold and silver. It is a place of wonder and bliss, with no vector of time to follow, but a stretched present, inhabited by especial dwellers that have especial gifts and uncommon skills.

It is in these lands of simple beatitude, and isolation, where started the most incredible and glorious event in the history of things that were not eternal.

So, with no point to start a story, nor another reference but the same present that was neither time nor dart moving into a future, Princess Dalga reached the limit of her nursemaid patience. In her five years (not timed) of life she was quite hectic and it was difficult to follow her in her antics!

Darwalag, the nursemaid, decided to take her to the Golden Garden on the South corner of Palace and let her rove at will, while she could sit and enjoy the Book of Silent Charms, a gift from the palace's footman Doony as proof of his devotion to her feminine appeal.

The Garden was a secluded and safe place where the little Princess could play far away from any risk! So Darwalag was soon immersed in the myriad of charms, spells, and hexes described in the book. Her reading was colored by the ritual of reality described in the Incantation Manual, written by Gorber, the Highest Sorcerer of the Court, but Doony didn't know that and could not forewarn Darwalag about the unusual and remarkable possibilities this ritual gave to charms and spells, even when they were only read, without the purpose to make them become real.

Meanwhile, Princess Dalga was trying to convince a dragonfly to land on the white petal of a lotus flower floating on the waters of the little pond near the Path of Cygnus when a rectangular part of water in the pond started to quiver and move in a very strange way, indeed! Or at least that is what the Princess felt.

She came close to that rectangle of water that was not water anymore and extended shyly her index finger to touch it.

Darwalag has told her not to touch things if she didn't know what they were, and it was this very warning, the reason why Dalga's index was approaching that green-blue-black surface that looked so empty as her tummy at noon, if we could define noon without time to take as reference.

When the finger touched the central area of the rectangle, it sank slowly carrying the place down as if it were a elastic layer that when she took her finger away, returned to its first smooth shape.

To say Dalga was curious is just an euphemism. She wanted to know what it was that created this strange surface, and never being aware that the thing started when Darwalag, obliviously, pronounced some words written in old Farlag, the almost forgotten language of sorcerers and sorceress that used to live in this confined part of the whole Universe.

Dalga stared to the sheet of elastic matter in a sector of the pond, and noted that it was not something on the water, but a part of it with defined limits. Then in the center of the space she espied a small point, not a real point, but just a kind of different texture of the surrounding matter.

She tried to pick it up making a pincer with her thumb and middle finger and even succeeded to grab it, but when she tried to hold it fast, her fingers snapped and she just could see the little place to blast and emit a bright light, while, to the great disappointment of the Princess, all the rectangle sank in the pond and disappeared from sight.

Somewhere in the valley a bell tolled and Darwalag was drawn out her reading and called to the Princess to come to Palace because it was time to make the ablutions before dinner. Dalga started to think in her food and immediately forgot all about the thing in the pond.

Far away, in a different dimension just created, a Big Bang initiated by the snapping of the fingers of a child, was expanding and creating a fresh concept of space and time with a clean idea of a vector that started in eternity and after running all the way to the future, lost itself in timelessness to make infinity a limited and gauged quantity, and giving to time a measurable entity in the eons of the new Universe.

We are listening a mix of music depicting a secluded glen, then a quiet garden and finally the noisy silence of the Big Bang, performed by several musicians.

© 2010 untony.

Once upon a time!

2010-12-27T19:57:00.000-08:00

I was busy trying to make my mind between a toast or a chocolate and nuts biscuit for breakfast when I saw a heap of ideas scattered on my mind floor.

This was Elf work, of course, I never spread ideas on my mind floor, it is easier to manage them when they are in order and filed!

I went closer to the messy pile, well, this is a way of speaking, I am close enough of my mind, of course.

When I reached the place, I could see a little head emerging from the mound.

"What are you doing!?", I asked, confused as always I face Elf's activities.

"Once upon a time!", he said angrily.

"What?!"

Yes, I know, this seems the only word I can pronounce when Elf is addressing me, but it was the only one I found in the moment.

"Where do these words come from?!" - "Once upon a time", "They never think in «Once upon today?!», or «Once upon yesterday?!»" "Why not?!", "Do you know why?!", "Eh?!", "Do you?!", he shot all these sentences together, almost without breathing!

Evidently, Elf was in one of those trantum of him against... nothing!

I tried to ignore his disposition to open an argument, but as usual, I could not!

He came near me and putting his mind-nose almost touching mine, cried with a vengeance!

