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?