plain

i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it WITH plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i A like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it BIT plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i OF like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like ME it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like IN it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i BETWEEN like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain i like it plain

Fireflies

Down the road,
mark by unlit skies.
Dark and lonely,
the path goes winding.

Fireflies appear,
like sparkles of hope.
Providing some comfort,
on the bleak trail.

Many gather,
illuminating brighter,
now we see further,
feeling much more safer.

Twilight to dusk,
the walk goes on.
Dawn will be coming,
but who would be following?

A pot of gold at the end perhaps,
but still its nothing compared
to the fireflies
that has shone their light for me.

dream. hall. bat. dog.

walked into my hall,
all was dark,
a shadow floating around
in mid-air.

instincts tell me
its not mere shadow,
and before me,
was a bat.

it lurk in the hall,
not sure whether
my presence has startled it
one bit at all.

Nothing follows
beyond the seconds of meeting,
until it came,
upon me striking.

Can't recall how i felt,
in that instance.
was i terrified?
or no?

it cling on to me,
right on my back.
it just clings on,
clings on.

i notice a dog,
steps from where i stood.
looking at it,
as its eyes were back at me.

it moved,
and jumped,
onto my arm,
and held on there.

so i was having
a bat,
and a dog,
stuck on me.

whatever follows,
i only know of,
the bed i'm on,
and not in the hall.

itch

This was unwanted.
Yet we took it anyway.
Now leading
to our own demise.

Then, we defied
the opinions of some,
now we feel that
it was better to listen.

Shrugged off,
apparently they
were the wiser choices
than compared now.

Purely for the sake
of doing,
its just us who don't want
to drop the journey.

Even if we only
have ourselves to blame.
We will still continue
to keep it going.

Re-walk

Splashes of green and brown
as they cover me.
Warmth overwhelming,
sweat does not stop coming.

We do not dress like this,
not anymore,
like we used to do,
that was back then.


The concrete steps,
still counts the same number,
collect dusts
and lead me to the room.

It still echoes,
very much faintly,
like the many times
i tread on it.


The door remains green,
the air thinly laced with dust
and sunshine through the windows
gently flooding the room.

This used to be home,
for half the days and month,
nothing alien,
a place to call my own.


Stepping out of the sanctuary
feels a tingling feeling
holding you back,
to catch another glance.

See myself
in another attire,
basking in the sun,
with a smile on my face.


There's no point staying
when its gone beyond you,
turn around and go,
but don't forget.

This once,
i wish time would stop,
and let me savor
the tasteful memories.

Remedy in need

Felt lousy today.
Wasn't what i did,
purely what i felt.

Blame it
on the lack of sleep
that i'm facing.

Overwhelmed almost totally
by the highly
un-motivating music.

But they were
still the pieces
i enjoy more than the others.

Uncannily like a solo,
a spotlight and me,
alone.

Looking for an audience,
who can feel through,
some of what is call sorrow.

Unveil the curtains,
close them up again,
like an routine, never ending.

Seeking the remedy,
trace back to the pleasure
of good night's sleep.

Its Easy

to say give up,
to stop fighting,
to run away,
to just not make a move.

Then the question comes,
if things goes taking
a downward spiral,
what would you be saying?

Pondering over,
what more could have been done
or what was done,
but not good enough.

Would failure
have been the result
of a selfish act
or the lack of trust?

Its easy,
to not even try,
feeling that all is fruitless,
and not worth the time at all.

At the end of it all,
would you still hold no regrets,
if you knew,
that more could be done?

Slow Motion Movie

Another film reel is loaded,
upon request.
A rectangular stretch of light
presented itself on the screen.
Pictures after pictures,
placed into frames.
Now we get a show of continuous motion,
broken into bits and pieces.

The faster they go,
the smoother they are going to get.
Mine seems slightly jam today,
my movie is jerky and full of pauses.
Made worse by missing segments
here and there,
which i'm trying hard
to fill back up.

If i would to look at it again,
I'll say things ain't that bad,
provided you look from the other side.
Now i have all that i recall,
lay out in front of me.
A second look at the details
and ever so important things
that people are saying.

For the missing segments,
sometimes we just have to
let them go away,
and relive ourselves
of another possible
grim in the series of memories,
that we could do without,
and maybe save some pain.

Once again

I went. I chased.

No idea what to make of it.


I stop.


And said 'enough'.

