Sunday, September 28, 2008


Unspoken dreams died through the theory within my mind,
Counting stars made easier for the bloom of evil night,
Tranquillity of my mind blemished with sorrow,
Let it be that tomorrow fall apart in treacherous will.

Condemn was once my soul for an angel to keep,
Evil within brought hunger for lust, not love.
Count the days now child, when will that be?
Till you meet eye to eye with the devil within.

Philosophy once told by the living soul,
Now where does it stand with the theory, oh behold!
Fear kept the dawn far upon its sunlight may bloom,
As blatant as a myth, loneliness justifies the sorrow of the night.

When thousand needles pierce through the joy once held together,
What was once whole, now shattered, torn and tormented.
Can it be that lies give birth to the new beginning of a forming truth?
Can reality take its toll in the world where evil never relinquish to unfold.

Monday, August 11, 2008

The moonlight shines into the waters of the dying earth,
The trees caught the breeze of the lonely winter,
The flower blossoms like a mother's first birth,
The ray of light came, portraying early summer.

The tender smile of a knight forced into desertion,
For once, were the eyes looking into damnation?
Favourable moments end into silence,
The silence broke the remaining darkness of brightness.

The angel cried, 'oh, help me great knight',
But night came into day only to steal its light,
Where the earth rumbles and the roots of the trees twitch,
Can that lovely evening once again surface?

Turn around was the angel who stared into darkness,
The knight waved farewell and left the place unimaginative,
For there will come a time that will happen in tomorrow,
Where the earth joins hands with heaven and hell left standing substantiative.

Saturday, June 21, 2008


Shadows slim, walking every corner of the walls of my room
As rained poured long and hard outside my window of life
Hear the thunder storm banging loudly in the greyish skies,
Wonder when it falls to earth in a hard quake like
Treasures unfold in my mind to keep
The fiery moon kept the sun complimented
But the stars a far distance for the soul to relate
But then its brightness kept shinning down to earth

A stepping stone at the edges of the water bank
Sat a lively bird singing praises to the windy night
Thunder strike, it was kept safe from sight,
It sat majestically without doubt in the world
I smiled of the sight of its wings at its sides
Of that sound of a high note reached perfectly in tune
I wish I was that bird of freedom known and relief from the worseness dread of the world
Knowing no harm from surroundings
Just free to roam the earth from the north to the south
Gently flapping my wings up North beyond the northern lights
Out of sight again from the world known popular for the night

Wind blew stirring endless whirly winds around my yard
A spirit is near but so far yet to touch
Clutches my heart was fear of that dreadful moment
Where the earth will stumble in the hands of the Almighty above
Leaving a storm finishing the earth with its strongest moment
I dread the day of the earth’s independence from the rotation around the sun
Where earth no longer meet the moon and the sun as the angry eye
Melted away the living, the dead raised to see the shinny spot of heavens above
The ray of light so beautiful as it shines through the clouds
Kept the spirit wondering of what’s life after death to come next
Joining the sea of doubts were the tears of a troubled soul

Mesmerizing the moments of its past
To the deep end of that sacred heart that left unfold
Joyful moments gave in to a grey spot where black and white doesn’t matter any longer
The loafer’s soul unworthy to be kept lingering
Taken away were its memories and its sins so highly unaffectionate
Gone were the moments of being and becoming
Unfinished businesses were fulfilled and time to crossover
Last goodbye to the earth, floating towards darkness forever
Smile to the earth where heavens no longer stay separated

Come into the hands of angels who give you a roam of the enchanted land
Take a pick of the countless rooms where Romans stepped foot into
The French who took part in the dine and wine
The Italians babbled tenderness and romance
The Greeks took part in their daily routines in the symposium
The Asians aside lingering in the midst of the conversations
The rest sat around with wine and water and grapes and apples
Now what a delightful site it is with Gabriel at the podium
Joined in by Ezekiel and the others
God stood hand in hand with the successors of the earth
Now dreams could only be dreams with reality at its side
Wake to the morning while the rain still pours
Wake to the sun that rises and sets in the dusk

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

The Darkest Night of My Life

I knew no love,
No heartache or the truth to cry for.
I knew no pain,
Nor the chances I should take to survive.
I knew no gain,
As the games I played has been sincerely mine.
I knew nothing changes,
As the world seeks for it’s own past without looking for the future.

I suck in air,
As the earth releases the stress.
I bled red blood,
Petals turned red as my blood touches the surface.
I no longer sing,
As the earth went deaf the day the flood left.
I no longer seek,
As what I wish to find no longer live on earth.

I close my eyes,
Just to see myself cry at a distance,
I close my ears,
I could still hear words of anger piercing my heart.
I shut my mouth,
I still hear myself swearing at the top of my lungs.
I turned my heart away from the earth,
But from the back I felt a stinging pain from my past.