"DO YOU KNOW?" punctate each word clearly!

"No, I do not know", I said trying to look over his shoulder and find any idea about the toast or the biscuit, even knowing that there is no way to disuade the tiny brat once he started a spat!

"Well?!", he said with his arms akimbo, "what do you think about all this?!" "Where is the source of the sentence?!"

Trying to keep a low profile I said again:

"I do not know!"

"I do not know!","I do not know!", he aped me fairly enough! "Can't you show a bit of intelligence, a lot less of idiocy and give me an educated answer?, what have you all that rice puree between your ears that you call your brain for?!" "Eh?!" Eh?!"

I had to quit trying to find an idea about the toast, and pay attention to the midget, you cannot ignore a thorn in your eye!

"Look", I said, "those words are used in nursery fairy tales and songs, like those of Mother Goose!"

"Bah!, Mother Goose is a wild goose chase!" he said scornfully!

"Of course she is a goose!" I said emphatically, ignoring his meaning, in an effort to make him stop arguing.

"All nonsense, Mother Goose, her tales and songs!!" Elf was asserting his argument.

"OK, OK", I said conciliatory, "Let's forget all this, please?"

"Forget?!", "forget?!", he said venomously, "you know, people like you that 'forget everything' are guilty of the greatest wrongs in the world!"

I was stunned! "Greatest wrongs in the world?!"

"Himmeldonnerwetter!!!!", I said.

When I get furious my mind tends to collect someone of those long German words stashed in the archive.

"What are you talking about?!", I added, "Greatest wrongs?!". "We are talking about Mother Goose here, not about greatest wrongs!"

"You talk about Mother Goose, not me!, I am worried about all those things that were «upon a time» and are not «upon now». He said this in a final way as if this sentences explained everything.

"What?!", "what?!" I started to see red all around and trying not to commit a fairy crime, I added, between my teeth and looking at Elf glaring grimly: "Where is my mental-hammer!!".

Elf put his best contemptuous face and turning around he was lost in the archive. I know he was fleeing from the mental-hammer because he didn't know what it was (neither I knew) but it was a terrifying enough image as to make him run for cover!

Anyway, he went out leaving in me the feeling that he won the argument!!

Again!! Himmeldonnerwetter!!!!

We are listening "Jingle Bells" performed by the Disney Long Songs.

© 2010 untony.

End of December

2010-12-24T12:02:00.000-08:00

The uncertain and dark cloak of the night brought a soft tremor of infinity and the deep silence of time gave space to the small touch of the song of eternity leaving as witness of its presence the hard pinpoint of light that illuminated the cold countryside playing with the lightweight shadows of the soft hills, it was a star that had the brightness of the span that bridge the hollow of reality.

The occasional bleat of a lonely sheep in the mountains herds punctuated the quiet waiting for the right moment when Mystery would touch the rough place creating a quivering that will move toward the future until it will be lost in the clouds of the final notes of the overture of Creation!

It happened!

No, it didn't.

Wonderful sense of the lesser mystery of belief, or disbelief, that intangible load that, as an arcane gift, lives, or does not live, in each one of the human creatures treading on this Earth.

This is why the scale will have its plates full of believers and non-believers creating a strange oscillation of possibilities that only will disclose the truth, individually or collectively, when following the design of time and entropy, it is the personal moment to dissolve into nothingness or Chaos comes back as ruler of the Universe.

Meanwhile, in the sloping soil of that small country, the query keeps its secret:

Was it the crying of a child facing his first breath of air, or was it just another bleating from the sheep that populated the fields?

We are listening "Quando Corpus morietur" by Giovanni Pergolessi, performed by the London Symphony Orchestra conducted by Claudio Abbado and singers Margaret Marshall, Soprano, and Lucia Valentini Terrani, Contralto .

© 2010 untony.

Proverb

2010-12-21T15:29:00.000-08:00

When the sage points to the Moon, the fool looks to the finger!

We are listening a fragment of "Yakety Sax" by Benny Hill.

© 2010 untony.

Defiling authoring

2010-12-21T13:25:00.000-08:00

In a secluded cove of a lonely word
there was a meaning hiding its decor
But a heinous writer without piety
tore off this meaning in full gaiety
And came to be a celebrated Author

We are listening a fragment of "Sleep Away" by Bob Acri.

© 2010 untony.

Beauty (A study on adjectival use)

2010-12-20T16:32:00.000-08:00

The little hand of the soft breeze caresses the multicolored leaves and petals of the trees and flowers of the small garden, producing a murmur of ancient stories.

