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Brian Sarfati Oct 2014
To render strings of scenes from your head
into words on paper
that another person could read in order
to recreate the voice of someone unmet,
and at the same time be presented beautifully and clearly;
to choose the right words making the right phrases
making the right sentences making the right paragraphs
making the right chapters, and to have these chapters
interweave into a cohesive story that manages to
fulfil the reader and make him feel
joy, sorrow, despair, or hope;
is insanely meticulous,
and inanely ridiculous.

And to come up with characters
that need to feel alive:
to have to be so many people at once,
each with their own dreams, wants,
thoughts, feelings, identities,
and treasured memories,
how can one not explode?
How can a mind not erode?

And of all the hobbies, passions or pastimes
a human being can engage in—
from juggling chainsaws on a tightrope
to playing the piano while  painting yourself playing the piano
to sculpting a hypercubic klein bottle,
nothing is as delicately difficult
as juggling a thousand possibilities of plot
on a swinging tightrope of self-doubt
while playing the instrument of your vocabulary
to paint a scene revealing itself magically
all the while sculpting an entire universe(!)
piece by piece from the flesh and bone of your own
pregnant imagination.

Who, then, but only the most idiotic,
brave, ambitious, and diabolic self-haters and self-lovers
would write a book?
It's a noble task, to be sure,
for without its fair dose of literature,
mankind would crumble and un-create
back to the unthinking, unfeeling dirt from which it is made.
Oct 2014 · 324
Why Do We Need To Read?
Brian Sarfati Oct 2014
Why do we need to read?

A silly question. It's for the same reason we need to breathe.

But some people can't read. And lots of people who can read don't even bother to. Am I saying they do not breathe?

No, but I like to think of reading as an "acquired necessity."

It's like an acquired taste like wine or cheese, but once it enters your life, you find that you can no longer live without it, and you wonder how you ever existed before it...

I guess in a lot of ways, Love is an acquired necessity as well.
Mar 2014 · 243
Through These Narrow Rooms
Brian Sarfati Mar 2014
This world is right;
I'm nothing after all.

(The night is bright
with millions of my dreams
holding me safe)

Up on the sky
I dangle on a rope
above the smoke of today's defeat.
What's tomorrow but another retreat?

(If I could fly
into your thoughts tonight
and if I could find
one warm memory of me
then all the stars can die
for I will be alright.)

Here comes the Wake
eating up the light
that clothes me.
Soon enough I'll find myself
gasping on my bed,
wondering
"Am I alive or am I dead?"

(Just hold on tight
my dreams, my love, my light;
I'll come for you all one day
Through all these narrow rooms
where despair and darkness looms.
I'll find a way to smile
In the shadow
Thanks to the thought of you.)
Feb 2014 · 286
This Valentines
Brian Sarfati Feb 2014
I thought today would be terrible, but it wasn't so bad. Everything's alright.

I don't know what it is. Even if I passed a hundred couples holding hands today, the spaces between my fingers did not ache . Even if the scent of other roses perfumed my solitary air, I felt no sorrow in being alone.

I sat behind Her, the motor of my heart, today in the library and I felt my heartbeat. We never talked but I felt content just being so close.

Even if I'm watching the full moon by myself, I'm chipper tonight. She's my Valentine my best Valentine my brightest Valentine, and the world is still.
Brian Sarfati Nov 2013
It was a hot, sunny, summery day, and the fire trees were in bloom. Their red leaves littered the streets with sunset though the midday light cast contrast on every little awning and ledge.

You were hanging out by the Big Brother store, talking to the friendliest shopkeeper I ever knew, drinking soda and listening to his stories.

From far away I thought you were a boy; your hair was cut so short. It was the first time I ever saw a girl without long hair, and ordinarily I would have been curious, but I had other problems, as you knew. As my little feet marched closer to the store I saw (though I tried to keep my head down) your face, which was so pretty with your huge luminous eyes and your fair soft skin.

