Society has taken from us what is our birthright to have - Truth in ourselves. It casts us into the preferred shape until we lose sight of our originality. These poems and short stories offer a dark enigmatic look into one man’s journey through life - More than fascinating! Each piece allows you to search the deepest, darkest fathoms of your heart and soul for the truths that lie within us all. Truths that some may be fearful to uncover but necessary to gain spiritual wellness.

A deeply personal look at life, love and the betrayal of one’s self, the capabilities of redemption and the inner strength each human possesses.

Insight through the gift of clairvoyance combined with the wisdom acquired through the evolution of the soul! A true inspiration!

The Panda Syndrome

Balboa Press

Contents

Foreword.....................................................................viiPreface......................................................................ixAcknowledgments..............................................................xiAn Existence.................................................................1Angel Astray – Spirit in Exile..........................................3The Height of Arrogance The Fall from Freedom................................8Into Darkness................................................................9The Sea of Despair...........................................................11Cause and Effect.............................................................12Who's to Blame...............................................................13Shadow of Mortal Love........................................................15Vulnerable Wisdom............................................................16For the Last Time............................................................18One's Will...................................................................19Rebirth of Light.............................................................22For the Dawn Beckons.........................................................23Peremptory Reality...........................................................27November Moon................................................................29To Surrender.................................................................31Go Now.......................................................................33The Winds of Passion, Wisdom and Woe.........................................34Where Do I Go from Here......................................................36Only a Moment................................................................38A Path to Prayer.............................................................42Just How Much................................................................45Redemption of Eternal Love Liberation for the Unforgiven.....................48The Two Faces of Fate........................................................52No Time for Goodbye..........................................................55The Light of Mediocrity......................................................58Decompression Rapid Descent..................................................59Down and Out.................................................................60So it Shall Be...............................................................61A Date with Destiny..........................................................62A Letter to Grandpa..........................................................64The Angel Prays for Thee.....................................................66Dear Ann.....................................................................67That Was Then This is Now....................................................68Free Flight..................................................................70Forever Alone................................................................72The Panda Syndrome A Societal Imposition.....................................76A Message from Juliana April 29, 2011........................................81About the Author.............................................................82

Chapter One

My contentment is obviously inconsequential. My spiritual existence provides no meaningful contribution. My human presence is nothing more than a face amid an angry mob. My charitable donation never seems to reach those in need, nor can I ever donate enough to please their gods. My questions incite anger within the clergy, my thoughts appear to challenge in defiance. I am unacceptable to the unapproachable, those who speak the Word in a human voice. Nor shall I ever be embraced by the ideological worshipers who I have previously supported but now distance themselves from the essence of my human presence. If I were to tally my total existence, there would appear to be less and less of me each day. My time here is very short apparently. Society spends me frivolously.

So where lay the truths? What is the point of my momentary existence and to whom should it matter that I exist at all? Surely the world could do without another philosophical prophet. However, I do not peddle any false promises of something greater beyond the greater good. I merely seek answers to the many questions that have risen from my life's experiences. However, my thoughts it seems, bear no plausible meanings. I am told that they are nothing more than contrary denouncements of the proven truth. My questions are imprisoned by ridicule. My words, absolute blasphemy!

Perhaps, I have meaning to those who lurk conspicuously in my fading shadow, waiting to feed off the fruits of my labor. The inept; themselves, those who do not bear the courage, less the capability, to ever exert a greater force against that which censors their free will. Perhaps, I do not have anything to say on their behalf, for I have been abandoned by them long ago. My words, it seems, continue to fall upon deaf ears; And they cannot be refuted, for their tongues have been severed. However, I know you and I know that you can hear me.

Of the cold and timid souls who have surrendered their birth right to exist without free will, they are sequestered by the very idols who rule them. Those who never seem to be impressed by your presence, traveling along the path that has been carved out, the predetermined course for a predictable life, accepting and regurgitating whatever they are served. The bitter feast laid out upon the table of conformity.

No map is required, for only one exit exists. No menu shall be provided, for the morsels have been rationed. The whole ambiguous journey has been compromised by the conformists who preceded them, the martyrs who sacrificed the lambs. Theirs is merely a point to point existence as the ancestral line slowly moves closer to the edge of the eternal abyss and only seeks the approval of their peers. Nor shall they ever experience the contentment of freedom and individuality within a conscious mortality.

