Magnum Silencium

In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritu Sancti. Amen.

O Lord, under Thy perpetual light do we isolate ourselves
Behind walls of stone do we seek guidance.
Grant us Maximum Silence
That we may be guided by the Holy Spirit
To see who among us rests in Your favor.
Through Jesus Christ our Lord
Host of hosts
Server of servers
May we break through the firewall and connect


              CONNECTION ESTABLISHED…YOU ARE NOW ONLINE…
              NAME? Cardinale IƱigo Benucci PASSWORD? * * * * *
              REQUEST TYPE (PHYSICAL/MENTAL/SPIRITUAL)? spiritual.
              ENTER REQUEST: delete sins.
              …PLEASE WAIT WHILE WE CHECK YOUR SINBOX…
              YOU HAVE ONE (1) SIN. delete all.
              ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DELETE ALL SINS? yes.
              YOUR SINBOX IS EMPTY. new>request
              REQUEST TYPE (PHYSICAL/MENTAL/SPIRITUAL)? mental.
              ENTER REQUEST: clarity of mind.
              …PLEASE WAIT WHILE WE IDENTIFY THE CLUTTER…
              FOUR (4) FACTORS IDENTIFIED. list.
              FAVORITISM//FATIGUE//FRIENDSHIP//FEALTY. clear all.
              ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO CLEAR YOUR MIND? yes.
              …PLEASE WAIT WHILE WE CLEAR YOUR MIND…
              YOU ARE NOW ENLIGHTENED.


May the Lord guide my hand
As I choose who among us shall lead the Flock
That they may not stray far from Your holy light.
May Christ guide my conscience
Knowing I have chosen right
Even if I have chosen
Myself.

Amen.


*Requiescat in Pace, Karol Wojtyla a.k.a. Pope John Paul II
circa Apr 2005

Sting Lacson

A writer. By degree and by profession. Also strongly advocates ten-finger typing to all writers because that's what you do for a living, so be efficient at it.

Sestina of a Psychotic Mind

What are you looking at? You looking at me?
Do you have a gun, you punk? You must
have a gun if you want to look at me like that.
Go ahead then, take it out, why don’t you?
Well, so you do have a gun after all then.
You didn’t act so tough when you were alone

without it the other day. Both of us are alone
right now, punk. It’s just you and me
right here in this room. Think then,
before you act. In fact you first must
realize that the advantage is not with you;
I have a weapon with me exactly like that.

Yeah, that’s right. What, you thought that
I’d let you get away with it? Now leave me alone,
I don’t want to see you or anything related to you.
I’m sick and tired of you following me
around everywhere ─ literally. Must
you be present wherever I am? Then

why are you following me? Go on then,
speak up, punk. Say something! What? Say that
again? Were you talking to me? You must
be talking to me. Remember, we’re alone
here. Go ahead ─ why don’t you explain to me
how is it possible for me to catch glimpses of you

even in the most unlikely places? You
once appeared to me in the bathroom; then
again in a crowded street, you looked me
straight in the eye. The only bad thing is that
it seems no one else can see you. I alone
can sense your presence. This must

mean that you’re not real. Then I must
be going nuts! I’m real, I exist. But can you
be real if you exist in my imagination alone?
How do I tell truth from fiction then?
Both of us cannot be real, therefore that
means one of us is an illusion, either you or me.

Only one must be left standing alone. Let’s agree then
to draw our weapons and fire at the same time, that
we may know if you are real, or it was all just me.


*circa 24 Mar 2006

Sting Lacson

A writer. By degree and by profession. Also strongly advocates ten-finger typing to all writers because that's what you do for a living, so be efficient at it.

The Villain Nell

Where is the villain Nell Gonzales?
That guy will be surely missed.
But now no one knows where he is.

He believed in what his parents said;
from birth, a naturally-trained leftist.
Where is the villain Nell Gonzales?

