Ode to a Dying Flame

Sweet departure from departing
from this song without a name
let me serenade the moment
and exalt this dying flame.

for a fleeting time rekindle
embers for ye fairest dame
as i smile to mark the passing
of this gently dying flame.

sound the bells of contradiction
drown the hopes which ne’er came
let me ponder now the meaning
of this evanescing flame.

and to swear this moment onward
days will never be the same
for e’enthough the flame hath died out
in my heart writ is thy name.

Percival Canonigo Biadora

Copyright ©2005 Percival Canonigo Biadora

Nocturne

You are the ticking
Of every clock winding
Down to the hours crying
For the one final
Moment splinter
Marking ‘xactly
The leaping cadence
Of my heart raging
Longing the finite
Brewing of days
Distilled in drops
Of thought washed
Away by your turning
From thought to flesh
And bone and hugs
And kisses pouring.

At the end of the day.

Percival Canonigo Biadora

Copyright ©2005 Percival Canonigo Biadora

Shit Happens…

I’m not new to writing but I’ve never mustered enough motivation to write about anything and post them on a regular basis. Besides, no one seems to care about what other people have to say nowadays unless they’re really cool, prominent or “men of consequence”, as  the little prince would have it.  Still, blogging is a new form of freedom and self expression and it’s free so most people post them anyway. I’m no exception.

Hell, there’s an awful lot to write about and i can’t seem to know why i can’t transpose my obsessive-complusive desire to fill blank notebook or sketch pad pages into the web. If i did, I wouldn’t have enough time left to take a bath, eat, or sleep or work or…

Actually, i don’t have any specific subject in mind for today. I’m just here at work, surfing the web and loafing around the place. Our trainer is very lax and easy to get along with. We can surf and chat and play video games in between lectures. It’s like doing your training inside a noisy internet cafe. F-U-N. By the way, I haven’t eaten breakfast yet and my stomach aches like cancer. Just had a cup of taho, whose nutritional value is highly debatable. I wonder what’s on the menu today? The breaded porkchop last monday triggered a nuclear fission reaction inside my stomach and by 12midnight it reached critical mass, culminating in a catalcysmic nuclear explosion that shattered the toilet and dug a 200 meter deep hole where our house once stood.

Of course I’m exaggerating. But man, I don’t know what malevolent microbe landed in that food to make me wake up from sleep at midnight and forget all about using the stairs on my way to the john.  Ahhh. Shit happens.