Here I am
once again..
It's 3 a.m
a rhyming game...

Daylight conventions taught
dictates all the 'ought's,
I couldn't pour a daylight thought
against the conventional odds.

An acquaintance, he died,
Sympathy I tried;
Empathy I tried;
but my feelings were dried.

I wonder why,
did I cry?
Not out of sadness
but of emptiness.

3 a.m is too good a time,
where the air is sublime,
to be wasted on sleeping
instead of weeping.

3 a.ms often make me wonder
if age is really just a number
on a waiting lift to mortality
or a mere human banality.

Here I am again
pouring my pain
for no gain
playing the 3 a.m rhyming game.

A child's job
is to dream;
dreams would condense
into
clouds of cotton candy.

Clouds
shelters them
from
watchful sun's erratic behaviour;
if sun e'er too angry
melted clouds
can be plucked
for reminiscence.
If e'er a mass too heavy,
will pour sugary rains
of passion.

Winds have no power
to emancipate
clouds
from sheltering
the innocence of a child.

a gentle shower
with love from the monsoon
splashing footsteps rang
a hasten pace
soon escalates
into
a thunderstorm of fury.

squeezing
my heart
dry
remnants
are the footprints
you left in my darkest hour.

With no possible maps nor signs

Higher than the Everest pinnacle

Braving poverty damning thorns

Against tidal waves of angst youth

Congratulations, you have conquered World War II;

                                                        
There is not enough time for celebration--

You are the soldier

Onto your next battle

Depreciated in value
                      
Shunned for weakness

Scorned as a burden

All battles must end with a narrated full stop

You did your best; you fought the good fight!

Time is too short for anything-- may you read this letter in heaven.            


P. S: Congratulations, It was almost a century since.

The biggest fool of all is "I",
As in the first to begin,
but the last to finish,
After a march so long;
Used and discarded like tasteless gum.

"Ah! Why does the rain echo my tears--
does the winds my sigh?"
The sigh of a fool
The sigh that was shut out
The sigh nobody hears.

still vibrant; not grey
yet sun trembles at the winds
how indecisive

We* all have weights on our shoulders
                                                       ­ so
Why *discriminate people for their weight?
We all have fats in our body
so why single out and point at that plump person
just to have a good laugh ?
                                                       or
Are you so insecure of yourself?
There are only two types of people in the world;
those who are happy and those who are miserable.
So don't look at our physical weight,
look at our tired shoulders
who have been carrying our emotional weight.

The infectious disease that festers when there is *loneliness.

Should i cry?
i thought i would be crying
like i once did before
in face of failures.

Should i cry?
it is human to shed tears of sadness
strangely, i don't have tears
for this sadness numbs my senses.

Should i cry?
somebody please hear me out
hear my heart drop as she loses spirit
deluding my senses from enjoyment.

I surreptitiously kissed her shining silhouette behind the curtained clouds.

Came and went like sand drawn towards a raging tornado.

Please treat me well; do not tempt me with hopes.

With smiles and merry spirits, we cruelly celebrated your demise.

Blue spills
transcending borders
rush forward in vigour
pull back in cowardice
cradle of life
pleas to remedy
the cruel irony
delivered to the hands
seek and robbed.

Your existence is a testament to my unending terrible embarrassment

man abuses
man kills
God disposes
God heals.

Please don't say you need me
You only need food, water, shelter and clothing to survive.

Please don't say you want me
I am not food for your lust.

Please don't say you will die for me
I'll ask you to jump off the cliff right away.

Please don't say you will follow me
I don't need a stalker.

Please don't say you will protect me
Because it makes you a hypocrite.

Please don't say you love me
I am not ready for another heartbreak.

You can either see
a glass half empty or half full
either way there's still something
what if there's nothing to be seen?

I am that empty glass
void of contents
no room for friends
no dreams for sympathy
incarcerated by cynics
locked by betrayal

I tried filling this empty glass with many shed tears;
yet that black hole keeps vacuuming
till all that remains
painful loneliness

I tried asking for Answers
Silence was the Answer
what sort of answer is silent?
I refuse this absurd paradox

I tried feeling this empty glass
with pathetic poetry
I got no appreciation
for each word i put every thought into.

These are the reasons
empty glass remain thus
clanging
in the midst of a noisy world

So label this glass fragile
only time will tell
this glass to break
there would be fiasco
I'll save you a front seat.

i screamed till the night is too afraid to appear...

Rejoice! You made it here before being interrupted by death..

Every time I hear of you--
I wonder what went wrong
that you would choose
another over me.

The cogwheels of my brain
would constantly rewind
to the very day we meet;
the nerves I had prior
and the brief good memories.

