I have time.

But I wanna do this first.
And then I'll get back to work.

Oh wait,
look at the time!
I should probably get to it now.

Oh man,
I don't have much time
God, please
give me time...

I have no time
I need to do this now

Well,
it's all over.

Maybe next time.

More often than not,
I have no idea

what the hell am I doing.

“It just feels like yesterday”,
you say.
Everything is just yesterday.

For the days have gone behind us,
the months disappear into thin air,
the years turn to dust as they all
fade into the night.

But as the sun arises
We see that a new day has dawned.
And yet, everything has changed in
the blink of an eye;
short yet long,
mysterious the time.

Such is yesterday.

The expression of art
is the art of expression;
To express oneself
may give good impression

You may not always
have success
when you do your best,
but let it all be to God
and He’ll do the rest.

Don’t be frustrated,
Let live and let go.
To learn to forgive
is to show that you know.

Strive to proceed
it may not just be for show
Learn to live life
the best way you’d go.

Nobody knows
the end of the world
Whether in a million years
or tomorrow.

Nobody knows
the day they die
whether a few more decades
or a few more hours

Nobody knows
the true value
of time.

Nobody knows
but rather
everybody is confused

Is there a God out there?
It makes sense to say
yes
But there's reason
to say
no.

Who knows?

Nobody knows
if the Earth is round
or flat
in fact
There's much controversy
surrounding that.

Nobody knows
whether we vanish
into the oblivion
that is
non-existence,
or whether there really is
an afterlife.

Angels
or Aliens?
Demons
or illnesses?

There is a plague
called "possibility"
that infects
the minds of
everybody
who waits and thinks
and hopes
for the truth

But what is
"Truth"?

Is it real,
or just another mere

possibility?

Help me heal.
This world is full of evil.

I’ve seen things I wish I didn’t see
Heard things I wish I didn’t hear
And spoken things
I wish
I didn’t speak.

I wish I could just be silent.

Help me heal

Help me turn away
from the darkness

Let me search for the light.

This evil
tastes so good
but hurts just as bad.

It is no use

I am unhealthy
Sick
Weary
Tired.

Help me heal

No matter how many times
God can forgive me,
It’s no use to keep saying sorry
And not mean it.

And what more to ask for healing,
when I keep getting sick?

Help me heal, though.

I need to get rid of the cancer
in my bones
the sins
in my soul

Help me heal
Before you know

It’s too late.

If Rome
was built in a day,
Anything is possible.

If the Earth
was created
in 6 days,
then nothing is impossible.

If I can
build my mind
my thought
my opinion
in a split second
it’s a possibility that

it’s just me.

But things take longer
than usual.

Feels impossible,
no?

Is it wrong
to say
"I love you"?

Oh how gladly
I received you.

Grace,
   a fair maiden
   is she.

Her beauty is
     long-lasting,
Her character
     amiable.

She is a woman of
high value;
Even I
don't deserve you!

Yet,
   the grace that you show
   just loves me for
   who I am

And shown in
these lovely songs
which I write.

Let me sing
   a melody
of your
     sweet virtue;

" O When can
your beauty fade!?" ~

Of your great counsel
fair maiden,
that I may
pursue

This everlasting grace
t'was once found
in you.

Mother.
Her eyes, like sweet pearls
yet tired
her face, fair,
yet longing
her soul, beautiful
yet shaken and stirred.
Her love, keeps going
her love, presses forward
her love, is not sweet.

Her love shouts,
her love kills the spirit of joy
but at the same time resurrects
the common sense in the meaning of
the word "priority"

"Life is not fun", she says.
"It is not all fun and games.
Out there is a war
you are not willing to fight
just because you have it all."

"Life", she says, "is not all daisies and roses.
Out there you have to struggle
with all your might
through the thorns of life,
the pangs of labour"

"Life is not your own", she says
"Out there when you find love
that's when you'll struggle.
You'll realise I was right
and you'll know what it's like to be
just like me.
I have to sacrifice everything I have for you
the life I have in these veins
the time that slips from my hands
the breath that I give away
my strength
my might
my will
just to give myself
for food on the table
for a roof over your head
for a car to go from point A to B
see, everything costs my hard-earned cash that I worked for you
to sustain you.
And you live like this;
you take me for granted!
You live carelessly thinking like everything else is all cared for, done and given to you
like you don't need to do anything
everything is provided for, but you see, dear darling.

Life is harsh
Life is cruel
Life is against what you thought life to be
Because when you go out to face life's true face
life feels more like death!
Everyday you feel like you've come to the end of yourself
but you know you gotta just press forward
because you have love.

And you just gotta work a little harder", she says.

Her love is like medicine
chemically fixing my physical ailments
helping me fight my own flesh.
It is not sweet,
as she scolds and weeps
and shouts and rants and rages

She literally tells me to not cut myself
whilst threatening to stab me
if I were to ever reach for the blade!

