Missing you. With Rants.

Papers were bad today,
the morning run was good though.
Now I take the many little things
and try to enjoy the simplicity in between.
My phone seldom rings now,
maybe because you are not around.
I got a web-cam for three months now,
so you can see me and i can see you too.
Its not so much like a broken transmission
across outer space like in science fiction.
Taking about the screens,
perhaps I'm hitting a bit too many these days.
Of which they lasted a good time for me,
at the same time reminding me of the few we did.
A message that is sent,
but would not see a reply after that beep.
Neither on another channel would I
be able to savor the reminiscence of what is so deep.
Heading back to work then holiday again,
and the routine continues without much change.
This makes for a day's ranting,
before I get a good night sleeping.

Where art' thou?
I miss you.

Unfocus Focus

Breathless.
Endless panting.

There's no wind.
Temperature rising.

Sweat tickles down,
all sides of my head.

The knee jerking pain.
Am I landing my foot correctly?

Where's the distance marking?
What's my current timing?

Rounds to go.
Rounds to go.

No stalling.
No stopping.

Run, run run...
Keep the tempo going...

What did the rain say.

Rain.
The other thing
apart from restless days,
mind-wandering minutes,
and failed alarm clock
that is getting common.

That's the last quarter
in the manner
that I remembered
across the decade since
i notice the falling drops.

Where the day is often served
with a starter, the main
and then the dessert
sometimes in that order
or all mixed up together.

Ash-coated cream,
extra heavy rain,
added with chilling wind,
that leaves a feeling so mellow
especially in the bitter cold.

We had been questioning
whether had someone
simply tune the weather machine
wrongly or maybe haphazardly
thus explaining our misery.

Now it seems a bit more right,
and upon opening your eyes
a bit more wide,
you'll see that
for some other,
things still ain't really right.

Where water sweeps past
like an angry mob and
some lost their life
in an instant
while for others, hope.

The weather that i see,
compared with a previous year
feels more intense
like a person trying so hard
to be heard.

Throwing out everything,
to get attention,
like he's been ignored
for far too long,
that its unbearable.

So what does this rain mean?
For the better or the worst?
The calm before a storm?
And shall this be the calm,
we are all to face a disastrous time.

Clean Up Service

Let me be here,
to clear up your day,
I might be bad at the house,
but just listen to me for now.

Let the fridge,
offer you a cold drink,
cool off that anger,
and ice cubes to top it off with.

Broom and the dustpan,
sweep up the unwanted,
cleared to the last speck of dust
and no traces of dirt.

What else could I offer,
how about a good seat,
with comforting cushions,
for you to rest right here.

Just stay a while and relax,
things are not as bad as you expect,
keep that smile on,
and in here, you're home.

Phantom of the Order

They talk about
one of us,
a member of the order.
Now that we have split,
all towards paths
that might cross
and join together.
But this one they mention,
caught my attention,
for few would still do,
revisit this old location.
That he is fair,
that his skin is clean
from the sun's glare.
No glass upon his face,
to correct
distorted angles.
And seeks education
born not from
the ruling nation.
Where the people we have
are few and and within what we knew,
who could it possibly be,
lest the order has within,
a person that remain phantom,
right under our noses.

Hey Friend

Hey friend,
where have you been?
The pictures,
the writings
all stopped coming in.

Have work
been really pressing,
that time grew wings
to escape
imprisoning.

Does the calligraphy
still flow,
from your brushes' tip
while you enjoy your smoke
in your little breaks.

Simplicity streaks
across the sights
that you share,
of mornings and things,
we don't give another blink.

I wish for you that
may ink never cease
to be far from your reach,
and keep the pictures coming,
what might catch your glimpse.

Morning. Sunday. 3rd Oct

This morning is
Exceptionally plain.
Leaning towards the average,
Add a little gray tint.
Sunshine behind a shade,
Time feels a little late.
the world seems to go
Half a beat slower than before.
The crow flies as the road goes,
Joining the traffic as a whole.
Green field with its new cloak,
Handled by the storm hours ago.
Probably that's why the little chill,
And everything slowing but not a great deal.
The sunshine hides behind,
What seems like a coat
Or a blanket well disguised.

