#14 “The Provocateur”

#14 “The Provocateur’ [Series Poetry-Painting]

(deviates from substance and depth, using my artistic visual definitions)

“enjoy love” like a concierto” (poeticized)

strange strange yet, i still love him__am i challenged?__ is it love?__ is it ego?… like a concierto it starts soft slow gentle gaining momentum, then bang bang bang as if in orgasmic moment!

ade in lucid reflection 2019

i miss that Silhouette

ahhhh… i love that distinguished walk

rhythmic steps, the graceful back arc.

as i sit in comfort

tracing the intriguing run;

in a rhumba sway!

his royal grace glows in his sophistication

ahhhh… i miss those days

when we would trot every morning.

we reach a beach shore

and he canters… then gallops

and i, in total surrender hold on the reins!

but love fades it dries it dies

ends in shouting bang

the slow gentle sway ends as in a concierto!

expressionism poetry by: __ade caparas manilah

16 march 2019 sydney nsw australia

#13 “The Provocateur”…[Series Poetry-Painting] shouting to exist

#13 “The Provocateur”…[Series Poetry-Painting]

(deviates from substance and depth, using my artistic visual definitions)

shouting to exist

this morning, in the midst of an early sydney summer morning heat, i rid my garden of few wild displeasing growths, this satisfaction left my mid-finger in pain… ahhh arthritis! __and as i sat in my lovely pergola, my sight lingered… catching glimpse of a piece of 15’ log which i laboriously  dragged from the front public park some months ago in its abandoned state, partly covered of weeds, left to rot under rain sun, till that day i found it. Now it has age-dried to perfection.

hd shout for existence ade final


the lovely curvature

traced with knobs

of broken branches

the aged dents cracks 

chipping of its barks

complete the graceful 

nature beauty

of its existence

shouting to exist!


life is full of dented cracked spaces, broken branches of dreams, disquietudes chips of everyday breath, yet out of necessity, why not be an artist, a poet, an sculptor: be a creator; create your life… given the gift of intellect, feeling of freewill, subtlety, full power of creativeness… make crisis a triumph!

make nature a reality

discover the defects

as the central focus 

of beautiful existence

rather live in a shack

surrounded by greenery 

of herbs of fruits of flowers

than a concreted mansion who’s airfoamed bed 

is riddled with machines.

shout sing dance to exist

to the reality of nature

obey that necessary form

what the situation demands

be in love

with the wind rain sun

it is only upon fusion

of the contradictories 

shout for existence is heaven!

an expressionistic poetry by: __ade caparas manilah

monday 2:09pm 04 february 2019

sydney nsw australia

#12 “The Provocateur”…[Series Poetry-Painting] Truth is Death

#12 “The Provocateur”…[Series Poetry-Painting]

(deviates from substance and depth, using my artistic visual definitions)

 Truth is Death

“the world, a weepy-willow tree, infinite in its droops a dangled chain… clusters of meaningless beings, born to live in the peals of distress and pages of helplessness… ahhhhhhhhh, INDIO, you agree not but asserted nothing! __ade caparas manilah

ade hd truth of existence


the truth exist:

i breathe

flowers trees birds houses books rains thunders lightnings




all things surrounding;

my passion my hunger my pain

ahhhh, the world is true

bubbling leaking themselves

as true 

sometimes as false!

but am i true?

you ask, “how are you?”

i reply, “fine, thanks!”

when  the truth is: 

i ache!

i am a weepy-willow… lacerated bleeding

but foolish, who acts not

waiting waiting ‘manna’ from heaven.


the ‘manna’ fails to fall from heaven

i need to climb up a mango tree

hold that fruity juicy mango

i act to have… 

the truth of existence 

my being is pronounced

surges in reality

i taste the fruity juicy mango!

my smile 

an appearance 

simulates  joy 



the falsity of joy is

i ache

reality of my being

truth identifies my being.

