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.

Dream Jar and a Run

In the midst of quarrels,
shouts, anger and pain.
I chance upon knowledge
of my much broken act.
When the dying crave for life,
even a minute, a moment more.
Here i am trying,
to empty out everything i have.
That's not a desire to risk life,
but to leave life.

Someone mention about dreams,
not leaving them unfulfilled before you die.
Else it'll be so much
of a wasted life.
Saw that my dream jar was empty,
not even a crumb left.
Then to realize,
it's never been filled before.

Once long ago i heard of a chance
to go fight in a foreign land.
Delighted to go,
and wanted volunteer to be.
But now i see
what it had really meant to me.
It wasn't duty like i told myself
but a chance to have a bad throw at the die.
So at least i can end up
extinguished while doing something.

Taking a run,
towards my demise i am.
Don't think there's anyone who anticipates
the destination as much as i do.
Because i have
nothing to lose.
That's why i feel,
no fear of loss at all.
Maybe a bit,
the initial start.
Look closely,
there's nothing left to part.

No dreams, no possession,
not at all to call your own.

I am still making that run.
And reaching my hand
hoping to grasp something
inside my empty dream jar.

Dream.

Under the blanket i go,
into a secret place
where i hide away.

Grasping for breathe,
but mouth wouldn't open,
leaving my heart beating faster.

Light pours in
through clear glass panels,
near blinding my sight.

Familiar scenes,
replays itself in my head
but making no sense.

People seeking acceptance
from not of their own,
changing who they are to meet the goal.

Those of the odd
to become the rally flags
as the great gathering unfolds.

Snake

They call it good luck,
I say its an omen.

It has carefully made it ways around the masses
Body slither through the little gaps between people
But it does not escape my eyes.

Went forward and roused it attention.

It turned,
hissing and starting towards my direction.

In seconds,
it became larger,
so large it could swallow me whole,
in just one shot.

As its mouth opened,
I attacked,
with the stick in my hand.

Trying to keep its jaws open
with the stick in a vertical stand.

Failure it was,
as I saw my stick being swallowed whole
but lucky it wasn't me.

A gaze was placed on me,
I am the focus,
and defenseless.

Took a leap forward
and grasp what i presume to be,
the neck.

Now safe from the vicious jaws
but found myself
a possible victim of it body
that can coil me up within
and deliver
a breathless death.

An indeed i met such a scene
nearly right out of my dream.

Last Shade of Blue

It was sixty days before it began.
Now its six months before its gonna end.
Along the way i saw it shaped itself
and then revealing to me its meaning.



It is the arrival of change,
the rejection of change,
the welcoming of change.

It is the embracing of a new age,
the running to a comfort zone,
and the search for hope.

It is various people
facing a common issue
each with their own story to tell.


He has never set his sights on the world
all to him was imagination and feel
along with his trusty walking stick,

Now he will regain his sights
and lose the world
he thought he knew.

See the flaws,
experience the truth
only to discover the true beauty within.


Colors from his brushes
floods the canvas
and paints the scene of summer.

Left over from the last age
he feels like he is from a junk yard
seeking to fit into the new.

Taking a wince at what is here,
subjects being erased
leaving him nothing he knew of painting.

An unfinished painting for his love
that left him too early
and his life in ruin.

Undertake a journey
find another calling
fulfill your promises.


Origin in mystery and shadows,
a wanderer who lost her way
with feathers in her hat.

Lead by a vision
convinced by her dream
to take on the path beneath her steps.

Constantly looking forward
moving ahead in her quest
before the hourglass runs out of sand.

When sense has all ran out,
its all left to faith
to pull her through,

Beacon of light
piercing the shroud of doubt
reaching for the last shade of blue.

Beyond the Stilts of Glass

Was looking through some of my old writings,
this remains one of my favorite few.

Beyond the stilts of glass


And she stays in this little glass room, overlooking the world. A carefully structured piece of architecture that would even pales those of the greatest craftsmen ever known. So beautifully made that the idea it was a prison is disregarded.

In all those times she had been in there, it was a little haven that sheltered her from what would be the evils of the world that would otherwise taint her. While in there, she saw for herself, the world’s revolution in the manner none could tell but the world itself. People became her subjects for observation but all were like candles which fail to ever stand tall as time presses on and have the subject break down before her very eyes. Their light briefly shone for the short moment as they started sinking.

So many subjects, so many lifetimes, it was just getting boring. Safe as she was behind the panels of glass, she still envies those whom she studied despite having known what lies at the end of their road. Though their lifespan last no more seven decades after which they would be at the almost to be gone, during those moments, it is their light that helped to lit up those of others. Like a last moment of effort just before they will be extinguished.

This man was doomed to die, as though he was merely a flicking flame, struggling against the blowing wind. She watches him, expecting the end of another subject, one that would be ended prematurely. He struggles, and every single time it gets threatened into extinguishing, its radiance flares in response.

