Faking Villanelles

The reckless soul of a traveller
The true, eyes-wide-open traveller
That sees what is further

Travel is popular, easy, so common,
But among the common folk I seldom encounter
The reckless soul of a traveller.

Because what is a traveller?
The one that sets off the shutter, or,
That sees what is further?

Indeed, few do open their eyes.
Is it laziness, or fear of what lies beyond?
The reckless soul of a traveller.

Reckless, indeed, and yet so pure!
Pure like a newborn for who else is it
That sees what is further?

The time of explorers is over,
now I only see the banana pancake crowds.
The reckless soul of a traveller
That sees what is further.

Tarzan in Hong Kong

Tarzan in Hong Kong
Originally uploaded by david.vilder

The Stare,
Silent, laconic, focused,
On the flame, glamorous, enlightened one,
All that escapist attitude
Tarzan in SoHo.

Sonnet?

Untitled...

The loud conversations, aimless, pointless.
With the longing whine of air-conditioned.
And the babies, shouting, crying, restless,
Met by stranger’s angered stares, maddened!
And in the meantime, what is there to do?
Outside, the nomadic bustle, sleepless;
Like in a beehive, the queen is there, true,
Taken care of, cuddled, affectionless.

Her Majesty, queen of infinite skies,
Above the clouds, ruling with all her might,
But down here, fat, motionless, oversize,
Branded by awkward numbers, impolite!

Down here the airbus Queen is without court,
Among the mayhem of New York airport!

Random Haiku

Blond, Tan, and stupid

Koh Phi Phi is full of them

The stupid Tourists.



Glorious emptiness,

Stuffed with nothing but bullshit

The Ignorant mind.



Stares, empty smiles

The pointlessness of it all

In a globalized world.

Harmony, Draft #1

They kept telling us
On these fabulous posters

That this is the beauty of our society,
And that makes us all stronger.

The sky scrapers, high, always higher,
Synonym of expeditious development;

The material proof that things were good,
Posters made of concrete.

And yet, behind those sky scrapers,
The hints of something, there, restless.

I told my children,
But they couldn’t understand.

I did not see it coming either,
Although it was right there,

Under my nose,
Too real to be true.

But it became true enough,
And sooner that anyone imagined.

It’s like if anger itself had come,
And like a tsunami when it comes,

It has swept everything,
Leaving nothing but hate.

They tore each other’s fragile flesh
Until the streets were flooded with blood,

And overnight the piles of corpses
Made curious signposts;

The following day they came, the survivors:
Grim, angry, outraged, ripped,

Without their kins,
the dead ones.

And pain would not stop them,
But only maddened them further,

They sought a rallying cry,
Nationalism gave it to them.

The banner, red as blood, hoisted,
above the destruction, broken glass,

And Urumqi was bleeding,
And Harmony was all but a dream.

Haiku

A seat cold as ice

The chilling wind of air cond

In empty classrooms.

Adaptation plan, Master Plan

The Plan: adapt this into free verses.

Summary: Urumqi, July 7th, 2009. Hordes of Han Chinese are storming Urumqi, looking for Uighur to beat down, and eventually, kill. Their anger is such that only the army rows can prevent them from burning the bazaar, with the Uighur in it. The official Harmony, so beautiful in its concept, exists only in rhetoric. I could not really feel this harmony as I was walking in Urumqi, that night.

An Ode for Coffee

An early morning, when the fumes arise,
I hear the call, or I rather smell it;
That’s the one thing I like: there’s no surprise,
But only flagrant fumes, and no bullshit.
And yet in its fumes I find addiction,
Because the mere smell makes me go crazy;
When it’s early it’s a benediction
But take it too late and you’ll go crazy.

It comes from Columbia, or Malaysia;
But from whichever horizon it came,
May it be in Asia or Africa,
When it’s in my cup I shall just proclaim:

“Glorious coffee is for my reckless soul
the invincible, infallible fuel.”

A Short Ride. final draft

“Ernesto, look! That’s Ana-Maria waiting for the bus! Take my car, go pick her up and drive her home!”

“Don’t be stupid, Pedro, I don’t have a driver license.”

“Whatever, man, that’s one time chance you got now...”

Ernesto couldn’t let this go. He took the driver’s seat, dropped Pedro, and drove toward where Ana-Maria was standing. Thank God in America driving automatic cars is very easy; Ernesto could thus pretend to know how to drive. Easy, he thought, as he was approaching the bus stop.

“Come in, it’s starting to rain. I’ll give you a ride.”

As he was motioning Ana-Maria to get in the car, Ernesto’s heart was racing. This was the occasion he had dreamed of for months. They were both in the same class, and yet since the beginning of the semester this Fall he had not managed to approach her. She was always surrounded by this group of girls that looked all the same and took great fun in ridiculizing any attempt from any boy to approach her.