Coming to the same standstill,
all the time.

When in fact,
its only the second time,
as far as I can really remember.

So give up
without giving a fight
for what you once strive for.

Ask yourself,
why bother.

When there isn't a need,
probably leads to missing reasons
and motivation holding you to the end.

Train, Take me away

I turn around
looking at the distance
between the station and I,
which is getting wider.

All at once,
a voice came from inside
shouting out load
'Take me away,
bring me somewhere else'

Next thing I knew,
my eyes were set
on the metal tracks
upon which my train followed.

Taking a last glance,
the station becoming smaller
and faded into colors.

Who knows what lies ahead
but things felt a bit lighter
as the train
continue its way
towards the next station.

Stranded

For that while
I find myself unable
to fathom the rationale
for my actions.

All that impulse
that stem from emptiness.
And who says
you can't create something
out of nothing?

I was feeling like I had nothing
coupled with a wanderlust,
that was in need
of being extinguish.

Won't search for anyone familiar
because I'm trying to hide
another aspect of myself
that is crawling its way out
through the jagged and broken edges
deep within my heart.

Once again I feel stranded.

The Days in Green: Time

We lay down listening to the same old songs,
And flipping back the pages of memories.
Time moves on,
Have we?

The Days in Green: Travelling Thoughts

And here I am beside my window looking out.
I saw the blue skies and the white clouds,
With birds flying past.
Beautiful.
The sun shines and if one look up into above.
Nothing could have seemed so perfect.

By the shore,
The waves draw near sometimes,
Birds on the shore picking up their food.
Cool breeze follows.
What’s more to offer?
Other than the passage back home.
But where,
Truly is home?

Under night skies,
Stars twinkle,
With the moon hanging just beside.
You can see the shadow of the moon;
The darker half partly hidden from sight.
Countless stars,
Endless twinkle.

The moon is down,
But not yet.
Not tonight.
It shines on.

The Days in Green: Night Thoughts

Are you feeling cold today?

The wind coming through the window greets me,
Bringing about an uncertainty within.
Felt so uncovered,
So vulnerable.

The rise to anger,
The hidden thoughts.
Fear grips,
Emptiness cripples.

We’ve crossed days without even realizing the dates; Just waiting for the end of each day. Dates didn’t matter anymore, becoming just a number. Now we only go by days of the week. Nothing else matters. Not all the time though.

The Days in Green: Jetty Sight

On the jetty
Cold wind blows.
The sun shines brightly
But it’s just ever warming.
Coastal water sound so gentle
Nothing could sound better.

With that in mind,
I could always imagine,
The sight of me going back home
To where someone is waiting for me,
Or is it so?
I wonder.

The Days in Green: Recall

I could feel like having that apple pie,
Like how it went as it was in our song,
During the lunch after our little walk,
Now all that’s left for me are marches in these sets of green while
Basking under the rays and shades of leaves.
The dance of life has died down,
What rises is a choreography that will tell of our new life here.

Shall I hurry back home,
Will I get to see you missing me so?

These songs are not songs or lyrics to take our time off,
But expressions, desires and dreams to what we left with home.

From the Days in Green

A near forgotten collection,
almost thrown into oblivion.
Found again by chance,
with much surprises.

To realize,
that the writing started,
a good long time ago,
just to ease my thoughts.

No Grey

Black or white,
no shades of gray.
Straight or crooked,
alignment stays the same.
Light or dark,
shadows are unseen.
Hot or cold,
there's no lukewarm.
Yes or no,
without a maybe.

Either this way

or the other.

Nothing else to consider.

Out of Reach

We all know that running
is never a perfect option.
No matter how far it is,
distance does not remove the problem.
We still have to face it someday.
Despite knowing the fact so well,
I still made it a choice to
run.

Don't talk to me about it,
I'm not the almighty mechanic
set with tools
with imbued powers
that can get anything fixed.
I'm just mere mortal,
of flesh and blood,
and emotions contained.

What is in you
is well beyond me,
out of my reach
to fetch a fix.
All that is needed,
is within,
your search for
the key.

The rest is up to you,
the stage,
yours for the taking.
If you don't,
who would?
No one.
And nobody can,
other than you.

Beyond my powers
and my strength.
And throw in my patience too,
all that I'm running short,
to make another save,
another attempt
to lend
a hand.

Purpose

It spells the reason,
to take action,
to go forward,
making sure
you are still in the game.