I was twelve back then, though, and so were you, so those weren't exactly the things on my mind as I reached the awning of the store, facing the storekeeper and trying my best to get it over with. I was disappointed because you were there; that there was another person to see me. I was even more shy back then than I am now.

I must have made quite the curious first impression on you, huh?

As I said, it was a hot summer's day, and the sky was robin's egg blue, and there I was beside you, about to purchase some juice and biscuits.

And I was soaking wet with water.

My hair and my clothes were heavy and dark and drooping, as if I had just been submerged in a river with all my clothes on. A trail of tiny blue puddles followed me from the gate of our house to where I was, where a big puddle was forming under my feet. I was frowning.

You just stared at me with wide eyes as I told the shopkeeper what I was going to buy. Straight to the point. Oh, and back then I couldn't speak Filipino very well, and so my words had an outlandishly English accent. The friendly shopkeeper was used to it, but you definitely didn't hear me speak Filipino every day. He didn't even ask me why I was giving birth to puddles. He was cool like that.

He handed me the juice and the biscuits. Great. I could splosh back home. But I hazarded to look at you, so ever so shyly I turned my head to look and remember who it was that saw me so I could avoid her.

Then oh man, I blushed. I didn't know you were that pretty with your short hair and your wide eyes and your fair skin.

I'll never forget it; how right then and there you lost it. All this time you were biting your lip while watching me, but then you just giggled and laughed and bent over and laughed some more. I was so embarrassed, but now as I sit remembering that moment, I realise how happy and innocent your laugh was.

Then I made like a dish with a spoon and ran away in a blush as red as the fire trees. I hoped I would never see you again, but of course I did.

I did, sometime later, when we were older, and I remembered you. You didn't let off that you remembered me from sometime past, but I couldn't miss the way you half-smiled and held back a chuckle after you studied my older face.

I never did tell you why I was dripping that day. You never asked. You're cool like that. I swear though, that someday when we meet again I'll tell you, but for now it's my little secret, and you'll be the first to know.

And oh how I was in love with you and, I think, always will be.
Oct 2013 · 519
Orange October
Brian Sarfati Oct 2013
All the time I keep asking myself
“Is she worth all this suffering for?”
I stare at your picture—
Smiling through those deepest eyes of yours
—and after crying until the ocean in my heart is dry,
I somehow manage to convince myself that
“Maybe not… There will be others like her
I should stop weeping and be happy.”

And all goes well for a while.

But darling I have learned
Through years of this charade
That it is as futile as throwing stones into the sky
To taste the air for a little while,
For they will fall back to the ground
As inevitably as my thoughts fall back to you.

In moments sublime, with the crash and play
Of picturesque peace and beauty,
Through association, I see you,
And I wish you were beside me.
In the deepest of my thoughts,
In the stillest of my dreams,
You are my archetype of Love,
And of everything that is desired in life.

And I rationally fear
That a mere lifetime’s width of painful edges
Cannot cut this emotion
That runs deeper than my heart is capable of.

And of all the universes out there,
Why am I in one where you don’t love me?
Oct 2013 · 554
An Elegy
Brian Sarfati Oct 2013
It’s just another world without you—
Empty as the outside of Time.

It’s now but another hollow street
When you disappeared into your serene retreat.

This galaxy of elegy and commemoration,
These yesteryear’s cheers of annual celebration,

How can they keep rolling,
How can I keep going, independent of your forgoing?

These voices have no weight and these stories have no soul
Your conversations, your smiles, were all I cared to know

And now, as good as any gravestone
your faceless face now hangs alone—

Framed in my heart for all to see
I love you: Please come back to me.
Brian Sarfati Oct 2013
If we were away on an island and
Each Today was the same as its Morrow,
Then all the world, with its Time’s flowing sands
Holding still, would never bring me sorrow.

With your hand in my hand, my heart in yours;
Alltime would pass in the space of a dream.
And all of those countless beautiful hours,
As swift as a butterfly’s flight would seem.

But not to your soul, with autumnal wings,
whose wanderlust grows and rockets above
To travel beyond the truth of all things.
No lover can dare encage you with love.