Angel Astray – Spirit in Exile

The sun scantily staggered into the contemptible sky. The stars surrendered their swords and turned away as the angels remorsefully wept and bowed their heads in shame.

With painful humiliation, the November moon summoned the courage to show its face, as the final light succumbed to the eternal darkness. The human conflict raged on and on, day upon day, night upon night. Mortally wounded by societal persecution, the rebellious burden quietly subsides and is finally set free.

His tormented spirit immediately vacates its earthly imprisonment and ascends high above the distant horizon where the sun meets the sky. He leaves behind only decaying, lifeless remains and its fleeting memories of this unfathomable life. Then the essence of his being shall rejoin the living earth only to be reborn once again ...

"To know me is to love me," he once said. A grim reminder of the loneliness that he brought upon himself. After all, who ever truly knew him? A disturbing thought! Nonetheless, I admired him. I attempted to uncover the many layers of his life and reach the complex thoughts that were reserved and stored protectively deep within him. I searched tirelessly for the truths and meanings of such profound wisdom.

A written collection of observations and assessments of us and this place during his time here remain. A testament to his extraordinary existence. I can still recall the ominous stillness and the haunting quiet of his vast, echoing, brick and steel tomb, perched high above the city dwellers. The howling, icy cold winds and the unrelenting heavy rain continued rapping on the old, iron- framed, stained glass windows like a mob of angry protesters, demanding retribution for their loss.

As I walked around, the worn- down floor boards creaked eerily, stopping me nervously in my tracks. I continued, reluctantly, to have a look around. It appeared that all of his belongings lay wherever he last left them, everything in scattered disarray. I stumbled upon his unfinished works of art and literature. There, penned on so many crumpled and wrinkled pages were his thoughts of this life. So many stories, so many incomplete and, apparently, all untold.

I find it so troubling to think that no one shall ever come to know this man, nor shall they ever have been able to comprehend the complexity of his thoughts and philosophies, yet I find myself privileged to hear the message in every word he said. I recall, some time ago, he said to me:

"The human experience is not one single defined purpose for all, contrary, for each one of us it has its own individual purpose, your own life, your birth right to exist and to experience this wondrous place. Each life, unique and special, each one, contributing to another's experience, be it good or bad." He went on to say,

"For one to take, another must be willing to give. For one to flourish, another must perish. For one to feel love, another must take up arms in rage. Each independently serving himself and his fateful purpose, simultaneously contributing to the human experience. What will set you apart from them is discovering the truth in who you are and embracing it. We are all aware of the mysterious spirit within ourselves and it challenges us to come to know it and accept it. This is your soul speaking to your spirit offering its guidance and experience. Of all things in this life, the subject of love is the most difficult to begin to assess or ever comprehend; it is the driving force of the entire universe." He continued,

"Love is the greatest of all power. It is found at the center of all things, good and bad. You must discover the love within yourself and use it for a better good. To understand love, would be to say you understand God and that is totally illogical. No one shall ever comprehend God or love." How foolish of us to ever dare to say we understand the subject matter. However, he did say,

"For one to honor the loving spirit of God one must learn to honor himself and then be willing to give of oneself without need of recognition or compensation." This, he said, is the birthplace of unconditional love.

Our conversations were unlike anything else that I had ever come to know, so profound, so compelling. Perhaps that is why he kept to himself. He was unwilling to offer his love and he was unwilling to give of himself for fear of misinterpretation. However, he did share these thoughts with me for many years. His words were a gift, and they were spoken with love and passion, perhaps, he had me fooled. Such naivety, in retrospect, he must have discovered his purpose. He said,

"There can be no toils where there are no conflicts, where there are no debates, where there is no interaction." Yet, here in this place of total solitude, the quiet place where he dwelled, the conflicts and debates raged on it seems. It never appeared to me that any truths were ever discovered, nor was there any acceptance ever exhibited. The only truth uncovered here was that a wonderful man, his pathetic, tormented spirit, never actually belonged here in the first place.

