Compact Smokes or A Book for Children

By Theodora Oniceanu

The world is flying and floating, settling down, transforming and reshaping, bathing in vaporous dreams, love and passions of infinite perpetuation. Particles of life and ideas are floating in the air, along with emotions and long recycled, processed feelings, appear to work together to bring a young student and actor to the very peaks of success. Driven by a vivid passion for arts gathered on theatre stages and on screens, May constantly works on her ways to bring to the attention of the large public an underground spiritual existence that takes place in a world where everything seems to have been blown-up into the sky. From the memories of all stories and pictures of this world a small personal Universe is getting born 'threatening' to expand and conquer the world. Is it the thirst of a humble yet rich soul for world-wide recognition and fame or is it all another story about a bohemian childish spirit in a perpetual need to deliver to the world its (re-) processed knowledge and vision?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Theodora Oniceanu
• Release date: May 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463781869

Theodora Oniceanu

Theodora Oniceanu (born Lacatis) lives in a small town named Targu-Mures, situated close to the heart of Transylvania, Romania with her husband, her son and their cat. She followed the classes at the Faculty of Letters at the University of Petru Maior Transylvania and the ones on Sociology and Social Studies at the University of Spiru Haret, Bucharest. She is passionate about arts and crafts, she also loves sports, travelling and photography, enjoys good quality music and, of course, books. She's been writing since age nine, but with interruptions. Now she feels that she has the necessary time to dedicate good part of her life to writing.

Book preview

Compact

Smokes

or

A Book for Children

For the children of tomorrow and for the ones of today! A day in a paradise that’s worth living making-up more for the future adepts of love.

This is what I’ve been throwing-up to you all night,

Hoping that you will do something with your life!

But you don’t seem to care anymore,

You don’t listen, you don’t live,

You simply cannot feel, my dear!

May, Please, heal…!

May, be!

From smoke they evolved... The spiralling smoke of a god that has burned his planet for the sake of your love!

I don't know what happened, I just know that I felt happy to be born; a new child enjoying a new life, discovering the beauties and wonders of the world.

I have seen the future into a present!

≈ That was meant to last ≈

~ (the present carries legacies which make a total blast!) ~

So, daring she was and so kind! yet felt so betrayed and hurt... maybe her pride, maybe another one's?

Collisions of prides for the illusions of glory and fame? for their happiness... maybe;

only perhaps... could it...?

May be!

"You made me feel sorry for who I was, for who I am, for being joyful and daring, for being real...

In a reality that was as fictional as yours, my dear!"

May, Be!

Light Powder Roads

Into a world of surreal manifestations of life, their buildings and castles appeared to be cotton-made and fun to watch while traces of the eyes fixed on the winds of the blue skies were looking for examples and a relationship with a god lying deep inside; down those eyes that are sometimes petulant, other times observing curiously in a peaceful state of resurrection, relaxed and serene, making a nostalgic moment of sublime and refined emotions worth for the being, the personal saviour is living it’s ways. There’s no gender there’s no race, there is no trouble, none at all! Only you and your spirits’ truth, the love for what’s strong and pure, the love for a reason which cannot be altered by any evil or deceiving misconceptions born out of prides that can wear the coat of a genius who does stupid things only to get noticed and known, finding a place into your minds and your souls. It is the world in which great battles are only thoughts shaped and reformed for the worlds below; those worlds which cannot accept any kind of idea because of potential dangers and human damaging practices.

The fleecy white trees were looking delicious from up there, making her waking day feel perfect for that first morning in the cold heaven of a lost friendship with a star. White magic powder was still falling from the sullen grey skies while her passion was waiting to be adored in an artwork hanged on a wall.

Yes, she lost a war but it didn't matter; it was only a question of time until she realized that the lost war was nothing else than a great battle in a series of wars following one after another, taking them all to the conclusion that somehow each and every individual participating or getting caught into this spiralling, occasionally cathartic movement, was only played and tricked by someone else while playing and tricking another being. (This kind of) Jouer au cache-cache sometimes looks funny from above while other times, most of the times, looks painful; not to speak about how it feels.

So, yes, they were all tricked into falling apart for one another with no hint for a true resolution of purposes and goals. At least this is how some got to feel in the end, when the apathy and silence were allowing relief to comfort their bruised and hurt, some still bleeding, souls.

Nevertheless, the greatest battle is given elsewhere. A subtle one which is, ... well... it appears to be sophisticated to some eyes but it is actually around and inside each and every living cell; even the dead cells have something to say in all this... and if they don't say, they show, if they don't show, they hide, if they don't comfort, they create discomfort and if they don't do anything, they inspire because they are what they are and that's enough to make others see that there is room for something else, there is some potential of some kind in there, there is... always, there is... and will be.

