Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Goodbye 2008

Ai Karamba! Another year's going going and another one's on the way.
What have I done, what did I do? Was it yesterday or is it today?
Made up stream, went down stream and got sucked into the whirlpool,
Seasons greetings and a Happy New Year, to you and you and you.

Cried at the movies, laughed with them idiotic ones,
Walked with mother nature, chilled out in the sun.
Skimped a little here and there, lavished on great feast,
Got a little closer to love and joy and all that I had wished.

Before it's gone, before it's over,
I'd like to hold your virtual hand.
And tell you bedtime stories
About things to come as when.

There's nothing to fear, nothing to hide from,
Dream your dreams and feel the power
Of your imagination and thought of creation.
Make it happen, make it real, cos' now is the hour.

Shed your old self and molt from the past,
Hang in there while you turn and digress
I shall whisper my words to you in dreams
And you will know - truly know - nothing is what it seems.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

In the Extreme Quietness, What Do You Hear?

I am at the mercy of the jarring sound of silence
as I wait for the rising of the sun.
My head pounds from the drive of life,
my body aches from overeating.
My mind weaves up dreams
and makes up inconclusive nightmares,
my spirit returns from a tedious journey,
almost, always searching for answers.
I've been away from myself as I get attracted
to city lights, fast foods, trends and recreations.
I forget sometimes about magical moments
that are unfurling at every juncture and emotion.
I hear too many rants and harangues
that aren't even real in every sense.
I am sometimes doused with people's fear of immortality
and the worry of other's misconception of eternity.
Won't you just take a walk down the road of extreme quietness?
and hear your heart that speaks of wisdom.
Won't you sit alone and calm your body
and think of nothing that spirals you into obsession.
Come home to where your spirit dwells,
come back to where you truly belong.
There's no black or white, there's no heaven or hell,
there's no good or bad, there's no right or wrong.
It's not the sights and sounds that are custom made
that makes you who you are with labels and chains.
It's the simple fact that our ignorance create
when we choose to live life in this disgruntled state.

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Will All The Righteous People Please Stand Up

For those who condemn the sex workers,
for those who criticize the flamboyant individuals,
for those who measure beauty with an ugly yardstick,
for those who practice double standards,
for those who ostracize the down-trodden,
for those who dehumanize life for a set of rules,
for those who belief hell is on earth and heaven is a paradise only for the chosen ones,
for those who segregate people by color and creed,
for those who frown upon other people's alternative lifestyle,
for those who blame everyone else except themselves,
for those who claim to be the enlightened ones,
for those who accuse the criminals for their sinful ways,
for those who live in fear,
for those who talk so much about love but loves no one,
be the first to pick up the stone and fling it with all your might
and crack the skull that you are aiming for.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

More updates on Chimeraworld #5



Mike unboxing the Five

The Melancholy Life of the 21st Century

I wake up in a daze
to check the clock to see the time,
like as though it mattered.
I get up to another day
and head for the laptop
to turn on my world.
My first impulse is to check my mails,
and my daily bookmarked sites
and then maybe play a crossword puzzle
or a codebreaker, before I go on
to my blogs.
Before I know it,
it's time to have some breakfast
if I can find anything to make.
I spend a little time
munching on bread
or ingesting the oats
and drinking my Milo.
With the pensive moment with my food
I think of things
and ponder about life.
Sometimes rushing for time,
sometimes asking myself where
I am going.
What is it all about
being human?
And then when I am through feeding myself
I go back to the computer
and try to make something out of it
while in the back of my mind
I know I still have to
brush my teeth, shower,
check the time again
to see if I have other
things to do besides
sitting in front of this machine
to exist...

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

I am a confident fool

I am a confident fool
I know not why I can't.
I believe that underdogs rule
and life's an ever changing event.
I don't go by a set of dos and don'ts,
I learn from the best and worst.
Friends are not severed by distances and timezones,
lovers need not be a curse.
There is no one who is most right,
there is none so wrong whatsoever,
there is just the universe in our sight
and the love we know that's forever.
I am an optimistic romantic,
I live by the rules of nature.
I am one with all and everything
I enjoy my silence and adventure.
I don't think life prepares us for anything,
or mistakes and missteps and blunders,
but living is not about the journeying
through the mud and deserts and disasters.
Even when I have no food on the table
I look to the sky for relief.
Even if I'm finally old and disable
I will still find my assurance in a leaf.

Thursday, November 27, 2008

When the World is Calling, it won't let you sleep

When life doesn't want me to sleep for whatever reasons it will stir a noisy neighbor to blast their music at a disturbing decibel just enough to provoke my sense of hearing so that I will feel the agitation long enough and gradually toss awake reluctantly in the middle of the night. If it wasn't an inconsiderate neighbor it would be the dog scratching the door begging to be let out to relief himself or the mosquitoes buzzing in my ears relentlessly. If this had happened when I used to have a nine to five job I would be infuriated and flustered with vengeance. I used to be afraid of insomnia because it is regarded as some chronic condition that needed remedy. But ever since I took to writing from home and having read and embraced the laws of attraction, synchronicity and collective subconscious, I realized this sudden wakefulness did not occur by chance. I learned from an octogenarian friend one night that she has lost her will to sleep but she doesn't know why she developed insomnia except for the fact that older people do. After some time of listening to her I gathered that one of the many reasons why she was invaded by sleeplessness was the idea of being alone. Now, when I wake up in the wee hours of the morning I think of her and keep her in mind with a telepathic connection.

Also, every once in a while I feel as though someone, somewhere is talking about me or thinking of me in some parts of the world. With numerous submissions of stories and scripts I send out for consideration, in the different time zones where editors browse through the works, at some point there is bound to be a connection. When the universe is at work and wants you to stay awake, you will be awoken no matter what the situation is. I have experienced instant wakefulness which has nothing to do with Prozac insomnia, sleep apnea, night terrors or bruxism. I just awaken. There are more things that we don't know than we think we may know about our bodies, minds, hearts and souls even when we are in tune with our surroundings.

