Memories from a lifetime ago
Seems beautiful innocent and happy.
All I seem to want to do
Is go back
And hide among the curtains of white sheet.
An urge to flip through photo albums
Gentle touch on faces that are strange yet peaceful
But it is all gone now
Like waking up from a dream
Then given evidence of the once-reality
How am I not to confuse it with a dream
When all that fell apart
Was the moment that door slammed shut
Picture frames on the walls dropped to the ground
Just like how she dropped to the ground
Leaving two kids standing hand in hand
despite constant fights the sister has
One clueless on the surface burying it deep
And one helpless heartbroken ever since
With a baby girl weeping from their bedroom
The first betrayal happened
before the young learnt of all the evils that exists
He too died that moment
From then on they grieved
The child dont dare ask about the fairytale
When she saw her empty eyes staring into space
From time to time
A familiar-faced benefactor come along
The ghost brought little warmth and support
“I am turning out fine” she whispered with every step she takes
him - the only confirmation she gets
for her clueless questions about the princess-like life
Night Train, travel through the world unknown
The black hills with a maroon sky thick behind it
The metallic sound of friction valiantly losing battle to the poignant silence
Night Train, write an epic of the hands that cup around the eyes
Of the eyes that talk to the distant light
Of the lights that blink and the ones that stay still
Night Train, don't slow down for each breath falls faster than the wind outside
Night Train, don't slow down for the still is more piercing than the dark blades of grass lying far below
The rhythmic oscillation of the half sleeping bodies stacked one above the other
The threatening aura of the stiff backbones stoically awake
The lone observer is lost in the nightly delusion
Night Train, chronicle a dark fantasy of the broken fragments the night narrates
Night Train, stop, send a jolt, deaden the incantations
Before the dawn or its harbingers intrude
The heroine of the story, I was perfect for you.
Together, inseparable just as it should be
Waves flowed over me with warmth and marvel,
storms of longing and delusion
~ oh it must be love...
But we both know its not
I see the way you look at her
I just chose to ignore it
Woe is me for being so shallow
I could nearly read 'love' on your lips
I never expected to be cast as an extra in my own film.
But I guess your story is not mine to shape...
One day i will be a heroine
I just thought i would be yours.
Do you know why I supported Donald Trump for President?
See, being a Hog Farmer,
I'm surrounded by filth and excrement all the time.
I felt I needed some glitz and glamour on my life.
I hope to visit the Mara Lago Resort
And present President Trump and his wife, Melania,
With one of my choicest hams........
And that's another reason why I support Trump's Muslim Ban.
Them people don't eat none of my pork!
It's Unamerican not to eat pork.
They should all get deported back to Arabia,
Or wherever the hell they came from
If you ask me.
The stories of time grows
even with dust
When no listener cares
with no touch of love
with longing to belong
Every step makes a story
And stories paint the wall
with the monologue of
The Time we had
Takes the shape of a monster
The Ticking clock yells
at the ringing bells
It's not the lover nor the
at the door
It's the Alarm
For counting time to work on
No matter if you listen
In this morning of September
I turn the radio on
It's not a fairy tale
nor the story of love
The sadder news of the
In an imperfect tune
Like the rhythm
I fight with my chaotic mind sometimes
When I can not agree with love
but I endure
until I meet the
euphoric sense of silence
Every moment counts
I hold my eyelids for longer time
To feel my skin awaken
Under the sea
I go with the tides
High and low
Sometimes I am void
I am not your adorable adjectives
When I fall into pieces
I accept those when
I find myself
in your arms
Fragile, soft, falling
You accept all of them
or nothing at all
The story of a September day
Keep holding me aroused
That is raw and real
I enunciate with my eyes closed
You burdened me with your guilt
You burdened me with your shame
You filled my Dwelling Place
With your accusations,
But there ain't nobody home
The person you hated is dead.
He has has been destroyed
By the forces
I'll pay the price
For my involvement with you.
But if you look in my Dwelling Place
And search for me there,
That there ain't nobody home
I’m obsessed with pain
Because pity comes with
Fighting my own made-up fights
“How do you know what I go through!?
How can you possibly understand!?”
I wish I could say those words
Yet they remain locked in verse
Every waking moment I rehearse
Front to back and back in reverse
Cause maybe if I keep yelling
I’ll start to believe
My own delusions
That I’m in pain when really I’m not
I want to hurt so that I can say:
“You’re hurting me, please go away.”
And yet I always stay
Endless void of articulate delusions and vicious delirious,
Dark thoughts fills crippled lungs;
Calling, screaming, find the truth,
To society shadow, the putrefied soul.
Wicked mind, weeping life,
Monstrous thoughts, haunt the mind,
Depression, misery, sees me right,
In this depraved time we call night.
Nefarious illusions of weak land;
Weep, beg, for the execution of men;
This articulate delusions hold the hand,
Of the black torch of burned plans.
The archetype of flawless man,
See the day of the mystic shine,
Created by love of bright schemes,
And Annihilated by the thought of wicked minds.
Such Reapers haunt the barren lands,
In search for one, true light;
Mist riddled, hidden in sight,
It transforms the mind to unparalleled cry.