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Apr 2014 · 747
The pains of time
Time, an absolute, yet relative.

During hardship, forlorn, moments:
it is slow, tick by tick… a lackadaisical jester.
As if tomorrow will never come,
as if hours felt like days,
as if you wish to immediately die.

The pain is unbearable, the torment treacherous.
Excruciating agony, with anticipation of therapy.
Permeating through the skin, right into the bones.
Every blood valves suffocating, each vessel about to burst.
Your train of thoughts, muddled in convulsion.
Pollution, Persuasion, Permission.
The three overlaps, the three intervenes, and the three clash.
Like loud bangs and rambunctious cymbals.
CLANG CLANG CLANG.
“Make it stop!”
Your thoughts deter your peace,
and your sickness prevents your happiness.
The insecurities and hate abolishes your well-being,
all you wanted to do was breathe.

We almost forgot that we had the right to breathe,
that oxygen was given as a gift to release.
Inhaling and exhaling should be a blessing,
and every minute should not be this stifling.

Sometimes we forget that time is against us,
and we are the enemies of ourselves.
Don’t continue living if you are actually dead,
but do things that make you alive so that when you die,
you will have no regrets.

Time is absolute, but you can also make it relative.
Extracted from original post on plighttowrite.wordpress.com
I was never gone,
like whispers of the wind,
tides to the shore,
blooming flowers in Spring.

I was never gone,
like rhythm to the music,
caffeine of the cappuccino,
gushes of the water fall.

Come what may,
seasons after seasons.
Do not look at my grave.
Do not try to find me only at midnight.

I was never gone,
and for you I never will be.
To see more poems written by me, visit plighttowrite.wordpress.com :) Thank you!
Apr 2013 · 4.0k
Life like a deck of cards
Life is like a deck of cards,
you never know what you will get.
After you get what you (have) received,
you do not know if you’ll be deceived.

You try your best to play it right,
but all the noise made your grip (excruciatingly) tight.
You look left and right to find the answer,
you were not aware of the need of a Savior.

Life is like a deck of cards,
there can’t be just one player — at least two,
winning and losing depended on skills,
(but) sometimes before you even know it –
you were killed.

Every second — a grim sombre anticipation,
Every minute — a twist of hope and sense of admiration,
you try to scrape through using persuasion,
but all in all we’re in delusion.

A delusion, A deck,
of cards.
Comments, feedback or constructive criticism are always appreciated! to see more: plighttowrite.wordpress.com :)
Feb 2013 · 10.4k
Insecurities.
The future: Insecurities.
Like a black chasm,
(swallowing your absentees).

Uncertainties, promiscuity,
bewildering circumstances,
you try to find present serenity.

You never knew smoldering
could happen underwater,
until you see that later,
always under the
weather.

Lost for words — train of thoughts,
lost for sure, the battles fought.
these insecurities eating me,
(who would have known?):
because I never let,
it to be really, shown.
Jan 2013 · 753
All that is well, ends well
For all that's left, I wish to hold.
For all that I loved, I wish to mould.
For all the memories I ever told,
never a day would I ever make it sold.

For all the blood, tears and sweat.
For all the victories and hardship ever felt.
For all the downfalls and turns I faced,
all strong enough to make metal melt.

For all the self-denial I needed to held,
For all the forlorn moments I've ever met.

One day the victory will come,
never once will I have to raise the white flag.
To go through the journey and dark forests,
a white gleaming hope I could see in the covered stag.

The crown-less will be king,
and the hopeless will be filled with happiness to the brim.

All that is well will end well,
and all that is painful yet beautiful will end even better.
To read more poems written by me, visit and support at http://plighttowrite.wordpress.com
Oct 2012 · 1.6k
I speak my heart out.
I learned something, however, that something, is not, one, thing.
It is not the happy endings in TV series,
not the blissful marriage at the end of a romance novel,
not the fairytale with the prince charming finding his princess,
but the actual form of love.

I learned that love does not exist to the worthy ones,
but it sparks and blooms to those who are unworthy.
To love is to care, miss, have affection for someone
who is unworthy, imperfect, broken.

I learned that love means acceptance.
It means to completely purchase and invest onto someone,
who has his or her defects, strengths, but also weaknesses.
Someone I will have to accept after 50 years of age,
someone who will hurt me day by day,
but make me the happiest from year to year.

I learned that to love is to trust.
To be far away or near, but staying close.
To not doubt, to fully have faith,
to risk many disappointments,
but have someone whom who you can share,
anything, everything with;
someone who knows you better than yourself,
someone who can listen, give you advice,
someone who has the best interest in you,
someone who you can trust to have all of that.

I learned that to love is to understand,
in health or wealth, in success or failure,
in peaks or lows, in strength or in weakness.
To not judge the person by his or her weakness,
to motivate, support and be there to comprehend,
to provide a safety net, a comforting home,
and to give an approval nod and encouragement,
and share the burden of falls and fight together for ups.

