Tag Archives: Metaphors of Life

Waiting for You, at the Finishing Lines

Waiting for you, at the finishing lines, is still NOTHING you would want!  You’d finished running, this long, AND hard marathon called life, and, seen a ton of beautiful, and ugly-as-hell scenes along the way, haven’t you?  And now, you’re just about done…

Waiting for you, at the finishing lines, don’t expect a hero’s welcome, because you ain’t gettin’ none, because you’d done so many things wrong along the way, tripped someone, just to get ahead, elbowed your opponent, to keep her/him from outrunning you, don’t THINK I didn’t notice!

Waiting for you, at the finishing lines, are the mistakes you’d made, crimes you’d committed, and, that red-faced dude, with the pitchfork, and the horns, a goatee, with that lizard-like tail, ready, to COLLECT, and, you WILL pay up.

Waiting for you, at the finishing lines, are all the dreams you’d ever hard, and, as you run past each and every one of them, you’d recalled how you’d felt, when you first dreamt them all up one by one, you’d wanted stay awhile, but, you couldn’t, your feet are urging you, to move on, and, you’d left your hearts, where those broken dreams were………

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Filed under Cause & Effect, Expectations, Karma, Life, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Story-Telling

A Bitter Cup of Coffee

A bitter cup of coffee, I’d needed that, to WAKE me up, from this love that I’d gotten involved in with you!!!

A bitter cup of coffee, with the acidic aftertaste, that leaves that taste of pain on the tips of my tongue, like how I’d, accidentally, placed that wedge of lemon in my mouth…

A bitter cup of coffee, to remind me, that it’s time, that I woke myself up, and, because pinching myself couldn’t do the “trick”, I’m in need of, a stronger way, to make the feelings STICK!

A bitter cup of coffee, gotten used to having that every morn, since you’d left me, at first, I’d downed that cup, before I ate anything, and, as you would imagine, the acidity of the coffee, combined, with my own stomach acid, it’d made my stomach turn, and that, was EXACTLY what I was needing, to help myself, get over you.

A bitter cup of coffee, I’d savored, taken it all in, sip, by sip, slowly, so the bitterness could last longer, until AFTER the coffee’s gone, and that, was how I was able to, keep myself away, from the memories of you, of us, of the better times we’d shared, that are, all gone with the wind now…

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Filed under Being Alone, Coping Mechanisms, Interactions Shared with the World, Letting Go, Life, Loneliness/Solitude, Story-Telling

On the Game We Played, Called Life

On the game we played, called life, there are bound to be losers AND winners, and, as the winners get their hero’s welcome, the losers would hide away, in the darkened corners, and sobbed, quietly.

On the game we played called life, it’s fun, but, all good things MUST come to an end, and, some of us were forced to stop playing, because we’d fouled up, or whatever, while others, well, we simply got too tired of playing this game, and just, called it quits.

On the game we played called life, nobody can tell you the end results, because NOBODY knows exactly how the game will be played, but, there’s always going to be LOSERS, because NOBODY can BEAT death at its own game!

On the game we played, called life, all we can do, is to play the best we possibly can, and, the outcomes may not be as we’d expected, because things don’t necessarily even out, because there is, this tiltedness about life………

On the game we played called life, we’re all, commentators (you know, like those old looking dudes sitting in the studios, dissecting how the game’s being played???), and we are all, participants, competitors, and, it’s still EVERY MAN for HER/HIMSELF, because in this game called life, IF we don’t look out for #1, then, nobody’s gonna!

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Filed under Cause & Effect, Cost of Living, Life, Observations, Perspectives, Properties of Life, Values

Dung Beetle

A poem, written by Natalia Toledo, translated…


They’d shaped up the dung

Round like the full moon

They’d carried it over their heads

Like vendors who sold foods on the streets

They are finding the bottommost layer of the world

To store and hide those stuff

As if they’re keeping the dung as

A sacred heirloom


The fires are made from the land layers of the world

A soft leaf fell asleep in my eyes

My shadows are on a march

Trying to appease to my needle-filled exterior, trembling

I’d found a home in a garden

I’d carried a fly on my back, which made me into half-invisible

I have a palm made of leaves

And, everything salute itself to me

And I’d returned that favor with my rancid scent


I sat, underneath a shadow

My back is a leaf of corn, tilted downward

Sadness, it’d opened up the land

Like when it was tilled for the purpose of planting

The dust of the world

Ground, in my eyes slowly

The aroma given off by the raindrops

Stayed on the edge of the skies, waiting to fall


The world is darkened

The mud overflowed everywhere, rushed toward the oceans

The bluish green sun came, and it’d wiped the men’s eyes

The land absorbed its moisture from the flowers and the plants

A shake, from its crevasse

Born, the very first man

It says here, that these four poems have a special kind of taste of nature.  From the dung beetles, she’d reflected the roles of women in her era, like how the poet carries that natives’ mindset, observing the small insect, and how it’d made her feel.

So, this, is how it goes, from the origins of man, to how we are like the dung beetles, working hard all our lives, and what for?  Are our lives more purposeful than those dung beetles, after all, they ARE, lower order of animals, and, all they care about, are their survivals from day to day, and this, is a metaphor for man (human, that is!!!), after all, we all struggle in our daily living, making ends meet, run around the world like headless chickens, and we just don’t realize, how much we are actually like those lower order of species!



Filed under Cost of Living, Creative Writing, Gender Roles, Issues on Gender, Life, Moods, Emotions, & Feelings, Observations, Poetry, The Observer Effect, Translated Work, Values, Women's Issues

The Aromatic Scent of Coffee

Found on a Chinese weblog, translated…

Growth, is a Process, and What, is Meant by the Pot of Gold at the End of the Rainbow? You will have to figure that out independently. The last taste that remained, is the lightly sweetened sensation, mixed, with a heart-awakening bitterness. And, we’d found ourselves, at last!

Glaring at that emptied coffee cup, that last remaining bit of pride got torn to shreds. A person’s life, is filled, with nothing BUT bitterness throughout. And so, why would we all, waste what little time we have on Earth, chasing after the unimportant things that don’t matter, such as reputation and fame, and money too.

I couldn’t figure it out, so, I’d gotten drunk on coffees instead.

Watching the dark-colored fluid circling around in my cup, from the lips, it went down, into my throat, then, into the depth, of our separate souls.

Taking with it, the bitterness, the feelings, the understandings, along with the inclinations you’d held, of your own lives.

Those who drank coffees knows how to savor life, with a heart that soared alongside the imaginations, traveling, through the passages of life, taking flight, rolling, giving off a sweet scent.

But, you’d have to wake eventually, it’s just that at that moment, you’d chosen the life fitting for you, one you would enjoy living. Don’t allow the life to make your decisions, make decisions about your own lives, because you need to have the quality of freedom that coffees have.

Some say, that coffees are lonely, and, you’re NOT drinking the coffees, because you feel alone or lonely, but because you need to be on your own, when you savor that cup of good coffee.

I had, already finished this cup of coffee that I have in my hands, my friends, have you, also done the same already?

And so, all of that, you’d “arrived”, in the short time it took, to drink up your cup of coffee, and, it’s a wonder, how something like coffee, or even alcohol, can make your imagination come alive, which, is probably W-H-Y, caffeine and alcohol, are so easily addicted on…








Filed under Attitude, Awareness, Connections, Creative Writing, Expectations, Moods, Emotions, & Feelings, Observations, Perspectives, Poetry, Properties of Life, Self-Images, The Observer Effect, Values, Writing