The same music

Back to the same melody,
the exact notes,
rhythm and beat
which stay close to my ears.

But one thing has changed,
in less than twenty four,
revolution of the hand
across the clock on my wall.

The manner I now feel
to the melody now differs.
Becoming a song
that calls out so strongly to me.

It tells me lovely stories
that I would call mine,
and reminder of appreciation,
to a person very special.

Dancers on a Black and White World

Maybe miracles do happen.
Because that's when the heart takes over
and something beautiful is born.

A pair of dancers
on a black and white world.
They are themselves,
and the world is plainly the world.
No worrying about what is around,
all dedicated to their dance.

The dance that says they are sad,
the same dance that sings their joy,
the dance that talked about
each and every single moment of their life.
They lived in those moments
and the dance that would take flight.

Once a while
there's only one of them left.
While it does not stop,
things seem much slower
and it feel not so happy
all of a sudden.

The world might be black and white,
deprived of colors,
its still up to the two
to decide how to put what they have together.
Whether its full of glee or not so happy,
this is where they tell their story.

I spend this wee hours reading,
about people around me,
their individual stories
of themselves,
and the people they love so deep.

The piano piece
that accompanies me tonight
certainly served its purpose right,
to pluck at my heartstrings
and make me write.

Polished Slipper

Ain't all glamorous with a brand,
i'm the person with two sides of me,
and follow you to wherever you'll be.

I'm that pair of slipper,
...that'll you go everwhere in,
for i'm simple to start with.

Just like i'm not the first,
and not the last either,
when i'm considered worn out.

The moment of rejoice was short-lived,
I should have at then,
revel in it while I still could.

All things gotta go someday,
why is it this time and me
who'll be marking down this date.

Our story started with two,
now it ends for me alone
but your story still carries on with two.

hopes. Build.

A house by the sea,
how is that?
Or you prefer one
that overlooks the greens.
I guess that's for me,
very much nature, away from city.

Of stone or brick,
that I shall make.
The shelter that house you,
and our home it shall be.
These hands will toil,
to provide what you may need.

Thousands of sunset,
uncountable of nights.
Days and years,
passing by.
Witnessing the story,
of you and I.

Till now,
it can only be a dream.
Saving for the magical touch,
to make it reality.
Saving for that the special one,
to set these hopes free.

change.

Making changes are tough.

It’s an unknown zone.

Out of your comfort zone.

But I want to make changes.

For the better.

Not wanting to be stuck here anymore.

Outdo myself,

be a better man.

Everyday,

without fail.

Story of a Rock

What does it mean to love.

The word they speak of it
all the single time.
Here a single man seeks
to find it and understand.

He can shed no tear
the last had nearly dried
since the witness of
a kin on deathbed.

Wants to be strong,
like a pillar of stone,
so threw away everything,
made himself a rock.

Nothing could pierce through
that hard solid shell.
Nothing could bother what's under
that hard solid shell.

One day he felt
like he never did before.
What exactly was it.
He had no idea at all.

Everything he entrust
to crusted protection.
That he no longer knew
what is call feel.

Did this new feeling affect him?
Not on the shell it seems.
Then what exactly was it?
Much deeper it seems.

It was a seedling,
one that found a path
through a crack
in that hard solid shell.

Growing and stretching its roots,
binding onto him,
now its part of the rock,
as the rock is part of the seedling.

The feeling made him
want to pull it out,
but yet he wants to
be the source of that new growth.

Day by day it went,
the seedling just grew
and this moment,
the rock came to know,

the thing he's been looking for.

受不了

I'm tired.
Really tired.
The whole plan was suicidal.
But who really saw it coming.

Lose the battle,
lose the war,
is there no land
we can stake a claim on?

Pressurizing grip
suffocating
like a constrictor
caught on you.

我真的累了.

Nearly a Scottish Play

Double, double toil
and trouble.
For this season,
even the witches' potion
will not compare
to this defiled moment.

Even what was forged
through the ages
shall now be denounced
and burnt to ashes.
All that remains,
are that of anger.

Betrayal was injustice,
the culprit thus face
the branding of his name
with irremovable taint.
Now a call to fairness,
but none will pay heed.

