'Let's not complicate
a simple issue'
don't we, don't we always
me and you?

Don't worry
more to come
yes, mark my word
plenty!

Don't you believe
my nonsense verse
you'd have indigestion
or malaise much, much worse

the product of a senile mind
which to childhood does reverse
surely poetry is grandeur and beauty
mine is vexatious and serves no purpose!

Don't you say
a lady is a beautiful 'thing'
it's demeaning ---she's not a chattel
change your thinking!

Don't you shake me!
I'm not a tree with hanging fruits
you'll be wasting your effort--verily-
and end up kicking with your boots!

Don't you trick life
it's infinitely smarter
many challenge it to combat
they end in the gutter--

don't you dare pull life
by its sensitive ear--better
cultivate its friendship when you can
it will reciprocate and to you endear.

Forget Socrates
Wittgenstein too
doubt is nothing new
it's just that which none has any clue!

Because of doubt
I put every experience
to the test---
against the beliefs
I hold most dear.  Nothing
is absolute and thinking
is subjective and normative

I question the day
and its happenings
with the night I dispute
its secrets I seek to unlock
even if something were not
fully explained I've somehow
scored a point
even the tiniest
as I would have put
my foot a step forward--

life is but a bundle of lacunae
sadly so many accept
as truth what's but
inane hearsay
and empty speculation--

because of doubt
myself I humble
knowing I'm just
an ordinary man
seeking himself
to understand

the portal of truth
would be too far
for me to reach

its light but shimmers
as I look from afar
I doubt if it would ever
look my way.

To fall into doubt
is better than into despair
it seeks to clarify
the latter leads nowhere

It's from doubt
that creativity comes about

Wisdom begins with doubt
while ignorance only knows how to shout

Should there be
a cause in everything?
I doubt-- philosophy
is but speculating.

This is the IT era
download and upload
never mind whatever error
is down the electronic road

What-
down memory lane?
why should I
when all was pain?

This is the downside
of too much learning
if you already knew too much
what's left of yearning?

Down the labyrinth of time
memories could only imagine
some scenes are invented
pasted on places self had never been

for what was once before
seemed but a fractured dream
illusions we love and treasure
though life is not part of this scheme

we are our own unanswered question
drifting aimlessly in life's distant stream
in the horizon a mirage looms large
the day is dark without a single beam

down the labyrinth of time
a different person I did seem
of the future I had no thought then
now I wake as though from a broken dream

Down the night-road somewhere
you would hear a mysterious whisper
when the moon and stars have shut
their eyes in sleep--  not a cloud or vapour

distils the air-- it draws nearer
doesn't it sound familiar?

The trees bow their heads so very low
how they wail,  tremble and shiver
the streams nearby have ceased their usual warble
eerie is the night--how the shadows gather and hover!

Is yours the heart of a true lover
or one of stone that cares never?

Down the night-road somewhere
the voice re-echoes: 'Don't you remember
that road on that certain night
when your love made you falter?'

There you stand still and ponder
and say in pain all over: ' I was the wrongful lover!'

Downtown they raised
their voices to sing
autumn hours yawned
it was scarcely early morning:

'  The world is corrupt
   a new era we will bring
   the flower of truth will blossom
   in every summer and spring-

   our courage we will harness
   society's poison shall no longer sting
   poverty and hunger shall come to an end
   the cry of suffering shall cease to ring'.

   Those youngsters are now full-blown leaders
   to wealth, privilege and power they cling
   downtown they tear down the banners
   of the present generation and forbid them to sing!

Do you remember
do you remember
that autumn day
when we first met
faraway by the gentle lake?

still was the water
silent were the trees
to me was your whisper:
I'll not forget
today's tender splendour
stay, oh stay
it's not sunset yet...

Now all alone
the lake is a reminder
of the day you've chosen
not to remember

yet I look
at the silent water
and your face
still does appear---

I'll walk away
and learn
not to remember

Do you remember?
Surely you still remember

that September
('twas summer
and roses  in the meadow
were blooming all over)

when an amourous letter
you sent to Amber-

how you heart
did flutter
and how
you did wonder
whether
she would agree
to meet you -under
night's cover-

you were 17 then
15 was Amber

restless nights
haunted you
you were all over:
would she reply
your letter?

You were
not yourself
and your parents
asked: Do you
have a fever?

Not a word
did you utter

a week went by
and by the post-box
you did linger
but no postman
came over-

school you missed
' I'm unwell, Miss Clover....'
and quite concerned
was your headmaster-

how you did despair
like none other
struck by
love's poisoned arrow-

on one dark
and gloomy morrow
came at last
the long-awaited letter

you rushed to open
(how your hands
did shiver!)

its contents
were brief:
' I've chosen Arthur
please forget me
dear Peter'

There's nothing
to hang up
or anything
to lay down
words are paltry
they scatter as dust
in the wind of day
by night totally flushed
into oblivion

there's no reason
to explain nor
to attribute blame
life is just a nameless game
excuses and masks
are what people most trust
into such mould
we are carelessly ******

what's to be further said
of this perennial camouflage?
draw down the curtain
let's  shut up!

To have a dream detached from reality will not work

    the dreamer must frame his dream hitched to reality

This is no season
for me an old man
to be a dream-chaser
what has gone before
is dust and debris now
there's nothing beyond-

the fence that encloses me
within its bound
mocks me relentlessly
if I should ever wander
to the green pastures
of the long ago

it shows no sympathy
it judges harshly
it doesn't mince its words:
'  let your fancy go to sleep
  unforgiving is memory
  let it rest and nothing should you keep

  you had the chance then
for your every pick
the sunshine of time
has sunk into the abyss
of night.  Your steps
you won't be able to retrace
don't you feel
the heaviness of your heart
your fading voice
your faltering feet
and the fatigue of love
and the shying-away of beauty?'