Assertiveness leads to the reality of my being, i.e. grabbing surging bubbling dancing singing writing… which is an actuality of appearances yet my consciousness is that of an infinite image of a weepy-willow; the truth… the revelation of may existence is ‘Death’.

a surreal  prose and poetry by: __ade caparas manilah

saturday 5:57pm 02 february 2019

Sydney nsw australia

#11 “The Provocateur”…[Series Poetry-Painting]

#11 “The Provocateur”…[Series Poetry-Painting]

(deviates from substance and depth, using my artistic visual definitions)

how free am i?

hd ade dated


“i am a poet, an imperious artist, quasi-infantile from my crib… with capable imagination of magical act to pen the object of mine thought: unbothered about distance, about darkness; taking  possession of mine desire.” _ade caparas manilah

i am a leaf

flown in existence 

in the midst of the world

a being in alienation 

with that of the others

trailing my meanings 

marking my limits

am i free then?

how free?

i create a lovely paradise, a purplish blue rainbow where in my relax breathe, i romance with the green foliages and the seductive lips of dancing flowers…re-enacting the then: 

a candle-lit dine

stares entwine

our love in the afternoon. (haiku 5/3/7)

yes, i, a poet free in my thoughts, in my pen, yet my body is still in possession of others… they hold secrets about me__ of who what why i am as they  would please… this consciousness of possessing me. 

they… who stole my being

find me “that i am”

that consciousness of

possessing me

making me nevertheless responsible

for the consciousness 

which is my being

i am not free

a prisoner of worlds consciousness.


a selfie-portrait in poetry by __ade caparas manilah

thursday 10:46am 31 january 2019

sydney nsw australia

#10“The Provocateur”…[Series Poetry-Painting]


Poetry is the soul of writing, its appeal comes from the existence of disfigured and adulterated thoughts of an artistic mind… a mind that traverses the colossal incalculable unfathomable universe… expressed through the flight of languages, only a poet can silhouette; a poet who finds himself nude in the midst of an iceberg, yet feels the steamy hot springs refreshing his spirit with such immeasurable orgasmic intoxication. Poetry comes in many moods: an intense love that makes the moon hide in its blinding shines; a violent anger that drowns thousands with its dagger alphabets; an obsessed demon that would skull one out of its existence; poetry does not lie… the only created phrase that sends a thousand and one  thoughts.__ade caparas manilah

A Loving Tribute to a departed great poet, Madan Yayati G. Gandhi

award given to madan yayati gandhi by pp

now you’ve gone

leaving your earthy abode

windows of window

play the unspoken words

how much we’d miss you,

your marvellous languages words 

music to our ears…

Philosophique  Poética de-Aanand

loves you, Madan Yayati G Gandhi                                

__ade caparas manilah

Madan Yayati G Gandhi’s latest poem:

“…Poetry opens by blooming heart’s cosmic seed in soul; and merging within om santih santih santih. May we give loving for all, tending nurture of life’s entire garden; singing oneness within beauty’s divine renewable health, strength and vitality. 

Living each moment inside of now – we are love; becoming truly ever loving… A Lover of Life – inside heart and soul.” 


I walk and walk

on a lonely trek

with a sense of zest.

Someday, I will arrive

at celebration of a new earth; 

sans borders, sans sense of ours and others.

The one-earth home to everyone

where people offer open-arm welcome

to everyone who comes with heart of a lover.

Like an open shelf library with rarest books, 

and readers freely browsing through them

sitting in the browsing lounge of kindness.

To wake up in a world free 

of hate and fear; in the here and now, 

not in some distant future. 

Yayati, Madan G Gandhi

Poet Laureate, 


Global Fraternity of Poets 

Dr Jernail S Aanand’s poem in response to Madan Yayati G Gandhi’s poem


By Dr Jernail S Aanand

Here is a part of the everywhere.

A soft border visible to the eye. 

How man loved the bordered village 

with a passion so high 

Held hard to his ground.

Swelled his margins all around.

Wanted all to admire

The wild and the fire.

On bare bones was fitted 

A case of flesh.

Blood ran in the veins

All looked so fresh.

Death of the here

Is a moment of celebration.

When here and everywhere

In a seamless union 

come together.