New ideas blossomed in his head,
made him a prominent youth activist.
And now, no one knows where he is.

Because he loved the color red,
he was unjustly labeled a terrorist.
Where is the villain Nell Gonzales?

A million people on the streets he led.
His picture’s on the wanted list.
But now no one knows where he is.

To the mountains he has fled
to live the life of a Communist.
Where is the villain Nell Gonzales?
No one knows where he is.


*circa 7 Mar 2006

Sting Lacson

A writer. By degree and by profession. Also strongly advocates ten-finger typing to all writers because that's what you do for a living, so be efficient at it.

World War II Ghazal: The War in the Pacific

Soldiers’ screams of satisfaction heard in the air
Wails of the women whispered in the air

My trauma of killing can be traced back to this memory:
Bayonets and babies butchered in the air

On those dreaded events like a village raid,
The amount of fear can be measured in the air

Pandemonium has taken control of the streets
Mickey Mouse banknotes fluttered in the air

Fearsome as dragons, the kamikaze planes
Birds of freedom are slaughtered in the air


*circa 2 Mar 2006

Sting Lacson

A writer. By degree and by profession. Also strongly advocates ten-finger typing to all writers because that's what you do for a living, so be efficient at it.

World War II Ghazal: The European Front

Another round of mortar shells exploding down the road
Battle-clad G.I. Joes strolling down the road

Change of plan, let’s take the west path
There’s two squads in ambush hiding down the road

Hold your fire! Civilians on center stage!
Women and children running down the road

The boys have landed. They’ve locked out the beach fronts
A caterpillar of tanks is rolling down the road

They were like corpses – the sons of Abraham
At the prison camp we saw while driving down the road


*circa 2 Mar 2006

Sting Lacson

A writer. By degree and by profession. Also strongly advocates ten-finger typing to all writers because that's what you do for a living, so be efficient at it.

Infidel (Sonnet)

1. The first time my wife went abroad was the first time I slept alone since the day I got married.

2. The first time I took off my wedding ring left me with discomfort, but I didn’t believe you would go for me when I learned that you were married.

3. I remember us exchanging small talk at the grocery, which raised my spirits until you smiled, turned around, and walked away.

4. I remember wishing your husband was absent also, upon learning that you too had no children and you lived only two doors away.

5. Nothing happens the way you plan it, for even as I promised myself to steer away from you, I couldn’t believe my luck when you offered me a ride in your car.

6. Nothing compares to a ten-minute walk with a woman you like, and as I carry your groceries home, I thank God you didn’t take your car.

7. Since my wife departed, the loneliness finally sank in, and I couldn’t believe it when you appeared at my doorstep with a bottle of tequila; I let you in at once.

8. Since I was pissed drunk the previous night, I acquired temporary amnesia, so I could hardly believe it when I saw your naked body beside me; I jumped up and got dressed at once.

9. You rolled down your window and offered me a ride again; I suddenly realized that you have an annoyingly whiny voice, and it would be torture to talk to you.

10. You showed up at my door again with pornography and another bottle of tequila, and I can’t believe that you only look prettier the less clothes there are on you.

11. As you bombard me with psychotic messages (I leave unanswered), I leave a message at my wife’s hotel, telling her to call me as soon as she gets back.

12. As my cellular phone keeps ringing (which I don’t answer), my wife calls long distance; I tell her I miss her and can’t wait to have her back.

13. Looking out my window, I saw you waiting in your car for me to come out, and I just couldn’t believe that what I wished for actually happened.

14. Looking up the flight schedules, I carried my bag to the departure gate, where I would soon be joining my wife, and never breathe a word about what actually happened.


*circa 24 Mar 2006. Original version circa 13 Feb 2006.

Sting Lacson

A writer. By degree and by profession. Also strongly advocates ten-finger typing to all writers because that's what you do for a living, so be efficient at it.