She watches and has her patience tested as she waits in seeing another end. The end was approaching but never arrived as the man struggles. For once, she wanted so much to extinguish that very flame by her own hands but only the glass panels stands between. Those would be enough to stop that thought from happening but it would occur to her that it is the other side of her wishing to see that flame shine amidst the challenges.

Summary:|MA| a week |ZE|

The louder the clock begins to tick,
with each passing of the second.
Getting noisy like a vessel,
as it gets more emptied.

If we reap what we sow,
i wish it applies the same
for joy much less sorrow,
as i look to the harvest of tomorrow.

Lost for thoughts.
When i get to realized,
i have just forgot
what i intend to jot.

Why again does it happen?
To bear witness
to a team to be broken.
Indeed i am sadden.

Dilemma the word to describe
as i feel torn between choices
that makes me feel divide.
Through a maze it feels alike.

As i comment on the cake
to either keep or eat
i see myself facing the same fate
of wanting both of it.

Running back to comfort
staying away from the unknown.

It's Natural and/or Scene Outside this Window

The sun, the clouds, the rain, the sun is probably the only thing that comes around here so far. And thus, my writing has been very much been in tune with the topic about my life with them around me.

Like right now, the sky outside is especially gloomy, with lighting and thunder makes it presence, and a very strong one too. Just out on the distance, a lone tree stands, swayed by the very wind that is accompanying the storm's rampage and entry into this compound. Flashes of light blind me in milliseconds, now and then. The walls and window has prevent me from hearing anything on the outside while offering me a safe zone to see what is going on.

This is just one of those louder days.

Well... You can just imagine the serenity that lies in abundance on the more 'usual' days.

Tough to believe sometimes how a year have passed, right before our eyes as we worked ourselves towards the end of each day. This scene that is right before me has been before me for such a long time. Not that i am weary, i am still amazed that all of it that envelopes me still awes me like the first time.

Ok. Maybe now i'm hearing the raindrops doing tap dancing on the roof that covers this room. Ask me why i can be so fascinate by these simple scenes and probably i would account it to the reach of urbanization slowly creeping in. Hardly a place we can find that is left untouched. Everywhere you go, you'll see people and buildings; the giant footsteps we left in the wake of our path.

There is a certain sense of wonder and charm in nature. A simplicity that lays behind a web of complexity and mystery. Call me oxymoronic but i'll still say it.

Indeed this is nature, the beauty of it, i'll dare say, is undisputed.

12 November, 6:30am

Flare.Light.Shining.Distance.
Breeze.Cold.Whistle.East.
Sky.Dark.Shades.Grey.
Silhouette.Clouds.Floating.Gloomy.
Sparkle.Plane.Flight.Disappear.
Fire.Burning.Constant.Ember.
Morning.Serene.Peaceful.Gentle.
Road.Long.Empty.Lonely.

Seems like i've been writing a lot about mornings.
Especially when i'm in camp.
Due to my early schedule of waking at 5:30am daily perhaps.
Something worth a look and brings a great feeling to the day.

Me.You.Us.Them.

Morning

Morning sight,
before day break.
A pattern formed,
across the sky.
Not to the horizon yet,
that is.
Wearing shades of blue
and various grey.
Into a collage,
gentle and calm.
Hiding behind is the rising sun,
inching its as the clock ticks by.
Ember skies are not far off,
with its crimson and golden glow.

Distorted World and.. A Hero

From quite a while ago,
completed portions from here and there
with my muse a cat and mouse game.

When the world starts coming
all on you
at one shot..

It caught me breathless,
not a moment I could call
ease.

Things seem wrong
like a distorted world,
nothing making sense.

Sinking into despair,
trying hard
running to where the path ends.

Shoulders felt heavy
weighing my body down
with an unbearable sting.

Numbness beings to fill
my limbs and now reaching
for my head.

Am I giving up
or am i tasting
a sense of defeat?

Desperate times calls
for desperate measures.
But how does it measure this time?

To be a person strong
against overwhelming odds,
unwavering, unfaltering.

Look around,
have the world becoming
unlike any you've known before.

What you fight for becomes the past
as all that is familiar becomes
ashes and dust.

Do you lose meaning all at one go
or have it slipping from you
like a river's flow.

It tough to play the hero
when everyone is looking for one
much less talk about being your own.

We look so much to having others light our way.
Did we even realize that
we'll be our greatest guide one day.

This torn world inside cries out loud
calls for some faith
and a hero for help.

Lost the actual feeling
that got me started
tracing it back to complete it all.

Dreams: Closer

I've been dreaming of strange things.
Thing that would have been seen as normal,
but presented in a manner of usual fashion.