Posted by:

__ade caparas manilah

sunday 9:49pm 27 january 2019

sydney nsw australia

#8“The Provocateur”…[Series Poetry-Painting]

(deviates from substance and depth, using my artistic visual definitions)

“My Winter Years”

Now that i am in my winter years… the ethical political mathematical astronomical religious implications of my existential significance__the ludicrousness farcicality of my life, ahhhhhhhhh… my silent aloneness… my years of anguish, my alternating sequences of tears and joy, my continuing  fight for triumph, all these have dominated my thoughts during these last five decades of my 84 years of life, which i must say, were moments of trials and errors; of spiritual doubts and surrender. My love for the ‘existentialism’ of Jean Paul Sartre; the ‘superman’ of Friedrich Nietzsche; the ‘subjectivity consciousness’… that initiatory experience of being ravished by Roland Barthes, made me accept what is; and the ‘empirical moments’ i had with God, developed by the readings of the Holy Scriptures, mounted the faith,  i am so blessed…


final HD ade magnolia 2018

“white steel magnolia”

a strength  seasoned by 

the wild storms and winds

the burning fury heat of summer

the icy chills of winter

the withering falling leafs of autumn


its whiteness unblemished

its skin hardened yet satiny

a symbol of femininity, i am a Magnolia!

I wasn’t born to hate and create enemies, yet i usually find moi in the midst of it; provoked challenged demanded expected!!! __perhaps in my fragile tiny 100 pound-weights, i pronounce such superman bearing, physically mentally emotionally spiritually… i can’t say i am a voluptuous beauty, yet i seem to be like a firefly competing with the stars, i feel – see – know – hear – taste it as a fact!!! And i love it!!! O, i must admit, i am in truth a narcissist!

“the Moon”

she knows:

she’s a beauty

she creates induces:

love romance sex

she’s watched admired desired

she flaunts but unreached

she glitters and hides

she’s unpredictably expected

a woman is a moon!

Five decades of voracious thirsting for the meaning of life— but in my simple mind, though sages philosophers poets musicians painters have created its meaning through their specialized arts… life is music, without the varying pitch and tone: its high and its low, it won’t create a sonata.

“a belly dancer”

she commands her muscles

to her modes and tempos

exposes her most tempting torso

miming the beats of  drum

sways like waves of the sea

her gentle mission

to shimmer beyond good and evil

whispering love songs

belly dancer, the nuance of life!

Life is difficult, because you allow it so, it is hard because you believe it so, you wouldn’t follow the pitch and tone of your music, the bouncing grace of your muscles, your fear of being unliked, disapproved, unwelcome hides your desired happiness.

“be a superman”

let your imagination to a reality

let your moon shimmer

show off your belly dance

sing sing sing your love

be a magnolia

how can you allow

evil sadness overshadow

your nuance of life

be a superman!

expressionistic poetry by: __ade caparas manilah

wednesday 11:30pm  19 december 2018

sydney australia

#6 “The Provocateur”…[Series Poetry-Painting]

#6 “The Provocateur”…[Series Poetry-Painting]

(deviates from substance and depth, using my artistic visual definitions)

final HD the Provocateur Cover page

 “A woman is a never ending 24 hr ticking machine… a victim of misogyny, an old cultural religious political ideological hate attitude for females, referred as the weaker gender…  yet  she maintains her female mysticism, a weapon she and only her, the woman, possesses… causing the downfall of the so-called powerful gender,  male!”__ade caparas manilah



“a woman how precious”


you are the sun and the moon

the light and the darkness

the good and the evil

the love and the hate

you graze you ruminate

day and night your mind works

you move even while in rest

always at the mercy of the moment 

feeling neither lonely nor gaiety!

To some religious teachings:

In Buddhism, the male monks are morally exalted to the highest and though the mothers and the wives are  also given important roles, feminist scholars still emphasized  some misogynistic nature in Buddhism.

In Judaism Torah, Adam’s first wife is Lilith, both were created at the same time from the dust of the earth… but with Lilith, God used the filth and sediment instead of pure dust, the reason why they never had a harmonious union… Lilith found it offensive to sleep and have sex with Adam, claiming they are both made from the dust, thus they are equal… Lilith left Adam, she becomes the demoness whose offsprings with Adam produces innumerable demons that continue to burden mankind up to our present time. 