The noisy creek coming down from the not so steep slope sings a love song never written, and then as if tired by the effort stops in a shallow pond that mirrors the world around it, while the Orchid yielding to the bouncy impulse of the breeze hand, inclines its beautiful countenance toward the quiet water of the pond.

The slow sway of the long and limber stem let the perception of the magic beauty of the flower to scatter all over the confined space of the garden and wakes echos of admiration from other crammed bouquets around the pond and while the wallflowers emit, as a due tribute, a mild scent that gives sweet waves of perfume to the breeze, the camellias acknowledge the nobility of the beautiful and regal Orchid through a shy flutter of their snow-white petals adding wonder to the awe of the Summer evening!

On one accord the whole garden quivers in harmony with the gentleness and pleasure that the contemplation of beauty brings to Nature's creatures!

A golden and iridescent hummingbird verges his avid beak into the intimate depths of the Orchid sipping the sweet sustenance and mixing, at the same time, the life given pollen to create a new beauty, and far away upon the red-cochineal horizon, the setting sun reaches through shredded and rosy clouds towards the happy garden bringing forth the smile of the Maker, delighted by His Own 'Craft-deity-ship'!

We are listening a fragment of "Celtic Dream" by Zero-Project.

© 2010 untony.

Limerick for the working class

2010-12-19T22:37:00.000-08:00

In a lost little farm of Malaysia
Lived the strongest lad from all Asia.
He was good, and was nice,
and he also was handy and wise.
But never found time for his leisure

We are listening a fragment of "Big Strong Man" by Shabeel Dornell and his banjo .

© 2010 untony.

Elf's tale

2010-12-17T18:05:00.000-08:00

I was so overwhelmed by the deference and considerations everybody was given me that I decided to leave surreptitiously and take a walk along the shore.

The night was cold, as almost all nights in December, a few high clouds traveled the zenith, but as always at this time of the year there were some black and low clouds over the sea near the horizon, I was not worried about that since Caels, the local weatherman gave a forecast of no storms in the next day and as per the gossip in the village he never miss a forecast!

I was walking slowly on the wet sand near the foam of the tide ebbing away, feeling at ease and in good companionship with myself, it was so delicious a moment that it seemed impossible to last, and unfortunately, it didn't!

"Nice to be here!" a voice said nearby, I was so much taken unaware that I looked behind me, thinking somebody has followed me from the house, but there was nobody there!

"I am talking to you, you dummy" repeated the voice. It took a moment to realize where the voice came from: my mind! Elf was feeling the peace and good being in me and in the environment and was making a comment about that!

I felt annoyed!

"What are you doing here", I said, "why are you not nitpicking some note in the archive?"

"Look, I want you to publish this in your blog!", he didn't answer me, but showed a small mind-slate where he had written a few sentences.

A little bit curious I read:

'This is a beautiful place'
'The sun, when it comes out, is somewhat dim, but lovingly'
'The sea seems a waving emerald crystal that invite you to sing'
'People are very good and a litlle nosy'
'From the windows of my room I can see the church and the City Hall, although they both are only two small white houses that nobody will distinguish from its neighbors houses!'
'It is a quiet village, unless people decide to celebrate "Whatever", they do not need any reason to celebrate, just do it!'
'I like to stay here!'

I was paralyzed, as always when Elf try any of his tricks on me, so I said truculently: "What...?!", I breathed anew, gulped back a whimper and continued... "What is this?!"

"Great! Ain't it!" (Remember, when Elf is angry or upset by any emotion, he tends to forget his Grammar)!

"Grea...?!" I couldn't end the word! Taking a big gulp of air and biting slightly the tip of my tongue I could regain some composure.

"Do you really want to post this..., this..., this (it was very difficult not to say 'garbage') «tale» in my blog?!"

He strutted a bit around a lone verb I let fall on the floor of my mind, surprised by Elf actions, and said:

"Of course!, I was asked in your Wall to do it", he went on, "besides, I want people to know that more than once I help you in writing your 'so called' tales!"

I was stretching my mind-hands trying to grab the imp by the neck and throttle him down right there, and then I saw his eyes showing me he believed each word he had written and said, and could not do it. Instead I grabbed the mind-slate and just put some other words around it trying to... Well, trying to please the little sprite and give to all this sh... short tale some sense.

I know, this is one of the worse story never written...; I beg for your leniency, dear reader!

We are listening "Creepy Organ Music" by the Halloween Vermin Band.

© 2010 untony.