(Dis)Like Father, Like Son

              “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”


In the name of the Father,
forgive me, my Son.
My sins have been pre-ordained
even before they were committed.
Polygamy is encoded in my DNA.
It is in yours, too;
you have my Y-chromosome.
Do not judge my faults and failures now,
for it is your destiny to repeat them.

Bless me father,
for I curse thee.
I’m Mama’s Boy through and through.
Your name is a burden to carry.
Your third first-born is counterfeit to me.
Monogamy is a choice
you decided not to use,
showing us your papier-mache backbone.
You left behind you a virus:
mutated my memories (of you)
from happiness to hatred.
Expect no wedding invitation
for you will never understand the logic behind
wearing only one ring in your hand.


              The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
              But Washington apples are available in China.


*circa 23 January 2006

Sting Lacson

A writer. By degree and by profession. Also strongly advocates ten-finger typing to all writers because that's what you do for a living, so be efficient at it.

Directed by the Maestro

And the Lord said:
“Let there be light.”

And there was light – 2 kilowatts
(Remember, this is a 1:3 ratio
of light against shadow)
Less light on the background, please.

When we were young,
we were silent. But
as we grew older, we
learned how to create
Sound

Speed…this is
a live recording, people.
No breathing on the set.

And as we grew older, we
discovered Memory,
our mental archive
which captures life like
a camera

Rolling…and the climax
scene 1, sequence 29, shot 5
take one…this is
one long take, people…and
Action!

From childhood to growthspurt,
from growthspurt to raging hormones,
from lust, we fall
in love

But remember, that was ages ago.
Now you’re all alone. Just sit there
and look miserable. Then move
closer, close-up on the hand, holding
a photograph of that villain!
Stay longer on the photograph, and –
there we go! – beautiful
teardrop right on target.

The Lord gave us emotions;
to some, a blessing,
to others, a curse. But
the Lord also gave a gift that can
affect our emotions – it is called
Music

which slowly fades in,
there we go, nice, tear-jerking
music; not too loud,
just right. Then move back to the face –
close-up on those sad eyes,
like a dam about to break –
hold that look.

Now sometimes, we have emotions
so heavy that it becomes
a burden to bear.
On the borderline, we are in danger
of crossing over
to Insanity, or to its cousin,
Death.

But you will not kill yourself,
oh no. A broken heart does not
justify taking your own life
and ending it – No, your life
is not worth two of that scum.
You are the star here.
This is your movie.
That asshole’s name doesn’t even
appear on the poster.


Because the Lord gave
everyone of us a chance
to shine in our own movie,
and it doesn’t end until
the credits start crawling upward.

Now wipe your eyes – don’t look
sad anymore – that’s better.
Crumple the photograph, then
give us a smile. You’re single again.
And you’re happy. Perfect,
hold that face – beautiful.
And…CUT!

*circa 5 Dec 2005

Sting Lacson

A writer. By degree and by profession. Also strongly advocates ten-finger typing to all writers because that's what you do for a living, so be efficient at it.

Like a Flower

we blossom with the
sunrise, and sleepily shake
off the morning dew,
and as Apollo's
flaming chariot
travels through the
sky, so
do we
open our
petals, scatter
our colors,
and spray
our odors,
attracting bees, catterpillars--
attracting life.
At noon,
the zenith, is
our prime, and later
the afternoon shower
might dampen our spirits,
but we blossom again in
time to take
in the
splendor of the sunset,
and we get ready to sleep, for
tomorrow, today
repeats itself,
over and over,
until the day we are picked.


*Requiescat in Pace, Melchor De Santos, 1950-2009

Sting Lacson

A writer. By degree and by profession. Also strongly advocates ten-finger typing to all writers because that's what you do for a living, so be efficient at it.

My Literary Side

"The Words come from the Divine; from the Muse the Idea. The Poet merely transcribes." ┼Old Sumerian proverb

(Kidding, I made that up. LOL)

Translate

Followers