If I am kindling,
you must be the spark...
Much alive in the darkest dark,
lifting all shadows with
finesse and flair.

     If I am flame,
     you must be the air and wind...
     Unfettered and free...
     Cradling my infancy.
     Only to nurture and inspire,
     to groom flame to fire.

If I am faltering...
And almost extinguished,
you must be the hand...
Bearing the confidence and belief...
Awaiting the moment most opportune,
to align yourself in rhythm and tune.
So we could...
Continue to
burst forth into light.
So we could...
Resume our journey forth with might.

     Let us be our own deterrent
     from the darkness
     that comes with morrow's set.
     Hand in hand, we must...
     Because together...
          And only together,

   we're...

                        incandescent.

All the experiences
from life's coffers
I'm willing to take

To commit into text
with deliberate romanticism

My brand of unspoken poetry
with sense
only I can make

To rebut
my mind's
skeptic cynicism

Let’s swim with our heads above the water
but our bodies defying the currents of the sea.
Let’s care not, the wants of others
and indulge in who we want to be.

Let’s drown in ourselves
and for once, forget the needs of others.
Because it’s been too long
we’ve cowered and cried the nights,
unfound beneath the covers.

Molten stories smelted
and poured like ashened gold.

We turn to paper
as coffers for lesser ingots - old.

In hopes to lessen;
nay, diminish thy gaping hole.

In hopes to relinquish
and set free caged memories stole.

I deliberate.
I contemplate.
I procrastinate.

Then I write in ink...

In the hopes
of capturing
all that swims unruly
and speaks in runes.

He used to walk with life in his stride
He used to strut with a heart full of pride

These days see him stumbling every so often
These days see his eyes vacant and sullen

So I asked if there was anything bothering him
So I asked what is it that made his light so dim

He tarried, then answered with conviction true
He tarried before he finally answered, *"You..."

How are you?
I'm alright I guess...

Where do we begin?
Maybe at the start of this mess.

Are you uncomfortable?
I can't say that I'm not.

Is it your past?
Well it's all I've got.

Do you still get nightmares?
Well I used to...

Will you let them show?
Depends on you...

What do you hope to accomplish?
I don't know... Peace of mind?

Would you have done things differently?
Everyone wants the chance to push "rewind".

Care to elaborate?
Let's just say I would've liked to be braver.

What do you mean?
I should've stood up to my father...

Did he abuse your trust?
He did more than just that...

Rob you of your freedom?
Let's see... His belt, cigarettes and also boiling water out of a vat.

Do you wish him ill?
I wished him dead.

"Wished"?
Yeah...in his bed.

Why "wished"?
Because I wanted that then...

For how long?
Since I was ten.

What about now?
(Maniacal smile) I am now... At peace.

"At peace"?
I have found release.

You have?
Yes... I couldn't resist the urge.

Urge to do what?
To comply with the voice... "Freedom...lies in the purge..."

You left your father?
Yes but not before...

Go on...*
Not before I slit his throat with a smile on my face as I shut the door...

Walk,
as far as these feet will take me.
Moving with deliberateness,
laden with calculated purpose.

And knowing that every time each foot
successfully meets the earth,
I would always be somewhere new.

Each step would feel perhaps
unfamiliar ground,
shed new light, see fresh faces
and experience different days.

As long as I stay loyal to the course...

Always moving...
Walking,

into the sun.

If these fingers touched ink,
let what flows be
untainted and true;
unsmeared and sure.

If these hands mould clay,
let what is made be sturdy.
Be uncracked,
unblemished
and smooth like porcelain.

If this body pivots upon legs,
let it stand upright and tall.
So no wind could fell it down.
But should it topple,
let no earth will it shatter.

If this mind invites another,
let no thought nor idea
adulterate its own...
For its ways may wind
and meander,
but it is obstinate.

If this heart still beats,
no matter how faint...
Let its rhythm be steady
and unrelenting.
So it might echo
through long days
and moonless nights
to find others like it.

Then,
I may not feel so alone.

Life throws at us the worst practical pranks
Some call them challenges... I call them sick ironies
With challenges you might emerge victorious, and slide up the ranks
Ironies are just mean, bad jokes; locks with no keys

Call me godless, sad and trodden, bitter man
Call me a cynic, call me all including jaded
I've arranged it all in various permutations, much as I can
But my view at this point cannot be compensated

Allow me to illustrate...

•It's funny how you feel very certain or strongly
About the bog of sadness and depression you wade in deepest
You know it's real, you fan it with strength your mind could carry
When it could be better used to rise from when you're weakest

•What's this about having to crash to your fiery death
Into the realm of darkness; into the belly of hell
You'd have to almost die and lose your last breath
Before granted an epiphany, a slim chance that you could turn out well

•When life throws you in the deepest end
Fills your lungs with copius amounts of bad water
Tries to **** you before allowing time to mend
When if we were first taught to swim, it would've been much easier

•Sure... A treasure trove of splendours, life does offer
But like a spin of the lottery, you mightn't get even if you deserve
No matter how far you reach into it's elusive coffers
No matter how hard you worked to get ahead of the curve

•Life is like Christmas at times when it feels like giving
Like the gift of love much coveted by most individuals
Gives us all these fanciful things that need extensive assembling
But mischievously hoarding all the instruction manuals

•Fraught with grey areas and blind spots to fight
Presents ample opportunities to find the place that you'd belong
You go through shitloads of wrongs to get a right
And finally you think you're right, in actuality, you're dead wrong!

