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For an eternal moment, focus on the concept of guilt.
Guilt with a capital G. Guilt which is the sales pitch
Of all organized religions.


  Guilt is based on the premise that you did something
awefully wrong whether against humanity, against your
country, against your religion, against your family, against
your peer group, against yourself, or simply against the sheer
concept of being against everything and nothing.
     Yet guilt, like the concept of good and evil, is relative–
depending on the totality of moral, religious, philosophical.
political, and economic values that have been dumped in your
lap by your parents, by your teachers, by your peers, by preachers,
by society at large.
     And speaking of relativity, for example, to eat your
fellowman, rare or well done, is perfectly cool and morally
upright in a tribe of cannibals. But to feast on a roasted
human spare rib in your favorite plush dining place in uptown
Los Angeles will lead to certain moral and legal consequences
with their corresponding harsh corporeal punishments.
     The concept of guilt presupposes that there is a doer
of the action and that there is an action being done. Now
if you regard yourself as the doer of the action, later on your
conscience will prick you with guilt feelings once you adjudge
that what you have done is bad or evil. But go to the heart
of the matter. Ask yourself the question: Who is the “I” that
is doing the action? Is it my false self or ego? Is it my spirit
or essence? Or is “I” simply the collective conscience of other
people telling me what to do and how to do it? Or perhaps
there is no doer at all and no action is really being done?
And you are just under the illusion that you are doing
something when you are not really doing anything, or
that something or someone superior to you is just using
you as an instrument for something to happen in the
phenomenal or physical world?
     Once you accept or surrender yourself to the idea
that the Universal Conciousness or God is utilizing you
as an agent of change through which He manifests his Will
in the world, then your whole storage room full of guilt will
miraculously disappear in a cloud of green smoke. Then
you will have total peace and quiet. And once you have
total peace of mind, then your sufferings will end once and
for all.


by Felix Fojas
He is out there alright, this
Furry white hulk , hiding
In some frozen nook
Of your Himalayan mind,
And the only reason why
You don’t perceive him is
Because he’s a white subject
Superimposed against
A white snowy background
Which, for all intents and
Purposes, blend together
In their pure whiteness, thus
Erasing the ever-shifting
Boundary that exists
Between the perceiver
And the perceived. So you
Might be staring him in
The face and yet mistake
This unspeakable presence
For a natural part of
The mountain, a snow-covered
Boulder, while ascending
Everest, breathing fresh,
Rarified air, secure
In your comfort zone and
Illusion that he doesn’t
Exist at all. He might
Even provoke you by
Affirming his existence
With a wild kick in your ass
Using his thirty-inch foot
Or by growling in your
Ear which you will quickly,
Casually dismiss as
A kind of hallucination
Mountain climbers are prone to
At such high altitude
And extreme weather
Conditions. Nonchalantly,
You resume your climb
Without even knowing
That you’ve just bumped
Into the real flesh-and-blood
Furry monster that leaves his
Mysterious footprints in
The snow to engage you
In a game of hide-and-seek,
Confident his camouflage
Of white upon the whiteness
Of snow will make him
Totally invisible in
Your field of vision where
You cannot comprehend
This awesome sight that
Requires a monster’s frame
Of mind and gleaming
Almond-shaped pupils
To appreciate the singular,
Terrifying beauty of
Such an abomination.
Los Angeles
Jan. 26, 2012

by Felix Fojas

I’m just a hired man.
Hired for what and by
Whom I do not know.
The terms of my contract
Is no concern of mine.
In my line of work
No experience is required.
I do not know exactly
When my job will end.
It started at the very
Moment of my birth.
I’m just an all-around
Hired man, and I don’t
Know what to do next.
There’s no Social
Security in my
Casual work. There is
No overtime pay for
Breathing in and out.
Yet I cannot get fired
For doing a lousy job.
Anyway the Big Boss
Is aware of everything
I do, armed with his
Hidden magic eye.
In my work there’s no
Such thing as teamwork,
It’s a job for born losers.
I don’t have an idea
How much I make,
The Paymaster is
A confirmed sadist.
Every bone in my soul
Aches, not to mention
The blood, sweat and tears.
So mind your own job
And I’ll mind mine.
Let me finish my
Thankless job that’s
Beyond description.
When will my work expire?
I’m just a tired hired man.
Manila, Philippines
March 7, 1999