Thus I watch you soar like a wand’ring star,
Evermore free; you’re the sky in my heart.
Jul 2013 · 364
Grapelife
Brian Sarfati Jul 2013
If I were to cut open my chest
And eat my heart
It would taste bitter and sour
And distinctly fermented
With the flavour of age.

I think it would taste delicious.

Like grapes or milk
Meant for wine or cheese.

And looking at the flies on the wastebin,
I wonder,
Is that my destiny?
After all, some lives taste better when withered.
Jun 2013 · 1.1k
Wor(l)ds
Brian Sarfati Jun 2013
words:
crystallized fragments
containing reality
(and unreality as well)
driven by a Logic unable
to prove its own existence.

worlds:
you exist in one;
"the Universe"
which is
everything that [n]ever was[n't]:
the moon, the sea,
space, eternity
you and me,
this poem

and the Universe is also a word
which is contained in this poem
and thus in your mind
a word contains the world
in which lives the person reading this poem
that holds
the wor(l)d
Brian Sarfati May 2013
these days, i live on the
spaces
between the  lines
of whatever story i thought my life
would turn out to be,

wide awake in a faceless house
waiting
while an everbeating heart of rain
spatters on the weathervane
(vain)
spinning lacklusterly,
lackadaisically nowhere
under a grey sky,
unaware

of the slumbering sun above,
or the custom cares of anyone
who has ever been in love...

[droplets on the roof]

though
sometimes,

through a mirrored screen
in the world between
waking and dream,
i get this fluttering feeling
(a certain fleeting)

of knowing

that somewhere between these walls--
(perhaps)
over ceilings,
under floors,
behind cupboards
or closet(d) doors,

waits a weaving

window

looking over the garden
back to my storylife
impatient
for my arrival
(my longsought revival),

and i'm just too
deranged
by the rain
to hear it
chiming my name.
May 2013 · 1.3k
Cottage on a Hill
Brian Sarfati May 2013
i keep on thinking,
and grasping,
and clawing for

words
and words
and words
upon more words
stacking on, or attacking
this stagnance of mind,

unintentionally filling
this nothing
with thoughts
of your memory:

a sunsetclad feather
locked in a safebox
in the corner of the basement
of a mossy cottage
resting on a flowered hill
in some faraway place
recurring
in my sleep's sleep.

(somewhere
i long to belong to
but may never reach.)

do you travel there, too?
Mar 2013 · 371
Someday
Brian Sarfati Mar 2013
under the sky,
somewhere placing
one foot past the other
like i am now,
contact (roses eclipse)

under the stars,
somewhen breathing
a particle of air
i once brushed,
alive (are we now)

under all time,
somewho you,
the not less of life
closing distance
float (opening existence)

and under Imagine,
somehow us
through all mazes
say hello find
what is (never) lost.
Mar 2013 · 690
Sleep Forsaken
Brian Sarfati Mar 2013
sleep forsaken.
this is why we are Night:
when all sunhidden
natures awake.
and the stars fish for friends
in the deepest pools of our heads.

(can you feel it
in your heart's fingertips?)

a curious buzzing of bees
like a transcendental scattering
of omnipossibilities.
up and down,
block and flow;
smallest sparks erupt into a fireshow.

(spiderwebs of thought)

catching magic by its wings,
from which Genesis unites
these disparate things.

(behold, my beloved)

but all too soon
the neons flicker:
(like eclipsing moons)
castles drown,
oceans fly,

and the dullness of Day resumes.
Feb 2013 · 864
Rest
Brian Sarfati Feb 2013
braindead beating heart,
blinking thought and sleep
universe in floating
deep above what commonplace
people call tired–

think not of
screaming.
(undesire is flower)
for just the moment
understand me:
a coma where period should be.

lost in fluttering
senselessness of song,
you can’t realize anything
but human misinteraction
and lack thereof.

settle spinning,
(organize)
this life is once only
afflicted from the
get-well-soon-ness of bed.
you might as well think:

we have all the time in forever
to procrastinate once we’re dead.
Feb 2013 · 492
The Ice Cold Penguin Show
Brian Sarfati Feb 2013
Oh it's funny how everybody knows
What goes on behind the old theatre shows.
Past the curtains of my glass opera stage
Is a beating heart in a fuzzy cage.