Receiving a note from an overseas friend,
a note of his death and with it,
are words he would have said.
A collection of thoughts and regards
to his friends which he would have wished
to say in person himself.
Never been listed as one
who would give much concern about others,
this time what he left were
heartfelt comments for his friends,
those who are close but far away.
Honestly could it be that
i've lost a few friends this year
that made me wonder whether
death is coming near.
And that its upon facing death
that people would really speak their mind.

Another dream that appeared
brought me to the space beneath my bed.
Amidst the dust i found
a pair of torn socks even i forgot.
A message i saw within,
about the past and where i have been.
Where i lost a certain part of me,
trapped in lost time and uncertainty,
waiting for me to find it again,
that i knew as another broken me.
What i am searching for could be just near,
needless of me to seek high and low.
Or is it about my losing sight,
of what seems to be the obvious?

Along was something far from a dream,
a bit of magic i felt tingling
reminding, rekindling the feeling
that have been lost unknowingly.
At an instance i understood what it all meant,
the search i was on without a single trace.
A hunt without any idea
what is the prey.
All i know is that it would fill a gap,
that lies in my heart,
making me feel hollow-ed out.

Looking for satisfaction is half the story.
In fact it is about acquiring this sensation
with a team i can count on,
and then moving on
to beyond anything we know of.
But being so warded against new faces,
too defensive for my own good in fact.
That any hope of having anyone closer
seem like impossible.
Even if its not about companions,
i still need a shoulder,
a person who would stand through tough times
alongside with me.
Provided i can get through
the knot that is in me.

A series of reminders.
Now i think i'm more connected with the world than i knew i was,
in a way perhaps.
Or a sign that i'm opening up to myself.

A Flood in My Head

i believe this entry is the result of two days of conversation.
And with a bit of influence from what i've been reading.

Been on the road for so long,
walking alone i am,
with people whom i can side along.

Friends that i call,
despite the gap that lies between,
they are support upon which i can fall.

Shall it be this time round,
seeking a companion in my journey,
the one who is yet to be found.

She ain't far, she is near,
am i to deny the prescence
that stands right before me so clear?

Tapping is my finger,
awaiting a sign to come knocking
before i decide to pull the trigger.

Choices run through my mind,
calculating risks and stakes involve,
am i to answer with a sigh?

There are losses and of cos gain
we try too hard to think too much
to avoid unnecessary pain.

Fearing fail and give no try?
take a look at the birds
when they learn to fly.

Observe with your keen sight,
take a closer look
before doing what you think is right.

Read the moves, interpret its meaning
you can only hope for
to see what you are wishing.

When all is right,
and time is ripe
i'll strike.

And more to come, details i probably won't recall here, for now that is.
And conclude,
I know I'm not alone as I felt I was.

If anyone were to ask again whether i blog for people to see.
I'll say yes. And no.
I write to express myself,
my blog serves as a bridge,
to bring my thoughts for those who read.

Still awaiting for The Distorted World and A(Its) Hero.

Me and the Morning

Quiet morning
chilled by wind and rain.
A room less than filled
with music flowing through.

Emotions within rhythms,
melody and voice put together.
Light and calming air,
soothes one's soul so much.

The bed so tempting
constantly calling me to join it in slumber.
Clouds had kept the morning sun hidden well
casting away rays of bright.

My phone lies a corner
as though losing all hint of life.
Pen kisses the paper
producing words of blue.

Whirlpools of thoughts in my head
from twirls in my stream of thoughts.

Victim and the Accused

The accused pleading innocence,
the victim lying in cold blood.
A judge remains to be found,
to reckon justice upon the guilty.

Came a sudden thought of random,
challenging the chain of flow so far.
Even if the guilty shall be dealt conviction
what meaning to the victim does it bear?

Dreamlike

I am like a dream,
carrying and passing messages
but hiding them in forms
you do not understand,
leading you into a chase
just to reveal what i meant.

I am like a dream,
being what you want
and all the possibilities,
only to disappear
and leaving only a trace
of irretrievable memory.

I am like a dream,
however real it may seem,
it does not transit into reality
and lays beyond your touch,
a mere fragment of thought,
conjure by your deepest hopes.

Meaning and Falling Down

The following would sound like a speech.
To be presented to who, i suggest its myself.
To be presented where, i suggest my head.

I didn't find what i lost,
but i did realised what it it.

It is meaning.

The meaning that ties so strongly to purpose.
The purpose that was the root of my belief and reason to why i fight.
The reason why i wake up every morning knowing i have to fight and work harder.

The fight is not just for the purpose,
its a fight against myself too.

The meaning which formed the basis and foundation now lies in rumbles like ruins of a destroyed building.
It is now tough to build on such ruined ground but i won't clear this ground of the ruins for the fear of losing the last traces of what used to stand here.
Now as I know, what has been gone is far from our reach and what remains becomes all the more precious and thus, we want to keep it, even if just a little.
So keeping it and attempt to build upon it becomes a fruitless one despite the knowledge at hand.