Through the doors of your good lies

Opportunities just fly

And they all land at your feet

"Why did you have to be so sweet?"

To be kind and generous

In the house of our poetic miracles!

See what happens when you succeed?

You ended up doing favours to a real hypocrite!

You get to pay double, or triple, perhaps

For all the things, you didn’t have.

In tears, they repay for the damage they did…

Oh, what a blissful infinite!

For the bad deeds, they do…?!

What to do! Oh! What to do!?

Fairness didn’t seem to help!

Now it looks a little nicer, much comfortable than then;

They all made their amends,

Not to help, not to mend

Any scars, any damn stars’ forgotten feeling.

It is time to choose your way…

~ ~ ~

Find your way… find your way!

 …

I'm sorry, darling, but things don't work like that!

(- Anymore?) – *faint new answer?

"If there's magic, there's hope. If there's hope, there's love. If love finds you one day, you will feel that you can move mountains and be anything... but then, when this veil falls-off and you open your eyes to the other corner of your existence, you get to be able to see what keeps that strange balance of this world, the one giving some humans a purpose in life, something to fight for, something to believe in, something to make them feel alive and live a little... perhaps a little more; it's the dark side that makes them work, most of those times they actually do something good for a change. 

In circles, we move,

They are spiralled, you know?

In circles of trust

And of powerful love!

Turned into the temple of shadows itself, one day, she learned that there was no need to be the kind of human people normally think they should be. It was God himself (or herself?) the one who rescued her, giving her the power to heal and rescue her own self and others’ too from then on, keeping an eye on her all the time, offering her the confidence and passion she needed. Bless the child and offer true love to the kind!

…

Bits of the things we wanted to own or do or feel remain unconscionable inconclusive sometimes. And that's just great; that's splendid; that's powerful and weak at the same time because it shows that someone else will get things to a resolution which will be satisfying to their own needs and projections of the self into the better future humans always live for without honestly admitting that this is what they really do. They live for that future making their presents work for that future while giving their precious advice to others on how to live into the present and be always present and do presentable things into a present which will last for that eternity which's been given to the lands and seas they lead their lives onto.

Making remains of inconclusive conclusions for someone to find resolutions to and conclude... (a laughter's echo falls unexpectedly from afar).

This is our fair goodbye!

So, you can cry and you can die,

May choose to live

In which way, you will fly.

This is our final goodbye.

- Everything can be seen and treated as right or wrong, depending on the contexts they work on. A good thing, like a nice pie offered to a neighbour, can be a subject for many ways of interpretation and have many purposes, consciously hidden or absolutely innocent and kind. A good thing is good as long as it serves the interests and purposes of the one or the ones to whom you offer it or for whom you work. It can be and/or" too! a faint smile revealed some lost sadness. You can do bad things with something that used to be good, or considered to be good, as well as you can use something treated as bad to create something beautiful and good (enough) for whoever feels like using it!

I’m afraid that this doesn’t count for the world you’re sending me to and won’t matter so much for the mission you’re preparing me for! I wonder, why is that I feel this way now, when I so much wish to be able to hope in something higher than these thoughts of mine and believe again! …"

"- Remember: Only through a collaboration you can make something that was not quite good turn into something better!

She lifted up her head for a glimpse at his face; then she let her eyes go down with the head watching the floor on which things seemed to have many variables and interpretative values. He could see that reflected in his memory and couldn’t stop a kind warm smile illuminate his being. Good luck, my child! his thought whispered to his awakened consciousness. "

…

Their love was everything they had and they knew that this was just fine because having it was enough for them to believe in their mission, in their fight for what they wanted to behold.

With their songs, they kill,

With their songs, they heal,

With Time, you will find

The answers within;

The ones to your prayers

And the ones for your stays.

With Time and with Love you will heal and reveal

The answers inside.

- The place where she lived was a shrine, her grave, and when they started to dig it, that whole world turned to sand and everything seemed to go to an end… but it didn’t. She only passed into another existence and lived from then and there on with the same will: to do something good for a change; for the good in need for help and for her restless soul. Her spirit learned to move on and when her body turned into dust her shrine got to be a place for miracles to happen. One day, that building got lost too; it disappeared like many do, getting replaced by something else. But the spirit of her healing tears never forgot this place and continued to help the truly good, the innocent fighting evil, the true.

…

"I understand that not all the dead are evil, my friend but you should learn how to mend that scar in your soul and heal your wounded spirit once and for all!"