Those days insomnia was like a disease or a curse to me when I was stirred up by stray and perturbing sounds but now if I can't get back to sleep I would ask myself if it was something more than just anxiety. Like now, a message was derived from my two a.m. agitation. Contentment kills. Or at least to me. That was the revelation I got after contemplating on why this happened to me. My next thought was to move out of this rented room by the middle of next year, since the lease was up anyway, and head for where I am suppose to be going. Secondly, I have not spent sufficient time with my writing although I have done quite a fair bit for this year. I know I can do better and even more. In my mind's eye I sorted out the things I needed to do when the sun rises in the morning but my passionate soul wouldn't let me procrastinate. With a slight headache, mosquitoes taking bites out of me and writing in the dark, my mind is so full of ideas and discernment I just had to write down what my heart is telling me.

As I sit uncomfortably in this warm and humid night at 3.38 in the morning I am preparing myself to take the journey that I fear most, out of my comfort zone and find what I have always been looking for. I know it will take me places and I know the human spirit it greater than any known technological advancements.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Pretty cool update


Chimeraworld #5 available from Chimericana Books.

Chimeraworld #5 (THE REJECTS ISSUE) is available right now from Chimericana Books in American format 6" by 9" paperback for just £8.10. The perfect Christmas gift for those readers bored by the tedium of genre and the dryness of literary compliance.


FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
PRLog (Press Release) – Nov 24, 2008 – Chimericana Books caters to fans of extreme/bizarre fiction. The Chimeraworld anthology is edited by Oxford, UK-based artist/writer Mike Philbin (the man behind subversive keyboard entity Hertzan Chimera R.I.P.).

Mike began editing (and publishing) the Chimeraworld anthologies in 2005 because he couldn't find any fiction that could hold his attention longer than *clicks fingers* that. Most of the things he read were derivative, weak, grey, cliched, genre-compliant filler product that any honest editor would have sent back in a black fugue of disdain or simply poured gasoline on and burned in the reject bin.

What makes the Chimeraworld anthologies so different from 99.37% of the literature you find on the book shelves today is a) they defy genre, 3) they're very strange and ix) you can't find them in the shops - Chimeraworld is a totally online trade paperback venture.

Chimeraworld #1 (23 bizarro tales) was a pure 'grand guignol' festival of all things subversive, horrific and insane.

Chimeraworld #2 (hell is a sorry s**t hole) was the chillled-out downer-antidote to the previous year's gory excesses.

Chimeraworld #3 (atheist, misogynist, terrorist) is back to basics with 23 stories that touch on one or more of these provocative themes.

Chimeraworld #4 (all cars must die) the modern motor car is a blight upon planet earth and must be eradicated.

Chimeraworld #5 (THE REJECTS ISSUE), 170 pages, is available right now at Chimericana Books in American format 6" by 9" perfect-bound trade paperback for £8.10 in English money, or the global equivalent. The perfect Christmas gift for those readers bored by the tedium of genre and the dryness of literary compliance.

The Chimeraworld anthology is staunchly anti-genre, anti-censorship, anti-mediocrity, and the idea behind issue five was that some really great stories had found themselves rejected over the years for the simple reason of editorial inappropriateness.

Here's the full TOC for this year's stunning issue:

HAD BABY - Jade Eckert
TWO BASEBALL AFICIONADOS IN HAVANA - Larry Lefkowitz
APPLE PIE & GLORY HOLES - Chris Reed
READ MY MIND - Kaalii Cargil
THE NIGHT IT RAINED MURDER - Julya Oui
GLIMMER - Deb Atwood
RIPENED FRUIT - Alex Severin
GRAPPLING WITH URINE - Ralph Robert Moore
EDITH’S CHILDREN - Wayne Summers
ME, MYSELF, AND I...AND I...AND I... - J.R. Murdock
PERPENDICULAR DOGS - George O'Gorman
THIS IS THE CALL - Gary McMahon
THE BIKINI BABE RATIOS - Geoffrey Maloney
TWITCH - D.W. Green
WRITER’S BLOCK - David Simms
CRAZY BONES - Joel Jacobs
PAYNE - Jeremy Hepler
THE PRISONER - John B. Rosenman
THE KELPIE - Kevin James Miller
TRANSCRIPT AT THE CLOSE OF A LIFE CYCLE - Forrest Armstrong
MASTERPIECE - James R.Cain
AGAINST MY WILL - Christina Capewell
A LABYRINTH OF ENTRAILS - Adam Lowe

Don't forget, while you're over there, to also pick up the other FOUR Chimeraworld issues, cars, depression, hell and grand guignol are your very bestest friends. Available at the click of a ADD PRINT TO CART button.

http://www.lulu.com/chimericanabooks

# # #

Chimericana Books caters to fans of extreme/bizarre fiction. The Chimeraworld anthology is edited by Oxford, UK-based artist/writer Mike Philbin (the man behind subversive keyboard entity Hertzan Chimera R.I.P.).

Mike began editing (and publishing) the Chimeraworld anthologies in 2005 because he couldn't find any fiction that could hold his attention longer than *clicks fingers* that. Most of the things he read were derivative, weak, grey, cliched, genre-compliant filler product that any honest editor would have sent back in a black fugue of disdain or simply poured gasoline on and burned in the reject bin.

http://www.prlog.org/10145813-chimeraworld-5-available-from-chimericana-books.html

Sunday, November 23, 2008

The Chicken Or The Egg: The Human Plague

You say the traffic's always congested
but you drive alone in your big prestigious car.
You say the public transport's unreliable
but you tell yourself you would never sit with a stranger.
You say that the authorities are corrupted
but you're the first to offer them a bribe.
You are so afraid of being robbed
but you cheat little, cheat low anyway.
You say the world is an ugly place
as you remove every evidence of nature.
You blame everything on the influx of foreigners
but you're one of the locals who won't lift a finger.
You're always suspicious of everyone
and you wonder why friends are so hard to find.
You criticize everyone who is different
and you complain you feel so all alone.
You ask why your god abandoned you
when you leave your love out in the cold.
You always think of the worse that could happen
and you're curious why you feel sick and weak and old.
Tell me, which came first?
The chicken or the egg?
Do you see hope
or do you just shake your head?