I trust that, only by tearing everything down fully then would there be a chance of seeing a complete structure again.

I believe, in order to pick yourself up, you have to fall down to do so, and fall completely.

I am wondering how to fall down completely.

Where i do,
I'm not going to just call it quits.

Best at my Worst

Woke up from a nap
my head is in a twirl.
Try to steady myself
as i resist lying back again.

Away from my thoughts
i hear the music blasting.
But my ears feel pressure
coming from the air so still.

Time akin to stopping
man on the moon i feel.
Seeking my way out
of this finely weaved webbing.

Looking for my chocolates
my happy food I call.
I'm not unhappy
not enough to be happy yet.

Sense of emotions getting wrecked
like a compass going crazy.
Felt a sense of defeat
masking over me.

If its a cloak on my back,
its truly dense to the thread.
A loss when nothing is fought,
what exactly the stake forfeited?

I guess i know but silent in words
for i wish not to aloud the unsaid.
Fear i see that is keeping me mute
apparently I'm facing my dreaded.

Amusing i felt as i observed
that I recover my lost muse.
In that instance of my worst
where i got to be my best again.

Facing the Unwritten Written

Written laws
unwritten rules.
It all becomes empty verses
if there's no warrant.

Does power or authority
become the requisite,
in order for one
to tail the upkeep.

If odds are against you
how do you do
to maintain your stand
under overwhelming sense.

Give up and run away,
or fight till the end
only to find you're stuck
in a languish wrestle.

As when the written or said
deals you a path too tough
what makes you the person
to stick by way.

I'm Back

Awake but not awoken,
rise up on my own accord.
To seek a new goal
that now only exist
in my mind.

Back to basics but
not to square one.
I'm just tracing my steps
back to where
i started out from.

Lost i may be
but its just time
before i see
the road ahead
and the light that shines upon.

Goodbye

A mentor, a friend.
A senior, a guide.
To the road he is,
a light, so bright.

This is dedicated to you, Andrew.
There are somethings that about yourself that you might not know.
And one of that I'll say is,
You've made a difference in our lives.

P.S Thanks for your soccer shoes,
which got me started and all.

The last season was five years ago? Was it?

Philosophy

Along the way this far, referring to the past over one year in army, personal philosophy has been an important part of me, something that gets me going, stops me dropping and keeps me thinking.

When i just got enlisted, i believed that "Joy lies in enjoyment", that joy or happiness is for me to discover. Provided i can learn to enjoy it. Well, no one really enjoys being in the army anyway, so this became an attempt to do that.

It worked pretty well for me and i got past three months and then into command school. Things were pretty much different, the people, the environment and what you have to achieve. Achieve not in your own goals but rather about criteria to pass out. But this time my initial philosophy don't seem to be making so much sense anymore, so i went about looking for something new. I thought about "loving what you do vs doing what you love" as my next statement, which translates into the two manner to be happy. Its pretty much a sad fact that i can't choose what i am doing so practically i'm given only one option. If taking a closer look at things, both 'philosophy' so far talks about what to achieve but not about what drives you.

I went searching for a answer and it came to me after losing a few weekend mornings away in camp. As a physical test failure, i had to spend saturday mornings doing trainings, thus i started working very hard to get out of this situation. Then i realized that i started working so hard either because i was afraid of losing my weekend away or because i want to have the weekend morning as my own. I ended up sticking two statements on my cupboard. "Doing the work you love vs loving the work you do.", "Fear of loss or love for possession." Its a point to note that there is no better choice but rather what fits you better.

The next phrase i entered did not give much change but i believe that things still need moving on. Around that time i re-watched "Kingdom of Heaven" and the oath they took left a pretty deep impression on me. The portion about being a good man everyday. Consistent effort, its telling me. Back in my mind, i felt that consistency in effort only gets harder day by day. But still i told myself "Not to be a good man everyday, be a better man everyday"; always be seeking improvements.

When all that has pass me, the line of philosophy seems to have disappeared and now i'm down, feeling lost. And the cycle begins again to guide my way out. Its been an integral part of me that i have to admit displays very much of who i am, what i do, where i go and how to go on.

The Random Thoughts

I felt that i need to post again.
Meaning, I'm casting random thoughts again.
Fulfilling the purpose of this blog I am.

Now i feel like i don't really belong anywhere.
Perhaps it came from the random browsing across social sites and seeing people all around me being part of something bigger. They have part of them everywhere like they are someone who is bigger than life and have so much to spare or share around.

If i do put the statement in that manner where people around me are all in that manner, larger than life, then it could only mean that i'm the one who is smaller. Depressing. Haha.

There goes my first laughter in blogging history.