Trapped

2010-12-12T19:12:00.000-08:00

Nice and scented as a red rose,
she was, the same as the flower,
fresh as a sweet Summer shower,
slender and lithe as the willows.
Crossed my heart with the arrows,
of her lovely charm and allure.
My fate wrapped in the soft velour,
of her caresses and warmest love.
I was lost as a little dove,
with my soul happy and pure.

We are listening to a fragment of the Adagio No.3 by Zero-Project.

© 2010 untony.

Transmutation

2010-12-09T19:44:00.000-08:00

Through shredded pieces of clouds the full Moon looked down with her fiery white glow, searching a clear space in the sky to shine in all her glory!

Meanwhile, in the deep hollows of my unawareness, the mystery started to develop its tendrils toward reality.

I keep my eyes attached to the glistening gibbous globe hanging over the top of the trees. That eerie glint was a sharp blade of light that rent my pupils sinking into my body, loosing the chains that held captive my real self from this gaol of the poor entity I call myself.

Soon the sweet, painful changes started, tuft of brownish hirsute hair appeared around all my body, my hands and feet contracted into strong paws armed with long nails, the whole of my head protruded in a powerful snout, that received, as a gift, two pairs of long fangs.

When it was over I felt the thrill of strength run through my sinews and under the spell of the magic flare of the Moon's rays, I raised my head filling the space with a frightful howl that greeted the Queenship of the Lady of the Night!

We are listening to the Sequence Confutatis from the Requiem by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart..

© 2010 untony.

Oh, poverty!

2010-11-26T14:41:00.000-08:00

The stylish lady was coming closer, she looked a good opportunity to ask for some coins. I rehearsed several smiles to make her feel at easy, remembering the words of Granny:

"Laddie, you cannot catch flies with vinegar!"

I don't understand quite enough this last sentence, but if flies are like me, they surely don't drink vinegar!

When the lady was at my side I said with a steady voice (Granny said that a plaintive voice makes people uncomfortable, neither I understand this well, but it seems that it means we must not cry publicly, or something of the sort), so I said in a steady, and, of course, needy voice:

"Madam, can you help me with some coins to buy food?"

Looking at me from behind her fur bulwark, she asked in a surprised voice:

"Food?. Have you not lunched today?"

"Yes, madam", I answered formally, "two cups of tea from the tea bags that Mr. Peters gave us the day before yesterday and we are using since then". Granny said it is always right to say the truth and nothing but the truth!

The woman let drop some cents in my hand while she whispered talking to herself:

"Cups of tea..., used tea bags! What is this world turning in!

Then se looked at me and advised:

"Child! Tell your mother (the poor lady, she didn't know my Mom is buying some veggies since a couple of years ago, and she is not back yet! Anyway, I hope Mom will find what she likes and gets back soon!); tell you mother that you must eat some T-bones instead of tea, it is better for body development!

Why people like to use words I don't understand?!

Some days later I found the lady again; when she saw me, smiled, and asked:

"Have you eaten your T-bones today?

Trying to please her I answered against Granny advices:

"Yes madam!"

She looked pleased and asked:

"How many?"

So I got back to Granny advices and said the truth:

"Two cups"...!

We are listening to a fragment of "Walking in the Air" by Howard Blake, performed by Hayley Westenra.
This tale is for my Granny on her 80th birthday!

© 2010 untony.

Sentence

2010-11-18T19:21:00.000-08:00

A dense haze was coming down over its sentience, everything seemed to be drained slowly from It, only the last words of the High Master that presided the panel of Judges kept reverberating in its mind:

"Your despicable crime leaves us with no choice but to condemn you to death...!"

It fought the strong fog that tried to erase all its knowledge, all its identity, and again, It only could hear the raucous voice that continued the speech!:

"To death... execution delayed for 79 years!"

It was loosing contact... its senses could only feel a vacuum, a new way to interpret the perception that reached It. It tried to move through different dimensions, as usual, but only could move a... what was this?... how strange!... it was not all of It... it was a part of It... no, not It... him, a part of him... a hand?..but what is a hand?, what does this mean?!

It... he lost finally all contact!

..................

The doctor approached with a big smile in his face and said:

"Mr Brown, your wife is all right, and you are the father of a strong and healthy boy"! Congratulations.

We are listening to a fragment of the Concerto in C major for Flautin by Antonio Vivaldi, performed by Moisés Sánchez Ross.

© 2010 untony.

Limericks blues!

