It is not folly to be sick
bodies breaking down
stripping flesh from mind
separating the viruses and germs
from taking over
like a plague
devouring health
like a sick game
of wit.

But wit came and went
and determination stayed
like a whip breaking
receding
dissolving
into the earth
all pain vanished
the moment love came into the picture bringing a sense of sensitivity, sensibility, belonging, grace, peacefulness, and harmony. The balance of nature is to be mature not unlike like manure becoming compost for flowers.

Something like sickness
or suckness or swiftness
can only be surface material
marching forward
getting stronger every day
weakened by germs and viruses
weakened by wanting
weakened by longing
to become something greater and grander than ever imagined.

To be sick
is to surrender.

Is to lie in the wet dirt
called mud
and be covered by rain and leaves
becoming mulch for the trees.

Wet. Withered. Weak and surviving.

And once the sickness passes,
bodies grow sturdy
become thick roots
winding deeper into earth’s crust
the inner and outer layers
changing dust
into mud
into mulch
into compost
into sprouts
into plants
into gardens
into parks
there unto infinity
back into dust
and the beautiful cycle
starts

all over again.

and the seasons come and go
and the sickness comes and goes
and the flowers and fruits and vegetables grow and grow
and grow and grow and grow

into someone to be proud of.

Her legs weren't stairways
to heaven, for these ladders
       were anything but safe.

Pulled fibres collected
                          unsuspecting  
Victims to be caught upon
                    her wondering lusts.

For the best poison was that
   which took time to ****.
   And her bite was anything
   but fast acting upon her prey.

She never charged as much as
      those who were below her class.
              For she was scorned before.

And those who chose her beauty over
         instinct, only had themselves
                                                to blame.

For her man, was a walker of corners,
                      catching eyes of cheap thrills.
       His gift to her was a ring and a death sentence
                                                                        of A.I.D.S..

And now she passes the gift given without consent,
        to those who would choose a vine vintage soured
by gangrene grapes.  They'll all taste her sweetness,
     only to poisoned by its taste after swallowing  it.

I was a garden of pessimism,
Shrouded with toxic weeds of negative thoughts,
Always finding faults.
I thrived on them,
My spirit was contaminated,
Nobody dared win an argument with me.
Bringing down the staff at the office delighted me,
Finding faults at home made me feel like a Lion King.
I found pleasure in making them feel small,
Causing them pain.
Soon, I realised I had become a virus,
People started deleting  me from their lives,
My friends avoided me,
My family talked to me less and less,
My wife and children left me,
I was shown my place.
I woke up!
I was being kicked out of their lives,
I was getting bored and lonely.
I had to change my attitude,
I  had to be firm with myself,
Give myself space to grow.
I threw out animosity,fear and judgement.
I began to think positive,
Sowed seeds of optimism,
Braised myself with compassion and love.
A fresh start,
Each minute, hour and day,
A new me,
I am there with people I love and care.

The sight of rain,
of wet clothes, wet plants,
wet doorsteps, wet hopes and dreams,
and, that known scent of sadness and grief
all these...create soggy, sluggish minds

we just lost two dogs to the virus
the glum of monsoon rains affects the moods
the "yays" from cancelled classes
have all passed...
sun is shining, not too bright, though,
peeps like a tease, but,
enough to dry the ground...

i see vacant lots...almost naked now
motor's droning hum is a lullaby
that lulls the mind
a strong smell stirs the nostrils and
defines a welcome pleasance...
i sniff....and chase away sadness,
with this intriguing scent
.....of freshly cut grass....


Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    July 25, 2018

I see these demons with my eyes,
Hear the demons in my mind
And I'm left wondering if true comfort
Could ever leave the skies

The only angels I ever knew,
Existed in my world
Fated to dance with a devils hand,
Tumble, twist, spin and twirl

There is one that's rescued me,
From my path she set me free
And it would be a crime to commit
The acceptance of defeat

The chains of her love,
Fit around me like a hug
When she hasn't seen me in a while,
I'm the crow and she's the dove

Two opposites who seem the same
Species at least with neither tamed
Unless we're in each others arms
Such memories are pictures framed

Her love is strong where I am not,
I'm beaten down, blind and lost
The only light that guides me fair
Hell or heaven, fire or frost

It hurts to know that I'm infected
Malicious mind, I keep rejected
While virus-like it spreads in me
She's safe right here, she's now protected

Heart may stumble, words may fumble
The world could crash and burn and crumble
But as long as my love lives by my failing heart
For her, I'd forever tumble

The engineers they tweak the DNA,
fostering changes to the RNA,
the plants becoming something else,
immunevolution modify man’s health.
And never will they accept the blame,
for their arrogance and dangerous game;
and when the food cannot be eaten?



History recall of the viral cretins.