I pretend to make some unfeeling sense
And splatter on some bottled innocence:
assume an air of all-too-distant reach,
***** a cardboard wall the world can't siege.

But everything I do gives me away.
A glance at you drives all my scripts astray.
I'm the only one here I could deceive.
Why even bother with the make believe?

I like you more than I'll ever admit,
I'm a bad actor and the world knows it.
Feb 2013 · 243
The Poet
Brian Sarfati Feb 2013
the poet
spacefully stares at:

(more than seeing he is)

tables and chairs,
lights and walls.

(dreaming he is)

making
infinite feeling into breathing
ink on finite paper:

(exploding)!.?

punctuation, letters,
imagination enters,

and then

(he becomes the room)
Jan 2013 · 786
Maple Serenade
Brian Sarfati Jan 2013
for sent a skyline to the day
a kiss with wings of smile.
(these lights of Yes you call your eyes
are blessed with skies of deep array)
let’s talk too little and say too much
with words of forever in our slightest touch.

for when feeling is hearing
the breezes start singing
of scattered songs in the air,
(unsounding, but ever there)
when all my notes of frameless bars
sync with the rhythm of your fateless stars.

for the world is a cube rolling on and on
through every kind of time and place.
and i feel quite blessed and prepossessed
that all the pieces of our universe fell
so that even the Fall could have guessed
the way i would breathe the scent of your grace.

for life is a dreamboat flowing along
the river of time through silence and song.
when older is sooner and younger is late,
and the earth is a picnic too out of date,
although we’re quite busy with everythings to do
i’d happily share my dreamboat with you.
Jan 2013 · 752
Cherrosa
Brian Sarfati Jan 2013
Oh I'm coming back home
though I'm sitting still
with Dove and Owl on my windowsill.
They sound, they sing, they're whispering:
The stars keep on spinning.
And the stars keep on spinning.

Peahen to Owl is hiding a scowl;
They don't know each other much anyway.
She's quietly cross
and has nothing to say,
but that's just because
Owl might take Dove away.

Treetrunk is standing
as the steeples are sighing,
for chipmunk is chipping
the hours away.
Oh I will remember today.
How I'll remember today.

The mountains, they smirk
at the secrets that lurk
in plainsight, in view,
but to children are new:
Cherrosa lerosa
fleurisa lilanca.


Nothing never changes:
Ever always will.
Owl is happy; Dove is quite snappy,
but let's not get ahead
and just smile instead.
Let's just smile instead.

Look up and live
and shrug at the skies
because the future is full
of i-don't-know-whys.
Time will yet tell if all turns out well:
Tomorrow is today in disguise.

Starberry summers stuck in my head
skip around and play,
so I just smile instead.
Oh how I'll remember today.
Cherrosa lerosa
fleurisa lilanca.


the stars they keep spinning away.
Jan 2013 · 1.3k
Sunday
Brian Sarfati Jan 2013
always believe in Sunday
for Sunday believes in you.

though every dusty calendar
in the corners of your grownup mind
tell you
of the neverending flight of Otherday,
you know.

in your smallest smile
and in the smiles of others
lies this simple truth:

to your childheart,
it is ever Sunday.
Dec 2012 · 368
Of Course As Always No
Brian Sarfati Dec 2012
Of course as always
these dreams
they displace me from despair:
embraces smile
from shadows and
the silverfire scent of your hair.

But when morning comes
crashing the joy no longer there
you sing unspeaking
and evermore sinking
like a key lost in the deep
of my seawater sleep.

