Sapphires

Icy blue orbs frozen in a stare,

Through thickets of the unseen,

Where memories and dreams meet,

Like a flame his longing, burning.

His eyes twinkled as it pools,

Pearlescent tracks down his cheeks,

In unbroken streams,

His very soul leaks.

A personal apocalypse,

Made visible by an unruly heart,

With those sapphire eyes,

He bade his goodbyes.

Scenes

Got bored for the first time since college ended, thus here I am. Went through some of the stuff I wrote in high school. Them 'short stories' I've long stopped writing because I discovered that my attempts at poetry are much less time consuming.

I think...I ought to give writing another stab. I miss it. You know, just cooking up plots, characters, dialouges and scenes. I particularly liked thinking up that something special that I'd usually start with before I build up the characters and story around it. It's usually a scene. Never a message though. I've never been able to write something to convey a message. It's always been about, a 'something'.

For example,

THIS, put a scene in my head. Of a guy playing this song like in the video, under a hazelnut tree by a brook, so close he was to the water, he could dip his bare feet in it. Surrounding him, is a field of dandelions that swayed in the breeze, as if dancing to the song played on the guitar. There's also a girl, in a yellow summer dress that matches the sun and the dandelions. Spinning like a mad gypsy, her long dark hair and dress billowing. Sun kissed, the grass is gilded in gold.

So, I wrote a chapter with such a scene in it. Oh, since I was particularly fascinated by fire then, dude's a pyromaniac. For some reason, the girl's blind.

MEH. There, click if you may and laugh at my amateurish attempt.

At any rate, I suck at it hahah.

P.S: I'm not even gonna get into my long stagnant attempts at writing 'novels'. Those chapters are probably decaying. If electronic documents can rot, they probably would have. *shrug*

All my lies

Let me swim in the channels of passion

So that my actions may be driven by love.

Stoked by the fumes of desire, I will step

Out of these smog of loss and confusion

This mist of anger and dissatisfaction

That clouds my eyes and blinds my heart

So that heavy sighs lace all my lies

All my smiles.

Can I not be what I yearn yet still be

What embodies the wishes of ones I care for

Bear the responsibilities they ask of

And fulfill the expectations they have bore.

Show me that the world is gentle and kind

Tender feelings of tolerance and resilience

Bare to me their generosity

If it be a must, let it be even pity.

I cling to such grand notions of liberty

That I know many have fallen prey to.

Mere indulgences of foolish romantics

Where thrive only things of beauty

And odes to our depraved humanity.

With my dreams in the palms of my hands

I offer myself brittle promises

In the face of denial, all my lies made fatal.

Like A Painting

The grass made greener

The skies made bluer

All is touched by the Sun's gold

And all is untouched by Time's 'Old'

In a painting, all is frozen

The subject or scenery from a single moment

The artists' brief yet passionate limerence

A single point in our space-time continuum

What you see is but a mirage

Underneath the concrete idea of the painting

The dashes of paint and the strokes of brushes

All you really see is the artist's visage

Their countenance made bold

By the language of colours and texture

Their personalities made bare

By the painting's essence and nature

If I can reveal to you my true feelings

And have you understand my feeble thoughts

On a canvas that spans skies and seas

My mind to you I'll paint transparent

Nobody

Wake from this silly enchantment,

Open your leadened eye lids and look,

What you see around you are Truths ignored,

Realities smothered by petty fantasies.

Should you look at the person by your side,

And he or she unconscious of your gaze,

You'll see them as they really are,

Unguarded with thoughts unhindered.

What little you know of them, revealed,

In ways you could only dream of,

But really don't be greedy and seek,

What their private souls may be in need.

Vague elucidations of many versions,

What really do any of us understand,

Of souls and thoughts and emotions,

That define our arbitrary 'I's.

So stop looking for angels and soulmates,

Stop wishing for devotion and attention,

In your reflection you will find,

The Nobody that rules your body.

Mr. Cut Here

With his palm down, over the bright green bushes,

He lets his hand brush over them as he walks down the hall.

Caressing droplets of dew from the shoots,

He smiles a very private very lopsided smile.

Thinking thoughts I imagine to be rather discerning,

His glassy eyes not seeing the shoots he's caressing.

As I look upon his ghostly slight figure with venom,

Never, not even once would he glance around.

Not realizing the confused hatred of my unsound mind,

He went on walking at his decidedly measured pace.

Careless, uninformed and unknowing,

Eternally, wholly, unaffected by my misplaced enmity.

A milky white latex glove in his slender hands,

He blew until it ballooned like a cow's udder.