This is the season
of remorse
of regret
of pain
the cessation
of passion
when what's left
is but dreams broken
and forgotten

the last melancholic notes
of a once proud and bold love-song.

Dreaming
is the other side
of the self
that needs fulfilling

All that is
is somewhat a dream
we should never miss
to embrace even life's tiniest beam

Is the mind then
a dream-land?
how does it create stories
music and poetry?
What does lend
wings to its fancy?
what clothes it
in mystery?

but itself
it need not understand
it stretches out in infinity
and fascinates and charms
at every bend.

Too many dreams do perish

the dreamers they over-stretch

only a few should they cherish

the best outcome they would fetch

We are drifters in time
carried by its ceaseless tide
which direction it will take
we can't ever decide

so few indeed will say:
' pleasant is the ride':
  the voyage will be rough
  and restless, full of fear and plight

I am the driftwood
   that all could see
   can't claim to be good-
   that's dishonesty-

   yet I'm not dead-wood
   feelings well* abundantly
   the heart still bears fruit
   in simplicity and humanity.

Nothing to hand out
left empty and dry
the drought of life has set in
the crops--how they die!

Whatever that's planted
has brought but despair and sigh
supplication shall not be answered
as the locusts in droves fly by.

The season of prolonged drought
this is - my heart it has invaded-
the green pasture is long gone
the once-proud flowers have withered
only parched brown ***-holes
are found in this wilderness now
that I call home and claim its ruins
amidst the surrounding mound--

here nature is mute and disfigured
there's not a drop of water around
tree-barks bleed and mosses creep
over abandoned gates--not a single sound
is heard from past cheerful birds
leaves decay and drop in succession on the waiting ground
the pale and sick sun has taken long leave
weeds and insects fester and abound--

in this desolate and sinking piece of earth
where's hope, love and beauty to be found?
dreams have perished and courage has drawn long breaths
of its vain visits discontented hours have lost count
there would be no relics worth the recording
the silence is sombre, chilling and profound
the day surrenders to the dead weight of weariness
and the shadows of night on the troubled heart mercilessly hound.

Ah, the world is drowning

fast drowning in 'positive thinking'

overloaded is the boat of living

all set for the impending sinking!


copyright 2025

Don't beat your drum
yet--you don't know the outcome

The very sap of life
  is beginning to dry up
  we're losing the virus battle
  even with our mightiest club-

  towns and cities repress their tears
  there's hardly joy in the cup
  ominous clouds blot out the horizon
  upon our very skin gloom and fears they callously rub.

Nightfall is not yet
shadows of dusk are still lingering
gone are the last glimpses of sunset
for rest the weary heart is waiting.

Is love all made for regret?
do lovers come together and then part in weeping?
are dreams born just to forget
were vows pledged to end in breaking?

Dusk somehow
speaks to me
of time's greying

we forget
time has a life of its own
and knows its own loneliness

it grows tired
more and more by the second
performing a duty
****** upon it-

it has no say
it has no holiday
but takes orders
from a void that
first gave it life-

and time sadly says:
this is my destiny
and I am chained
by a force
beyond me

I grow old
neglected
forgotten
left behind
unto my own

and I long to sleep
never to get up
I die a little everyday
and regret
that I can't die

in the dusk
can you hear and feel
time sighing
among the trees, hiding
over the waters, wandering
over the mountain, reminiscing
around the stars, dreaming?

and can you imagine
it has a heart
and sheds tears
like us humans?

If you've lived
a very long time
in a particular place
you'd somehow become
part of its landscape

The violin has its days outlived
these are its dying notes
it has given its heart to those it once loved
only memory now sadly bodes

love, though in the waning throes of time
shall not yield but stay unfazed and afloat
its songs shall drift still through hills and fields
its poems all lovers in days to come shall remember and quote.

There'd be no one
around as to your heart
you speak-- each life
from others hangs apart-

the past still knocks
at the door-- it does demand
to be heard-- time slows down
the present pauses to understand-

the self stands alone
zig-saw puzzles they aggrieve
reason is a poor solver
only confusion it does give-

ah, the stricken heart
how little does it know of rest
chocked for words in doubt
by burden so heavily oppressed.

Some live deeply
others, only shallowly
yet both categories
in their own way can be happy

My case
I wouldn't overstate
enough has been said
it would but exacerbate

I'll walk away
let others their story relate
each life is a polarity apart
it defies all debate

Eagerness is not necessarily a virtue
many rush in with nothing clear in view

I rise with the early morning dew
  still sparkling on new-born grass
  you will pass by in full view
  in glory no girl could surpass.

  I tried and struggled to forget you
  too weak was my will to trust
  every night is torment and every day is blue
  all my dreams sadly fade and turn to dust.

  I wrote with a heart pure and true
my life for you I will readily cast
this passion consumes and I can't subdue
  but I know for eternity it will last.

  I am dying and can't rise with the early morning dew
  you will marry someone as every sweet girl must
  yet my heart will forever enshrine you
  though I sleep unquiet under the forgotten grass.

In response to a post on

'fighting your way to become the person you aspire to be':


I like your fine spirit but isn't there a gentler way to achieve this than fighting your way to become the person you aspire to be?

This is the way of Zen and Taoism:  achieving without struggling or striving.

That which you mention is the Western pugilistic way and it hurts.

West: personal success

    Confucianism: collective success

West: Chase!

   Zen:   Rest

West: Expand

  Zen:   Diminish

West:  Enforce!


Zen and Taoism:  End force!

West: Expand!


Zen and Taoism:  Diminish!

Lies-- with such it's easy to live
with truth, it's a struggle without relief.