All words that come
go down the corridors
where even echoes
shall lose their way.
And the people who hear
shall cease to remember.

As the pigeon will see
that here we do not have
a thane who murdered
out of greed and ambition.
Just a man who step
on one tale too many.

No prophecy around here,
lest one dark and secret,
so whatever happens
to the thane and
his betrayal would only be
left for time to reveal.

A quiet night can get so comforting with songs in your head

Beautiful.
The strumming coupled,
with the voice of my angel tonight.
I see her face not,
yet so much to her song I'm deeply caught.

No.
Not gonna be like the fish,
caught in the fishing net.
Savoring each note,
making sure the tune cease to stop.

Amazing.
How a quiet night can get,
so comforting with songs in your head.
It ease you and calms,
relieve a day's worth of weighing load.

Relax.
And fall into smoothing shade,
a private moment, a secret date.
Before it reaches an end,
enjoy the song.

To Purge the Source

Its vicious,
malicious in nature.
Extending its claws
leaving no stone unturned.

It spares nothing in its path,
particularly to the core and central.
What strong presence
with such unkind intent.

Leaving me worse that dead,
the torment comes slowly.
I try to make an escape,
but sees no path ahead.

Even if I'm still hold a last breathe,
the fighting spirit could be extinguished.
Burnt off into thin air,
blown to traces of nothingness.

Yet its more like a poison,
that slowly eats you from within.
Reaching to each and every vein,
and leaves its taint uncleaned.

Making you its home,
there is no running away.
And how much you wish you could
go deep in and pull grab it all out.

But this venom has finally,
meet its nemesis.
Saving me,
my salvation from torment.

Alas somehow,
responded, my call for hope.
Once again re energized,
I know I'm cured.

How long would it last,
before it makes past this moment.
And sneak in
for another attack.

Not again is it getting through,
for I'm more more ready this time.
Tracing to the souce
and removing it all.

Up to the Down

Up, up into the sky we go
till we were sent crashing
into the land far below.

Air like a jet quickly gushes in
floods all the senses
overwhelming all know feelings.

Suspense
got redefined
in the moment of mid air.

Both space and time
transcend by the descend
and the afterthought that never leaves my mind.

Asphyxiation, overtaken
turned into muffled
by an invisible hand bent on silence.

My body continues feels the flight
though my feet firmly stands
upon refined sand and granite.

Journaling in 7 mins

Did this while on the workshop. A 7 minute process where you just let your thoughts flow and pen down whatever comes, even if it is 'blank'. Lucky for me, the words are appearing. Perhaps its the topic.

Why i choose to
to be a volunteer.
You ask me,
I don't know.

But i did ask
this question
to myself long time
ago.
And lots of time
before.
Sadly to say
there never was
at all once
a conclusion
to top it all off.

One thing maybe
i can be
slightly
very much sure of.
Is that
while volunteering,
the feeling
i'm getting
is so much fun
and happening.

We had good times,
and bad,
with sweat and tears
but we don't stop
for it is
a team
a team that score
that's why we do not
wish to stop.

Forward and forward we go.
As long as everyone
is here together,
there we'll go.
No bed of roses.
No summer breeze.
As long as
everyone is together,
there we'll go.

Anyway,
there was once
i did wonder
what life would be
without volunteering.
So dead and empty,
i dare not dream.

That's for the 7mins. Shorter than i thought. But it was good.

Dreaming of Waking Up from a Dream

Weirder and weirder dreams seem to go
but other than here,
where else could things take on a different flow?

A failure attempt
for making the scheduled evening run
for i lost to the comfort's temptation.

If not for that,
how else could this post come about,
to talk of the weird cycles of my head.

No recollection of what went prior
to my waking up
from my sleep in dream land.

All i could find
was myself on my bed
trying to make sense what was going on.

Answer i found not,
except my glasses which i wore
though i had few to begin with.

Something was wrong,
a cut that all suffered
to the frame and lens.

The slice was clean
and by no means
are works from chance.

So as i sit there thinking
bringing to me astonishment,

as i faced a minor change of scene

Still in my bed
with the lenses gone
lying there with my blanket and all.