To console myself a little, i questioned myself whether i need to be active in social sites to be happier or to remind myself i actually have many friends around me. Apparently my answer came: I don't need the social site, because there's not much people i need to socialize with in that manner. It's been months since i even last said or typed a word to most of the people listed in my contact list.

Have i just become some kind of cold blooded creature?

No not yet. Because this site still exists. And its proof i still think and feel though i'm suggesting to myself that i lack empathy and concern for others.

And earlier today when i recalled about my post regarding being selfish. I've thought it through. It's more about lacking the genuine concern for every other thing. The inability to go forward and care about what is around you. So wonder did it start from internal first? Being unable to care about your own self even?

Well... Back to the social site issue, i remember seeing people having chatters, postings little notes across that cyber space of 'non-impossibilities', i do receive them sometimes, but i think its always less than the rest. But i have never ever post them back. I think that i've become a bit too serious sometimes, to feel that such things are in a manner, nonsensical. To be concern about the right stuffs, i see myself going towards the other way, to end up being concerned about what is not so important and leaving so much behind.

I see myself lacking security and the confidence. I hold the fear of being alone, because people will end up leaving me. I found it hard to put trust in just anyone, because i don't think i can trust myself sometimes. I dare not look at a pretty girl when we had eye contact, because i do not know how i'll be looked at and i do not know where i stand. I lack my security in what i do now and in the fear of being judged.

A phony i am.
When i say it does not matter how people look at me. Somehow it does.
When i say there's nothing to worry about. Somehow there is.
When i say anything is achievable, somehow it might not be so.

The posts over these few days has been much depressing items, and the paragraphs are far away from the verses usually presented. It's a circle of thoughts, proceeding from one form to another. Its merely me, trying to seeking out my truth.

Me. People.

I come to recognize something.

Fear.

The fear of dealing with the unknown.
The fear of connecting with people.
The fear of facing failure.

Is it considered self defense?
That i draw myself away
to avoid people.

Holding my conversations
only on the surface,
i felt so shallow.

Maybe i find it hard
to just bare my heart
and speak out loud.

Or I'm afraid of hurt
that will come
if people know me too well.

I'm at a lost
when i deal with people
that i know not very well.

But right from the start
i never took the step
to know them well either.

It's a barrier within
that needs to be broken
by my sheer effort.

Selfish

I admit it. I am.

Perhaps i'm writing this out of anger, which would bring me to tell you that once again i'm busting with emotions and thus, "I'm at my BEST, when I'm at my WORST". It always happen, that when I'm angry, thoughts flows better as if the blood flow to the brain during such situations have a deep impact on the way the brain functions conclude that increased blood flow does increase the generation of thoughts.

It always occur to me that i would not bother myself with things that does not affect me. Though it should be known that no one is safe from each other and all things have a chain effect on one another. It'll get to you somehow. You can run, but you can't hide. I'm serious about selectively bothering myself with different matters. There's only so much time and energy you can dedicate, so why should you be bothering with each and very matter that is occurring in the world around you. Time for myself, i think, is still important; it's in the priority list along with the people you care for.

I take the case of wedding and funerals which is supposedly important, or so i feel. It does and in fact very important, to the people who are the center of the attention. The bride/groom, the dead and of cos their family. And when we think about who should be present when such cases occurs, it makes sense to us. But for them, how much sense does it make? Are they suppose to feel important that they receive an invitation? Even if no one is coming, things still gotta go on. That's for sure. Unless you need them to do something for you. But sending their regards is to me, the only one thing they can truly do which brings a reason why they are there in the first place.

Other people's opinion does not come high into the list of priorities sometimes, unless they mean a level of significance to me. There's no meaning why i should be so concerned with what you think if it is not going to affect me, and I'm not trying to sway you to my side. I can have my own views, so should you. I don't think they have to be bothered with what i think as well. You are and should be, leading your life, not what others think or say you should. Taking some opinions once in a while but making it your own.

Talk about social responsibility, and we'll come to the point about everyone should be working together as one. But then i feel that, everyone should have a sense of their own, not necessary about together. There's always got to have people who come up, opposing certain things, creating diversity across all that we know. You don't have to do something for others, unless you really want to, then again, its you view that you are holding.

Looking at everything and at myself, i feel that i'm an individualist and i'm trying to run away from people. I avoid people sometimes, to avoid making that connection which i would end up thinking what would it actually mean.

I'm not just selfish or so i thought. I'm confused.

Imagine

I'll say, let's imagine.

Just saw a mail from WAYN(Where are you now?), a social site to connect frequent travelers who are often around the world. I'm not a fan of social site, this i gotta admit but this little social site did give me some inspiration once in a while. And a little friendship which came about from an unexpected message.