The fat girl by his side laughing, and he laughing,

Its echoes filled the vacant corner where I stood.

Over the days, I silently watched and brood,

Waiting for a glance that never came my way.

What few recollections I have of him,

The one that loops like a broken film,

Are of him in the hallways, walking steadily,

Not in herds as boys often do; solitarily.

His head tilted back, slightly to the right,

Staring into depths unfathomable.

To Their Ashes

. . . . . . .

Burning steadily,

Burning readily,

This warmth you feel,

Is my Love made real.

Should you be so lucky,

To have been loved by me,

I would've promised you immortality,

For I'll never forget your beauty.

Things even you don't see,

Words even you don't hear,

I witness them to their ashes,

Meaningful yet brief flashes.

All this may seem just as well,

But really let us not dwell,

On things past and ancient,

So old they may be poison.

If an ending is what you desire,

A finale I will give you,

Anything to kill this fire,

Of my Love that's smothering you.

____________________________________________________

Note: For some reason, whenever I pen anything about Love, it comes out all wrong. Vengeful or...defeated. What do I know of Love anyway? Nothing. Thus the overt tones of resentment. Then again...haha.

I Hear You

It must be lonely out there,

It must be cold down there,

I yearn to tell you,

The coldness I feel it too.

But these barriers of mine,

Keep me from the door,

Like a silenced moor,

That pain of yours I abandon.

Forgive my cruelty,

But I can't show pity,

For I can't have your gratitude,

Not with my shallow fortitude.

Through these walls,

I hear your cries,

Through those sobs,

I lay awake.

A heartless stranger,

With your pain I'm too familiar,

Believe me dear friend,

I hear you.

________________________________________________

This is for you. Let those wordless tracks you adore sing your decadence.

Everything will be alright.

Wonderful

What I'd give to enter his world.

World of Mine

With your hand in mine,

I'll paint you a door,

Into a world of mine,

Where the skies are ours to soar.

Gaze into my eyes,

I'll give you the most sincere,

Of smiles and laughter,

Ones that'll last forever.

So come with me,

Leave your worries be,

Your wishes you will find,

In this world of mine.

Sleuth

Sleuth

The fire in our souls,

Burns brighter than the Northern Star,

And the flames dance in our eyes,

Heeding only the melodies of our minds.

What tempting prepositions,

What beautiful vengeances,

Could still the beating of our hearts,

So full of lust, for life.

The vicious passion by which we live,

Are not of the sort normalcy approves,

For our wits are heirlooms of doom,

Even the immortals possess not.

Let us set ourselves on fire,

And be rid of our infernal desires,

"Smoulder, smoulder,

Burn thy fodder."

Mask upon masks,

We patter about our fatal games,

Courting sweet Death,

To end our incarcerated follies.

Swearing upon handshakes,

We are of each other's sort,

So much that we cannot bear it,

That, destiny turns us into sleuths.

In our claustrophobic universe,

We are sleuths,

Who shall forever,

Only seek each other.

_________________________________________________

Would you like a witty companion?

Note: Well, guess what? I've come to like Jude Law. Today, I chanced upon one of his films, Sleuth (2007). Law stars in it with Michael Caine, who starred in the 1972 version of the film. Film's adapted by a play of the same title by Anthony Shaffer. Directed by Kenneth Branagh, dude who plays Gilderoy Lockhart in Harry Potter haha.

Thought the movie was weird and sort of dull the first 15 mins...and then it morphed into something absurdly trippy and poetic. And god, kinda fag like even. But whatever, the manic back & forth held my attention. I find it beautiful. And the house, well, heck. I'd like a house like that.

Not many films stir my muse, and this one does. So, I think it's something special. In a twistedly witty sort of way. Heh.

In Fear

"Embrace the fear,

Of both Living and Dying,

So you may fill your cup,

With wine of glory and discovery."

I peer over the horizon,

Seeking the truth of my future.

Finding impressions of answers,

I'm glad I'm no seer.

There is value in reveling,

In ignorance to some questions.

This I discover laboriously,

While I stumble along meekly.

Alas, I'm one easily frightened,

By challenges I deem perilous,

For I am petrified by 'Regret',

Of never being able to 'Forget'.

My fear of living a lie,

Is in itself a mockery,

One, I am aware of,

My very own treachery.

Get along

Sometimes, we say things we don't mean, out of spontaneity. Spur of the moments that is caused by plain old ignorance or lack of tact imbued in our very genotypes (meaning, we're just made that way, y'know). Point is, you don't actually mean the stuff you said. Not really.