It is like

Father.
When he reaches his fist towards my face

"I want to punch you", he says
I wonder, is his love for me based on my grades
that he should be angry because I do not please him?

I remember my cousin
when he told me
"My father once said 'I hate you' to me, to my face"
and I felt it was something like that.

The way he, no, both my parents rage at my little brother
for losing his textbook
and when questioned
accusations pour forth
death threats rain down from the doom
which is my father's sky.

It reminded me of when I was little,
traumatised,
wanting to leave home,
disappointed,
because when I was seven
my mother was right:
it felt like the whole world were against me;
including my parents.

I was a "liar"
but the irony
when poetic justice marches in victorious,
when the truth wins out
as I pressed forward.

But if Life were a hurricane
and Love, a pain
then I wouldn't wanna go through all that

But the truth is,
as always, the truth, it hurts
Life is against you
and so is Love
but Love, is special.

It is not for me but it is for you.
It isn't sweet sometimes but it is healthy.

Father has done well
Mother is still working
and both brother and sister
still naive
still ignorant
still...safe

and I, I'm getting ready to leave
searching for a love
I'll be struggling to receive
'cause, I'll be looking for the sweetness you didn't give me, Ma
but they won't hand it to me

like you have.

“It just feels like yesterday”,
you say.
Everything is just yesterday.

For the days have gone behind us,
the months disappear into thin air,
the years turn to dust as they all
fade into the night.

But as the sun arises
We see that a new day has dawned.
And yet, everything has changed in
the blink of an eye;
short yet long,
mysterious the time.

Such is yesterday.

Dear darling
I miss the times we could freely say
“I love you” to each other.
Ever more freely express
the mixed feelings we had
towards each other.

This love,
this love was free and open
as free as the birds in the sky can be
so free that it even makes the flowers
dance in the spring

I remember the days
we’d usually chatter away
like the wind that blows by
our conversations are a breeze
yet sometimes, a hurricane.

Dear darling,
I miss you. I miss the days we could freely say
“I love you” to each other.
When our hugs were so tight
these actions spoke louder than those three words.
We were so close yet, now, ever so distant

That closeness which we once had
This love that united us
Gave me a hope for an everlasting warmth.
But now, only a silence between us
This distance, so close yet so far
now gives me chills.
Cold, like your shoulders with your back
turned against me.

I miss our conversations.
I missed the breeze
that kissed my cheek first thing in the morning.
You were the sun to my sky
brightening up my day before it began!

And now, you have become a memory,
leaving a void in this old, wretched heart of mine.
This is where I realised,
this star has died, leaving a black hole to create
this emptiness, ******* me of my whole.

Dear darling,
I miss the times we could freely say
“I love you” to each other.
If only these words could give me back
the life I once had, with you,
just having another conversation.
I will forever yearn for a love as warm as yours,
a love that shines brighter than the sun.

I will forever yearn,
to set me free.

I see
the fear in my father’s eyes
as he beheld the world fall,
as he screams through
the wall,
and starts to lose it all.

I see
the fear in his eyes
when he gives me
an hour’s worth
of lecture
as he tries to
tell me to do
better.

His pain
he does not keep;
he has kept his hurt in
for far too long
already.

He sees
the world around me
crumble
as buildings topple
over one another
and he sees
my position
under the rubble.

He weeps
as he predicts the day
I die
by sword or by stone.
He unleashes his wrath of
frustrations
he’s been through

“Don’t die, son.
Keep staying alive.
Keep breathing,
keep moving,
keep working
to survive.”

I see
the fear in my father’s eyes
as he beheld the world fall
He does not want me
to lose it all
He does not want me
to lose.

“Survive, son.”
It’s okay, Pa.
Don’t worry.

I’ll live.

I like how
the paper
has its purpose,
but of which only
lead and ink
can fulfill.

A piece of paper
is just another blank slate,
waiting for a miracle,
waiting for life to leak
into the lines of its veins.

Just waiting for
words,
ideas,
doodles and sketches
poems, puns
works of art
Just waiting
for the meaning to its existence.

But little do we know
that the paper
is its purpose;
to create something
out of nothing;
to give life
to the lifeless.

Paper,
is everything like
opportunities given
to us,
and most of all
how we make of it.
_______

I like how
we have a purpose
but of which only
will and work
can fulfill.

And I am,
like any other I will be
just another blank slate
waiting for a miracle,
waiting for life
to flow in my veins.

Just waiting for
words,
meaning;
a purpose.

But little do I know
that I am my own purpose
to make something
out of nothing,
to give meaning to something
meaningless.

Yet, my life
is everything like
wasted opportunity,
bad ideas
on crumpled papers,
torn, shred
and thrown away.

I do not know who
I really am.

Whether I am just
another notebook
to jot important things down,
assignments, homework
or just some
stupid doodles and
useless words
on stanza.

I don’t even know
where I stand now.

I am just
another piece of paper
a purpose, unknown
of which
hopes and dreams
won’t fulfill.