#7 BLOG 2018 “DEATH”

#7 2018 blog “DEATH”

        “i am in anguish, it’s as if every strands of my hair had fallen, it will take sometime to #1 fragments dotism hd adehave it back, as some different new strands… i can never have the same threads i used to braid… the hair my lover loves to comb with his palms… which now, i would have to content myself with a synthetic long hair or settle with the crap hair.



One night…

       “i am pricked pinned stabbed, i am bleeding but no wound _ahhhhhhhhh, it pains it hurts honey… bitterness drips of tearless valles load my chest, my once proud breast, shaped like avocados in its freshness and firmness… now a dangling pair of spoilt papayas… my living-dead soul waits for some catastrophic earthquakes or volcanic eruption to occur,”

                “wait wait, O no,” i couldn’t catch her, she vanished like a fairy… it’s 3:17am, i tried going back to my sleep but useless, the sun has peeped through my curtain, and that wild turkey is outside at my door knocking for some food. My boiling really hot hot cafe makes me samba with my iPod African Song, yet that aching statement earlier keeps me in daze: who is she… is she a reality in occurrence at this moment; an omen, an apparent event to come, or i just need a hot bath!!!

        in my walking outfits, i went for some fresh blue berries about three blocks from my place… “hi ade, did you hear about our friend Sue, she left us!” Roger, my next door neighbour asked.
“where to?
“well, i don’t really know, heaven or hell,” he grins, “i was in her hopital bedside when she had her final.”
“you mean, she died?”
“yes, you were in India, when she was taken by an ambulance. The poor woman’s two children could not even be around, they are both living in America, no relatives have come to visit her, i was the only one around, the ex-husband, came asking for her unit keys and her Visa card… sad sad life.”

         Sue is a linguist, worked as translator and living quite above the average, who could afford a lovely unit, a mercedes benz car, travels, a stunning beauty, much sought about during her youthful days; a single parent, after her divorce from her addict husband. She has settled her one son and one daughter in America, where they are blessed with good financial life. At her age of 64, she had a one-time stroke which incapacitated her free movements, then, forced to stay home, after having been detected with cervix cancer. A lovely person, very private person, but unselfishly helpful within her reach… when i had my broken ribs, she would bring me some cooked meals; i find her still too young to die at age 69.__as i walk back home, i am crying, i feel tormented, i could have visited her when i came back from India, but i didn’t…

a surging savaging waves
roll my body and soul
into an oblivion of intoxication”

        i was too selfishly taken to task by my idolized FB posts and my forth coming book; my framed paper awards; the feathery literary festivities; i couldn’t care less, saying ‘hello hello’ to my neighbours, when i came back from India.


is life is a dream full of struggles
while dream is a life without struggles?

that both have to be accepted
to enjoy a seeming reality?

is  DEATH  the only reality of life?

_ade caparas manilah
monday 12:28pm 26 march 2018
sydney nsw australia

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