2010-11-05T18:19:00.000-07:00

I was making a bit of housekeeping in my mind, filing incomplete works with a label for future reference, archiving older sentences and deleting some of them trying to keep a semblance of order in the organizer, though it is a losing game when Elf comes and starts rummaging around looking for who knows what!

I was trying to keep straight the spelling of a long word, one of those words that Elf brings up when he is in the mood of boasting his knowledge of the language but that usually are not good to be put in any paragraph. Those words are only useful as bookends in the archive!

I was lost in my work when lo!, at my left elbow appears the face of the imp while he bellowed in his shrill voice:

"Ah!, here you are! How does it feel to think you are a superior being!!?"

"What!?" I asked lamely. It seems that this darn gnome has the knack to take me unawares and always my responses to his challenges are foolish and awkward!

"Oh, do not look at me blankly, you know very well what I am referring to"

"No, I don't", I said putting my mindfoot down and gaining strength. "And what's more, I don't care!"

"Ha!, His Lordship, does not care!", answered Elf mimicking my mindvoice. "I want to know what are you going to do if I wreak havoc in this frightful mind of yours". He said it in a very serious and enraged face. So much so that I was frightened he would make true his threat in that very moment!

"Now, now", I tried my most convinced conciliatory voice. "Why are you so angry?, see, I want to listen to your complain!. Please, believe me, I do not know what are you talking about"

"I do not know what are you talking about", mimicked he again, but I could see that the red edge of his pointed ears were going slowly purple showing he was being mollified... at least for the time being.

"OK, if you do not know, said Elf venomously, I will enlighten you!": Where have you found that exists a Fairyland where my cousins live happily forever"?

"Ah", as you see I was very confused, still. 'Ah' is not a good answer to Elf's question! With a great effort I could put my brain to work and said lamely: "There are fairy tales that speak about a Fairyland, isn't it?" Well, I know it was not better but I was regaining control of my neurons slowly.

"As you said, there are fairy tales! Not real tales! No one of my cousin would accept to live in a... Fairyland!" He pronounced the last word with something very close to disgust.

"But that is the least disrespect you show, you call "me", "ME!!", an "Elfie"!!! and you pretend that I wanted to be a 'man'."

"Of everything created on this Universe, 'man' is the last thing any Elf, who respect himself, would want to be!"

"And... and", he seemed to be drown by a deep rage, "you pretend that I went looking for a witch!"... "A witch!" "And a clumsy one, at that!"

He inhaled deeply and lowered his voice: "What do I need a witch for?!" "Ain't I an elf!?" "Don't you know?!, we elves, are sorcerers by right, and good ones! We do not need no inept witches to do our work!! (Remember Elf tends to lose his Grammar when angry).

"And to add insult to injury, I ended as a chimpanzee leading a musical band!!!, with a picture to be sure there is no mistake!".

The edges of his pointed ears started to glow red again, so I hurried to find a way to get his anger down some notches:

"Now, now, you must reckon it is just a poor intent to poetry, ahh... I mean limerick, it is not even important, in a few days nobody will remember the stanza, it was not good and it will dilute in time, you'll see. I didn't meant any disrespect, Elfie was a word that came as a needy two syllables that Elf has not, and all the gibberish about man and witches is just a nonsense. We all know how important you, Elves, are and nobody will think about that twice! Please, accept my apologies! I promise it won't happen again!"

Somehow this speech got Elf down in rage and the glowing in his ears started to disappear, but I knew I felt short anyway because when he went into the memory archive he kicked some of the best adjectives I have classified and stashed there.

I only hope that time will help. I am going to be true to my promise. Cannot be at odds with my Elf!

We are listening to "Beat of your Heart" performed by Hayley Westenra

© 2010 untony.

Rescue

2010-10-26T18:17:00.000-07:00

My dream was indigo blue,
tucked in longing desires,
hiding up in painful fires,
of rueful unholy untrue,
and in darkly thresholds grew.
But your light is on my dawn,
redeeming the deadly spawn,
from the oneiric world that holds,
my lone soul in gloomy folds,
and to your love it's being drawn.

Dark fragment from "A Dream Within a Dream" by Nox Arcana.

© 2010 untony.

Sharing

2010-10-19T19:48:00.000-07:00

Spring was spreading her lovely feminine cloth covering over the still shivering land that has recently left the hand of Father Winter and was waiting for this beautiful rebirth of color and life.

I was walking along the shore of the small stream that a few days ago were just an iced mark on the ground but now, having found her voice again, the little brook was singing while climbing down the rough terrain.

There was a perky edge in the air and the Creation seemed in a state of awakening from the cold fingers of the previous days.

