...Six o'clock
breath out of focus
the persistence starts to
wane
and the heavens lament
over countless stories
of forgotten blood
Black
smoke-fed-mouths
the world is deaf
from screaming victims
while the crime
feeds the world with hunger
Death becomes a blank stare
symphony
of dead grounds
Eyes wide open
Frozen
Lifeless
Shut to be
denied...

She sits at the corner of a dusty room just beneath the ground. She tried to touch the bruise on her cheek but the throbbing pain was too much. She now believed that she's alive...

...Seven candles
and the sixth reminds him
of mommy
if only she's here
then the flames
would light
a better eighth...

...A bloodless sunlight struggled to reach her through a small window. She denied the calling as she sank into the nightmare. She never believed in hell 'til now...

...It was a night
when the moon wasn't suppose
to run red
she was gone
"I miss you..."
he heard himself whisper...

...An old wooden chair creaked as it carried her burden. She looked at the floor and the teardrops that stained the dust. She wore a devil's halo on her neck. She let go. Not to feel the breathing ground again...

...He blows the candle
with sadness
If only his wishes would
come true...
He is too young
to sit
under the rain
alone...

She views the world from a point where time transcends belief and the city lights shimmer like diamonds in her tears. Someone calls for her. She tries to ignore. "Not yet..."

...He did
what he could...
Almost
He stood at the brink of
a free fall and saw a
struggle bled to
dry...

...She flicks her cigarette as she exhales a cloud of certainty. Time will stop tonight... that's for sure. She descends with a cold blackness in her breath...

...He saw
a falling star
but he never believed in wishes
though if he did
he'd only wish
for one thing...

...The soul is still warm and the ground was still weeping. The scent of the ground isn't fresh and the stains were heavy inside her heart. She looks away. The last breath was hers.

...Selfishness
made him stole
time
that wasn't his
It was a choice
influenced
by being
lost...

…A sunrise of tomorrow
holding answers
from the questions of now
A guiding light
in the twilight of a man’s life where
the dark collides with
the blinding light
Raging on with the glimpse
…a candlelight
Guided by the beacon
of dancing stars
Holding on to it
with fading
breath
of each painful step
Reaching the end seems
a triumph of you
over storms and the reign of madness
Hunger strikes
like a deep hole
longing for more
Lasting the battle
with weary swords
you sit and ponder
over fields of
fool’s gold…

He waited... waited long enough to see that a promise's destiny, in a twist that some people may call fate, is sometimes doomed right from the start. I mean, what are the odds that it will bear fruit in the middle of winter?

Upon a blue moon
...rare
Peaceful, calm
and
empty
breathless like a dagger
She was there
longing...

The ground was brittle that night. So brittle, he thought it would break at the wrong take of a breath. He stared at a thought... Venturing out into the night never really pleased him, especially when alone. It's not about the dark or fear or something else, but the feeling of solitude haunts him...

Dreams...
she embraced
Solace
in her veins and her heart
blinded
as it burned the night
Illlusions made her
believe...

But perhaps... perhaps they were right. The howling comes first before the nightmare. He looked on the ground with a trace of a distinct emotion, that often leads to sorrow, and thought he should have not left in the first place... And now that the howling stopped, he wonders what nightmare stands before him...

Underneath a blue
moon... rare
She smiled and she
lied
and thought it was
peaceful and calm
She undressed and
slit her throat...

...Everything
looks gray like a
restless rain dance amidst despair
Most people deny the scent of
hanging corpses and walk
away from the
inconvenience of truth
and some
think of faith as a mere question
...a choice behind a thought
while the rest of us desperately
conceal the mask
in the pocket of defiance
hoping chance will never give way to
fate...

Control
where does it lead to
if absolute freedom is a path to
chaos?

Maybe I'll never know
So
I'll burn the sacrifice and eat
the ashes from what's left of the
dilemma...

2 am... the nightmare started to seep in. It could have been easier if not for the cold breeze that embraced his heart. Perhaps that too, was part of the reason... a reason he failed to understand. But then again...

Dive
and let it sink
through endless
depths
with a ******
kiss

...The rain has been falling on deaf ears and perhaps morality has its own reasons to lie. Maybe they were right to establish that distinct form of belief to define the right from the wrong. But what if...

Believe
and never
fail
to contradict
the belief of a
doubt

...He had been sitting by the window for what seems the eternal waiting of a longing. Chance was the only thing he was hoping for to emerge from the prayers of madness. It must be her voice that lit a glimpse of tomorrow...