So how does one react,
when purpose is lost,
fulfilled,
or still left there,
yet to be found.

Then does each breathe
or beat of the heart,
amount to a senseless act,
which should have been
done without.

Shall you fail
in your purpose
or life quest
that some would address,
then what's next.

Does one become a living corpse
carrying on living,
seek for chances
of possible redemption,
in righting what was wrong.

Did the sky got bigger?
Or is it falling?
Rather much like
the crashing down
we had before.

Save Me

Sore and aching,
my muscles crying out in pain.
Come on, come on,
where's my room,
just when I need it most.
Its becoming a desperate plea,
to salvage an already hurting me.

Save for the soul intact,
else its broken,
in and all and back.

Get me some comfort,
give me some space,
and maybe the warmth,
from your loving hands.
If you are only here with me,
to lay down the cure,
for my very plight.

Home has never seem so far before,
and the road so long before.
What's at the end of the trip,
feels practically out of reach.

Fatigue climbs with each tick of the clock.
Like a bomb waiting to explode.
We'll get it off soon.
I promise.

Send Me Something(SMS) Before the Next Day

Wish we don't fall short of time.
While the words still rhyme.
Add on a tasteful brew,
With rose petals that sooth,
Then a trip back home,
where we shall stone.
And awake to blue mornings,
a new day's calling.

Send Me Something(SMS) Goodnight

I came to whisper goodnight.
Hope everything is alright.
The day has been kind,
painted a beautiful picture in my mind.
Is yours just as nice?
Full of grace and gentle sunshine.
A smile on you there is,
with everyone looking pleased.
When would it be again?
Where we'll play and chase away the rain.

Thinking. -ing

Thinking about teaching.
Thinking about dancing.
Thinking of the classroom.
Thinking of the wooden floor.

Thinking.

Should not just stop there.

Collecting Pieces

Find yourself in pieces
after the journey of hard knocks,
picking up the fragments,
which glitters in darkness.

Leading to who you are,
and were before,
its a recollection
we are asking for.

Stick a flag,
drop an anchor.
That way we know where to go
and not end up in circles.

It's pointing there,
as indicated on my compass,
let's go, let's go
and we make haste.

The Beast

Feel like getting out of the house.
All that is happening has happened
time and time before.
Only with each cycle,
turning worse than ever.

Call it demons,
haunting,
or anything of the dark,
that never stop its' pursue
till you are gone for good.

Nothing without reason,
reason without logic.
How is one to believe
and stay sane
in this mortal prison?

No one escapes,
and no prisoner is kept.
Once you are here,
you will lose it all,
all you ever knew.

Claim not a single possession
lest your sanity,
if you can hold it still,
while they rob you
till its all bare.

Wings are given
then torn to pieces,
The heavens above
turned to gloom,
and cast their stares.

All that can be wished
is now long lost,
with bars and chains
holding you down
like no tomorrow.

Anger, raging,
spirits from within,
call forth the essence
of humanity
in a desperate prayer.

Corrupted to the core,
in time to become,
like stories of fallen heroes
in tough times,
except this ain't such a heroic tale.

And in these tough chains
and burning heat,
one day the beast
will rise and consume all
in its rampage of hate.

The beast who once was human,
then torn and broken
in soul and body,
placed in torment
till he was no longer anybody.

Be it curse or a twist of fate.
Shall there be a cure,
there still is no denial
of what has once become
of this man.

It all stems from the root,
where he has been
what he went through,
how he was treated,
in the deepest him.

Once a while he tries to claim death,
only to have a hesitation
whether that shall be the right way,
and gets bluffed to life
for yet another time.

Wishes to be claim,
blown and gone.
Its a selfish wish,
even he would look down upon,
without a second thought.

Looks easy it seems,
the quick escape it is.
Other exits looks barricaded and sealed.
However dark and shadows loom about,
this door still looks filled with light.

"No", once again he said,
"Not now", that's all he would add.
And he survives for another day,
in the chains without locks
and stings of heat.

Broken and defeated,
with torn wings,
the beast still looks to freedom,
that he believes would come one day,
though he knows its far away.

This is anger, this is pain, this is a vision of all in vain.
This is desperation, an act of destroyed wishes.
This is giving up, throwing away all of your dices.
This is what i do not understand, and wants nothing part of.
This is defeat, and bowing down to it.
This is me, my life and my sanity on fire.