I learned that to love is to forgive,
because we all make mistakes.
I learned that love will result in expectations,
and expectations will bring forth disappointments.
But love will overflow forgiveness,
forgiveness that is bountiful and plenty.
The more the love, the more the forgiveness,
the greater the disappointment, the greater the love required.

I learned that to love is to sacrifice.
Because in this world people are about give and take,
but in a relationship there has to be self-denial.
Loving is to give... but giving to receive?
No, giving can be receiving.
I learned that I need to empty my cup,
to pour it out with another person's water;
slowly and surely that became my source of life.

So what did I learned? I learned about something -- love.
But it is not just one thing;
it is the epitome of happiness,
the downs of the forlorn and the forsaken,
the hardest suffering and self sacrifices given,
the depths of being sensitive to others and not to myself;
to let go of my ego for forgiveness,
and to cut my pride and self-centered nature,
just to feel as though I can be myself again,
a whole, complete, self.
To see more, visit http://plighttowrite.wordpress.com. Constructive criticism and other comments are highly appreciated :).
Aug 2012 · 799
Analogy, metaphor, reality.
I’m in a glass.
I am a piece of glass.
Fragile, fragmented, fractured.
Vulnerable, volatile, visible.
Transparent, translucent, transient.
Break me like you break the bones,
throw me like you throw the stones.
Destroy me like you explode the stations,
crush me like you **** the nations.

I’m in a bubble.
I am a piece of bubble.
Fantasized, fathomable, free.
Enlightened, encompassed, entangled.
Breathless, beautiful, (before I) burst.
Burst me like you extinguish a child’s hope,
terminate me like you diminish the sense of cope.
**** me like you shoot the innocent,
stifle me like you strangle the incompetent.

I am in a human being. I am a human being.
But I am also a glass, and also a bubble.
For more, visit plighttowrite.wordpress.com
Jul 2012 · 2.0k
Breakfast Note
You are my morning dew,
the sunrise and the sunset,
the tides of a calm ocean,
the hidden rainforest.

You are calm, cool, collected.
the light and hope and the warmth,
the twists of a peaceful nature,
the mysterious lurker.

You are nature in all senses,
and all my senses need thy nature.

Your touch is the tingle on my skin,
Your kiss, a roller-coaster ride on my lips.
Your actions, a witness for my eyes;
and your scent, shampoo to my nose.
Your voice, music to my ears.
And your nonexistence, threat to my tears.

You are my beautiful painting — oil on canvas,
my completing soul mate — stamps on letters,
my taste to life — sugar to coffee,
and my drug — alcohol to liquor.

You are one with nature,
and my nature is not complete without you.

You are more than my morning dew,
that surpasses all sunrise or sunsets,
more than the tides or corals of the sea,
more than the cleavage of an unknown rainforest.

You are, my soul mate.
A mate to my nature,
A mate to my soul,
lacking one would lead me,
inevitable depths of darkness,
a deep pitiful hole.
To see more poems written by me, visit http://plighttowrite.wordpress.com (:
Jul 2012 · 619
Love kills and ressurects
I’m walking towards the gates of death,
the doctors told me I have six months left.
I wish I could let go of your hand, without tears in my eyes…
But I’m just vulnerable and broken on the hospital bed by your side.

Time were not in our favor,
we were supposed to die together.

Theme parks and sands, mountains and road trips.
I still remember the coffee you brewed for me, even till the last sip.
The outlines of the photographs, smiles from cheek to cheek,
I wish I had more time, even till the very last week.

Time were not in our favor,
we were supposed to die together.

The future plans, the children’s names, and the family car.
All washed away, a deep knife cut that leaves me a scar.
I wish I could just let you go and smile from afar,
(and emptiness fills the room),
no matter how much alcohol there is left in the bar.

Time were not in our favor,
we were supposed to die together.

Till my very last breath, I hope I can hold on.
I am selfish and weak, and I need to stay strong.
I am thankful, that I will no longer be a burden,
but deep down inside I know I am of heavy laden.

Promise me that you will be happy again,
for I love you more than I love myself,
and a replacement would only be justice with much gain.

Do not be afraid to let those walls down again,
and no need to run and chase and pant as you have always did without vain.

Because at least now I can watch you from above,
even after six months, the greatest undying source I can give you,
is my deepest truest and strongest pure love.

Time, in the future will be in our favor,
when we meet in heavens again and be together.
... and finally, forever.
To see more poems written by me, please visit http://plighttowrite.wordpress.com
Jun 2012 · 2.0k
Timetravel
Scars will be scars,
the ones left untouched,
the ones left unharmed.

The wound has healed,
the time has sealed,
yet the remnants remain still.

The broken past:
fraction, fragment, fabricated;
solemn, dark, barren.
captured, cultivated, castrated.
emotionally torn,
physically torn,
psychologically sworn.

(When will the bird fly,
up to the sky,
freedom beneath the size
of the azure limitless dye).

We find comfort in sorrow,
fulfillment in hollow,
but emptiness continues and follow.