After some time, I returned to my cabin and, to my surprise, I found a big man looking around the only room where there was not a thing to take.

When he saw me, he said: "How come you have nothing I can use here?"

I was really sad for him, so I took out my clothes and giving them to him, I said: "Please, take these, it is a pity you came and found nothing"

The man looked displeased, and said: "I do not need those rags!" And turning away disappeared in the dark of the forest.

I sat on a rug in the front of the cabin and raising my eyes to the sky I felt very sad because I couldn't give the man the beauty of a starry heaven.

"Hymn Choir" performed by the Grammaphon Orchestra & Choir

© 2010 untony.

Limerick on demand!

2010-10-16T08:47:00.000-07:00

There was an Elfie from Fairyland,
Who wanted to be like a man.
So he sought the help of a witch,
who knew not a fly from a switch.
Now he leads a sultry chimp band.

Confused fragment of "Hitched-to-me" by The Clueless Chimp.

© 2010 untony.

Genesis

2010-10-11T13:42:00.000-07:00

Suddenly, in the vastness of space appeared the blue planet.

It was surrounded by clouds as the reports informed, spinning slowly displaying the beautiful sight of immense seas and lands.

The interstellar ship moved easily in a direct approach to the equatorial area.

"South-Southwest", whispered in its robotic voice the ship navigator.

"This is the assigned area", said the captain.

The automatic pilot landed the ship softly on the arid terrain, the heat was suffocating.

"Be sure there is not a thing on the prototypes that could link them to the experiment!", cautioned the captain.

The crew overhauled the specimens thoroughly and then carried them down through the hatchway leaving them under a nearby big tree.

In an instant the ship was airborne with almost no noise, and swiftly was lost in the sky.

The specimens looked around the place, it was the first time that they were alone, totally alone.

After a while they looked to their naked bodies completely covered by hair.

They found nothing on them, except the small tattoo they recognized as their names, in his arm "Adam", in hers "Eve".

Surround us a fragment from "Valley of Tears" by Zero Project.

© 2010 untony.

Farewell!

2010-10-07T15:48:00.000-07:00

The sun dies in blushing clouds,
while my desolation sees you depart.
The farewell stabs my heart,
in gray memories my soul overcrowds,
and in a smile my face shrouds.
Windy hands take my aching soul
to die alone in a burning coal,
and far away other arms hold you
pronouncing the sordid true:
all my life and love you stole.

While reading this poor attempt to poetry we are listening to a fragment of "Princess of my heart" from "Autumn Prelude" composed and played by Zero Project.

© 2010 untony.

Childish Nonsense

2010-10-03T06:36:00.000-07:00

Mom, why is it, mom,
the mosquito bites and then is gone?

I don't know, John, I don't know
Maybe because it has to go!

Then, mom, why is it buzzing at night
when there is not light?

I don't know, John, I don't know
maybe it is a musician all right!

Then, mom, why…?
John, that's enough of asking why…

But mom, if I stop asking why
I won't learn, even if I try!

Benny Hill performing a fragment of "Yakety Sax"

© 2010 untony.

Alienation

2010-09-26T19:08:00.000-07:00

From the shadows came the opaque voice of the sibyl:

"Watch around you, humans!"
"You are only small vessels that sail in the foggy sea of reality. Some of you are ornated with colored lights, banners and pennants, others with only position lights, and others yet, with no signals at all.

Sometimes, you come so close one to another that you think you can send messages to the other vessels."

"You send signals from your deck. Poor, sad, frenetic signals sent from your deepest loneliness. There!, there are answers! Oh, finally you have communicated!... But have you?"

"Close, you were so close! but you cannot board that other vessel, ever! Never will 'know' who dwell in that deck!"

"Why are you so alienated?"
"What is the reason of this harsh exclusion?"
"How would it be to share other people feelings and beliefs?, really share them!"
"How to learn what 'red' means, really means, in their minds?"
And, moreover:
"Why you cannot do anything like that?"

Have you asked those questions?
Of course not!!

You are satisfied with the consolation of 'friendship', 'understanding', 'companionship' and the poor parody of that you call 'love': hugs, kisses, and being close to another being... but never close enough!

Grieve, humans!... you suffer, and you are not concerned WHY!

We are listening to a fragment of the Andante from "Winter", "The Four Seasons" by Antonio Vivaldi, performed by the Royal Symphonic Orchestra.

© 2010 untony.

Food?

2010-09-20T20:21:00.000-07:00

"Porridge!", said the waiter.
"Porridge?!", I asked.
"Yes!!" stated the waiter with final and lethal determination.
I fled in a hurry!