by Felix Fojas
March has come and summer is in the offing
Yet the weather is still cold in the morning,
And there’s a downpour every now and then.
It’s the first time this has happened in these
Tropical islands ever since I can
Remember. They blame it on a little girl,
Nature’s prankster, who conjures the rainy
Season to be late in coming, like a perfumed
Love-letter on a long vacation in
The dead-mail section of romance. If only
You, too, Love, are arriving late like a shower,
Cool and caressing, heading for my heartland,
Instead of leaving for the open
Sea, like a departing storm, felling trees
And snapping high-tension wires; then I will
Embrace this tardiness of rain, such welcome
Relief in the summer heat. But you’ve turned out
To be a fickle tropical depression,
A rage of tears, and this is my secret reason
For hating the rain in any season.
Manila, Philippines
March 3, 1999

by Felix Fojas
Mars, unmake all future wars.
Shape thy axe into a spade,
Plow the ground and plant the seeds,
And thy shield turn into dish
To feed war-orphaned children.
Mars, unmake all future wars.
Indulge in some harmless sport.
Thy sacrificial altar
Is overflowing with blood
And piling up with cracked skulls.
Mars, unmake all future wars.
Spur not Romulus to slay
Remus for a patch of earth,
For a false creed, or to sate
His secret lust for power.
Mars, unmake all future wars.
Break thy mighty sword in half.
Thy horned helmet mold into
A pitcher where honey flows.
God, bless us with a golden age.
Manila, Philippines
Feb. 8, 1999

1. cows mooing
    birds chirping
    scarecrow hears nothing
2. red cape sways
    bull grunts
    spraying blood
3. huge fin slices wave
    boy swims towards shore
    sea turning red
4. red bra
    falls off
    pink nipples standing at attention
5. summer night
    mosquito biting
    tiny crimson rose blooms on arm

    The eagle soars in
    The air in circles, caged by
    The vast azure sky.
2. Echo
    The subtle shout
    Of silence reveberating
    In the inner ear.
3. Elephant
    To the six blind men
    The pachyderm is something
    Other than itself.
4. Faucet
    The faucet drips all
     Night. Tiny sound made monstrous,
     Keeping one awake.
5. Flame
    Is it the flame that
    Attracts the moth, or is it
    A case of mutual seduction?

1. The only species of a perfect gentleman
     perished during the last ice age.
2. A gentleman is one who makes a pass
    At a girl whose eyes are made of glass.
3. Glory is a medal of valor you can’t even pawn.
4. By now God knows that the world is a factory defect.
5. God is the greatest but an atheist thinks he is even
     greater by repudiating the Almighty.
6. God probably had a big laugh when he created the world.
7. God is all just to the point that He even made a paradise
    for fools.
8. God is not perfect because man created God in his
    own image.
9. The important thing is not whether God exists or not,
    but that we must relentlessly strive to become perfect,
    towards being Godlike every moment of our life.

1. Focus
    To concentrate upon one’s own group interest.
2. Fold
    A crease or furrow on the face of an old person.
3. Fool
    A madman disguised as a sage whom most people
    mistake to be one of them.
4. Forbid
    A clinical term in Psychiatry which means to suppress
    the id or subconscious mind.
5. Foreigner
    An alien with royal blood.
6. Forensic
    An ailing debater or nitpicker.
7. Fowl
    A bird that is a cross between a chicken and an owl.
8. Fracas
    A belligerent asshole.
9. Fragrant
    A perfumed ant.
10. Frantic
      A louse in a state of agitation.