And time to go on to the mail idea about what this 'inspiration' actually is for today. So they launch a 'WAYN Guru' program, something to do with getting interested people to be 'ambassadors' of their city. I think it sounds great, pretty fun idea in fact. So we'll see people who enjoys traveling, playing host to these visits from friends coming from foreign land. Not just an exchange of culture and idea, at least that's what i think.

So what if we do have a group of our own? A group of people who enjoy travels, backpacking, road-trip, what do we do with them? Rather, what can we do for them? More than ever, that's the key question.

Then i realize, i think the main jest of it lies in what do they do when they actually get together. I myself, is not a traveler, not that i don't like it, I'll account it towards the lack of a suitable time able and then the much temptation of staying down on my ground enjoying my time on games and hanging out with my usual circle of friends. I do look forward to a little adventure once in a while, and I'm serious about this statement i make.

Pretty short on ideas about how to keep this going, but i won't be going around searching for the solution yet. Cos time and time again I've been proved that things never appear for you when you are searching for it and appears only when you stop on it.

Thus comes another issue that bugs me for quite a while.

Film appreciation.

Cool term. Totally. Class. Undeniable.

So we do have regular movie screening and i do have doubts about conducting or creating something for film appreciation. As in how to gather them round, what to choose which would make sessions of film appreciation worthwhile coming.

Question again, 'If i something like that was to be organized, would i attend?'

Key point again. But where does the key lies this time?

Do i end up doing i wanna do or something for them? This does runs through my mind once in a while. But it just occur to me seconds ago that could be what they want be something i wanna do as well? Let's hope that's a life saving hope. And this should well enough justify for many many of the things that we are intending or going to do.
Not that i just want to conclude it here but the thread for my imagination runs thin, not a very creative person i am, my ink goes fading.

I write

I write because I'm happy
I write because I'm sad
I write because I'm stress
I write because I want to express

The words becomes a medium
for the thoughts that I grasp.

It brings me closer to people
and further from what I am less.

It becomes truth to my soul
and what I am made of.

I felt like a cat. Meow

Looking for a shelter,
found myself under a table.
The wind still blows,
brushing pass my legs.
The light hidden from view,
shadows still in sight.
A haven found,
within walls of four.
Tilt my head right,
see bar of metal solid.
Cage it suddenly became
or so it felt to me.

Tesion of Opposites or Irony vs 'the greener grass on the other side'

Not often that i'll be writing in paragraphs, even seldom that title so long comes along. So long that i forgot the title halfway even. Its a title that i was gonna work on quite sometime ago but felt hard to come up with any content and thus left untouched.

The main point being on how the grass would always seem greener on the other side. That you would more often than ever, wished you're doing task 2 when you are stuck on task 1. And when you finally get to be doing task 2, you wish so much you are doing task 1. I've been feeling so much of it nowadays that I can't help but phrase it into words to ease this 'stress' i'm having. A poem was coming up but seems like its overflowing into these following paragraphs that you are seeing here.

We don't call it regret or lament, a lot of it has once been discussed and brought up in previous post before. Neither is it about making the so-called right choice, which never existed in the first place.n Each moment is unique and only happens once and thus whatever choice made is the only one of its kind and with no comparison, how could there have been a better choice, this I wonder.

Then again, could it be that we are always looking at the happiness of others while being sad of what happiness of their which we can't own. And that derives to the part about which we would fail to notice about the sacrifice they probably have to made while we look at all our efforts we have placed in return for what we get and does not feel is of fair quality.

So much promises, not one fulfilled.

And this, poetry tries to flow in again, into the flow of my words. But today is once which i try to suppress it, against my usual principle in the freedom of expression. Poetry and verses of words might be full of grace and brings the flow of words in a beautiful manner but come again, such paragraphs and chucks of words might just be the key to the freedom of expression that is most suitable for the uprising and enthusiasm in pushing an idea or a thought across where the energy could be so strong that it feels unstoppable. And at the same time it signifies the ability of free flow, unrestricted string of thoughts.

Everywhere is choices, which we all have to make, for the best or just the better, i see no chance of for the the worst or just the bad. A chance at optimism perhaps, or is it a try too hard? Even in here, i see myself making a choice at how my words shall flow. Unknowingly we are making choices all the time, whether we see it or not or how these affect the way we are leading our lives and what changes it'll bring for us.

And in essence, i think that i have just came a full round to where i started right in this post. Only did the free flow string of thoughts come telling that whatever i am having is the best i would be having cos there's no time machine bringing me back to redo or erase anything i would do.

So what the hell is this for?

Cold Bug

I'm struck
not yet down
just bitten by the cold bug.

Voice going stranger
or rather deeper than usual
as my throat goes
slightly sore or hardened.
Seldom do I get sick
apparently this is the exception
occurring like that of a blue moon.

Maybe its the cold bug
that took away my cool of mind
before giving me another
causing me to go
into a temper
which i rarely did
and felt should have been left alone.