Fragment of "The one unforgivable sin" by Mikis Theodorakis from the movie "Zorba the Greek".

© 2010 untony.

Future 'Im'perfect

2010-09-17T08:29:00.000-07:00

I saw her for the first time on March 1960, leaving the Rower Building wrapped in her little and boring gray scarf.

I was overwhelmed by her innocent beauty that was not only something physical but an aura that flowed from her own womanly stance. I tried to come near her but she disappeared in the crowd with short and quick steps.

The second time I saw her was just a glimpse of her gentle body through the glass of a passing bus.

The third time I was off-guard opening the door of a cab when she got down from the car and I was so utterly surprised that when I recovered she was already lost into a group of people walking out of a theater.

Years went by ungraceful, ruthless, and the fourth time I saw her was in the rest house for old people we share in Columbus City...

I love Opera... and Elf opinion

2010-09-08T16:14:00.000-07:00

Reflecting over my old blogs titled «I love Opera, I and II» Elf commented smugly:

"You had a long tirade but I am not sure you made your point! Anyway, you do not need to strive anymore, I can understand where you were, and are, driving at."

"You can, can you?!" I asked sarcastically.

"Yes", he went on undeterred by my remark, "look, what you try to say is that music must be an 'imbricated slatebody' into the tissues of your being. But it always is!, if it is not then you have just noise, maybe coherent, ordered noise, but just noise! Now, who can judge when this noise start to gain the state of music in your awareness?"

"You asked me", he kept pressing, "if your mind is yours, well, to your surprise you will find that your mind is of your hormones, your internal organs and the external environment more than yours in the sense that you are the driver of most things yours and as in the case of a car, you can tell it where to go, but little or nothing can you tell the motor how to obtain energy. This it does just by the way it is done and following the health of each of its parts!"

"So does your mind, you can try and develop deep thoughts about any subject, but that’s all, if you are ill or distracted by anything in your body or environment your mind will react accordingly. This is true, believe me! And… where does this leave us?… under new unpredictable reactions!"

Elf seemed buried in deep thoughts, his eyes were veiled and he looked as in a trance.

"You know", he went on, "this is not just coincidence, it was done so as to keep your free will in a highly unstable environment…"

Suddenly, he seemed to recover, his eyes returned to their normal brightness and with a bashful smile (something outlandish on his countenance) he said almost in a whisper:

"Oh! forget it!"

"What I mean", kept going the gnome recovering totally, "is that you are talking about something you have no knowledge about, from the control room of your mind (that is you, the person) your feelings “seem” to react to all those things the way you described them, and of course, they do. It is true, absolutely true you feel it so. But, and this is a BIG BUT, you cannot project these perceptions as a mathematical equation over the rest of human beings. You see, the beauty of it?!"

I was totally confused, didn’t know what was he talking about and so I said:

"No I don’t, and what are talking about?!"

"Please", Elf seemed hurt, "try and be intelligent! I am talking about how people react to music and how any one has control of 'some' part of the surrounding space and personal reactions! You seem so sure that those 'raucous kindled voices, high pitched noises, and repeated beat which is now known as music' cannot awake subtle, inherent feelings because they don’t in yourself, but you forget where those feelings come from. You can talk about yourself but never about other people sensations!"

I was astounded. How can an Elf, and one who lives in MY MIND know about the production of feelings in other people minds!

I inhaled deeply and counter attacked.

"What do you know about other people feelings?, barely can reach and learn about MY feelings since you live immersed in them, but…"

"Stop it!" Elf was deadly serious and with his little hand showing his palm toward my mind-eyes.

"Stop it!" he repeated. "The one who knows nothing is you! Can you tell me who am I?, or, for that matter, can you tell me who YOU are?" He looked real mad, I’ve never seen him like that.

"When you open judgement over some other people", the sprite went on, "what you are doing is wrong. Oh, I know!, it is a kind of emotional elation to find your tastes are part of what is called 'superior cultural environment' and that you do not relish in those other common based fancies that do not belong into this definition, but it is only because of the egregious ego you, and all of you human beings, possess since the… err… ehem… Well, never mind! But remember! You are NOT better than anyone else only because you are more knowledgeable, more educated, more beautiful or more whatever than those anyone elses…"

I was dumbfounded, my mind was making a big effort to understand what was the little puck talking about, egregious ego? possessed since… when? Was he really preaching on me? So:

"Are you preaching on me?" I said making believe as much rage as I could muster, but still bewildered enough as not to be mad, only trying not to loose ground through my own confusion.