Disease

Awake and taking a walk.
Head still filled with lots of thoughts.
I've seem to lost my sense of taste.
Along with my perception of time.
I've once experienced this,
not a stranger at all to me.
The retardation of the senses,
the feeling of being restless.
Its like a disease consuming you from within.
Never to be freed until you are purged clean.
Will i find a cure,
while i continue to be a stone.
Voided of emotions and pain.
Oh, what a tragic scene.
That I've lost the last possible way of feeling human,
while still maintaining very sober.

Inside and the Out

Long quiet thoughts on the inside.
All noisy on the outside.
There is a chill.
Which i personally feel.
Lots of conversations.
All became jibberish upon their fusion.
Writing is all I've left to do,
while i wait for time to undo.
I am waiting.
Waiting.

Messages Across the Airwave: 13th July

Is there a time and place,
where our words can speak,
not through mail and digi-bits.
Like we agreed
that it'll be true and frank,
before it falls into a disastrous plan.
May this be read,
and not avoided in dread.

Here comes the end of another series of writing.
Long time has words been so full of turmoils.
Compared to that from the black book,
which is more of a 'thinker',
these messages are more of a 'feeler'.

Messages Across the Airwave: 12th July -3

Tried to call,
your phone was off.
Are we not meant to talk,
or is it chances i've fell short?
Rather in poetry and mails,
I would want to hear you in real.
Though i know you'll prefer avoids things
than face what is really happening.
Just let me hear from you,
before time is due.
Have to add that your poetry,
has much amaze me.
Short span to time to write
or has it been in waiting till time has ripe?

That you would have wanted to say all these while...

Messages Across the Airwave: 12th July -2

At least glad,
the words you have since read.
But why an apology
when you don't have to say sorry?
There's no right nor wrong,
nothing has been done for.
Of cause I would wish for you to speak
and not leave me thinking deep.
Can we be truthful and frank to each other?
Before all is out in the timer.

Messages Across the Airwave: 12th July

Long wait.
But nothing's too late.
Time has taken akin to stopping.
While the clock still keeps on ticking.
Messages all sent out through the airwave.
Yet 'Empty' is all my inbox been left.
Did the postman lost his way,
or mails these days are all one way?
Demoralized but not giving up I am,
here's one more i'm trying to pen.
Another mail to the air,
and i reply i hope ___ will send.

P.s. Thanks

Messages Across the Airwave: 10th July

The rain is about to fall.
I see the dark clouds coming.
All gloomy and fluffy,
as i look from my office.

Sank my teeth into lunch
and a sip on my drink.
Still partially unfilled
and kept me thinking.

Of a lady,
who is always,
without a trace,
voided of news.
All I knew,
is probably
she's beneath the same sky,
on which i see the clouds flew.

Messages Across the Airwave: 8th July

A while there and here.
Feel that I'm facing,
the world's greatest riddle.
About getting,
your replies,
without becoming a pester.
Would you be so kind
to grant an answer,
and ease the torment
of thinking much further.

Messages Across the Airwave: 5th July

Working hard to know you more,
while you seem ever far away.

You are always out of reach,
I'm plodding hard to build a bridge.

Before you become out of sight,
and leaving me in a plight.

I have more to tell you in time,
maybe in more of verses and rhyme.

If you are willing and says its fine.

Messages Across the Airwave

A new series,
depicting a short season
of events and words,
across mobile.

Showing a glimpse
of difficulties
along the line of
communication.

Fill the bytes
with emotions,
thoughts and hope,
and send them out

From the Black Book: Old Story

I just can't imagine
it was a dream scene.

Was it the improvement of technology
that scale with humans
or did my dreams
moved away from technicolor.

No matter what,
it was about a ghost,
A young boy of four
who is trapped in an old school.
Then he found my cupboard
and makes a disturbance
from in there.
His story have already
been a history
by the time I was there.

And apparently
its been a long time
but no one knew his name
until i did.

This is the last of the series of "From the Black Book", a collection of writing that arose during my time in the force. Lots of jumbled and repetitive thoughts, but that's life in there.
A somewhat unexpected content as the ending entry. I almost forgot about this as well. And come to think of it, its really quite spooky.

From the Black Book: Today

There's much to think about today.
The thanks that brightens
someone's day.
The road and streets
all looking so familiar and different
after a year's break.
Writing daily to be a habit
only now then I get it,
the essence not in merely
putting down words
but the stimulation of the brain
telling it to work.