This is perfectly normal.

But the problem is, such things causes misunderstandings, which consequently results in conflict. Whatever the case may be, people get hurt. Some people forgive & forget. Some don't. People are people. The very diversity of our selves is evidence of God's existence. Don't you think?

You've got to try and view things in different perspectives. One man's liberation is another's prison. Yes, I'm being cryptic for the very same reason. To avoid, conflict. Okay, too cryptic.

Oh heck, whatever. What I really want to say is:

A degree of detachment is advisable. Let us not be immature because the fact remains that...

We all suffer in our own private ways,

We are but inhabitants of our own private worlds.

Forsake not your camaraderie,

For the sake of agony.

Forsake not your herd mentality,

For the sake of complexity.

Flock, Get along, Tolerate,

For we are all but foolish illiterates.

Title: (Get Along)

Relief

Just a moment,

For a second,

Let me believe,

I'll find relief.

Tracing shadows,

Against the wall,

It feels like forever,

Let this be over.

Light my darkened path,

Spare me your wrath,

Tolerate my nuisance,

All I want is significance.

Rationality, practicality,

They satisfy but half of me,

Passion and curiosity,

They petrify the rest of me.

What am I to do,

Speak to me as I'll to you,

Take away my grief,

Ask me to believe.

_________________________________________________

Fragmented and incoherent at best. I'll write what I may.

Ramadhan

Moments pass by in a blur,

Half-awake, half-asleep,

You can't tell which.

As if you've lost your footing,

Slipping off the plains of reality,

You can only feel self-pity.

The sky clears for the Hilal.

Lo! The cresent moon is smiling,

The month for abstinence has begun,

All you seek is redemption.

And so I lay within the pools,

Of your twinkling watery eyes,

Asking for forgiveness.

A single feather from a dove,

Fell onto your darkened forehead,

Forgiven, welcome to Heaven.

Screwed.

Do me the honours, will you?

The interview results are in today. I'm declined. Need I bold that? Sure, here: DECLINED.

Dr. Brunton wrote us a letter of decline. Read mine. Clearly he wrote these letters of decline personally for each of us. He touched upon my essays again. In the end, that's all I'm good for. Writing frickin' essays. Jeez.

At any rate, it is expected.

What now? :D I don't know.

Not that I don't have an inkling. It's something along the lines of changing to Pharmacy and still go to NZ, or stick with dentistry which lands me with either India or if I'm lucky, there's a possibility of UM. Then...there's always UiTM I suppose.

All these assumptions are based on some seniors' experience. I'll just have to wait for JPA to reply my e-mail to get a clearer picture.

In essence, I've successfully screwed myself over, completely so. I'm not sore, or even sad for the matter. I just hate myself hah. Given the opportunity, I'd like to crawl into a hole and die.

Nah, I'm fine. If you know what F.I.N.E really stands for that is.

Shackles

Accumulated from my past,

Forming upon my wrists and ankles,

Clanking with every tremor,

They chain me to my corner.

Cold, heavy and eternal,

They serve as a remembrance,

Reflected on their surfaces,

My life, fallen to ashes.

My eyes drew over them a veil,

As I ponder my next step,

But the sensation always prevail,

Of burning, metallic shame.

Lest I slip and fall yet again,

They cry to me in vain,

Clattering ever so louder,

My shackles of failure.

P.S: Dear friend, hang in there. I still believe you can make it. Circumstances can still change for pharmacy students!

Not to worry

For once, I'd like to wake up and only think of breathing. Without a gnat of worry buzzing in my mind. No nothing, peaceful. Free of everything. And you wonder if this is only possible in death's loving arms. But of course, nothing in this life warrants for such damnation. Not in mine, at least.

Cowardice

After a night of agony,

Contemplating death in all its glory,

The morning after is dim,

Muted, like a dream.

You care less about yourself,

And care nothing for others,

The world seems emptier,

But your soul, never lighter.

Putting up facades for your peers,

In your eyes, the vacancy lingers,

Not that they shall notice,

Your cleverly hidden solstice.

Like a cancer the idea spreads,

Infecting your diseased mind,

Every breath poisonous,

Every blink dying.

The yellow beast in your gut hisses,

Warning, pleading, grovelling,

So you stop wishing for destruction,

So you keep breathing in your dungeon.

Truly, Sincerely

This is how I feel right now:

Truly, Sincerely

They spoke of me confidently,

As if I am the palm of their hands,

Apparitions in their mutilated minds,

Truly, sincerely, they spoke falsely.