Sunday, November 16, 2008

What Better Way

I can't think of anything better, than to sit here
and look at the way my lover sleeps.
I can't think of anything worse, than not being here
in the quietness of the night as time slips.
I don't want to lose myself in deep slumber
but I can't keep myself awake,
There's so much more to live for in the adventure
than to shut down and enervate.
The night is young and so am I,
I live a thousand years before.
Life is nothing but a passing sigh,
but love dwells now and forever more.
I won't know what to do with time
if we had to live life without passion,
Living would sadly be a crime
if we only survive without fervor and devotion.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

The Gardener

I watch the gardener wrapped in his covers
under the sun, weeding, tilling the soil,
watering and making the plants beautiful
for others to see.
Even though the place is filled
with customers, consumers, clients,
no one notices the flowers,
the greens, the trees and shrubs.
No one appreciates their beauty
and warmth and shade.
Everyone is busy buying,
purchasing, feeding themselves
with their hard earned cash.
Flanked with plastic bags,
mostly of things on sale,
which they don't really need,
but care to have for pleasure and desire.
The gardener doesn't get distracted
by the hoi polloi,
he just fiddles with the soil
and listen to the needs of nature
and love it with his heart and soul.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

I split in between spaces

I have but many faces.
I am a terror meister
a lonely hunter
and a dream maker.
I am water
I am rain.
I am agony
I am pain.
I am a dread
and an intimidation
I love my silentness
I love infatuation.
I am fire
I am flame
I am madness
I am sane.
I like the adventure
I like challenge,
but I want the softness
of my all my melange.
I ache everywhere
I travel alone
I am with company
I am home.
I have but many faces.
I split in between spaces.

The Carnivals Of Life

The grays of my life are neither black or white.
They are grays that don't really matter.
I know the perfect storm isn't perfection
it is nothing but merely heavy showers.
I ride the sea of bluster and befuddlement
in my hand-woven boat of love and compassion.
I take to the skies in my flying machine
along with my cat and dog and indolent dreams.
My life spins round like a carousel,
swings madly about like a rollercoaster.
It's the cotton candies, chocolates and caramels
and cakes and cookies that really matter.
I used to think life has a color chart
that measure a person's distinctive features,
but life is much more than a piece of art
it is all there is and none that makes it a wonder.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

T'was The Night When The Moon Bow Shone Down On Us



It was suppose to be a peaceful gathering for people who believed in the same course and who wanted freedom by having a good old fashioned candlelight vigil. But as it turned out, the authorities wasn't going to make it easy for anyone. They barred everyone from stepping into the open field and then the car park where they congregated. By 9.30pm the leader got everyone together at the entrance of the Amcorp Mall, said a few words, sang the national anthem and then dispersed the people, who were asked to walk off two by two. All the major roads leading to the field were blocked, so only the 300 or so managed to make their way there just to be disappointed again.

Like a bad movie with an anti climax, everyone left, except for a few who continued gathering at the PJ Civic Center where some 24 people were arrested. As for the rest of us who went home while we were walking back a friend noticed something in the sky and we all looked. There was a moonbow around a gibbous moon. It was like a sign. The image of an eye, as though someone is watching over us. And I felt like there was hope even in this darkest of nights. Just like Guy Fawkes being referenced in V For Vendetta.

Remember, remember the tenth of November,
The murders, the mayhems and man-made gods,
So here comes the bastion,
to show the world the treason,
of how long we've been trapped, keyed and locked.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

A Need To Know

Knowing what you can’t have forever
is an awful feeling to keep inside.
Knowing the one thing you can't receive,
is knowing that it hurts your pride.

Knowing how loneliness is all in a word,
knowing how quiet the sound it whispers.
Knowing how you will have to put on a smirk,
is knowing how to dream in the shadows.
And then we are the fluttering leaves
so soon we’re green, so soon gone.
Our hopes turn brown and dry and stiff,
in autumns and winters, everything falls.

Knowing life as it is,
is to know our existence shall one day cease.
Knowing ourselves through all our tears,
is knowing life in all our grieves.

We take time to try to know
as much as we can and as much as we do.
And then in the knowing we gather wants,
our needs become more too.
Should we choose to ignore and forget,
should we party away the blues,
sometimes they come back again
to crossroads we have to choose.

And then the body becomes restless
the head will throb with pain.
Our day collides and collapses
and the truth will pour like rain.

To know that nothing matters in the end
is the truth we have to face.
Of loves and lives and all our possessions
will turn to dust and particles in the space.
Knowing that our time is short
is to know that we live in fear,
in the world that cannot be sold or bought
we know that the time to start is here.

Monday, November 3, 2008

My stories in print







My, what wonderful news for me! Two of my short horror stories are out in print.

http://www.lulu.com/chimericanabooks
http://www.lulu.com/content/4427031

Chimeraworld #5 edited by Mike Philbin &
Candlelight Volume 1 edited by Jonathan J. Schlosser

The first is The Night It Rained Murder and the other is Insane. Both have psychological slants to it that blurs the line of reality and fantasy, sound mind and madness.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Where Do Birds Go To Die?

Do you believe in magic?
Sometimes it is like the dark of the night
and sometimes the bright of the day;
a mystery of the heart
and the wonder of the world.
Beyond and liberated at the expanse of the skies
and the volume of the sea,
somewhere between the hour and a moment...
someplace peaceful and as tranquil as an embrace.
It is a time for truth and what it believes in.
On the wings of a bird that takes flight
from ground to the utmost limits of its flap.
And when it hovers at the command of the wind
looking back at the minute particles below
it's majestic vision, such pride, such grace.
Everything at the whiff of a breath,
the birds rule the space:
vast, enormous, infinite.
Land and sea coalesce in matrimony
and all its people unite as one
and countries are nonexistent
just earth.
Where do birds go to die?
In the back street,
the dark lane
in garbage cans,
anywhere sorry,
and anywhere there's land.
Where do birds go to die?
Just like us...
in the heart
where it all began
Tell me...
where do they die?