Once a while I wish
for a machine to record
what goes on in my head
for I find it a point to forget
shall I forget
to leave them down in form
But writing them provides
for another challenge
which often I'll drift to
other thoughts as I elaborate
and then forgetting half
of what was conceived
in that previous moments.

Maybe I should start writing
about places I've walked too
though they number few
what a shame...
might make me more alive
I'll say
Or start yet another
new project
which brings me to the fact
I have not complete any
of those sitting on my desk yet.

Three projects on stories,
a recollection of my being
and family
plus one that I mention here
that of my journey around life
and the world I stand.

Consider it too much
but there's no rush.
But alas, on the train I am
headed to another destination,
again.

From the Black Book: Gone

Another fallen,
gone and past.
Makes me ponder
about my own to come.
Would I leave crying
or as a champion
with achievements to boast.
Shall it be a silent hall
or in irony bustling
with life.
All I'll possibly be
is just a witness at best.

From the Black Book: Break

The little breaks
in between
keeps things from
going dull.

An intermission
a breather
a chance to do something else
a path to take you away.

However great it would seem
a break can still go bad
on some days.
But guess that is what
makes life
the element of surprises
like a magician
and his bags of tricks.

This break has been good.
Do not ask about accomplishments.
It it well worth
so long as you enjoy it.
That's all to vacations and their purpose.

When I wake up in the morning
either its a lament
at the end of the break
or I'll be thankful
to be back at work.

From the Black Book: 18th March with a Dream

Based on a nightmare I had which feels pretty much like "I am legend" but more towards the idea of warped humanity with less science or viruses involved.
It questions about survival, the purpose and criteria that makes us want to do so.
And look at the typical fate of a kind man. Either he gets a great repayment for his efforts or he will die trying to do more good. But one thing is for sure, he is never forgotten, by those he assisted, at least.
Then once again at human nature, the issue about trust among a group of strangers, how badly they would be affected by the outside circle, a chaotic one that is. In this sense, referring to the "What If", of someone becoming one of those they disapprove of.


Seriously looking back at this post. I can't make sense of it.
But its normal. Things do not make sense all the time.

From the Black Book: Survive

A group of survivors
found themselves
banded together
through the kindness
of a man who offered shelter.

A massacre was sparking
throughout the land,
the killings so much
the dead amounted
to a mountain.
In a simple sense,
a huge pile of bones
and bloodies flesh.

The murderers with
so much anger
without a single ounce
of mercy.
Soon that became the
personification of a demon
that is feeding on
an unholy crusade.

Food was scarce
and they started feeding
on what used to be
their kind.
If you consider
then less human now.
And did I forget to mention
the kind man was killed
while he tried to help
the survivors flee
from the incoming rampage
of the thirst blades.

They cuddle together in a bunker,
hearing the screams
coming through their dreams.
They lie in hiding
as the world continues
on its axis
and deterioration
of humanity and faith.

The demons would be
coming soon,
that is not all
they have to fear.
What is frightening
is a slaughtering
in their midst.
If what is above
is all but gone.
What is there
to survive for
when there is nothing
left of what you know.

From the Black Book: Perfectly Inspired

I took a break
from writing.
Seeking in the sanctuary
of excuses of the lack of time
or true inspirations.
Words and sentences
from many other thoughts.
Feeling regret at not
having pen and paper
by my side.
One thing broke this
interruption of a habit
I was building.

The crimson sky,
its redness
like a blanket
well covering the sight above
and even my window panes
were all tinted
with the crimson glow
that was gentle in every manner.

The clouds were layered
as though in sync
with the rising run.
It stretched far
beyond my sight.

For once, I felt so much
wanting to fly.
To go beyond the reach
of my little statue.
To bask and see entirely
the horizon in this shade.
The moment was perfect.
There was no other I saw.

From the Black Book: Two Men

Two person connected
by the threads of fate.

One who abandoned the world
and found his truth.

Other other who felt the world left him
and went in search of truth.

Remembering

Feels like the marine-time vet,
who is in Hawaii.
Spending time with a person,
who never remembers.

Each day,
a new attempt,
a new start,
but an unchanging goal.

Pulling from a bag
of tricks and ideas.
Attempts to get
a message across.

Even if it fails today,
there is still tomorrow.
All until when
there's no tomorrow to speak of.