"Preach?!… preach?!" he was getting dark red on the rim of his pointed ears, "what the heck you talking about?"

Well, at least he was asking the same I asked him a while ago!

"I am not preaching no one!" (here we go, you know, when mad he forget his grammar), "I am stating a fact and showing to your smug face those things you make better and… wrong! Sure, you like Opera better’n other music, so what? it is wonderful, I know it, to feel those things you describe, but it is so only because you are made as you are made! What if other people like Heavy Metal?, they may or they may not feel the same but that is not determined by knowledge, education, beauty or anything else, the final reason is hormonal, environmental and lastly slightly touched by the mind’s owner psyche. So, stop feeling the need to be the Knight of Music. Just show your tastes, explain them to others and let anyone else decide what they like or not!"

Another balloon punctured! this darn Elf is always successful when it means to destroy well concocted theories. OK, Opera is better than anything else… to me! In the ultimate stage, who am I to decide there is better art in one expression in detriment of another? I had to recognize Elf is right and even if deep inside myself I still 'knew' or better 'know' Opera is the only way to enjoy music, I couldn’t say it was a generic feeling. As always, our estrangement from one another makes human beings so difficult to fathom with our own measures. Even if a word means the same to anyone, not always that 'same' is equally understood by everybody.

"Waltz No. 1" from "Autumn Prelude" by and performed by Project Zero.
© 2010 untony.

Imitation

2010-09-01T15:44:00.000-07:00

Richard Washington Elemener III is a chess freak, his time is divided between thinking about chess, preparing the games and playing them.

He knows there are many things to be learned in the way to master chess and he intends to know them all in the shorter time possible.

Today he is facing, as is his usual practice, to a devastated board with few men left and cornering the rival king with his bishop and one pawn.

The shadow of a draw darkens his thinking, looking the few options he can use with his men, he whispers in dismay:

"A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!"

© 2010 untony.
Fragment of "Furies' Dance" by C. Gluck, performed by the National Czech Ensemble.

Lisbel

2010-08-19T18:10:00.000-07:00

Among the beautiful frames
Of Cherubim in their prime,
Roses, laughter and soft claims
You will hear all the time.
The games are little gems,
In this garden life stems,
It is a place of great bliss,
Where nothing is amiss.

Suddenly sounds as a whisper
That cover the whole location,
LOVE speaks seeking a helper:

"Can you help me with this notion?"

Very serious little faces:

"How help?" "We have no graces",

"He needs help?" They look concerned,

"We don't know", "we're not learned?!"

"Who would like to leave the court?"

The voice asked very softly.
Away!, not being His escort!
"Leaving the yard?" It is costly!

"Leave the court, m'Lord? you'd say!"

"We are scared to go this way"!.

"Why?", LOVE wraps them as a glove.

"To be alone, without Thy love!"

You do not see, but feel
LOVE's smile warming the space,
"Not at all," His voice appeals:

"you'll always be in my grace,

remember Who's asking you

and always it will be true."

It's so warm this LOVE's caress
that Lisbel cries fearless

"Then I'll go right now, my Lord",
feeling to grow her resolution
She then flew, in one accord
creating a convolution...
- "It's coming now, be calm!"
- "It's a girl! Just keep her warm."
And between weepings and a squall
Little Lisbel earned her Soul.

We listen to "Greensleeves" performed by the "Thomas Kinkaid Orchestra" with some little adding.

© 2010 untony.

Absolute

2010-08-16T17:40:00.000-07:00

For years he walked among the shadows projected by the light of the world, all the scaffolding of his life rested on the outward security that anchored his existence.

While enjoying this safety, he had the opportunity to travel to a place full of beautiful natural landscapes that elated his soul.

On an impulse he tried to immerse his spirit in this beauty and sat for a moment letting the ambiance to absorb his feelings creating an inner place of peace and happiness.

In those moments that he was possessed by this reverie, his worldly safety watch relaxed and his innermost self, that waited this moment since his birth, took control and engulfed him into his own Ego, the initial path was rocky and highly difficult, but after several steps upland, he started to glimpse some wonderful sight that dwarfed the beautiful landscapes he was admiring.

This new occurrence sent him through personal inner paths where he discovered a special kind of beauty, in a flash he understood that he was contemplating his own person, his environment, his life, the galaxies, the infinite, in a word... EVERYTHING!

Fragment of "Enter the Mystery" by Lehman performed by "The Kiddo Group"

© 2010 untony.