From the Black Book: Heat

It presses on,
sun's glare.
Thermal's rising.
All is linked.
Set in placed
of a chain reaction.
Occupied room,
containing whispers
to a place far away.

The souls freed,
set adrift
by a plague
of lethargic
that creep to them
totally unaware.
Closing their eyes,
the occupants
fell to sleep
in search of dreams.

All that brought you
while time degrades,
as bricks to monuments,
monuments to ruins,
dirt to mountains
mountains to a field
of desert sand perhaps.

It caresses,
leaving its signature
of traces unmarked
leading to people
viewing it
as a witness.

Even if it
leaves no mark
or continues
as the silent sentry.
We are still here
awaiting the strike of the close
and dismissing the day.

From the Black Book: Melancholy

Melancholy lingered around today.
The air grew hot with some stings.
A dinner that marks
the end of day
was laced with spices,
for a badly made combination.
Taste was lacking
and an unpleasant meal
was all that remembered.
Constant sessions of dreams
left me tired.
Dulled all but the sense
to be gloomy.

The crows sang away
with a broken song.
Past the setting sun.
there was no sight of horizon
from where I stood,
only that of ember
amidst piercing light.

A much destructing silence
making it ways
around all the chatter
amplifying all but laughter.

From the Black Book: Unknown Space

It still feels good
while you are still at it,
figuring out meaning,
led on by guy instinct
on what is believed
to be clues
pointing to a new direction.

Amazing it is,
just as you reached
the stop of
such a hectic journey
filled with surprises.
We would have been ready
to experience dread of tiredness,
aches to limbs
like a thousand ants biting
on the ends of your nerves.
A body so stretched
and a mind of whirl
was replaced by
a a sense of refreshments
accompanied by crave
of the wondrous flight
in unknown space.

From the Black Book: Rest

It's a good rest.
One of those deep sleep
that brings you through
unimagined possibilities
putting you on a journey
of a roller coaster ride.
Getting so caught up
with the scenes
bombarding away
of fantasy and closeness to life.
The only realization
it's all dreams
crashes down
and strikes upon you
who finds himself
on the bed
mildly stunned
with flashes of replay
akin to that
of a hastily cut trailer
(haphazardly made senseless)
going through your head.

From the Black Book: Action

Do you recall the feeling
that leaves you longing,
for more?

The adrenaline,
your heart
pumping furiously away
leading to spurts of breathe
your lungs craves for
to sustain itself.
Tension builds,
your sense acute,
vision sharpens
and surroundings scanned
of movement and audible clue
for the most minute hint,
like a hawk or wolf
on the hunt for its prey.
Blending in with
what is around
then shaping its focus.

The onslaught of sensation
calls for a rush of blood
to the head,
tapping on the trigger
till it goes haywire.

Climax is hit
then we know a dip
to be next in the line,
conclude the end
and turning back
awaiting the cycle
to repeat itself.

From the Black Book: Talk at the Coffee Table

This night is truly heartfelt.
The pocket muse full of insights,
the mentioning of the simple stuffs
that hasn't crossed my mind before.

Laughing in amusement
and wonder how these
has never occur to me.
Joy and the constant surprises
writing can bring.

The talk at the coffee table
brings back a sense of despair
I've tried to discard.
So much like a boomerang,
you can't throw it away,
when you should drop it,
otherwise it'll always come back to you.

The topics dwindled.
Meaning or value
on the verge of disappearance.
The circle is bound
for a restart.

The countdown begins.

Note from a boy

Everyone longs to be loved sometimes
so do i.

If i was younger
then probably i'll promised to be good
for the coming year and santa.

But right here where i am now,
i have no idea what there is
for me to offer.

Not yet the plant
wilting from the dry and scorching land,
the drought or the desert sand.

Nor the nomad
in search for the next oasis
in the dunes and plains.


A little of this,
a bit of that.
Can i be pampered
for just that little more?

Need some attention
yet against shouting it out.
So i came to here,
to make my words loud.


Have some heart for me,
just a little will do.


Please?

Celestial

The sun and the moon
that hangs above my world.

Fiery and lasting
the sun ever inspires.
Passion of life, perhaps,
passion in life it means.
Looking at the sun is like
observing the symbol of life.

The moon on the other hand
is cold with a gentle glow.
Forever hiding away,
moving through cycles
with each passing day
while keeping you at bay.

While it is dark,
moon seems exceptionally bright
while the sun is constantly bright
being a source of light.
There's no way to see the moon
without the sun around
for the moon borrows light
to illuminate in the night.

When the two comes together
all will be shadows,
but in just a moment,
you'll see them parting again.