When would that be?
How long would it be?
Are we getting close?
What is that sign?

It's tough
but I'll get through.
Because that is
what I really want to do.

Just wait,
one day you'll remember.
The important stuffs,
that will do.

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.

End of the Path

Tonight became the night
I felt sorry.

Feeling bad for things
and who i have become.

Maybe I started to understand,
what it means to feel.

To be human,
to delve in life.

Hit the road,
make a run.

Stop and see,
where you can be.

Follow the turn,
into the unknown plains.

Not holding back,
just reach out.

The world is at your feet,
closer than anything else.

Be courageous,
take that step out.

There is so much,
yet to be found.

One day we'll pronounce ourselves
champions of life.

That's the plan,
that's the bend.

The wheel's in my hand,
for me to steer.

The miles we've crossed,
are hard, long and wild.

Perhaps we did unjust,
but tonight we own up to all that.

For tomorrow,
we start anew.

Going ahead,
and let not the past drag you behind.

Let's go.

From the Black Book: House

The night is quiet
in my house for once.
Cold air still rushes around
bring chill to my feet.
Leaving me a feeling
of impending sickness.
Which would later be dismiss
as the child of paranoia.
Broke the silence with music
from my player.
Back to the norm
for the past week.
Where the melody around
were that of piano keys.
Black and white together
forming a tune.
Enjoy the guitars,
drum and vocals tonight.
But damn,
think i'm missing the piano already.

From the Black Book: Music

Familiar strumming from the guitar
and the vocals
coming from my speakers
sparked off a memory
of a short while ago,
where i was lying
on an operation theater
awaiting for a cut
as the cure to my pain.
It was all drowsy
with all i remember
i lost my consciousness
with the jab.
And the last i heard
was the music
before i counted to three
and feel asleep.

From the Black Book: Red

Recalling in my mind,
how it looked back then.
The buildings were all
given a new coat.
The ember light flowed down
like water from a stream,
submerging all that it its path.

The sun is hidden from my sight
behind another structure
not so far away.

Its all structures here
with some in betweens.
The buildings of mortar
stands strong against weather
but the rays of ember
still seep through them.
unlike the clouds
that are still on the stroll
across the crimson sky.

From the Black Book: Chill and Dark

The lights all went out.
All was dark.
Save for the only illumination
that was beyond the window.
It was all there,
along with the wind.
That we hear,
whistling into the hall.
It had been roaring,
through the afternoon.
With its might,
nearly threw my whole house,
into a mess.
But lucky
it was only the papers
residing on the sofa
that flew around,
across the multi-colored floor.
Strong it was,
chill to the touch.
That my skin proof,
too thin before its presence.
Any sign of heat,
from the afternoon sun,
has just been kept away,
without a trace.

From the Black Book: Unwanted, Jumbled thoughts

This is worse than
unrequited love.
You reject the one
who wants you.
Going for the one,
who you want.
But they turn out to be the one
who don't want you.
Pointing you to another direction
and walking off.
This is going so confusing,
i'll just say it over
without it complicating.

They want me,
i don't want them,
yet i can't leave them.

I want to be back home
but my home does not want me
and tells me to go back
from where i came.

It's a simple three way relationship
that calls for a tragedy.
Maybe that's why
they both start with a 't'.

If the young shouldn't play
then why should the old.
If neither should,
who should.

Maybe one thing that i would regret
is allowing times to slip by.
That until now am i really
catching back all that is lost.

Realise why i would
do much for friends.
Because i have little
and i treasure the ones i have.

Its exceptionally cold today,
not from the weather,
just because i saw for myself
how alone i am.

We are all bound
for the path
of self destruction.
Right? No? I wun know.

When you create destruction,
part of you goes with it too.
When you get hurt,
someone feels the pain too.
Its a chain reaction.
Six degrees of separation?
Let's set it off.

From the Black Book: Afraid

Flipping through my little black book, looking at entries i wrote while away from the computer and net access some time ago. Time to add them here, where they will be with our writings.
Some are dated, some ain't, but doesn't really matter, does it?

Afraid

Maybe i am afraid,
afraid of being something too big
that i'll lose myself,
the core of my existence.

Maybe i am afraid,
afraid of being the weak
and that i have to
face the strong.

Maybe i am afraid,
afraid of failing
and the pain i foresee
to be brought upon me.

Maybe i am afraid
afraid of losing myself
to something great
and parting from you.