If I Love You...

If I love you darling...
I’ll love you
till the cows come home,
till the bees live alone,
till the fish stop swimming
and the birds start feeding
on leaves & twigs & roots.
Till the elephants easily forget
& the zebras lose their stripes
& not a sound from the bats
that’s how much I love you,
till moths don’t get attracted to light.
Even when the sun sets
in the east
even when the world
has no need for peace.
I will love you still
with my whole being,
even when life has left us
with nothing more to dream.
I will still love you
because I do,
For love is always alive
when you know its true.

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Whatever You Do

Whatever you do
you do in moderation.
Whatever you want to achieve
you do it constantly.
Whatever you can do without
do lesser and lesser.
Whatever you imagine,
think of the best.
Whatever you dream
start by envisioning.
Whatever you have
make matters of it.
Whatever you don't,
do you really need it?
Whatever the time,
it's never too late.
Whatever you believe,
better love than hate.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Don’t love me because

Don’t love me
because
I can take care of you
when you grow old.
Don’t love me
because
we have a lot in common
or we can keep
each other company.
Don’t love me
because
we are compatible
in the eyes of other people
who says
we make
a lovely couple.
Love me,
because,
despite all my
drawbacks and flaws
you still want
to be with me
for all that I am.
Don’t love me
because
I am good to you
or I complete you
or that I make you laugh
and I make you happy.
Don’t love me
because
I am the only one who
understands you
or that I don’t judge you.
Love me
because
you want to go through
this short life of ours together
experiencing the worst
and the best
and yet
you want to hold on
to everything we believe in,
have faith in the things
that make us who we are
and willing to stake our lives on them.
Don’t love me
because
you like the way I smell
or the way I do things
or how I get along
with your friends.
Don’t love me
because
you like looking at me
and cuddle up with me
when you feel like my friend.
But if you truly love me,
then I am already
all of that to you
and you are already
all of that to me.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Three Shillings and Much Much More

He crouches at the square,
in a corner,
bobbing at knee level,
in the belligerent confusion -
of walks, of talks...
a renegade in our world,
intimidated by the loquacious machines,
his cilia twitches,
he breaks into a smile,
in the dark - of his darkness,
capturing only
the chimes of three shillings,
dancing on his dutiful tray,
just for today.

When will it ever stop? The thought of poverty feels like a foreign being, something alien to this world. How can there be abundance on one side of the continent opposing to the other? How can food be scarce and water is nonexistent and yet the rest of us all overwhelmed by them.

People, lots of people, are waking up to the idea that we are all connected whether we like it or not. To be able to share, like what we are doing right now through the internet, it gives us all a sense of hope and belonging to a place called earth where nothing and no one should be oppressed by any form of discrimination. The voice of the unknown and invisible cannot be ignored anymore. We are the voice now.

Elimination is just a fancy word to rile up for support. It is where we begin by being generous that will make the real difference. To be able to disrobe the identity 'mine' is the best step forward to make poverty history. By not placing value on inanimate objects will give us more power and faith over the truth. Because ultimately we don't own anything that we so eagerly claim. Not even the place we call earth.

Poverty is felt only when we take possession of things and people, when we separate what is ours and what is theirs, what language we speak and what religious paths we seek. Once we shed this illusion that we have donned ourselves with, impoverishment will be a thing of the past.

But it must begin with you.

Monday, October 13, 2008

To the Boys of Nowhere

Is this journey worth taking?
Sometimes you ask yourself.
Is the light ought to be shining,
bright enough to take you there?
To leave you in the desert:
barren, dry and full of hate.
They then beat the song out of you
until you hear their human rage!

When you were born,
you were an absolutely treasure.
But when you started out living
you find no truth in all the liars.
When they drill your mind with pulp religion,
strap you down on the stakes of redemption.
You try to turn around
and stand on up,
they shoot you down again
and tell you to shut up.

Is there hope for someone like you?
When the hope they give is confusion,
they show you what magic they do
with their gods of love and compassion.

How could anyone who flogs you
say they love you, believe you,
because they know what's good for you?
But their mouths keep chanting litanies,
praying for all that have died.
They peel away your dignity,
piece by piece they put it out to dry.
When they twist up all your sanity,
they just tell you not to cry.

What’s this madness of divinity?
In the counter movements where they perch.
Tell me to believe in your God,
and I’ll ask you where to search.
I know there is a greater source
than the minuscule things that we are...
To the boys of nowhere
How do you keep your souls?
the people who claim to be true followers,
are the ones who think they own this world ...

The Lonely Cold

If I was a lonely cold
I would be
cold as the morning,
beautiful like
the icicles in the sun.
Attractive,
glistening like
silver sparkles on water,
but icy to a chill.
I would freeze everyone
silently, without a word.
I would leave everything
dry and stale,
hard and raw.

I would chase everyone away,
and keep them hidden
in their faux warmth.
I would be wintry
in my strangeness
like a beast.
I would bite
I would gnaw into you.
Ready to snap
your bleak moments
into two.

If I was a lonely cold,
I would be like a jaded soul.
I would walk upon
the nature's trail
and shed my bitter coat.
I would sleep in constant fever
and I would wake in steadfast cold.
But I would still
be a numbing frost,
And no one can melt
the ice of me.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Blog Action Day

The Rain Watchers

I stroll along
the roads of disconsolation
I wonder everywhere ...
to find the sun
to search for the
meaning of being whole, being one.
Yet, the only things I see
are the people that stroll with me
looking for the stars
or nothing rather.
Here I am,
I, the rain watcher.

I wait in the shelter
to let the storm pass.
But I see,
only moving clouds
colliding,
breaking into water.
Some, they hide with me.
Some, they just don't bother.
There I stand;
I, the rain watcher.