Perhaps, an angel that fell down out of heaven. Whatever he was, he was not of this world. I will always be grateful to have been able to interact with him in my life. His lessons were extraordinary! I hope his spirit continues to guide me to where it is he is from.

I have committed myself to writing about all that I have shared with and learned from this incomparable soul. In his words and thoughts, I found a commonality that I think we all share.

I hope that at some point you will come to appreciate his poetry, his philosophy and his wisdom as I have.

After all, every one of us has a unique individual purpose and perhaps, through him, I have discovered mine. Who knows, maybe someday we will speak again.

The Height of Arrogance The Fall from Freedom

I climb atop the coping that covers the parapet, I'm standing 1,368 feet above my troubles, looking out over that which I shall never possess. The air above the shattered city fills my senses. The sun shall fall from the heavens for a final time. The soft blue sky; aflame behind the towers of tinsel and glaze, below me I can hear the screams and prayers, the voices in anguish of a life that must continue on without me. It is only now that I realize how insignificant my existence is. No one knows that I'm here. The heat and the thick toxic air, overpowering. The acceptance of my mortality is clear. Should I hold my breath, or should I scream out loud? My conscious challenges my judgment. However, the only choice becomes painfully obvious. In a final coherent moment, I ask myself, "Have I gone mad?" Perhaps not, for I exercise my right of liberty, for freedom, it seems, comes with a great price. After all, in America, no one is truly free.

Into Darkness

A cold chill runs down his contorted spine, freezing the infected viciousness he holds inside. Involuntarily, a sigh of disgust is expelled in subconscious objection as he unwillingly breathes in another breath, signaling the commencement of the next pointless day. Darkness bleeds through the panes of obscured glass where the bright rays of sunlight once streamed in to warm the enthusiastic spirit sheltered within the soul. The coarse, unshaven, placid face and uncombed hair in scattered disarray is a stark reminder of what his life has become. Not a trace of evidence remains of this extraordinary being, not even his inaccessible, unrealistic goals. Even the loneliness sheds not a tear as the tormented silent reflection angrily peers back at him. Devoid of any human emotion, a determined unwillingness to exist any further, he is tortured by this unrelenting mortal experience. The sadness fills the void with the deepest emptiness. He quietly returns to sit once again, in the old worn creaking wooden chair, staring out upon the bleak dismal early morning rain as it falls softly onto the trees shadowed by a dark villainous sky from whence it came. A smoldering cigarette clenched tightly between his decaying teeth glows eerily in the ominous darkness of his tomb. The stench of vile smoke fills the room, and is eventually absorbed by the silence. The ghostly haunting memories of his youth beckon him to return to that which promised a prosperous future, no longer threatens him. His mind is no longer consumed with anger and rage. Even the most precious of memories are distorted, twisted into the lies that have become the misfortunes upon his journey. He cannot grieve the life he lost to his own fears and insecurities. The internal, horrific struggle no longer ensues. However, it does not require courage to challenge one's own truths, only to face and accept the truths for what they are. He slowly slips beneath the cover of self- righteous pity. He breathed his last mortal breath as the vapors of his existence fade into the darkness that haunted him.

The Sea of Despair

I am beginning to find it difficult to distinguish the difference between my own reality and that part of my imagination that was just a fantasy. I speak not of the realization of my dreams, for the rain of tears has dissolved all of what could have been, flooding them like a torrent river into the deep dark sea of sorrow. I no longer possess the strength to continue treading in the thick murky ocean of my sadness. There is no tide, no waves, that shall reach the shore, no beacon of hope to guide me, only the solemn stillness of my own despair. Although hearts and hands reach out, I find neither the strength, nor the notion that there is actually something left of me to be saved. Selfish gestures perhaps, if only to enable them to justify themselves, but then it is the human compassion that solicits such heroic acts. The once beautiful satin blue sky that stared down upon me during my passionate youth is now the cold, dark, overcast veil of truth that which causes the painful involuntary trembling. Freezing the spirit within, mortally extinguishing its light. The once productive and creative mind, now, idle and blank with no need of any further contribution. What remains now, is the severely contorted memory of the fantasy that was once myself. With eyes wide open, sight fading to black, silently slipping beneath the sea of despair.

