Felis Cattus, is your taxonomic nomenclature,
An endothermic quadruped, carnivorous by nature?
Your visual, olfactory and auditory senses
Contribute to your hunting skills, and natural defenses.I find myself intrigued by your sub-vocal oscillations,
A singular development of cat communications
That obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
For a rhythmic stroking of your fur, to demonstrate affection.A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents;
You would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance.
And when not being utilized to aide in locomotion,
It often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.O Spot, the complex levels of behavior you display
Connote a fairly well developed cognitive array.
And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.(This is the end of the...that...read before “...â€)…Then we sat on the sand for some time and observedHow the oceans that covered the world were perturbedBy the tides from the orbiting moon overhead.“How relaxing the sound of the waves isâ€, you said.I began to expound upon tidal effects,When you asked me to stop, looking somewhat perplexed.So I did not explain why the sunset turns red,And we watched the occurrence in silence, instead.
I'd like to meet:
WHY?
...
Why did I change my plans that day?
What evil forces were at work?
Who knew that I would not be there?
Who knew I had different plans that day?
Who was watching,
and for how long?How was I to know who was new
Among that crowd?
So may faces,
So many races,
But one had plans
and evil intentions
to punish us
for what - I do not know.I'd like to meet that... -
just to ask...Why?Why...had to hurt
an innocent little angel
in such an awful wicked way?He has been scarred,
not physically
but mentally -
which is the worst way.
Those thoughts and feelings
will always be there.Will...ever be totally free?
Music:
Music, Music, Music, Music, Music, Music, Music, Music, Music, Music, Music, Music,
You Are The MusicYou are the music, in the
symphony of life.You are the music in the peace
solitude and stillness of the
early a.m., for you are the
song in my heart.You are the music on an ocean's front,
for you are the roar of the waves,
the power of the sea,
and the salt in the air.You are the music amidst a crowd
and the chorus of city sounds
...for that is my song,
and you are the music.You are the music in my thoughts
of each new day, and the last image
I glimpse, as my eyes are
closed upon a feathered pillow.You are the music, In that secret place
called sleep. I search for you through
all the songs of life. It is you that
I search for, through shades of darkness
and clouds of cotton.When I think of you, the music is always and
forever. Every moment of my life. And, when
the final sleep does come and if there is music,
I shall think of you.
Movies:
"...To A B Movie"When the clock strikes midnight,
And I can not fall asleep
I go turn on the light,
And I think real hard and deepI turn on the TV,
And I go channel surfing
I see a B Movie,
And my..., I start jerking!B Movies are the shit!,
Even though they are so lame
Most feature gore and tit,
And most of them look the sameI still think they are great,
As low budget as they are
To them I...,
More than most movies by far!THE END
Television:
TelevisionI.Still Life With Staticbronzed baby shoes
sharing dust with rabbit ears
and the evening news
is all she hears.
a human voice
explains another choice
of how it's going to end:
not with a wimper
but with a test pattern.II.Counterfit Realityit comes like sudden death
angry dancing dots on the screen
and electronic waterfall rushing
white noise:
the cable is disabled.
the customer service phone tree
is busy and the answer
if you get it
is, "We're working on it."the years that you've invested
in 60 minutes solutions
mind mushing commercials
and emotional investment
in characters whose fictional
lives defined you
since you were first seduced
by its cyclopean eye-
all those hours you can't get back
like the brain suckers in "Day of the..."
television has become
an extension of your nervous system.
Books:
A unique anthology by the editors of the best-selling...? Favorite Books. "The National Favorite Books Project launched by Riezlan may well be the most extraordinary public art project of the past two decades. . . . When the remarkable results of asking Malaysian to name their favorite Books were published in...and...Malaysian? Favorite Books, it confounded all expectations." (Buffalo News) Books to Read is a welcoming avenue into Books for readers new to Books; for readers already devoted to the art it offers a fascinating, fresh approach. This anthology emphasizes the actual pleasures of reading Books: hearing the Books in your voice, bringing it to other people, musing about it, taking excitement or comfort from it, wandering with it or?s in the Keats letter quoted in the Introduction?aving it as a starting post. Many of the 200 Books are accompanied by comments from participants in the Favorite Books Project Malaysian of diverse regions, ages, and backgrounds. The editors contribute their own comments on some of the Books, which are arranged in chapters based on themes like youth, darkness, passion and art.This anthology embodies Riezlan commitment to discover Malaysian beloved Books. The selections in this anthology were chosen from the personal letters of thousands of Malaysian who responded to Riezlan invitation to write to him about their favorite Books. Some Bookd are memories treasured in the mind since childhood; some crystallize the passion of love or recall the trail of loss and sorrow.Books to be read aloud and memorized, Books to be celebrated as part of our nation's cultural inheritance. Accompanying the poems are comments by people who speak not as professional critics but as passionate readers of various ages, professions and regions. This anthology, in a manner unlike any other, discloses the rich and vigorous presence of Books in malaysian life at the millennium and provides a portrait of the...through the lens of Books.
Heroes:
They didn't seek thanks or any praise for a job tasked out to do. It is taken as a given, they're there when you need them, forever willing, tried and oh so true.Always ready for the call, the last they did receive, They stood to fight and die for in all that they believe.Duty is not a hollow word and dedication is a creed, The flag and freedom, that we honor, our words are backed by deeds.I will ever wonder, and ask the question, why dear lord, just why? They had to go, a family cries, another hero dies...I see their faces in my dreams, tough and young and brave. They were good men we loved them all, we wish they could have stayed.The hollow words mean nothing, or the blame for what went so terribly wrong. Our fallen comrades, they lay asleeping, will never hear, that same old tiresome song...We bow our heads and wipe our eyes and look to a brighter day, Remembering and forever proud, those whose motto’s thusly read: "de oppresso liber, we do not quit, and we lead the way..."