She was indeed stunningly beautiful. She had dark deep Latino eyes in which one could either see his own reflection on the glassy surface or simply get hypnotized in this marvelously mysterious and captivating darkness. But in the same time she had this unique way of stroking her fingers through her dark long curly hairs that fell evenly on her shoulders and along her delicate bronze skinned neck. She was strong minded, almost masculine, and yet the way she walked - carelessly but gracefully - would always catch the attention of any boy around. She was definitely the most beautiful girl on campus, but unlike all the others, she didn’t care. She didn’t even seem to understand the attention she got from all these boys. She would usually give this light musical laugh when someone said she was good-looking, which would discomfit the one trying his charms on Ana-Maria.

And today Ernesto was giving her a ride home. He still couldn’t believe it: he must have been the luckiest person on earth! His mind hadn’t been on anything else but her for the past 3 months, but he had still not managed to get a word with her. Although he would usually be considered as a good-looking person, he was never so good with girls, and she was like the untouchable gem. His best friend Pedro had thought of many strategies to get Ana-Maria away from this annoying group of girls, but Ernesto just couldn’t do it.

Today he had the opportunity he had sought for months. He thought it must have been a gesture from the gods responsible with the dating business. “Thank you dear dating God for sitting Ana-Maria on my car’s passenger seat!” He felt almost feverish. He could barely mumble a weak ‘you’re welcome‘ when she thanked him so innocently! And now what? This was the occasion of a lifetime, but how to grasp this unbelievable opportunity? How to unveil his feelings? How to be bold enough to stop fearing a negative answer? How to be strong enough to live on after a refusal? And what if she said yes?

“We are in the same biology class, on Tuesday mornings, isn’t it? I never got to know your name! I’m Ana-Maria.”
Come on, he thought, it’s now or never!

“Yeah, uh... nice to meet you. I’m Ernesto. Actually...” But he couldn’t finish, he was mumbling, he was too hesitant, he was too unsure. His brain was working faster than ever; his thoughts were coming and going, like the leaves when they are blowing in the wind: right, left, back and forth. He couldn’t do it. He would just try to forget about her. This was all nonsense anyways. No, that would have been impossible. She was too beautiful, she was the delicate flower waiting to be picked, she was a prince-less princess, she was everything, she... He blushed. His heart was still racing; the blood was pounding in his ears.

“Do you like the class?” finally managed to enquire Ernesto. But he instantly thought ‘what a stupid question’ and bit his lower lip in remorse. He felt even worse when she laughed, but he also felt kind of drugged by the sound of her playful voice.

“This class is so boring! But actually I’m looking forward the field trip next weekend. Maybe we can sit together in the bus. I’m tired of the other girls.”

Ernesto chocked, mumbled, stumbled, and finally managed a weak ‘yes’. It seemed hardly possible but his face became even redder. It was almost purple. Ernesto thought it was burning hot inside the car so he opened the window in a vain attempt to get some air, but as it was raining he closed it again.

Somewhere, not very far, a truck driver was reaching the town’s outskirts. He was glad to be back, after a long and tiring journey.

As they were getting out of the University Campus, Ernesto surprised himself when he managed to ask with a steady and self-confident voice: “so where do you live?”

“It’s not far, on Wellington Avenue, on the left right after the ‘Healthy Stuff’ shop.”

‘Damn’ thought Ernesto. It was barely a five-minute drive, which didn’t leave him much time to sum up the amount of courage needed to ask Ana-Maria out. He would have to be quick. This thought made him feel even more anxious, if that was possible, so he started to breathe deeper while trying to ignore his beaming red cheeks and the sweat pearling down his back.

Fog was accumulating on the windows.

He thought that he should maybe delay his ‘proposal’, and wait for another day, when the situation would be more suitable. But he then imagined his father, back home, telling him once again to never delay what could be done today. His father was right, as usual, but this still didn’t helped at all. This raging internal battle was worming Ernesto out and he was feeling like a rag being pulled from multiple directions. What to do: ask her out or not? If he asked right now at least he would know what to expect, for the best or for the worse. But he felt so bad about himself that he didn’t think it was the best time to venture himself; maybe it was better to wait and ‘work her out’, in a way or an other. After all they had formally met each other barely five minutes ago. But he would also feel ashamed of himself if he let such an opportunity slip between his fingers. The struggle was going on and on.

Ana-Maria was talking again about the biology class but Ernesto wasn’t listening at all, for his mind was not on biology, a subject for which he didn’t care.

There was only a few hundreds meters left until they reached destination when he finally set his mind. He realized that he had forwarded his decision long enough and that now it was time to act. For three months he had contemplated asking her out!

He took a deep breath while repeating once again the ultimate question in his mind.

He interrupted her: “Ana-Maria?” She turned herself toward him while replacing once again a lock behind her ear with her left hand, and smiled at him.

“Yes?”

But as she turned herself she had a fraction of a second to catch the sight of the truck coming straight on the left side of the car, straight on Ernesto’s side. She didn’t even have time to shout a warning or anything else. It all happened at once.

The truck driver was tired but happy to be almost home. His wife was pregnant and their son was supposed to be born within the next two weeks, so he had accepted this last shipment before taking a short paternal leave. She had wanted him to stay home, but he needed the money, as always. So he had left. But now it didn’t matter; he was home. Only a few hundred meters left, he thought, while foreseeing the moment he would take his wife between his arms. He closed his eyes with pleasure and anticipation, only for a few second, and did not see the traffic light turning red.