Cause and Effect

How has my life become like this? Did I take on too much? Was there something I missed? I look back at what I could have been. I live with what I've become and all of my sins. They say it's all prewritten, that it's all preset. They say it's all cause and effect. There is no coincidence; it's all etched in stone and when She's ready, she will send in the Angels to fly me back home. So I continue on with this journey the best way that I can. I bear little contentment; after all, I am all that I am. So don't tell me it's all just cause and effect. Because my life has become a disaster and I'm fucking upset! There is no coincidence; it's all etched in stone and before too long, I'll be heading back Home. Yes, I'll have many questions when it comes time for me. The list will be long; but it won't really matter because best of all, I'll be free. So for now, I'll be here roaming around. I'll cause and effect while I'm still above ground.

Who's to Blame

Sadly, I regret to report that this life, once filled with enthusiastic optimism and euphoric dreams of all that could be accomplished in such a wondrous place, has amounted to nothing more than a broken heart and shattered dreams.

Such delusional thoughts, I have to admit, considering my current state of affairs, had I known that my dreams were so fragile, I would have taken better care to protect them from the evil forces and the corrosive elements that set out to destroy such fantasies.

As for the broken heart, perhaps, I would have been of better judgment to not have allowed anyone besides myself to have and to hold such a precious commodity. I can see now that I was completely unprepared to meet the challenges of the inconceivable reality that is this world.

What makes me the most sad is that I allowed all these things, the whole infected, mindless process to occur in my life. I shall never expect of myself, to attempt to place the burden of blame upon those who deliberately contributed to my existence in a negative fashion.

Nor shall I in the same way ever surrender any accolades or credits to those who truly believe that they, in all their goodness, helped me achieve my unrealistic goals during the course of my life.

Regardless of who is to blame, I admit that I created all of this alone. After all, I took the chances, I made the choices, some fickle and some very calculated. Nonetheless, all of my own free will. The results, I must say, are abundantly obvious. Sadly, I regret to report that my life is nothing more than it is, because of me!

Shadow of Mortal Love

Thread of finality thou dost sever. Angelic breath falls silent, words unspoken now and forever. Eternity awaits thy spirit. Alas, the warmth of divine light draws thee in. Earthly bonds thou hast broken. Silhouette frightened by shadow, cast upon the road thou hast chosen. The wilted, crimson velvet petals fall softly to the floor, free from threat of thorn. So gently lifted by breath of sigh, harmless and untethered. To thee, once a symbol of love thou hast gifted. So go, slip beneath the veil of mortal darkness, into deepest slumber. For thou shan't wait for thee. Go now, dance among the young stars of flickering light, high above in the vast heavens, in the deepest darkness of night. Never stray so far, or beyond my sight. Thy love survives throughout eternity. The endless beam of light thou shall speed, not of life, not of dreams, two souls divide. No pain of mortal loss shall I grieve.

Vulnerable Wisdom

The complexity of thought can lead to the premature demise of one's mind. Wisdom, however, comes at great cost. I have discovered that the deeper I explore my emotions, the more emotional I become, thus negating any wisdom I have accrued and coherently put to use. For the complexity of emotion comes from a place far outside the realm of thinking where even the wisest of men fail the test. Where the strongest of men, are easily defeated and where the simplest of men cower and surrender in shame. All of whom are afflicted by the insecurity of vulnerability. Hence, the complexity of emotion can ultimately cause the total demise of one's existence as it relates to pain and suffering. There can be no wisdom detected where there are thoughts of bringing end to such pain and there is no logic where these very emotions overwhelm such wisdom.

Is it logical to assume that there is a point in achieving any comprehension of the human emotion love? Wise men travel great distances across the seas of knowledge and never arrive upon the shores of wisdom. They spend themselves selfishly in the pursuit of this deep knowledge which we often misinterpret as the greatest of wisdoms.

Wisdom is like a flawless diamond, the raw material exists, if one searches long enough, he may stumble across it. Ironically, he may never know that he holds this diamond in his hands. Exposing the flawless gem is the same as saying I have acquired much knowledge, never cutting away the useless material and exposing the perfection within.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Panda Syndromeby Frank Simonelli Copyright © 2012 by Frank Simonelli. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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