Alien Landscape

ALIEN LANDSCAPE

Author : NHJ
MSN: crescent_cage@hotmail.com
email : spherickey@gmail.com

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Read My Poetry.

Playing:

Between the Bars (Elliott Smith Cover) by Metric

People you've been before that you
Don't want around anymore
That push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still

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Saturday, November 26, 2005

way of the vagabonds.

you, my soiled teenage girlfriend.

while you bristle like a lioness at the constant whirrs of pictures, we still stayed true to the vagabond way.

living as close to death as we can, making sure everything is moving and decaying. never in limbo, never stopping. and never will we die with motion. we will just keep dying and never really do.

maybe no one will notice when we finally go.

even as a weak flower

from the seed planted in your heart oh so long ago, my wilting head still holds some life as it thuds against your quiet heart while you moved.

and in the depths of our darkest nights.

our tele conversations composed entirely out of clicking tongues and your ticklish murmurs, kept me alive even as things bang on all the doors in my head. in these depths and through the banging, i think of Amie and Hasini and of their great wounds and their gaping heads. and of my lachrymose Terrawatts with eyes of blue lightning. of the boy i'm forgetting how to love,

still, this nomad life has me wanting home.

the weather spinned under my my arms, reminding me of Nuri. feet always unplanted, always teetering and dancing ballet in duck boots, inspiring shuddering earthquakes. even as i grip the bed with gritted teeth, the fall seems so long and deep that Satyra and Twilight stop being ethereal. their solid bodies giving me bumpy dreams of rolling grass and rubber clouds.

these are the songs i whisper into the wind.

heavy with trepidation and laced with lingering hope, they shake windchimes into alarming screams. yet in my idealistic grandeur as a wielder of pen, i am but a beggar. always praying and pleading the Divine to grant me poetry and words now and forever, else i might just disappear. and maybe no one will notice when i finally go.

sadly.

even with certain innate memories nestled safely in a colourless chest which wisdom will one day unlock, many of us live underground, under soft pillow-hearts, under sewn eyelids and fear of each other.

innate memories where fewer and fewer seem to realise that

together we are a vast concoction of multiverses. yet compared to arcane wisdom and the Power of Divinity, we are crammed together in a single grain of sand on a strange beach in the world of the Outside. sometimes they call it the world Within.

so, forgive me for wanting to come home. vagabonds like you and i oscillate and our nausea robs us of taste. we roam within a pit. a beautiful spheric pit it may be, but we see nothing but movement. as Connor says, a line progresses, a circle does not.

and that,

it's fine if you keep moving, friend.

but i'm headed home

Posted by NHJ 11/26/2005 10:49:00 pm

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

she took a small silver wind and pinned it on to me, and said this one will bring you luck.
i don't know if it's true but i'll keep it for good, love.

Posted by NHJ 11/23/2005 11:22:00 am

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Delirium:
you steal the cat's food, you silly-walking, ear wax genuflecting, frog nibbling, unacknowledged bastard of an exotic pet store captive!
Posted by NHJ 11/17/2005 01:16:00 pm

shit.
Posted by NHJ 11/17/2005 10:49:00 am

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

thousand glass feathers

i met a woman who wore Hasini's scent today, expertly repairing a choked machine. i could not help but lean in closer to catch a stronger dose of what reminds me so fleetingly of her defensive and deceptively soft brown eyes and her unknowingly sad smiles. her pitiful nomad living in this thorny island often leaves me with a hollow feeling.

the scent hung around the woman like a mismatched colour; a soft scent on a woman of slight stature with a set of booming vocal chords. the essence of Hasini shouldn't be worn by other ladies because it seemed to belong too much to her and those who does seem too much like bad actresses trying to pass of as the elusive, cleverly ignorant Hasini. the sleek otter.

speaking of the Putri, i never did thank her for inspiring the emergence of Lady Fawn of the Singing Swamps as i usually did with all my other muses. somehow i just know Fawn will not appreciate that her existence was inspired by a staunch city girl. besides, nobody likes it when creatures of mind possess their creator and wreak havoc upon innocent blood muses like dear Hasini. i suppose she would just have left me. she does not strike me as the sort who understands the dangerous state of a storyteller who falls in love with her own stories.

i worry for her mainly because i cannot see her. i doubt if she even sees herself. talking to her is like talking to a mirror most of the times. sleek otter. more like a peacock of a thousand reflecting glass feathers. you want to focus on the pretty head but all you see are incorrect images of yourself reflected in a big tail-fan of deception and elusiveness.
Posted by NHJ 11/15/2005 02:25:00 pm