We walk aimlessly,
when the skies turn green.
At the moment
when it shall regurgitate.
Just as we do,
every now and then,
with what little we have,
with so much more unappreciated.
How we fall
like the consequence of the sky.
Drizzling, showering, pouring,
in sprinkles and in batches,
everywhere we go.
We are the rain watchers.

Sometimes

Sometimes you’ve got to take some drugs
to keep away the pain,
Sometimes when you’ve taken a little too much
things will never be the same.
Sometimes you’ve got to cut a little edge
and take what life can offer.
Sometimes when you slice off just too much
you’ll know what it is to suffer.

Sometimes we need to fall
to feel the cuts and bruises on our skin
Sometimes we need to run
to wound our soles and calves and shins.
Sometimes we have to take a break
and leave the world behind.
Sometimes love is all it takes
to change the water into wine.

Sometimes you get so tired
of trying everyday,
Sometimes you feel like giving up
and simply lose your way.
Sometimes you want all things to end
so you can get out of the hell.
Sometimes it's not as hard as it seems
you've only got to be yourself.

Sometimes you wonder about the world
to know where you will fit.
Sometimes you come so close to madness
you think that's finally it.
Sometimes you lay alone in bed
while the world parties on.
Sometimes you know that inner smile
is all you need to carry on.

The Meaning Of It All

leaves are meant to fall
flowers are meant to wither
time is meant to pass
and love is meant to be discovered.
life is meant to live
minds are meant to imagine
kindness is meant to share
and ideas are meant to be there.
some things are meant to bring joy
some news are meant to bring sorrow
if tears are meant to cry
all men are meant to die.

Friday, October 3, 2008

The Circle Game

It just goes on like an endless Ferris wheel,
a carousel or the windmill
and it never stops. It doesn't stop.
The life of a dreary soldier
who has lost the fight
for his own existence.
The life of a victim
who has been ravaged
by the terrifying nightmare of death.
The wayward child
who has lost his way
to the world's end
and run out of places to go.
The life of the glamour and glitz
that swirls like the city smog
and disperses in thin air
of its despair.
The life of those in search,
looking for something
that isn't there.
Nothing satisfies, nothing feels right.
The spin of the hurricane
and the turn of the whirlpool,
the revolving door
and spiraling stairway.
It goes round and round
like the pirouette of a dance,
the gyration of the body
but when does it stop
its whirligig motion.
When will it stop?
Only when there’s too much to take?
Only when it’s too late?

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

When You Are With Nature

When you are with nature
listen to the trees,
hear the running streams,
watch the clouds go by
while they transform and shape shift,
observe the birds as they glide and swoop,
pay attention to the sounds of insects,
look closely into a flower or a leaf,
investigate the minuscule life,
feel the coolness of the breeze
and the lightness of a zephyr,
smell the sweetness of the air
let the winds sweep you off your feet,
touch the textures of the wilderness,
embrace a living being,
taste the flavor in all things,
appreciate their existence without reason,
be educated by the love of the land,
because ultimately,
we are a part of our mother in the end.

An Islet In Me

I have an islet in me,
where roses and tulips bloom.
The charming clouds of ivory,
drifting in my pensive room.

All around the liberty sea,
limpets and reed roll out.
Maiden green pastures and lea
and love that never runs out.

The air is sweet and cool,
the beauty is a wide span screen.
Rainbow's ends and sunny rays,
and a lovely home within.

Lupin and mistletoe, robin and rook,
rhythm and rhyme, myrtle and brook,
Satyr and nymph, angels and doves -
my heart desires the book of love.

Smiles are forever, joys are unending,
hope is true and everlasting,
the colours here don’t ever fade
because here's where I lay my restless head.

Friday, September 26, 2008

I Die Everyday

I feel like I die everyday
when I go to sleep.
I lose my sense of identity
when I travel into the next realm
and go to bed.
I become someone else
completely,
someone I know nothing of
when I'm awake.
And she asks me:
Why do you worry about the irrelevant?
I asks her what irrelevance is to her
and she says:
What do you take with you when you die?
I thought for a moment and say:
Nothing?
So what is so relevant in this life
that cause you to worry so much
all the time?
Would you rather die everyday
when you go to sleep?
Or die all the time
worrying about nothing important?
She slips through my mind
when I opened my eyes.
I tell myself:
And because I die everyday
when I go to sleep,
I want to smile and laugh
when I'm awake.
I don't want anger to rule my life
and waste the rest of my waking moment.
I refuse to sulk in sorrow
about what other people say,
I want to do what I most want to do,
to fill my dreams with
a bagful of wonders.
I shall list down everything from
meeting an old friend for tea,
sharing an intimate conversation with
my loved ones,
sing a long to my favorite musical,
to walk among the giant trees
and fragile flowers,
be silly,
be crazy,
be me.
Because I die everyday
when I go to sleep,
I shall never know
if I'll wake.

Monday, September 22, 2008

To Walk Among Giants


To walk among giants
is to feel humble in all things large and small.
In a moment of peace and quiet,
to savor it when the wilderness calls.

Be comforted with a stray and wayward thought
that mightier things can be found if sought.
One tiny little step to take and ponder,
is larger than anything we believe can last forever.

To walk among giants
is to be greeted with grandeur,
even when the world is broken
and turn to dust and nothing more.

To walk among giants is an honor to behold
more than the greatest gift anyone can bestow.
What will I do when I grow old
if there are no more giants for me to know?

I shall trudge along with my drooping head
and lose all my blighted hopes and dreams.
As I pass the loneliness of the dead
I tell myself there used to be giant things.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008


as i was walking along the sidewalk
this is what i saw
some majestic trees and foliages
against the open skies a door

Monday, September 15, 2008

Where Did It Go Wrong?

I hear the kids,
I hear them now
with excitement
in vivacity.
Theirs is simple fun.
A little laughter,
huddling under the blankets
and holding on to their giggles...
Ah, but when was I a kid?