Shall I seek to find what I seek for will never belong?
Shall I wait to see the sun rise in the east and sets in the west?
Shall I wait to hear a tune from the angel who wishes I was saint?
Shall I dance to the tune of the devil from a distance?
Shall I look back to see myself turn into salt?

Darkness fell on the brightest path of the future,
Just to turn its pathway into miserable present.
Why do I seek to find a burial ground?
A tombstone for my heart which cry out in the middle of the night.
Why do I seek to save my dying heart?
When what’s left for me is a piercing pain that leaves my soul at ease.

Wednesday, January 02, 2008

A Chapter Less Forgotten

The New Year began with fireworks emblazoning the night with their flowery colours and a promising start to the future. The past, as known to most, has gone, and the future is here for us to grasp and fulfil. However, it may be the New Year with fusses going on with self-proclaimed resolutions and all, but what matters most are the references from the past which determines the future of the year ahead. To sum up the equation, the past will never pass us, but stays as a memory of references to what’s next in life.

As I began reminiscing on the teachings of my surroundings for the past 12 months, I came to realised the fulfilment of true education is through accepting what nature has to offer. I learnt that a calm mind is imperturbable by its distress surroundings and that meditation brings you to places where it’s off limits in reality. Fantasies are like what the Mormons believe kept on the golden plates by the angel Moroni which was then passed on to Joseph Smith Jr. Reality is that religion is whatever you hold on to with utmost worship and commitment without the necessity of faith and fundamentalism. Faith is your relationship with “Whomever” (God, angel or a mythical creature) that you hold on to religiously without outer influences. Traditionalism can never be scraped off the earth no matter how extinct an ethnicity could be as one will follow its footsteps and revolutionizes its teachings and follow the traditional root of the tradition once lived in order to be revitalised and relived. A massacre could be started off by hate in the heart but no need for weapons of destruction or even a physical reaction or retaliation. The mind is a powerful tool as it works as a controller to every emotions felt without the need to experience; just to know and think.

I laugh at the misery of humanity which shows no respect and always acting in unscrupulous ways. At the end of the line, they do not hurt their victims as much as themselves as they’ll suffer the costs through regret and death. I roll my eyes at men and women who pretend to be like celebrities they desire to become; with no individualism and authenticity whatsoever to call themselves ‘I’ and ‘Me’ and what’s ‘Mine’. I sanctify my heart to notice the doing of the earth and come to an understanding of what’s wrong and right and in between. As a statement goes, ‘you need to be cruel to be kind’, it left a mere grey spot for further negotiation of what is right and wrong or does neutrality makes a point in life?

Look into the eyes of an acquaintance and never take charge in a speech. Let his/her experiences inspire your mind but never cloud your judgments on the life they live. Shake a hand of a stranger like a man with no friends which sums up to a hand shake of gratitude and honesty. Speak like a good Samaritan, but never like a pope. Let your heart wonder to its furthest and embrace life with hope. There are certain times you inspire, but other times live as an enigma in another’s life. Be pure to what you believe and never conform to the masses. Live life rudimentarily without flamboyance which you will never understand; ostentation kills the soul and clouds the mind and leads to its damnation without any penny left to spare.

I’ve come to terms with the art of love, like and hate and that hate will be an art which will be difficult to achieve and aspire, because when a person hates, his life turns sour and bitter which artwork needs to be reverted or dispatched from the world of soothing colours and melodic chimes. A work of art needs love and inspiration to fulfil. It needs colours to brighten every edge and every angle the viewers admire. ‘Hate’ is tinted and associated with black and grey where the skies never shine and the moon as vague as stars in the day. ‘Like’ is a white piece of paper ready to be written with inspiring words and one’s aspirations. ‘Love’ is a finished picture which potent story narrates in series with less room for correction of incorrectness. In love, there will and should be no erroneous assumptions, just regret and agony once love has faltered. ‘Love’ and ‘Hate’ are masterpieces which speak with potent actions but less desirably that ‘hate’ should be fulfilled.

Enjoy the moment of truth but never let it come to terms with you. When you enter a cathedral, let the teachings inspire you but never dictate your teachings for the morrow. Think thoroughly and laterally before you speak and let the words flow without hesitations. Make a correction when your mistakes are made to see potentiality for a new beginning for evolvement. Never hide your pride with assertiveness, just tone its attitude along with words of firmness. Never think you know as much, just realised others have potential as yourself.

Much I’ve learnt and there always will be room for further improvement and acquirement. New Year’s resolution could not be made without the understanding of past mistakes of my dwelling moments of days I’ve lived through. Life has its complication, but what is life without its potent complexities but just mere perfection? I’ve learnt that perfectionism sits at a corner and sulk as spontaneous-ism takes over as a rule of life. Perfectionism is mundane which drags the understanding of life towards finalisation which, in the end, will be scripted flamboyantly onto tombstones of the dead. Whatever life may bring, remember that it is worth nothing unless you fulfil what you need and not what you want but do not need. Life’s mystery is insoluble, live with the suspense and hope you find the next piece to your puzzle.