I am. Rather afraid.

do

Sometimes,
somebody just gotta do it,
even if,
nobody wants to do it,
because
it has to be done.

Single Ticket

Taken a dislike to catching movie alone,
breaking a habit i had long ago.
Where the late sunday morning was spent
in the middle of the cinema
Grabbing my sandwich and drink,
breakfast by the screen.

Looking at motion,
and listening to sounds
across the scenes,
at near a two hour or so,
before making a stand,
head towards the exit.

There's no what come after,
things had reach a halt.
With some fragments still in your head,
making sense of the reminiscence.
End up taking to oneself,
making up a conversation,
on a two sided speech,
with a one way channel.

Wouldn't it have been nice
to have someone to talk to about,
the motion picture,
that was just screened.
Whether its good
or its just plain bad,
the likable portion
and the distasteful one.

Catching the movie alone,
makes you realize,
the experience is so small
for it only belongs to you.
It it was enjoyable,
we can look forward to the next.
And start checking
on the papers and the web.

Catching the movie alone,
is a one dimension experience,
if you were around,
could have been more interesting,
with an additional view,
comment to add
or the grasp of breath
and the chuckle of laughter
which makes the show
more alive.

Would have been better,
if i was not alone.

i want to see

How much we live is on a proportionate equation to how much we want.

It has been taken as a measurement of your achievements, signifying how worthy this life has been, directly and indirectly. I would love to stay away from the norm. Because the norm is boring and plain cliche. Most of the time, but taking practicality into consideration, there's no harm being part of that majority, that is, when it proves to be working.

When making a list of your wants, having it purely inside your head would amount to an extreme result of achieving them. Writing them down is still more concrete in my opinion.

So i took out a old list which i made last year and apparently it looks pretty good. Most of them accomplished, short of 2 which had to be dragged on due to schedule issues. And another one totally fell short of its target because of my procrastination. By at least its not that bad for a first time.

I gonna set a new list this time, looking for items to add in. Realistic, worthy, important tasks which should be done.

Meanwhile, still working on another post, one that tells a story of a weekend's happening and tracing footsteps.

That, shall be task #1 i guess.

Shut It Up

Sometimes it would
just have been better
to keep your mouth shut.

For you never know
how the world
would react to your words.

Be it for the better
or what you consider
the very worst.

Its not like they all
would take into consideration
what you really feel.

The freedom of speech
comes with a price
that leaves unseen till after.

That you would need to
accept whatever is spoken
for there are no bounds anymore.

While its good to express
but on a note
it would backfire upon you too.

Especially when the ground
you are standing upon
is no flatter than a rule.

The people spoke less
in fear of punishment
coming their way.

However the world would never go quieter.

A Month

That's how long it was,
since the last this blog spoke.

Still been writing,
keeping a habit,
more than thinking,
in my everyday.

I'll bring them in the next time,
another topic is on my mind.

The older folks had one thing
they never understood,
about the loud voices and screams
that we could enjoy sometimes.

When it comes to expressing
our enthusiasm as a supporter
or merely complying
to what should be louder.

Telling myself
not to worry,
i'm still writing,
penning down my thoughts.

If not on paper,
its on text in my head.

Whatever went into
my little black book,
will soon be all here
when i find the chance to.

Depicting the story
and scenes i saw
while away from this seat
in front of my com.

Rounds and Rounds

A minute goes past,
a revolution is made.
I observe the ticking hand
moving itself a new round.

Do all things move in rings
or cycles they call.

Like the giant spheres that circles
the great ball of flame.
Akin to dancing
around the campfire.

A choreography left down
from so long ago,
now passed on
to every corner of the globe.

The bug that circles my lamp
or any source of light.
Then i see them
falling into Icarus plight

Inbox

Browsing through my inbox
looking at messages from before,
a while back and really long ago,
Kept them to remind myself
of emotions I once felt
and never want to let go.

With erosion caused from time,
these words becomes fragments
and empty husks of history.

Going through the archives
allows me to be back to track
from knowing where I came from.

I favor writing in the night
where all around is quiet
save for clocks ticking away.

My surroundings become my sanctuary,
some ideas come to see a rest
and we have tea together.

With tea and chatter,
they hung around a little
and hurried the night away.

Once a while we go all quiet
then we know its time
to bid each other goodbye.

Its going all quiet now
and my yawning closing in,
it's time.