To allow them
a little irresponsibility,
a little ignorance
to participate in their
innocent merriment...
They need no prearranged moments,
no appointments,
just spontaneous bliss...
Ah, could I have been a kid?


As an adult,
I am supposed to be
undeterringly matured.
I am supposed to know
what to do.
But still, I argue like kids do,
I sulk, throw a tantrum, pull a long face
like one too.
But how am I suppose to understand them?
Ah, perhaps I have never been a kid?

Why Are You So Afraid?

Why are you so afraid to lose your identity?
Why are you so afraid to lose your tradition?
Why are you so afraid to lose your generation,
or race or culture or religion?
Don't you know everything about us
is impermanent?
Don't you realize our time here is but
a brief moment
like the blink of an eye
compared to the stars and constellations,
cosmos and galaxies?
Why are you so afraid
that you'll kill someone
who has insulted you
or taunted your beliefs?
Will other people's words
make you any lesser
than you already are?
Why do you hate someone
so much that you're willing
to make a fool of yourself
just to spite him
and get all roused up
to upset your day?
The world waits not for you
even if you drive yourself
to insanity with your self denial,
your ignorance, your superfluous
ideologies that you refuse to
relinquish yourself from.
Why do you want to make it so hard,
so complex and mind boggling
to live a simple life that needs none
of those?
Why do you want to judge
the person next to you?
What good will that do?
You are so caught up with
your self righteouness,
you actually believe you are better
than everyone else,
that you are not part of
the conundrum of being human.
You raise yourself so high
you think you belong with
the saints and the gods
that you create.
But you talk about love.
You talk about it but
you don't know what it is
because you've never felt it
for what it truly is.
With no reservations,
no conditions,
no regulations
because love just is.
The question is,
why are you so afraid to love?

Friday, September 12, 2008

Relationships For The Restless

Relationship is all about curiosity. Curious at how he or she can bring comfort to us. Curious at how he or she performs in bed. Curious at what makes him or her tick and so on and so on. And then when we've had enough, and when the thrill is gone, before you can say 'I do', it's usually time to say goodbye. Unless, unless, that curiosity transforms and metamorphoses into something extraordinary call love.

Being curious is not a bad thing and it doesn't have to be. That is what makes scientists explore, artists express, writers imagine and other creative individuals invent. But does it kill the cat eventually? No, but obsession does. And between the two, the former is almost non life-threatening, of course that also depends on how one construes it.

Relationship is supposedly to be the first step to marital bliss, or so it was just a few years back. Society today are seeking for something more profound than a kiss on the cheek, a cuddle in the dark and a ring around the finger. With all the conveniences of divorce these days love affairs have taken a turn to mean something else altogether than just a mere song and dance of love and affection.

Relationship is also about finding someone you could ommunicate with, spend more time with, romp around with and feel good to be with. It may sound like a tall order but in truth it is not. There is no one made for you just as it is vice versa. If you feel there is someone made for you or at least expect someone to be that way for you it could be a painful discovery to find that there is none.

It's not like a hide and seek game or fishing from the pond of love, it's about getting to know someone for who he/she is and loving him/her regardless. Without expectations, without preconceived ideas, without a list of yesses and nos, you'll have a better chance finding people you love than those you don't. It's about give and take, it's about evolving together to a higher stage, it's about being there for one another and keeping the it all together.

If you're out to try someone for size, it'll take a long time to discover something more meaningful than good looks and great sex. But when you're young everything is beautiful and everyone is tantalizing and as you get older time is always running out and you're still searching for that perfect being that doesn't exist. You either become cynical, frustrated or desperate.

If you allow the movies to manipulate you, love songs to bewitch you and everyone else to confuse you than you will end up exactly how the rest of the world wants you to. You will be another sheep, another statistic, another victim caught in the system that will someday make you wonder why you're still restless and searching for that someone.

Monday, September 8, 2008

Fear

Fear is such a cowardly creature than comes to us when we are most vulnerable.
Fear is what we see in the mirror and in the reflection of other people's eyes.
Fear is where we find it where we imagined it.
Fear feeds on paranoia and mass hysterica.
Fear comes from the shallows of our profound life.
Fear is a reaction sparked off by ignorance.
Fear is what our forefathers taught us to embrace in times of duress.
Fear is what we feel when we don't know love.
Fear is what we care about when we are misguided by our ego.
Fear is all we have if we lie to ourselves.
Fear is all there is if nothing else exist.
Fear is the man who knows not who he is.
Fear is the woman about to lose her beauty.
Fear is the elderly taking one more step.
Fear is the child who is abandoned.
Fear is what we give one another when we feel disconnected.
Fear is what we are if that is what we seek.

Why do we not fly?

When we were younger
everything seems like forever.
But as we grow older
we know that nothing stays the same.
We long for the past,
of the days when we were naive,
and all the world's a carnival
and life is but a dream.
Sometimes we yearn for the forgotten
aching for the love that is lost...
we spend so much time trying
to retrieve and retract
and we forget the present.
We forget the people around us
instead we remember those
who are gone.
We keep hoping to go back
to the days of our youth
to find that something
that we missed.
We loath the thought of
impermanence,
but we don't realize
that it is because of that
we have new tomorrows ahead.
Everyday as we rise
we hang on to something
that isn't there anymore.
We lie to ourselves about
what used to be
when what is, is even more important.
While both our hands
are clutching to the chains
we still ask ourselves why
our lives are like stagnant water
that flows no where
and stays the same.
We refuse to read the signs,
we ignore the words of wisdom,
we avade the answers to the questions
we have been asking for a long time.
We just can't let go,
but we still reach out to the stars
while drowning ourselves
with the only thing we know...
fear of the tomorrow,
but we still won't let go.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Familiar Strangers

Yet,
there are
so many of us...

in our little silentness...

looking out through the window
from the confinements
of our souls

A lonely man
jumps from the sky
A lonely woman
ends it with a knife

You take a handful of dreams
to dream it all away,
and here I am
all ready to say...

Shouldn’t there be light to lead us out?
Shouldn’t there be darkness to close our eyes?