"No, I won’t wake-up for another round,

It seems to me that you really wanted to kill me!

So, I will just let you down this time,

Let you down, so down…!

The way you deserve, oh, dearest killer

Of the spirit, of a soul

That only wanted to do good!

… for the sake of the old new good!

Oh! Ha-ha, ha- -ho, ho- -ho! O! ha … hi?!

≈ laughter of variations starting with the fun above, going for the one below …

These circles …!

"- You only wanted to know…! "

But I am here for you, now!

Please, won’t you know me?!

That trap was already sold!

Oh, Lord!

… their cry’s still on…

A prism that’s moving along."

- Didn’t history teach you anything? It is always through a great war that people learn how to come back to their senses and begin to act like human beings or show their real selves, the side of evil they adopt and nurture until too late for them. It is always through a war that they find their peace, forced by hunger and exhaustion to behave and take whatever comes to them, be glad for the little they have and thankful (as hell) because no one else around has anything better. A few, perhaps, will remember the great mansions and their lords; their children will get curious about how they do and look now, after the war"; they’ll take a trip to the place where those big fancy houses most of them couldn’t imagine the indoors, to find, with disappointment and satisfaction at the same time, that those are either deserted or the ruins of what was once the place where they could never get to lead an existence and the life they could never behold. Strange how equality still didn’t feel like having its very much desired absolute power over all ruins. Strange how, if pictured from a certain distance, the manors and castles still had a mystic way of showing their dominance in appearance as well as in what’s left in the legacy of memoirs and reminiscent remembrance. He turned around and spoke with sadness: - I feel so alone in all this! You are the only one still listening to what I have to say… carefully taking notes into your mind for later, thinking perhaps to make some use of …; getting to make it all useful somehow, I suppose!? … Still, this does not help me feel close to you, on the contrary (!), I feel you… away. Here you are and there I am! Both getting more and more apart from one another, astray, then again, united in a feel that …gathers it all together anyway… so why do I bother? Why does it bother… me? … - a longer pause brings up silent ghosts making the life underneath their feet worth.

-You know, as the distance between us deepens, I begin to ask myself how come….!? And I am no longer sure who is above it all and who is beneath all these ruins I am telling stories of, … talking about more that I probably should, …sharing with you."

…

"Oh, masters of the Universe! I feel so small and insecure! The big bad forest is hiding wolves and birdies tell me stories about a Little Red Riding Hood that’s changed into a werewolf."

The girl was hopping around, singing this song-way to her Gammy’s house while the Big Bad Wolf, spying on her, felt drawn into an inner fight between the predator he felt he was and the wish to evolve … into his vegan friends, the prey of his wilderness, perhaps; or into a demon who refuses to harm a little girl for the sake of a repetition of the old classical tale once told to children so they dreamed better. The nice old story took a dramatic turn on this stage! In love with a demon who refused to harm her, this Little Red Riding Hood was stepping on the predestined by flesh path and a writer’s life-book of two hunters improvising dearly, … deeply in love with the poems in a book that’s written by the reincarnation of all writers the Universe would and could have ever had."

~

In love with a poem, in love with a book,

In love with a fate that was made by a mad cruel romantic

Spirit brought back from the dead

Uniting all spirits that grew upset

With injustice and unfair murdering beliefs.

~

"I sometimes feel like teaching our children how to cheat and lie, my friend; teach them to deceive other people and souls, spirits and all; it’s what I’ve been taught by your great leaders; it’s what they show to us, every day. Through their actions and their lies they teach us this: Only the lying, cunning deceivers and envious ladies of your fulfilled filthy planet got where and what they wanted to get! This is how they were guided to their fabulous lives! Still you judge me for trying to be better than that! Oh, I am not a human if I try to raise above their human feelings which are murdering that beauty of the soul they all want reflected on their bodies and faces, without being like that at all! How can I thank you for this lesson? How!? How could I thank them, for what they have done? Oh, tell me how?!

Love couldn’t help them, at all! It was what they were laughing at and about; it is what they will make laugh at them in the very end of this… wonderful lady clay blob Theogony.

~

Crying with someone else’ tears,

‘Not feeling any pain!

It’s nothing but some salty water

That’s falling down my cheeks

…

Perhaps the memory of what was once

That soul which hurt…

You cannot hurt me anymore,

you cannot touch me!

You cannot make me cry once more

For your illusions broken!

You cannot cry for what I am,

For what you did or didn’t;

It’s over, dear! Go rest in peace

Your sorrow!

~

My sin to have tried to recover something that was not meant to be recovered.

~

Should I ever feel sorry for existing

(for you to