Not that I'm regretting
or lamenting,
a bit of whining perhaps.
But since the cold bug is here,
don't think I could find a way
to shrug it off me.

A few strokes to One

Across me an empty seat.
Laid out on the table,
my phone and this notebook here.
Trumpets echoes in the background
with drumbeats in its company.
That's the music playing,
black speakers around us all.
Us in reference to me and the rest
who has taken a seat in this corner
identified by wooden flooring
and the signboard hanging above.

Half an hour here too early
but definitely deliberately
done to avoid the unnecessary
waiting that shall await us
should we be here a bit too late.

The conditioning system chills me
with a cooling breeze
and I think the cold
that has came running to me
for the week so far
would be glad to hitch such a ride
from this unsuspecting breeze.

It's getting noisy
though the people are few
guess its the people flooding
into this basement.

Wonder if its just me
or a coincidence
I'm beginning to see,
the seats around me are empty
and ticks my wondering.

I'm holding on to this seat
while waiting
for my friend's coming.
She's not late
just me who's early.

Summer Lost

I think of days
that date back
more than a year ago.
The summer sunshine
shining through that window
basking my bed
in the heat of noon.

Up i glance
white clouds upon shades of blue
filled the sky
stretching further
as the intense heat went higher.

Another summer has come and gone
and I'm still on my way
searching for the next bend
on this winding highway.

It's hard to imagine
how did time fly just like this
and now wondering what is next.

Looking out of my window now,
hoping to see that parade square
that was once in a similar view
so is that summer sunshine
now replaced by constant rain

My organizer reaching the end of its pages
telling me its soon due to time

Have we passed through the line yet?

Waking Thoughts

Waking up from a afternoon's nap
and that's brought by
what seemed to be
endless waiting.
In a corner
tucked away from the world.
The one thing that stood in-between
was clear serenity
and stillness of the air.

A bit dizzy
rather tipsy
but not yet soused.
My head is in a whirl
and I thought the world conjure.
I remembered the sky gloomy
but now it starts to rain,
not heavy at all,
just droplets fine and small.

Now on the journey back
everyone sound asleep as though
under a fairytale like spell
from stories we once read.
Tress around me
brushed away in blur of green
and the seconds tell me
I'm nearing where
I ought to be.

Writing Upon a Helmet as I Face September

the longer we live,
the more tired we get,
are we just tired of living?

A casual remark
from a random comment
sparking off today.

I sit here in a shed
among other whom together
have come quite a long way.

The wind whispers to my ear
suggesting the weather
is getting gloomy today.

Its all so familiar
like how we had our weekends
hiding inside comfort shelter.

We wait for lunch's due
and a break
like we always do.

It becomes apparent
what was on my head
became a table for my writing tool.

I saw leaves falling
yellow and brown
simplicity it carried ground bound.

Time for work again
and reluctantly I return
this paper to my pocket.

While I carry on
to long for the
much later break.

Early Morning Train Ride

Five more stops i count
and soon I'll be
bounded for another train
to the port for planes.

The air is unusually cold today
in the cabin where i stood
though i got to say
its long since my last train trip.

Half the people i see
drifted away to sleep
as they made themselves at ease
on the maroon colored seats.

Stops after stops
the train went about it's way,
its path being dictate
by the tracks laid ahead.

More people got down,
even fewer got in,
making the cabin
going less than empty.

When finally i managed
to find myself on that maroon,
the crowd i first encountered
has dwindled down to a few.

They're no longer taken by sleep
now awaken as they see
their destination away from them
only by mere matter of minutes.

Sunlight pierce through the glass panels
as we escape the tunnel
to see morning's glory
smiling right back at us.

A switch of train just before that escape
brought a new group before me
short of a few familiar faces
from the previous cabin.

Again i count the stations
looking forward to start my day
then again,
hasn't it started many stops ago?

Morning.

Broken Peace

An alarm was set off
just around half past noon
where my lunch is still
down down my digestive tract
and vividly i could recall
it as a much hefty meal.

The compound was empty
save for a few of us
who has to spend the day here
envying at those are absent.
We ain't alone, accompanied by feelings
of restlessness we can't shake off.

It was a dismay to many,
when the silence drifting around
made for a run
as the siren went crying
on and on, on and on,
no stopping.

Discomforting it was
then a conclusion came.
We've lost the peaceful afternoon
we grew so familiar with.
A thought came asking
'Where are we having it back?'

We waited and waited,
pray it'll not be in vain
all till the siren went dead
perhaps tired out from crying
or someone has just
given it the boot.

Santuary

Looking at rays of sunlight
pierce through the
faint misty air
upon the wide open green field
moist with morning dew.

Far out on the horizon
white flaky clouds gather
like a herd of cattle grazing
except that the colours changed
of blue and green, white and brown.