If I were gone
before I took that chance
I would never come to be...

As I sit here all alone,
I know there’s still someone
very much like you
and also very much like me

We don't have to trudge
through this dreariness alone,
when we know we are all in this together,
you and I and everyone else are simply familiar strangers.

Glorify, glorify the Gratuitous

In all the moment's glory,
I sing a song of the story
of one who goes out on a limb.
To make his wayward soul a dream.
His denial in life has come to take
his life long work of a big mistake.
Ending his career in forgotten humor,
he cries at night to the sound of a murmur.
But the song remains in his universal peace
that has no boundaries and walls of limitations.
And nothing short of ignorant bliss
could be more comforting than any kind of recreation.
Like a river cutting through the hills,
to wash away the powerful imagery.
Like a man who hides away from his will
of the world's most insignificant glory.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Everything happens for a reason

Everything happens for a reason;
in the death of a loved one,
to the catastrophe and the losses
in war and the fatality of famine.
But what reason could there be?
For the suffering of his cancer
and the crying out in agony,
for the girl who was raped and beaten
where she was left out in the rain.
For the boy who was abused and killed
to the woman who has no rights
to be a woman of her own.
What have they done to warrant their demise?
Are the reasons the same for everyone,
of is it only for a chosen few?
Why must everything happen for a reason
when the reason doesn't seem reasonable
in our eyes and judgment,
in our tears and discontentment.
But they happen anyway
with or without our profound comprehension,
with or without our superficial lamentations
because everything happens for a reason
whether we like it or not.

Ignorance Is Only Bliss When We Can Remain Foolish

Ignorance is such a lovely concept when one wants to do nothing to make sense of what is true to us. It is so easy to turn away and close our eyes to things we don't want to know, hear or see. Life is always easier when the thoughts are avoided and distractions are inserted.

Don't think of tomorrow, don't think of the problem, don't even try to make the world a better place because it's not possible. These are the usual litanies we chant to ourselves when darkness approaches. Things which are not considered normal, according to the unanimous vote of the majority, should not have a place to be there. Anything out of the conformed lifestyles of the community should not be regarded as good.

The distinction between good and bad is clear cut and there is never a doubt about it. When questioned, everybody inhales together and say things are just the way they are and imagined bliss is better than individualistic understanding or interpretation of the world. There are way too many philosophers as it is.

Living life with the inability to decipher the complexities of existence is much better than to go through a series of mind boggling sessions. Utopia does not exist on earth and everything will be fine when one dies and go to heaven to receive all the wonderful things which are waiting for them. Nothing could be better than this.

But what if you are waken up before you die? What then? One day when your make-believe life crumbles down like a house of cards where would you go for answers? Where do you begin to understand? You may have thought of yourself being exclusive but then as it rains on your parade you realize you're not alone. This world doesn't belong to you and your privileged friends and families only. This world belongs to everyone who has the same right as you are because they toil for it in their own fashion which may contradict yours. You figure out you'll be safe in your heaven when you get there and others can't. But what if you're wrong? What if your heaven is a place as lonely as your arrogance?

Then again, maybe not. Maybe you're right all along but be careful not to wake up just in case.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

To The Butchers Of The Green

Why'd they cut it down?
It wasn't doing any harm.
It was bothering nothing but the TV aerial
couldn't something else be done?
It used to shade the backyard
and drown the sound of cars
but now it leaves a hole
to all the wayward angst.
Why'd they grow them and destroy them anyway?
All those years of majesty
has now come to bits and pieces.
Naked and disengaged
from the world that doesn't belong.
Look at the disparaging waste
but look, the cut goes on.

The Human Conditioning Of Conditions

Don't take the blame
of the blind man
when you sit down early
for your meals.
If you want to know
about the world,
I suppose there are ways
you can think about
and try to make it real.
If you see a light
that flickers and shines
through your closed your eyes,
you could be dreaming
or feeling the strain
of the cold dark night
or the early morning heat.
There's nothing much you can do
but to blink and cry
so they won't feel so dry.
When you look at the mirror
and find yourself searching
for a person with or without
public standing,
while you apply too much chemicals
on your face and hair,
body and soul
you'll know it's all air
that will soon blow away
and so will you
someday.

Monday, August 11, 2008

As Long As You Don't...

As long as you don't tell anyone that you're a coward, you'll be all right.
As long as you don't tell anyone you're a criminal, you're save from being accused.
As long as you don't tell anyone you're a hypocrite, you'll be blinded by the light.
As long as you don't tell anyone you're gay, you'll be far from being abused.

As long as you don't tell anyone you're a pedophile, life goes on the way it does.
As long as you don't tell anyone you're a prostitute, you know you won't be stoned.
As long as you don't tell anyone you're an addict, no one will think of you any worse.
As long as you don't tell anyone you're a crooked politician, you're just another clone.

As long as you don't tell, no one will say a thing.
They'll believe you and ignore the rest
You can be pretentious if you like
Or be self righteous because you feel so blessed.

What kind of world do we live in
Where lies are so highly regarded?
If you're too truthful and sincere
you might just find yourself exploited.

As long as you don't tell anyone you're insane, everyone will love you just the same.
As long as you don't tell anyone you're guilty, you'll surely never take the blame.
As long as you don't tell anyone you're lonely, no one will ever know.
As long as you don't tell anyone you've had enough, your life is but a tacky show.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Flight of the soul

I feel compelled to fly
to soar through dreams
of my reality.
But I am on ground,
where I cannot seem to be.
Bound by my lover’s needs
caught in some stranger’s speed
and snared in the voices of my thoughts.
They are the ones that will keep me from flying.
Yet when I look to the skies
I have a need to be with the winds
to learn their secrets,
to know what I am,
what I mean,
as simply as I want to be
as free as I need to grow
in the little space
inside my head.
But I do fly
in the wondrous night.
In great splendor of dark and light.
Somewhere in the magnificence
of my accumulated silence,
my wings flutter in the windswept space.
And I hear whispers of a cry
that leads me to my place
of where,
I could simply fly.

