Reclusio Perpetua

I have stopped to think the envies of life
As a destitute I have seen the worsts of all:
Poverty, moral depravity, darkness beyond measure
Though I would regard much about it no more
Had once desired idle idylls which bore no value:

Enclose the eyes that sees nothing but vanity
Cover the ears that hears none but blarings
Desist against the fragrance of decadence
Conceal the tongue that is the means to debauchery
Find the self a recluse deprived of outward stimulus

And thus to feel, at last, the essence of existence:
The meaning of life—the greatest mystery!
That is but the inward feeling of solitude and certitude:
“I am for nothing but the world and the world is but myself!”

The New Jaguar

Aye sir, a New Jaguar has come upon us
Apt to leap and strike, ready to devour us
Filled with enigma, otherwise nondescript;
What in the world is a Jaguar?

T’was a false positive; it was no Jaguar
Truth is, I might know but of Jaguars
A word it is: a savage within the books
Defined by old symbols and semantics:

Covered with black blotches and sallow furs
Sharp teeth, claws, talons and loins
Cursed with epicene sexuality;
Eccentric, stochastic personality
Disciplined yet credulous;
Educated yet vacuous;
With savagery as primacy
And solicitude as mediocrity

But that creature which roamed the street
(Filled with enigma, otherwise nondescript)
Was nothing I have seen—unprecedented!

The Light on Christmas Eve

On my walk outside this Christmas eve
I saw no star but a glimmering Venus;
What magnificence it gleams through my eye

Others were clouded, left unseen and faded
But this light prevails amid this Stygian sky
To give us hope when every sight is despair
To give us life when nothing is sentient.

Before this cruel year we share pains and woe
This little Venus that shines
Against the voluminous darkness says
That we shall tread on
That we shall go on
To conquer the race we had started.

The Porcupine


Behold, the two days of life:
Azura, the days of Winter
Brita, the days of Summer

On these azure days,
When one feels cold
One feels blue and alone;
One longs for one’s company

On these bright days,
When one feels warm
One feels alive and great;
One needs each other no more

Till one realizes that one suffers
On snugging old cold Solitude
One feels feeble and destitute

Till one realizes that one suffers
On huddling his closest friend
One feels pierced and betrayed

Either way, who is to blame?
Lo, open your eyes and see!
Sharp quills are hurting me.

On Khayyam’s Quatrain

If this is but a sojourn here below
And all the gain we get is grief and woe:
Shall we starve ourselves of these gains
And let hunger fills us with ire and desire?

And if the riddles be left unsolved
And the Stygian caskets be full of rue:
Shall we stop solving trivial quandaries
And let one start admiring the unknown?

On Literature, Culture, Society, and Class Theory

Recently I was on my literature class, and my professor, possibly still working on the introductions on the subject, started teaching regarding on how the society ‘canonizes’, or recognize a certain work of writing a ‘literature’. He showed three criteria on how to verify:

  1. A literature must be printed/published
    • Obviously, to recognize something it must be accessible, and observable, either on print or published online
  2. A literature must be read by readers
    • At this point, having written and published your work, if it’s not publicized, it cannot be canonized along the glut of other literary works
  3. A literature must be critiqued
    • A critique is a detailed analysis and evaluation of something, particularly a literature. This is the crucial part of a written work. Though it was already published or read by many, without a critique, it cannot be ‘canonized’

We are aware that in this postmodern world, the populace of the entirety of the world is growing exponentially. The state of growing abundance of creative force derived from the growing population is worrisome, as the significance of every piece of work is getting, in actuality, more and more lesser, the more literature is recognized the less their prominence become. Continue reading “On Literature, Culture, Society, and Class Theory”