Sunday, November 13, 2005

the largest leaf on the magic beanstalk.

men with purple hearts carry silver guns.

surprised that i am not truly surprised, i realised the magic beans i planted within the soil of our fairytale has sprouted beneath my feet and lifted me far above the lands i have loved with the love of a child. i acknowledged the discovery of the intensely dark starry world existing above us only with slight dismay.

the foolish little pledge of sacrifice you made in desperation still whispered of legendary endings of ever after to the guarded heart. still, i felt little pleasure as you shook under my new careless gaze and broke steadily under my scrutiny.

and to that pledge you were willing to make, to the love you feel, that has robbed you blind of its honour and pride, to your foolish disregard of the laws that made the world and humanity, to the candy poetry that you composed out of what i now realise to be purely idealistic romantic love, i answered coldly, it means nothing to me.

resolutely you stayed by me but even then i knew the puddle of murky tears i left were collected and feverishly drunk so the red blood that ran in your veins won't turn blue like mine.
Posted by NHJ 11/13/2005 01:28:00 pm

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

one day in her whole life. her whole life in one day.

Posted by NHJ 11/09/2005 09:52:00 pm

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

The Flowers.

today she took the form of a sea-dweller with soft scales of a thousand colours. as i peered into the waters, her feline features smiled sweetly past me and to Denni. i glanced hastily at Denni, painfully envious of the token the Seasky Lily gracefully endowed upon her. when i turned my head towards the waters again, Seasky was gone.
for the rest of the day my heart raced at the unbelievable memory of the glimpse of her face. during my absence, though she stayed in my heart, fidgety as an impatient butterfly, my fondness and fascination of her dwindled considerably as other things began to take over my mind. seeing her today renewed the spell she casted. i hope, for the sake of my failing heart, that Tuesday would come quickly so i may catch but a glimpse of her elven eyes and the scent of her secret smile.

sometimes, especially when you least expected it, a lady or a man would appear in your life and work magic so bizzare and arcane that the love of your life is but a soft jingle of windchimes, the friend you are ready to die for becomes but an echo of a laugh and the family that you walk with in love through unforgettable hugs and incurable treachery becomes the tiniest tug of heart. it is the most curious of phenomenons, i assure you.
therefore it is most fortunate that such a lady or man appears so rarely. perhaps a hundred times a day then vanishing, or once a week for a year, or even just a fraction of second of your life. some pray that their lingering presence will prolong til they draw their last breath while others wish and hope that the agony of passion they feel would end at the death of the blue moon where she or he appeared. i am caught between both. however, i am lucky enough that time is a most effective antidote for Seasky Lily's sweet poison.

i have refrained from writing of this as i know with the surest of certainty that people judge strong feelings. especially strong feelings stemmed from the magic of miracles. people label it carelessly; brother, lover, sister, soulmate. this is something that transcends human languages. i know Jenni has had two people who magicked her and disappeared promptly; a man and a lady. and one other, (i know you would hate that i mention your name so i won't) who til this day is still wondering when she is going to be freed. yeah i'm not stupid like your boyfriend not to know of that strange lady you buy your curry puffs from. you grabbed my hand so tightly when you saw her that i could feel your touch for days.

i haven't decided yet if the knowledge of Seasky Lily's departure from my dreams should grief or gladden me but i know i will forget her as quickly as i forget a particularly hard blink. it is best that way because i don't think anyone of us can take that kind of goodbye. one that sears your memory every night but when you wake up in mornings, you realise hey, it was a dream. and you would cry and cry and cry and never recover.
Posted by NHJ 11/08/2005 07:00:00 pm

Sunday, November 06, 2005

like a lottery----one cherry----try again----love.

goodbye.

the confetti----my broken speech----my----naivete----are like...

lilacs and wet tissue

              your goblin-smiles

i----

want to forget----want to----analyse.urLIES.LIES.LIES.LIES.

   meetmebythebeachwhereyousworeournameswontfadewiththetide

your.

goblin-

    smiles.

muh----my----heartisbroken.

yuh----you----you----yuh...

.

Posted by NHJ 11/06/2005 11:45:00 pm

Friday, November 04, 2005

a secret a day, keeps sanity away.

Posted by NHJ 11/04/2005 03:07:00 pm

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