"A rebel straining to break free,

A mouth-shooter with no scruples,

An evil-doer without a heed",

They see my apparent 'aberrance'.

As if I'm better of atrophied,

Never again I'll seek their approval,

From these familiar strangers,

I call my own.

Such truthful animosity,

Held strongly against me,

How am I to compete?

With such sincere adversity.

For truly and sincerely,

They've cast me out,

Just as truly and sincerely,

I'll shut them out.

_______________________________________________

My painful reality.

Face the music

It's tomorrow. I'll either make it or I don't. The only good thing about all this is that tomorrow's a Friday.

To be frank, I feel defeated. Because I found out that the panel will have my semester transcripts with them on the table tomorrow. My mediocre marks on display. I shall be judged and I shan't have an answer for them. There is after all, no excuse for my lack of effort.

It's probably better this way, I'd probably break down if I only find out that they've my transcripts with them on the day itself, which is tomorrow. Egh. What was I expecting anyway? That I'd be able to razzle-dazzle my way through it? The reality of it, took a whole sleepless night to sink in.

But I'm prepared now.

One thing's for sure though, I'll step in with fire in my heart and I'll go out in flames if I have to. If I happen to crash and burn, then so be it.

Inferno

As if laying my neck for the guillotine,

I'll come with my chest cut open,

So you may see my burning heart,

And the passion I house within.

Let tomorrow be the day,

That I'll find solace from the Heavens,

So I may voice my ambitions,

My sky-high aspirations.

It is time like these that I'll shiver,

And tremble in appalling fear,

For an outcome that can undone,

All that I've become.

For tomorrow to come to a past,

There'll be wars of blood red clouds,

Raging the plains of my sleepless thoughts,

I'll seek you out, with my burning heart.

Beyond me

WARNING: It is NOT my intention to diss anybody. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, I hope mine does not offend anybody. I've sinned enough.

________________________________________________

And it strikes me how out of touch I am with these...'normal' social settings. I can't grasp them. I find them absolutely unfathomable! albeit in a quite fascinating way, well, occasionally.

It is made clear to me (more so than usual) today that all these obsessions with 'apparels & clothing', 'love', 'relationships', knowing 'who's who', 'who's dating who', 'what happened where a second ago' et cetera what nots, the very things I find mundane and irrelevant are the very things that constitutes of what the average teenager call 'life'.

It seems I've been living in a completely different UNIVERSE. I thought that I'm the Bermuda triangle of their world, you know, invisible but there. But nay!

Not that I'm a total or the only social retard on planet Earth (which, I sometimes ponder deep, down, in the edifices of my solitary mind), I'm just saying I'm not among the masses, the majority.

It make me wonder, what IS it actually that caused this grossly behemoth-like gap? and what exactly it was that ensured my existence remains to be so? Like, was I all that different than the rest when I was 8, 12 or 15?

My family? frends? interests? stuff I watched on tv? read? do, did or did not do?

Either way, by no means am I trying to be condescending. Merely objective while staying true to myself. Normal is good, normal is what is accepted by people. So, yeah.

All this, stemming from another serendipitous ninja-esque discovery of a particular someone's not-so-well-hidden online confessions. And I thought I'm watching you changing, growing. Did not realize you were turning into the archetypal teenager that I know so little about.

I have a feeling its an innate characteristic. An expression of my genotype.

We Are All Lonely Souls

The difference between you and me,

Is that you hunt for charity,

Holding each other up,

While caging yourselves down.

What causes our dissimilarity,

I believe is our degree of inhibition,

You go with what you see,

I go with pure intuition.

But of course even those things differ,

My intuition and yours,

Shaped by our latent urgencies,

Disparaged in our eccentricities.

I wish to compose you an ode,

That would express my tender feelings,

An embodiment of my wish,

To reach for your laureled finishings.

Because between our universe,

Lays the pretty centerpiece,

That decorates these verses;

We are all lonely souls.

P.S: I lost my journal pen again. Yes, I'm trying to de-stress. Am working on my Otago essays. Darn it.

You, my violin.

I'll play you like a violin,

So you'll sing me your heart songs,

Melodies of secrets within,

A symphony of intimacy.

Sonatas fit for Angels,

They'll cry tears of rapture,

Your voice is a blessing,

Even a bee would stop to ponder.

I'll play you like a violin,

So you'll sing me our tales,

Of tracing each other's smiles,

And falling, into each other's eyes.

Sing me your dreams,

I'll play to your wishes,

Hold not your whims,

I'll spare you my kisses.

May your strings never break,

And my fingers never tire,

The violin and the player,

For now, we're together.