This bitter nostalgia
reminded me of
my foolish sense of hope
that I was the special one
among many others--

Only when I was told
that I was rejected
did I realise...
I was only a pitiful jester;
dancing and joking
for your fancy
on that very day.

I could not help thinking,
being rejected on a Christmas eve
is a terrible Christmas present,
and also the only Christmas present I had.

They say that it was not His will--
But they also did not know...
Perhaps it was His will
that I spend the dead morning of Christmas
soaking my pillow in tears
while nursing a overactive mind.

And yes, I saw you again on New Years Eve--
from afar, where everyone was celebrating
of their successful association with you
with delirious hopefulness and motivation...
Meanwhile, I was made to
welcome the New Year all alone
with tears in memory of your rejection.

Feelings are simple,
there is no need to complicate things.

People make them cryptic
in effort of conveying them
that sometimes
they themselves too get lost
in a repetition festival of superfluous words.

Girl, do you want a bad boy?
Warning:
if you can't handle the heat,
get off the stove.

Know them:
Bad boys are bad
not there to put up some suave show
they do bad stuff with ill intentions
not just some petty mean stuff.

Identify them:
They may not even look like one
cue the handsome look
they may even act like angels
it's really hard
differentiating them
from their goody two shoes counterpart.
How i find one when there's no archetypal look??

Game plan and execution:
1. Do something to blend in,
   not asking you to dabble in crime.
2. Make them feel at ease with you
If you're hot, you can opt to skip to step 2. You can be rest assured you won't blend in like the normal plebeians.


     So open your eyes wide
you might strike the lottery!
  if you're (un)lucky you may score one
          real bad ***.
Good luck in your pursuit.

P.S: They are not a species near extinction.

happy birthday to you
this song i sing to you
always a song to you
never a song to me from you

happy birthday to you
this gift is from me to you
a friendship obligation towards you
but never remembered by you

happy birthday to you
here i am eating with you
smiling for the birth of you
while all i had was an online greeting from you

happy birthday to you
perhaps it never crossed you
that i have a birthday just like you
and i have yet to celebrate mine with you

She was unique;
Her story was not.
Clutching a torn teddy
imprinting ****** footprints
while she absconds
from her assailant
she calls 'mama'
until
a good Samaritan replied
placed her in an institution
caged with other children
where they hate 'mama',
they beat her
till she called 'mama' no more.

i am apathy
here i am writing for nobody to read
talking to no one to listen
speaking for nobody to hear

i am pathetic
there's nobody willing to pay attention
i wonder why i have yet to reach the hollows of depression
or am i already in beyond my realisation..?

i am sad
worthless 21 years
used and manipulated
never appreciated nor important

i am angry
all you stupid people
treat me like disposable
calling me despicable

i am self-centered
i don't want to care about you
i'll start caring for me
it'll be just me, mine and myself
from now on.....
                               ...it'll be a lonely world but i'm still surviving...

His arms failed to reach around her wide lopsided smile.
Her mind played silly word games with her lisps
His feet tapped in no choreographed motion; ambiguity
Her tongue tastes wine with no knowledge
His fingers circled in absentminded anticipation
Her warmed hands circled in rubbing
His first dinner date
Her blind date
His date
Her

Forever I'll be; fantasizing about other people's happy ever after.

She would be dressed pretty in rags
slaving like there's no tomorrow
without that bit of altruism
maybe a tad kindhearted
shrouded in materialism.

Fairy godmother's name
is money
lures her
to a game of fame
keeps silent
of its rules.

Her beauty
makes her a winner
she would
be drunk
attention
glamour
pleasure.

Unknowingly
games drawn to an end
the clock strikes twelve;
Struck her
riches to rags
the magic of money
only lasts so long
Struck her
still had not find
her one true love
at the eleventh hour.

Sobered
ran out in embarrassment
left only a glass slipper.

Desolate
returning to rags
a druggie for fame
with much hope
a prince charming
would remember
her to find.

the moon is forever on a night-shift..is it nocturnal?

Hot! i hate the sun's radiant and enchanting smile..

Let me leave a gift to the unknown
The present to the unknown
Let the shackles of "now" be broken;
As my feet be freed by broker--*
To step back into the past
Return to a time extinguished too fast
Let me ere live in everlasting replay
*My passé happiest display.

Perpetual control freaks
Are always right and never wrong
Revel in their children's achievements
Eternally augmenting their own ego
Never short of anger and criticisms
Tell children to be always be grateful
Stubborn as they get older but too stupid to realise.

Skeletons in your closet only proves you were once alive.

Only the numerous wild flowers did notice her enigmatic beauty.

i'm writing
without inspiration
no topic to write about
no subtle aspiration.

what do i want to achieve?

i'm writing
discovering the hollow in me
and
filling them up all the same.

this is my hole, my haven.