All this No and lack of Yes:
why do I even bother?
I just like you,
too much, I guess.
Dec 2012 · 2.3k
Manila Skyline
Brian Sarfati Dec 2012
on a farflung corner of the world
beyond the frosty Urals,
past the Saharan desert yonder,
and the Himalayan walls of ice,
and then a little while longer,
there you’ll find me sleeping.

or if you would ride a comet
and streak through the Atlantic,
land on the East Coast,
and head west some more
’till you arrive at the Western shore,
find a seastar and befriend it.

Then traverse seven horizons
across the infinite Pacific,
there you’ll find me resting.
here beyond the furthest dream
beyond the faintest clouds
i stand on sandy seascapes.

away from all the broken people
with their broken frowns and towns.
this is a land of smiles and sunny skies
where darkness and death cannot harm
the relentless light in
the brown of everybody’s eyes.

on a little archipelago of pearls
suspended from the stars by strings
like a toddler’s mobile as it swings,
the heartbeats of London, Paris,
New York, LA, or Rome:
pictures in a fairytale book here at home.

I am very very far away
where all my life is an echo
sounding in tropical sunsets:
rosy and pink and sinking
like a reverseblooming rose
lighting up the Manila Skyline.
Brian Sarfati Dec 2012
have you ever seen the moon drop from the sky?
it’s a surreal feeling; floating
steadily as the night dreams around you.

[one day you'll realise
dreams are rarer than you think;
not everyone is free enough
to find what they've been searching for.]

all these crickets they croak;
they sing my sorrow in static.
did you ever really feel?

[when you do, i hope you'll remember me;
and the way you took your words
and shot all the stars from out of my sky.]

aside from that the world is so silent
just like your thoughts of me.
did you ever really see?

[when you do, grasping his hands;
someone so rough and deadfeeling,
with your children all bleeding

I hope you remember my face,
and cry like I do tonight.

and die like I do tonight.]

because now only the wind and the moon
hold my heart in place.
Nov 2012 · 956
BS Computer Engineering
Brian Sarfati Nov 2012
sometimes I wish I had taken
writing or literature: all the time
words and images surround me and spin
like silent storms of thought.

but then I remember the money;
(little diamonds scintillating in silicon streams
emulating consciousness.)
and then like magic,

all these equations come alive.
Nov 2012 · 580
Little Ruff to a Sad Boy
Brian Sarfati Nov 2012
“and just what right might you have–”
,jostled little Ruff into my ear,
“–to feel like stone cold clams, when–”
then comes a bird lifting over my shoulder
“–there’s a fire for you all over?”

and the moon sighed softly to the room

“not like a right, but rather–”
,i teared over his cotton face,
“–a photograph I keep seeing
on my windowsill, no matter–”
when all the doors blew open and up
“–how many moments I throw it away.”

as asters bloomed when daybreak loomed
and roses went red forever.
Nov 2012 · 325
Yourself and Myself
Brian Sarfati Nov 2012
yourself and myself are two little playmates
under a rosetree somewhere far away
dreaming of this world and our lives
here and now
holding hands and singing.
Nov 2012 · 2.0k
Little Miss Lioness
Brian Sarfati Nov 2012
the air hangs heavy
of dignity in spaces meant
to house a golden king.

despondent, alone,
i am the silent sunken stone
of understanding pebbles
bathed in shallowater sighs
of quiet far-off longing.

all one; air
rushes in and fills my wings-
i fly and breath the sky.

a sun of your heart
warms me through the cracks
of injured earth
centuries apart from day,

i rise and smell
the song of your smile.
Nov 2012 · 877
Dear April
Brian Sarfati Nov 2012
i wish i was bigger, dear April
so i could give you a ring
like daddy gave to mommy;
a ring so small so round.
but today, dear April, let’s sing
trees in puddles ripple
mudsplashing holdinghands as
we laugh and cry
because the summer goes by.

i wish i was stronger, dearer April
so i could carry you away
because time is a monster
sleeping under your bed.
but today, dearer April, let’s dance
a ring around the rosies
with May June and July
and let’s pick all the poppies
while spring is in the air.

i wish i was taller, dearest April
so i could hold your umbrella
while we parachute to our dreams
and i’ll catch you when we fall.
but today, dearest April, let’s float
up up up like reverse snowflakes
all the way to the moon
and then uper than the stars
because winter is ending soon.