When will the shadows ever stop linger,
slipping and interweaving between my finger.
(One day maybe good news will come from a harbinger).

Light is what I need,
smile is what I seek.
Happiness is what I have to lead,
even with this little heart which is meek.

(One day) I will fly,
the cages will stop stifling me by,
although it is hard to try,
(One day) I will survive.
To read more, visit plighttowrite.wordpress.com
Depression, concussion, vague delusions.
Visions, combustion, surreal illusions.
Confusion, confinement, clear conclusions.
Depression, demoralization, epitome of exclusion.

Twirls and Whirls, Headaches and Heartaches.
(in between) B a l a n c e and D   i s o   r i en tat i o  n ;
Insomnia, phantasmagoria, and distinct pseudomania.
Sought and fought, dear “Soli Deo Gloria”.

Salvation, Submission, concrete Sanctification.
Then Forsaken, but now Forgiven.
Religion, Redemption and now: Relation.
To testify, evangelize and to show His glorification.
To see more, visit http://www.plighttowrite.wordpress.com
Apr 2012 · 1.4k
Metamorphosis.
We were born untainted like empty canvas; a bud of roses.
But as time linger we digress from our innocence and actual selves.
We were scratched and polished, from diamonds pulvarized to dirt.
The facade we kept after succumbing to society’s propriety became us,
And the true face and being what we were became lost in time.

The mirror no longer reveals us, because we metamorphosed to someone else.
Another face in society, swallowed by the world’s expectations and encumbrance.
The appropriateness of etiquette, social conformity, and worldly priorities.
Day by day, we became less of ourselves, and more like everyone else.
Converging needs and wants, we lost our personal uniqueness,
And it seems like our attempt to be different is the same as everyone’s else.
By and by, we effort for elopement to get out of the box is futile – rather impossible.

Epitome of wealth and exclusiveness; highest degree of poverty and martyrdom.
In between those of extreme pillars, everyone seems to be in between and at both sides.
The world has become more dimensional, efficient, yet ineffective.
For our sweat and blood goes out for the wrong reasons;
And we fight against one another, (thus fighting against ourselves), to become the winner.

The winners aren’t actually victorious; neither are the loser the ultimate champions.
And this is only a mere microcosm,
to signify how the multifarious constituents that the world has formed:
a composite, complex, compound conformed convolution.
For more, visit plighttowrite.wordpress.com
Mar 2012 · 1.1k
Old Memories
The two kids, rambling their murmurs away.
At the bus stop; animated, kinesthetic.
With voices that represented the curious cat.
Shall we not wonder, when the cat shall be killed.

It was not long ago, when I was in the same shoes.
Yet the alteration of taste, the mutation of size,
the change of environment, the dynamism of time…
It caused great discrepancy for a my own momentarily lack of understanding.
I could no longer put myself in their shoes.

And maybe, maybe not maybe, but definitely,
The sense of sympathy has died down and diminished,
just as society has taught me very well,
I no longer want to put myself in their shoes — ever (again).
I just anticipate in my personal phantasmagoria:
when the cat shall be killed.

All that beautiful notions and scenic illusions,
the illuminated views of the world (then), from my (then) tainted glasses.
I wonder when the kids will remove theirs soon.
I wonder when the kids will eventually lose their secluded eye sight,
as their vision become clearer with age.

In my thoughts, at that moment:
Would everything that seemed too beautiful just remain as what it is now:
The past that seemed so perfect, the present that seemed so still.
Memories remain as photographs, similar, or maybe transformed into:
motionless, emotionless twirl of mundane innocence.
A freeze frame, with no emotional attachment, no true connection.

Will all these just remain as cognitive recognition,
or will I still be able to look back and find my self recognition.
To see more, go to plighttowrite.wordpress.com
It’s as if you love a stranger,
when unconditional love prevails;
It’s as if it doesn’t matter,
when effort goes to no avail.

The agony that lies within,
triggering the paroxysm that lies outside.
Lingering from the bones – and,
into the skin with total surface so wide.

Why do you hide away from me?
All that defence mechanism I practice that I see in front of me,
When all I wanted was to be your safe place -
No harm, no pain, no ****** and openness without disgrace.

I know, being alone provides solace.
But without one another, our love will go into such a waste.
I know, it hurts to open yourself up to another individual,
When everything you sacrifice can suddenly seem so fatal.

Let me plead, let me plight.
That I am imperfect, but I try to be right.
To be the harbinger of peace and abatement,
Even when the world fails and together we have to fight.

For once I am willing to let go, willing to prepare for war,
willing to stand on my feet with great reason and meaning.
And finally I found you – my love,
that will prevent my selfishness from leaving,
(even when colossal pain kills my being).

You are my reason for thanksgiving;
This unconditional love – revealing,
Finally after my tears are wiped away,
and my vision goes into a clearer perspective:
When unconditional love prevails,
(Now I know), nothing will go into no avail.
To see more, go to plighttowrite.wordpress.com

— The End —