As Ana - Maria smiled to him Ernesto knew he had a chance straight away, he knew that no one had sincerely paid attention to Ana - Maria but him, he knew that this coming weekend he would take her to the movies, he knew he would be the one being able to tell her how much he was in love with her and caress her golden cheeks, and eventually kiss those perfect lips.

He was even more startled to see her gorgeous smile turn into a mask of terror. And then he heard the crash. He heard it rather that he felt it. It was like a dream in which he saw everything happen in slow motion. He also heard Ana-Maria screaming. It was so strange! He couldn’t see clearly anymore, as if he looked through an opaque filter. He saw her, next to him, and that made him happy. He tried to ask her out, but she couldn’t hear. His mouth wasn’t making any sounds at all. He had thought earlier that he was living a dream. Then he understood he was dying, and that he had waited too long; now it was too late, and he would never be able to ask Ana-Maria out. He thought that life is too short, but that didn’t helped; he couldn’t fight it, his eyes were closing themselves, and he knew that when they would be closed he would never be able to admire Ana-Maria ever again, so he just looked at her, and that was the last thing he saw. At least it was beautiful.

Ernesto’s last though was on his father, though. He imagined him instructing again and again that life was too short, and that he should never delay anything that could be done on the spot. He was right, and he had known it all the time.

A Last Ride. Plot #3.

A boy and a girl in a car. The boy is driving the girl back home. They are school mates, and he's in love with her, but he haven't told her. He planning to say it during this very particular drive, but the girl doesn't live far away, so time is running out. He has already been trying to tell his love to her for months, but always ended up thinking 'this is not an appropriate moment, I'll tell her later'. His father has been telling him again and again to act promptly before it’s too late, and yet nothing happened.
But today is the day! Ernesto has finally decided to take his chance and reveal his love for Maria while he would take her home after class... During the whole drive he’s almost launching himself, and each time she tells some random comments and he thinks ‘later, later’. But time is running out.

One block before reaching her home, he takes a deep breath, holds his courage, and get ready confess his love for her. He closes his eyes one second, thinking that it’s now or never, but he’s pulled out of his dream when a truck hits the car right on the front. Next second Ernesto is feeling like in a dream, his vision is unclear, the blood is battling his temper, there is a whistling noise in his ears. He doesn’t understand what’s going on. There is this awful whistling that doesn’t stop. He wonders why some people are yelling outside of the car. He turns his head toward Maria and gets even more startled: she is sleeping! He calls her “Maria, what are you doing”, but she remains motionless. “Maria!”, nothing. And then, only then, he starts to understand what’s going on when he sees a strain of blood going from the corner of her mouth. Then all the yelling outside the car start to make sense, and Ernesto comes back to reality, the reality of a car crash in which Maria dyed.

The message: never put to later what you can now do.

Nutrition and Rhymes.

I really like pasta,
Because it's filamentous.
And if you got turista,
It’s even nutritious.
So actually,
Or acrobatically,

I end up making a rhyme,
While drinking vegetable juice.
And that makes me whine,
For I hate vegetable juice.
But people told me it’s healthy,
So I drink consciously.

Pamplemousse is born. (plot)

"Where did you got this name?" Pamplemousse hated this question, but it kept pursuing him since the day he was born. "My parents had always wished to visit France, and they just loved this word - which means 'grapefruit' in French - so they ended up calling me Pamplemousse."

After spending a couple of years in the small town of Graveline in the north of France, he wondered more and more why his parents were so in love with this country. But now his parents were dead, and he was far from where he was born, so there was no way for him to find the answers to his questions. For him, until now life had resumed itself to the Catholic orphanage in which he had grown up, the rainy weather of Northern France, and the small square in the center of Graveline with its old church were a few Gravelinois gathered every Sunday. In other words: the boring life of a small town in a sleepy region. But unlike his classmates who took this life for granted, Pamplemousse never really understood what he was doing there. It was only few months ago that he started to pay attention to these thoughts, and he soon realized that he did not know much about his past, where he was from, and who he was. And as he was approaching the age of 18 and the long sought independence of adulthood, the dreams of re-discovering his homeland haunted him more and more.

This story really begins when Pamplemousse sets for the first time in his life his feet outside France...

Conflict:
Pamplemousse doesn't feel at home. At feels like a minority of one. So he goes back to Palestine, because he thinks he will fit better in the society. But he then realize that Palestine is at war with Israel, the conditions of living are terrible, people are suffering. And worse of all: he is not accepted by the local population.

Climax:
It builds up as the expectation becomes stronger and stronger. Pamplemousse gets more and more excited to finally see Palestine. But then it's not all all what he expected. He can't speak arabic, people consider him as a foreigner, a rich foreigner who can be exploited... He tries to go back to the village where he was born, and on the way he gets stuck at a military checkpoint and he doesn't understands the language and panic and get shot.