(i wish i was younger, everdear April
so i could see you again
and smell your hair in sunshine
like angelscent memory.
but today, everdear April, i’ll remember
the way we sang danced floated dreamed
all the way to the moon of marry
until you fell away like a leaf
sailing in the winds of autumn)
Nov 2012 · 559
Surfacefeeling
Brian Sarfati Nov 2012
rise up and let go of the sunset
let it sink beneath the waves and
eventually
moon will follow
up from the clouds
beaming and teaming
lifelight and dreaming.

let shattered heart
split open
and out will bloom
lilies and daisies
the world has never known,
and seashores awaking
the you that is never shown.
Nov 2012 · 636
Reflections in the Water
Brian Sarfati Nov 2012
Today is a dream
Tomorrow is a dream
And Everyday is a river
In which I am a boat
Paddling with my Memory
Towards some distant bank.

(Faces and Places–
Reflections in the Water;
Ripple as I wade)
Nov 2012 · 1.4k
A Softest Drizzle
Brian Sarfati Nov 2012
Dripdrop dripdrop

     The umbrella on the drops makes a tiniest splattering
     Of collected shades of transparency: Memory
     And the whitenoise of the rain

(step step splatter ripple)

     Serve to recolour in sepia shades
     Even the grayest seconds
     of Yesteryear’s faces and embraces.

(Drip
     drop
          drip
     Drop)
Brian Sarfati Nov 2012
Don’t be so distant,
My silent dream, my darling.
Come closer, come speak with me.
There’s nothing I’d rather want.

Let me embrace you
So my heart can swallow you whole,
Softly, like a feathered wing
Around a little  young bluebird.
And inside you will be safer
Than in a safest safe.

{[(sound asleep; contained)]}

My heart will protect you
From all sorrows and lonelinesses and
Other such nasty things
As a shell protects a baby turtle
Or as the petals of a flower at night
Envelops its dearest secrets.

Come closer, dear.

Speak with me.
Nov 2012 · 2.8k
Tomorrow is My Birthday
Brian Sarfati Nov 2012
tomorrow is my birthday
they’ll bake a cake and sing
to a bird with a broken wing.

what little hopes i found
(seashells in the sound)
are lost and have gone away.

under darkest lights
i’ve learned to cry ’till dawn
and still keep crying on.

tomorrow is my birthday
but that won’t change a thing.
it’s not like you’ll ever give me a ring.

the sun is bright
but it feels like night
and all the world is grey.

there’s magic if i want to believe
and there are worlds out there to touch
but i don’t care for magic or worlds very much.

yesterday i died, today i haunt.
but tomorrow is my birthday
and its only you i want.
Nov 2012 · 341
Dim Alonedom
Brian Sarfati Nov 2012
Dim alone
night after night
windowstaring at stars
under a flickering desklight.

unseeing unbelieving,
but dreaming the glassy hours away.

let music play
note after note
after note of alone
through this dim always.

who cannot sleep
who stares
undoing unmoving
as night after night is shed
like a cocoonshell bed
for an enormous butterfly.
Nov 2012 · 423
One Day I Was a Fish
Brian Sarfati Nov 2012
one day i was a fish
swimming with many other fish
within an arctic sea.

there were so many lines;
they came from the sky
and went down
down
down
and ended in cherry plastic.

fish who bit them were pulled up
into the surface
(where we were told never to go)
i’ve heard it’s a whole new world up there.

the red was beautiful
the surface was new
i bit.
(i couldn’t help it)
and rode a hook to the hole in the sky

out i shot.
who knew the surface was so free?
it’s a shame i’ll need to breathe soon.

but it’s alright; i’m just dreaming.

nobody would want a fish like me.

— The End —