"More", you say?

•Friends during good times but not the bad
•The perfect red apple hosting a worm inside
•Faking a happy smile when you're deep down sad
•Putting our blind faiths in politicians we know who've lied

•Achieving superstardom only after death had ensnared
•Using heavy machinery to rid the Earth of impurity
•Shooting your mean motor mouth and wonder why no one cared
•Starlets dying for attention but crumble under scrutiny

•Health warnings on cigarettes but still sold for revenue
•Acquiring your sought after sports car but drive within the limit
•Promotions to idiots in suits who haven't got a clue
•Stretching up for the stars even when you know you'll never reach it

Well...

I could give more examples but I've typed enough
Life is but a game we're all playing; a circus we're all living
We can't help being helpless when unable to read and call its bluff
All we can afford is to keep siphoning water out of our boat that's sinking

I swim amongst the many.

Churned amidst the chaos.

Blended in the crowd of Serifs,
Calibris and New Romans.
Strong-armed by the bold.
Submerged beneath the underlined.

But I will stand out...

If only you’d
keep me italicised.

To forget what sand had stirred
in the dark of night.

To empty the dregs left stagnant
of yesterday’s wine.

To see as though through lenses
brand new.

To discard the tethers that had
bound us tight, skin to spine.

A hiatus I believed...
To be well deserved and timely.

For too long I've spilled
copious amounts
upon non-judgemental paper.

For too long I've relied much
on the soothe of the written word.

A hiatus I thought...
Was necessary for I,
strive to go crutchless.
I strive to stand on my own.

But my legs are not yet strong.
And my fingers are jonesing

because my heart still bleeds ink.

.
     Captured breaths
within the
       moments in time.

   Broken snapshots
              frozen almost...
  Solid yet fragile
        and so brittle.

         Fractured and frail
      but in many ways,

              perfect.

.

If the
weight of thoughts
could wear away
the resilience
of the broken bough,

I must’ve done
something terribly
wrong
to feel the way
that I do
right now.

Embalmed skin -
seemingly made anew,
yet pocked with sores…
from a life past.

The then waylaid heart
needed only whisper…

And long was the walk
through the cursed labyrinth
of sharp worldly things.

She stands waist-deep in the tide.

Who knows what salt from her eyes,
has mingled with that of the sea.

She had called to him,
countless times before
in mournful wails -
as she does this night.

And she hears him -
faint whispers as if couriered by the crests
that sit on top of waves.

But it isn’t enough...
She longs to hear more.
Oh how she yearns with her rapid beats
to hear his calls as surely as she did
a lifetime before.

Water and love -
she knows she’s in too deep.

So she fights a fuelled fight -
one step at a time
with sand beneath her feet,
his voice in her ear
and the fire in her heart.

She’s getting closer to him
and she knows...

She smiles, submits
and finally disappears
into the welcoming ***** of the ocean.

He stands -
his waist propped against the rails.

Who knows what salt from his skin,
would see the dawning sun
as the storm in the dark stretched
into forever.

He’d called out to her before...
Yet never against howling winds
and thundering bolts.
Still he calls to her now,
into the towering waves
and blackened horizon.

He doesn’t hear her like always...
Not this time...
For his heart is pounding in his ears,
and the heavy marble droplets
pelt him from the ocean and sky.

Overwhelmed with exhaustion,
still he fights - with tonnes of steel
beneath his feet,
the memory of her voice in his head
and the love in his heart.

He grips the the railing tight
and lets out a final cry into the night -
a last display of rebellion and resentment
to the gods.

He sees her...
He smiles and concedes
as the vessel roars and groans
before finally disappearing
into the ravenous belly of the ocean.

Many have come to pry me open.
Many have come asking for the key.
Offering promises that the doubt would lessen,
flaunting their oaths as currency.

Plenty have assured that they're not like the others.
They promised that their words were forged in steel.
They had come with nothing else except to offer,
their ears and support just so to seal the deal.

"Forgive me", I'd say... I am still a tad apprehensive.
But I do feel the need to speak...
I do long for ears attentive,
Not the ones which are attached to mouths that easily leak.

I know that there are such ears...
Hard to find but they're definitely there.
They'd be ready to catch my tears,
more than willing to show concern and care...

Yours seem rather reliable... That much I see.
They've come with intentions seemingly untainted and kind.
Don't suppose they'd take my words ever so lightly.
They won't lap up my secrets with treachery in mind.

Again I find myself here at the same spot.
About to hand over the duplicate key.
This familiar leap I hope you'd have me caught.
Please don't give away my secrets for free...