Sense and Nonsense

Sense and Nonsense, a Serenade

Light breaks on secret lots
When logic dies
Truth jumps through the eyes
DT

I’m gonna make you fall
In love with me.
And if you don’t,
I’m gonna cry
Till there are no more tears left in the sky
NKB

Words are bound to be ambiguous and thus, more often than not, bring about misunderstanding because words can have meanings other than those found in the dictionary. The author often imbues his words with personal meanings while the reader has his own interpretation. That’s why in battles of the pen, we often see vicious snide attacks and brutal frontal assaults.

Even armed with this awareness of the “Phenomenon of Man (and Beast)”, I’m plunging headlong into the following “narrative” because I can’t help myself. I want to break out of self-imprisonment. Solitude is often a sign of madness and I want to be sane.

I used to fancy that I was an artist. Now I just write to unburden myself. Words are tumbling out of me, helter-skelter. I’m giving the world everything I have in one gulp. I hate piecemeal approach. I don’t strip tease. Nam Le almost made me to throw away my pen. He was that good. I felt completely amateurish compared to him. In the end, however, I decided to stay and continue stringing words together even if I am the only one to whom those words make sense. I write for myself to save myself from myself. I’m singing—off-key, of course, but sing I must.

Ever since the cruise ship docked into the harbor of Wellington, N.Z., I have felt nostalgic yet angry and regretful. Waves upon waves of conflicting emotions are washing over me.

Bon muoi nam xa vang
Nay ve New Zealand
Ngay xua long thay chong
Nay van buon menh mong

Forty years have come and gone
Now I am back in Wellington
Lonely was how I felt then
Now still lingers a loneliness without end

I wish I could go back in time and live again that important period of my life when I was young and green and fatuously compassionate. Since I am much wiser now, I would make the most of my precious time and push aside all the auxiliary concerns. This time I would be aware of all the signs of madness and run away from them. The life you save should only be your own. Misplaced compassion can kill you. I now have this cynical attitude because I often find myself stranded in an amoral land where beauty reflects untruth, weakness harbors cruelty, loyalty is only a name, and love is a delusion. Anyway, taking everything into consideration, I must admit I have been truly lucky and I should be grateful for the way my life has turned out.

In order to give myself a lift from the feelings of gloom and doom, I take refuge in fantasies. I like fantasies. They always get the better of me. I often get into trouble because of them, but I don’t mind. My heart always longs for the improbable, the more improbable the better.

Although I am aware of the impermanence of feelings and the oppressive presence of time, the incandescence of my feelings for her led me to write these words ever since our chance encounter. I couldn’t help myself. Inside me there is a pulsation of sensations. I feel like dancing with the music I am experiencing; I want to show the world the rhythm that is taking over me. The way she walks, the way her beautiful hips sway has set me on fire. I don’t love her, not now, not yet, not at all, but in the back of my mind, a face comes up and a voice asks to be heard. Her words at the moment of parting have stayed with me. They are like notes of music. They inspire and rejuvenate me. Tonight I would like to say to her softly, very softly, that thanks to her, I want to stay and fight against all adversities. Last night the rain arrived again. The rain was falling outside the bedroom window. I could hear the rain, the sound it made as it hit the roof and the ground; I could hear the wind whistling now and then in the stillness of the night. The rain reminded me of the following words:

Ta da doi em tu hat bui
Mai ve nho lay dau mua di
Ban chan nho dat con kho ne
Moi nho tan phai
Le nho mi
DTL

I’ve been waiting for you
Since I was a grain of dust.
When you come home tomorrow,
Remember to hide away the rain.
My bare cracked feet
Still remember the ground we walked on,
My lips miss your fading smile,
And my tears miss your eyelashes

NKB

Words are all I have. Words that I have borrowed and digested through time and now become mine. My own words in moments of inspiration, words that I didn’t know I possessed, sent me soaring. Earlier this morning when sunlight broke through the bedroom curtain, I was dreaming about her. She was running in a field of sunflowers. Golden color was everywhere: the sunlight, the flowers, and in the wind flowing was her blond hair. She glided, seemingly effortless, her long legs hung in the air. During those precious moments of watching her through the bedroom window of mine, disappeared all my cares.

I do not know what it is about you that closes
And opens. Only something in me understands
The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

E.E.C

Her name is J. The name of the other woman is PJ. This vixen was proud of her name and for many years I also loved its sound. Now she is only PJ in reverse to me because she has proved to me to be nothing but petty and pedestrian. She was my first mistake and a very big one. My heart broke into thousand pieces because of her.

Three o’clock
In the morning
I stopped and listened
Somewhere close by
A stone met a heart
The sound of hurt

CB and NKB

After the PJ debacle, I learned to make do with dreams and fantasies. Writing these words is an act of dreaming. Hopefully, J. is dreaming of me, too. Meanwhile I have a recurring dream in which a beautiful woman in her late 20’s came to me and said: “Roberto, too bad you told me that you have no money left and that you are already married, otherwise I would go out with you as I find you immensely attractive.” I looked at her in the eyes and uttered these words of “consolation”: “Patricia, it is no surprise to me that you find me attractive. Many women do. I appreciate your candor. True love transcends the limitations of money and prior matrimonial commitment. The heart responds to its own rhythm. Here are some poems you might want to read whenever you think of me, no matter how far away I am. If you understand the poems and appreciate their beauty, then your affection for me is never in vain.”

Mong Mo

Toi nang tro truyen qua phone
Noi xong nang nhe tieng chao goodbye
Toi nghe tim dap boi hoi
Tu tham khong nhe toi yeu nang roi
Tren giuong be nho cua toi
Nhe nhang toi goi ten nang suot dem
Goi con toi bam sat vao
Mo mang mong tuong la nang den toi

NKB
Dream

She and I talked over the phone.
My heart instantly chimed
The moment it heard the special way
She said goodbye.
I later wondered if I was falling for her
Since I was calling her name
Throughout the night.
I held the pillow close and tight
And dreamed that she had arrived.

Another Dream

I have had in mind
A person like you
For such a long time.
We finally met
And my words began to rhyme.
I didn’t know you also fell for me
Until the sun began to set.

I’ll love you, dear
Till China and Africa meet
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sings in the street.

I love you as certain things to be loved:
In secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you without complexities or pride.
I love you because I know no other way
Than this: where I do not exist, neither do you,
So close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

NKB, WHA, PN

CanNgon
8-16-2009