In the Christian bible, God created Eve from the ribs of Adam as his second wife establishing male authority, commanding her to be subservient to her husband. At the story of the Fall of Man, the myth, Eve as being the cause of ills and sufferings; her action to make Adam partake the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge , which had initiated the death of mankind! God cursed Eve, “ I will multiply your labour and sorrow; you will bear children in pain; you will yearn for your husband, and be ruled by him…

In Islam, the number 34th verse is the key verse of the feminist movement: the verse reads, “Men are the maintainers of women because Allah has made some of them to excel  others  and because they spend out of their property; the good women are therefore obedient, guarding the unseen as Allah has guarded; and (as to) those whose part you fear desertion, admonish them, and leave them alone in the sleeping-places and beat them; then if they obey you, do not seek a way against them; surely Allah s High, Great.”

Weininger in his book Sex and Character, characterises “woman” as essentially “nothing”, sans real existence, none effective consciousness  or rationality.(47)

Schopenhauer on his essay “On Women” (Uber die Weiber), claims, “woman is by nature meant to obey”.

Nietzsche on his book, “Beyond Good and Evil”, he said, “Women are less than shallow” and “Are you going to women? Do not forget the whip!”

Kant and Aristotle writings contained unsavoury statements of sexism and racism. Hegel’s view of women , on his “Elements of the Philosophy of Right”.

“Women are capable of education, but they are not made for activities which demand a universal faculty such as more advanced sciences, philosophy and certain forms of artistic production… Women regulate their actions not by the demands of universality, but by arbitrary inclinations and opinions.”(52)

In politics:

It is often witnessed in all countries that women usually come a mere second to male politicians, where they are even publicly ridiculed during their frontal debate’s campaigns!

To my mind: 

these are thoughts coming from the minds of insecure  souls, who in truth  finds women as a threat, an unavoidable opponent, a ‘sun’ duplicate, the source of interesting life; a ‘moon’ romance that can displace a CEO’s $10,000,000 monthly salary; that sight of  pomegranate’s pair that  bounces as her heart beats beats beats__dropping a priest’s sash; that arresting stare, saying no word but makes a man miss his wheel… ahhhhhhhhh… woman, a temptress who, in fact is a sure winning mystiques.

To the minds of others:

Famous artist, Van Gogh said, “there is no such thing as ugly woman.”

“Sure God created man before woman. But then you always make a rough draft before the final masterpiece.” __Author unknown.

“The average woman would rather have beauty than brains, because the average man can see better than he can think.” __Author unknown

“A woman can say more in a sigh than a man can say in a sermon.” Author unknown.

“Women get the last word in every argument. Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument.” Author unknown.

“i, a woman”

my tears of thanksgiving

now i am sure

i am a strong hard rock

seasoned tempered mellowed

i conquer… outdo

the Prince of Darkness

impulsiveness anger

out of my system

thanks thanks thanks! 


“woman unstoppable” 


nothing is unstoppable 

aging decaying dying

darkest shade-colour of mankind 

ever assigned towards my end

unconsciously or consciously  

would image through my lifetime

i voluntarily accept

to attain peace of mind

the only key to joy.

“my Dotism”

my starting dot was carried by a violent wind; stretched moulded within a white box sprayed with mists of sweetness- exposed only to the righteousness and divine virtues of extraordinary human being, until  my thinking, my dotted mind, starts to wonder why tiny little stars in the sky blinks!

my adult-child thinking, like candle drippings, walk sneak climb fly… unearthing life’s emotional, financial, spiritual, health struggles; life’s vicious adornments of envy pride greed lust creep slowly with the duet dagger-smile and manipulative warm touch… ahhhhhhhhh… my lace-ripples of naivety, walks in whisper, naughtily trots, tempting canters, and eventually, the daring gallops. _my glimmering swings unstoppable… is this destiny… luck?… ahhhhhhhhh, nooooooo, my own choices!my dot has its way of playing my womanhood!


Expressionism prose & poetry by: _ade caparas manilah

friday 2:04pm 23 november 2018

lanecove west, nsw australia