Always keep in mind--
You are your own worst enemy to somebody else
Can you hear?
chimes and faint whispers of a past near forgotten
it seethes and seethes of riddles and connotations for the one who lived it
unfortunately they, cannot hear it
gracious is the hidden universe
tenderly whispering through nuanced memories warnings and forebodings
persistent and ever so temperate
I wonder how the receiver in unable to receive such love
would I have done the same
to ignore the evident chasms of repulse echoing in the head
as one dives knee deep in ruination frolicking in the pretence of esteemed achievement?
Lady Fortune is certainly strange and unfathomable in her doings
As distrustful and deceitful as humans came to be
I’d still like to have a little faith the universe had yet to be contaminated...
Ember evening, summers night,
Painted upon our sky.
A clement sigh beneath a tree,
Upon a hill, in complete solitude.
In the midst of gloom, i lay my head,
On flocculent petals, stained with guerlain.
In awe i am towards thy surrealistic canvas,
Counting nameless stars;
Far but close our naked eyes and
Remote planets, taunting us in plain sight
Who dwell in cosmoses grand halls,
Seated on nothing attended
By celestial slaves.
I weep dismay,
For our astronauts aided by science,
Holds no invite,
Their grant denied.
A disappointment to my parents
A bother to my brothers
A nuisance to my peers
A burden to my friends
A name to my school
A face to my loves
An enemy to myself
A stranger to the rest of the world
For if I slipped away, at any moment
Hardly anyone would know the difference
The planet wouldn’t notice me gone
The ground wouldn’t miss my steps
The sky wouldn’t grieve my gaze
The blanket wouldn’t mourn my tears
Not even I
Would wish for me to return
To sing to a void of silence, eating away at the sound I make,
Hoping something reacts and makes a sound.
I realized the pattern before me.
A sea of silence
A space of eyes
Alone, in this place
Singing my heart aloud...
But then i begin to wonder;
When it's only me in the end.
Am I crazy to continue to share my emotions with the eyes
Although they don't provide me the company I desire
Am I singing to feel sane
Or is it because I'm starting to feel tired
Cold, descending into the abyss of depravity
I'm not really okay
I just want to be held
But once again
It's only me...singing alone
In a deep silence of eyes
Forever trapped in a pattern that won't decay
...Sometimes I think about deleting my accounts and writing my poems in my notes. I don't even know if they're decent on the site. I rarely get feedback...just a number of eyes that have "observed" my emotions.
I walk through life,
writing countless stories.
Surely of thousands stories,
a dozen would be deaths.
Plucking death from life;
is plucking seed from a fruit.
What is there to gain?
We say life have no reason, purpose, nor excuses.
So what say we live?
Plucking the seeds;
I witness countless threads.
From the bitterness of fate;
to the sadness of departure;
down to the solitary of loneliness.
I fear fighting those who have nothing,
those with nothing find comfort in death.
But... is death truly nothing?
Life is full, but emptied to the eyes of death;
Therefore, I tend to see life as nothing
and death as nothing;
ultimately, seeing through life and death.
Voices of people giving unsolicited advices on how to live my life echo loudly as I make my way to the end of the tunnel; and yet, no light has been found, rather, the voices become deafening as I continue my journey.
I look around in the pitch black tunnel, the earsplitting noises continue, making me feel apprehensive. The thought of the unknown scares me and I care too much so I listen to these blaring voices, booming with every stride I make.
I stop walking, as if these thundering voices weren’t enough to make me anxious, I feel many pairs of eyes glaring at me in this blinding darkness, secretly amused by my feeble state.
Am I still far?
Will I reach it?
Will I make it out alive?
Will I bump into someone — anyone — who has a map and a flashlight to share?
I quiver as I cross my arms and continue walking, hoping that I would soon see the light at the end of what seems to be a never ending tunnel.
By the window, the lonely petals drifted,
so did my mind.
I dare not say I am virtuous.
Experienced humiliation, I obtain humbleness.
Live plainly, before lavishly.
Life often contradict itself,
look at death, therefore comprehending life.
My mind lay adrift at sea
As hours of sleep have evaded it.
But coffee renders it swift and free
From the torments of this hellish week.
Perhaps I will find solace
once this endeavour is over;
That, next year, my joy willn’t perish,
I can but hope for.
This was written last Dec 11 2019, as a portion of our periodical exam required some poetry.