Chase
the sunset with
the sinking horizon
and hope
that it's not the
last...

The last match didn't light at the first strike. Though he's grateful it didn't break, he was somehow impatient as he stood at the brink of what seemed to be the edge of his breath. It must be the wind...

...Fallen angels
can never fly
when they choose
to fall
Heavens do forgive
but
do they forget?

...He saw the glimpse as if it was a moment of a dewdrop dreaming to be with a morning jasmine. The scent was beautiful but he could only hope to see it more clearly. His head had grown heavy...

...define a thunder
by the lightning
and see
the teardrops
leaving the cry
it gets lighter
in the end...

...The last traces of smoke had long gone. He wonders about the things they see when they reach the heavens. Maybe there are no answers. But then again, who knows? He had to let go...

...But
when it fades
before it can be felt, before
it turns into a meaning
then hope will
abandon
the sleeping
man...

...I've walked upon worlds
of fallen grounds
Wounded and healed to paint scars
as the last drop of red
paved a road of a shadow
of eternal yesterdays
I've gone to deviated slumber
to lands of never sleeping dreams
where the sun
was never blinding
and paralleled reasoning
was his radiance
while the moon
never heaved logic
upon her shadows
that lit the beauty
of tomorrow...

There are stories to tell...
Some good and some
not so
good
They remind me of wooden stars
hanging
on a dusty old ceiling
Ignored but never forgotten
They were dull like
dreams in the morning
and yet they
scream
much like a nightmare
These stories... they whisper
sometimes to haunt
and sometimes to
justify their
existence
But as with all stories
written or told
the end leads to
another...

...Build a fire
and burn the heart
to bring the light at the end of
darkness
Fill the sorrow with
songs
Maybe tomorrow will
leave a room to forgive
and never
spend the night
under the kiss of whiskey
ever
again
Tread the path
where shadows remain what
they are
and believe those who embrace
reason as a fragile whisper
Choose
we can only be here
once...

The ground was heavy and the air was dense. Time clashed with logic to pull the sun up again. She breathed heavily while broken thoughts lingered inside her chest. All she wanted was to understand...

...Crowded streets
and empty rooms
intertwine
with everyday life
The sun may be golden
but it doesn't always
shine...

...Despite the obvious reason behind her strength, she descended into the depths of a blackout doubt. Succumbed by something that felt like the lacuna in her breath, she looked at the hazy afternoon sky while she awaited the dark...

...Even the sky
wear masks
not to hide the imperfect
but to conceal
the one thing
that would make it
real...

...The dissonance in her head was from the void within a moonlit anguish. She thought it would rain but never expected the nightmares of the cold. She desired for a midnight fire...

...Bridges
fill up the gap
but loose ends
are not meant to be tied
when reasons
become
selfish...

It was on a starless Night…
Moonless
Dark
A Silence being whispered by the wind
I walk along the empty road
My path shrouded by
shadows and…

So quiet
but for the velvet rhythm of the leaves

I sunk in Contemplation, drifted
in my thoughts
As I tread my pace, nothing enters…
blank
Confusion starts
Doubt is
talking to me
What am I doing here?

Nothing I understand… everything is
Vague
Deep
in thought of wandering shadows
A thought tainted my vision…
”Nostalgia”
sentimental tears
and a
cloak of melancholic reverie…

As I walk on, through cascades of eternal sadness
I stopped…
hesitated
to go on
…is there any reason to go on?


Mek
1999

...Seated upon a throne
at the edge of a rusted blade
of corrupted flesh and blood
A man feasts greedily
watching over slaves
who built rainbows
and clouds and blue skies
He wore brightly colored jewels
born of arrogance and filth
Slave of a golden crown
with nothing but a void
underneath the skull
He floats as he walks
with a pride of a king
but the stench can never be contained
as it screams that
this self proclaimed god
is a wretched sight
of a decaying piece
of disease...

…Waiting under a moonless sky of
gray dawns
created by my sleep
the rain seeking for
a silver drop
cascading but never a tear
A maybe of
uncertainties and
a quiet numb
growing into a bloodless
streamless
breath…
Lights were once flooding
a rainbow of unicorns
never been a withering
Wanderings never were
an aimless journey
unlike those tides
desperately washing
the sands
away…

...Once upon
an insignificant time
the world was upside down
from my point of
view
Wondering why
people do
what people do
Diving into the flood
of raging consciousness
seeking for calmness
in a place where failure is
the only thing that could
happen
I am
trapped to be confused
not to drown in
despair
but to fit the pieces
in man's black
comedy...