Hoàng-Ân
Death Metal In The Twilight In A Forgotten Part Of The Town (1)
My friend has just passed away last night from the disease of AIDS. Passionately lived, he passionately breathed his last breath in the arms of his Latin lover! ...Cynical sky hangs low in the purplish twilight, my friend and his friends died from the limelight; the sun sets down below the darkening corner streets. I walk, head empty, my chest full of heartaches: the questions weight between matters of the heart and of the mind. ...Men and women, hunching over with burdens. Lost souls with suffering hungering eyes, pushing stolen supermarket carts, holding the few precious belongings collected from trash bins, inside grocery bags and black plastic trash bags; hand-pandling for changes enough for a can of beer: in the corner streets in the forgotten part of the town.
I walk among the haggard ragged poors; lit up a Marlboro and hand a hungry man in a torn BellSouth T-shirt my last one. He inhales a puff then carefully wraps the rest in a wrinkled plastic bag to put away for a later precious ritualistic smoke before sleep. A little girl of about seven in a soiled dress, steps gingerly out of the shadows, holding a discolored cloth doll, shyly holds out a dirty palm, asking softly, eyes sparkling rays of hope: "Please, mam, please? Some change for my candy bar?" I kneel down, putting two quarters into her opened palm; the fifty cents for a quick phone call from some paid phone that I would charge to my Sam Club AT&T calling card to send some loving words to my daughter away in college. I smile deeply into the girl child's eyes and lovingly speak as if to etch my heart against her soul: "Honey, I hope this is enough!" But to me, it isn't!
Death Metal Dimmu Borgir's "Enthrone Darkness Triumphant" ringing the excruciating screams over the headphones of my portable CD player...in the lavender shadows...the last bright shade of the day...They strike an errie chord of hopes to cure the season of discontent!
WILLIAM THOMPSON (1712-1766)
THE HAPPY LIFE
A book, a friend, a song, a glass,
A chaste, yet laughter-loving lass,
To mortals various joys impart,
Inform the sense, and warm the heart.
Thrice happy they, who careless laid
Beneath a kind-embowering shade,
With rosy wreaths their temples crown,
In rosy wine their sorrow drown.
Begone, ambition, riches, toys,
And splendid cares, and guilty joys--
Give me a book, a friend, a glass,
And a chaste, laughter-loving lass.