Serenity starts to set in
as the scene began coming to a still
less the humming of insects
and the flock of birds
flying across the sky.

It feels like it could last
forever, it it really existed.
then i look around
and realised i am
down here, alone.

Complicated

Once in a while,
I come back looking
at what I've wrote
and wonder.

Especially if
a friend came telling
that your words
are hard to fathom.

I could only feel
that what i pen down
are merely a reflection
of my other everyday life.

Then again i think,
could there be a message
trying to be discovered
by an unsuspecting reader.

Coming from where
i suppose
that it would be,
my subconscious mind.

A serious habit
that tends to stay,
complicating matters
even of the least complex.

Communication for understanding
but here i am,
trying to cause misunderstanding
by a cat and mouse game.

Are there words that
i wish to say
yet lacking courage
to speak it out loud?

Thus making me
turn to such alternative
and express the contents
that is in my mind.

Orchestra on a rainy day

Droplets of water that came
hitting down on that concrete ground.
Gust of wind blowing
echoing as they went along.
The leaves rustle in response
while the tress could only nod
in an uniform agreement.
The sky's a shade of mixed gray,
the blue quietly concealed away.

Of a sudden,
a symphony presents itself
becoming like an orchestra
as they all hum a single tune.
With thunder booming every few moments.
High and then low
and then higher than once before.
Rising to its climax
with everything sounding louder still.

The thunder carefully fades away
as the performance comes to an end.
And applause came in the manner
as people came out of their shelters
into puddles-filled land.

Indulge

Indulge yourself once in a while.
Have a treat or a two,
praising yourself
but in no way of a fool.

Enjoy that short laughter
or let that hint of a smile
show itself fully
without holding back at all.

Drawing that joy
from every step
and breathe you take
while life keeps ticking.

Indulge,
in not about enjoying pleasure,
but simply taking pleasure in enjoying,
each and everything.

Expressing Myself

You can't seem to ignore
however hard you attempt.
Could bluff yourself thinking
that's just the way it is.
But deep down inside knowing
facades never last for long.
Went into some willful wishing
for things to go your way.

Be it what you try to uphold,
values upon your shoulders.
Resolution unwilling to let it into
the list of next year's.

Another mistake you try to fix.
A person so hard to get to.
It all still feels,
so distant away.
Somehow much akin to,
repairing a roof top
while hailstones rain around.

I'll like to break that distant,
get close to express myself,
be it to reality or simply just me.
Possibly another one who could see
where I'm really standing.

Where am I?
Lost in jumbled thoughts,
or is it just
a somewhat fantasy of my own?

Change, unchanged

Some things change.
Some things never change.
Even when time has pass,
certain scars still remain,
reminding you of what once happened,
so long a time ago.

Even so,
it does not even need to cast a reminder
as you try so hard to forget
but to no avail.

the Day the Rain Came

Rain came the whole day,
bringing about a look of gloom
that stretched thru the sky,
hiding the sun to a place far away.

Droplets falling all around
as the wind was blowing gently
cold like how it was
in a song i came to know.

Only when the day,
began to give way to night
then did the rain,
decide to go away too.

The boys came out to play,
a soccer ball in their midst,
ants went scurrying,
forming a loosely black trail.

Heaving a sigh,
wishing i can take my bag,
reach for the door
and call it a day's end.

Weight On My Shoulders

What does the world ask of you?

What do you ask of yourself?

But whose ruler do you judge your actions?


"Lost in a guide"

Flickering

Reminds me so much
of a story i wrote
a long time ago
that tells of a person
who in the struggle
against life itself
displaying a great deal
of spirit and perseverance.

Now it felt like
i've come to the point
where i became the character
i once wrote about
ironic in one sense
and no in another
after all who else can write better
about yourself than you that is.

I felt like a flame
trying so hard
to just keep on
burning, burning.
Losing the fire,
losing the steam,
i guess i'm just
cut short this time.

Am i seeking
for a piece of santuary
or salvation perhaps?
The answer lies within
and then i note
that it'll have to be found
before my last light
burns out.

And the sun won't rise

Ever heard of the story,
that tells of a rooster
who thought the sun won't rise
if he does not crows to announce daybreak.

Somehow a similar feeling that I'm having,
that i am trying to be,
in a reagent like manner perhaps,
causing reactions of the many experiments.

Exhausted i became,
and went through my mind,
a thought.
Maybe I'm not great after all.

The sun continues rising,
and I get on with what I have,
making the best i can,
every single day.

Sunday Afternoon, after the rain

The rain went away,
leaving puddles of water,
on the open ground.

Like fragments of a broken mirror,
reflecting the sky above,
and the white clouds floating pass,
like a herd grazing on that field of blue.

We do not see the wind,
but its there as we see,
the clouds moving fast.

The world stays lighted,
though the sun is not in sight
and now waking from its slender slumber.