On Love

My friend Nathary and I had a poem war on love in fb, which is too silly to post it here. HAHA I was being silly, actually. And when I told my man, here he brought out the poet in him:

“Hahah, I love your Midwinter Night’s Dream; a satire on love with your friend! Umm I have a few minutes; lemme give a try:

Like all poetry

Things don’t make much sense

But your satirical battle is true.

Like Romeo and Juliet

Love is a game of strategy like chess

If you make a wrong moves

It will end in a bloody mess.

When P and I met I felt the attraction first.

Then comes the hard part, the human interaction the flirts.

Like the moon does the earth

Or the bee does the flower

Or the moth does the light

Or the bird does its songs

They all come together.

For some it’s complicated,

They think it will last

But it ends in frustrations.

Our love just mesh and true

Our personality didn’t repel

If you love the wrong person

Your life will be hell.

Love, we crave them.

But they’re the source of so much pain

Being madly in love

Without being insane.

We want our love to be free like a bird

But like "Srov" in the field love gathers you up,

He threshes you to make you naked,

He sifts you to free you from your husks,

He grinds you to whiteness,

He kneads you until your are pliant;

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,

That you may become the rice for god’s sacred feast.

All waiting for love

Like watching ticking clocks

Love and relationships

Our giant paradox."

In The Daytime

I just re-read this post by Nathary again about poetry craziness, and I think she forget to add this one of my man.

In The Daytime

by

Manny Sok

During my days, I roamed the infinite sky, and

Soared in the ideal world, and

Floated through the firmament.

During my nights, I listened to Brahma's wisdom;

I sat by Buddha under the Tree of Knowledge.

Yet here I am, existing with ignorance

And heresy.

My nights, I was on Sinai when Jehovah approached Moses;

I saw the Nazarene's miracles at theJordan;

I was in Medina when Mohammed visited.

Yet here I am, prisoner of bewilderment.

I gathered wisdom from quiet Angkor;

I probed the antiquity of Ta Prom;

I heard all that can be heard.

Yet, my heart is deaf and blind.

I suffered hunger at the hands of Pol Pot;

I suffered slavery under Vietnam;

I suffered humiliations imposed by the Thai;

I was lost in foreign lands and foreign cultures;

Yet, I still possess

some inner power

With which I struggle to great each day.

I was here from the moment of the

Beginning, and here I am still. And

I shall remain here in my days and my nights until the end

Of of world, for there is no

Ending to my grief-stricken being.