Suspended In The Air Of Ambivalence

Even sitting down here
takes such a lot of
my over expressions of
these indecisions.
Wondering if I'll be
okay with my blurred vision.
Because I watch too
much television.
All my life I have decided
not to take handouts
or compassionate gifts.
If only I could understand
and be a little brave in my beliefs.

Monday, August 4, 2008

Voices

There could only be two voices in the head
that tells you what they said.
Like it or not, they contradict,
messes you up with the usual conflict.
Makes you want it and yet not
makes someone else upset in a single shot.
Sometimes the music plays softly and sweetly
sometimes they bang away like there's nobody.
The screams you hear in your nightmarish journey
get compensated in your waking dreamy reverie.
The voice of evil that is equally angelic
will come upon you when you are downright weak.
Listen to it with all your heart
and listen well to what it imparts.
Senseless as it drifts in and out of your mind,
get you into thinking who you are, what of a kind?
And you make it real for yourself when you do
because you know who these voices are, they're after all - you.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

The Failing Systems Of Today Will Not Make A Great Tomorrow

The system is falling, the system is falling ... and everyone runs helter-skelter to hide from the event of the 21st century and wait at the sidelines to see what gives. Almost every system that I know or read about is going haywire in today's instantaneous lifestyles. Piracy is deem as P2P sharing, technological gadgets are getting outmoded at the blink of an eye, school students are advancing faster than the teachers can catch on, the hierarchical organizations are on shaky grounds and political bureaucracies are falling apart. It drives some people crazy with desperation just thinking about it, but on the other end of the spectrum another group of people are basking in it. And that leaves the people in between switching sides every five seconds when the tide turns.

I'm wondering if we are prepared for the onslaught of change. Alvin Toffler had the foresight to write a few books about it dating back to 1970, and what he wrote is taking place now like a terrifying science fiction movie. In some countries people are reverting back to reclaim nostalgic moralities, which used to work for their ancestors and are implementing them now, while others who cannot accept the thriving information and communication technology are sabotaging them in more ways than one.

This chaotic syndrome is in need of new systems to supersede the defunct and redundant. But is anyone doing anything about it? Thankfully there are. Though small in quantity some people are beginning to realize the disintegrating tradition, culture and morality, as we know it. Understanding will solve more problems than using force to oppress a nation back into the ideology of 1984 or THX 1138. Whatever future we want to live in, it is now that we must anticipate the wave that is gradually building up and know what we are going to do about it before we are swept away by the failing systems.

One final do


Betty and I: the July babies closing off the month.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Fragmented

Isn't it a wonder why we're all fragmented
when we are so used to cut and paste
or sometimes we just copy and paste
if we are not already at our plug and play?
We go on with our lives to point and shoot
dominate others while we divide and conquer
and make the weak believe that rules are hard and fast
and confuse the rest with love and marriage?
Will people ever wake up to the cock and bull
they hear from the rich and famous
or the powerful and strong
and realize they are being fooled by politics and religion?
Everyone wants to see only the fine and dandy
spic and span, cute and cuddly, bold and beautiful
when they should discover if they're actually dead or alive
while they can still reach out and touch someone's heart and soul.

Friday, July 25, 2008

Hunchback

Ridiculed by heat,
they bend upon chance
to germinate life
on the floors
of tomorrow.
These,
the hunch backs
of the dance.
Posing for a breath,
to yield
a sigh for rest.
A benison
to those without dreams,
to those who know not
what begets...
the story of the hunch back
and their hymns.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

I Am

I am a nobody
I am nothing
I am not anyone's lover
I am not anyone's parent
I am in possession of none
I am free from wills
I am free from ills
I am without wealth
I am without poverty
I am an empty vessel
I am full of knowledge
I am therefore I am
I am in need of nothing
I am in want of none
I am fine
I am joyful
I am sorrowful
I am all there is to be
I am what I do not see
I am greater than the universe
I am smaller than a speck
I am everything that I know
I am who I say I am
I am therefore I am
I am one
I am everyone
I am the noise
I am the silence
I am the cursed
I am the blessed
I am in your eyes
I am part of you
I am just another being
I am not alone
I am with you and you're with me
I am therefore I am, you are therefore you are

Monday, July 21, 2008

some families

some families are laced with tragedy
some families are don with fame
some families are cursed with poverty
some families are always at blame

some families are dismal autumn
some families are always spring
some families are winter's spurn
some families are summer's dream

some families are layered with tradition
some families are bound to culture
some families are knotted with conviction
some families are knitted to structure

how does your family fare?
how much or how little do you share?
when some families are fashioned by man
who are the people that makes up your clan?

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Hands Of Mine

i have hands that heal and hands that hurt
hands that feel and hands that flirt
i can love anyone with my tender caress
embrace everyone into my uninhibited arms
i can hold a hand and make a friend
i have hands that can slap a face
i can touch like a woman and hit like a man
put them together and say my grace
sometimes with these hands of mine
i wonder what music will they play?
they help me write my train of thoughts
and help me point the way
they are the tired ones
that hold me through dark nights
when no one offers to wipe my eyes
they keep me from the frights
they shelter me from the world
they embrace me like a child
they keep me from the cold
in a world that’s sometimes wild.
i may even steal, i may even kill,
if i am pushed to a corner against my will
these stoic, earnest hands of mine
are writers of my eccentric mind

Monday, July 14, 2008

Birthdays are like a box of dreams

Celebrating birthdays can be quite a heavy-duty task. I was asked recently by my friend how I wanted to celebrate it and what I wanted to do. After ... so many years of being around, birthdays are like another other days for me. What else can I do to make that day when I was born a little more memorable. I guess I did once, six years ago, and since then nothing could top that.

A friend told me she did rock climbing for the first time on one of her birthdays and my niece suggested I adopt a child on one of my birthdays to make it a day to remember.

I'm not one to observe festivities and special days and occasions as though they are meant to be good for the soul or something like that. I let them pass and slip through my fingers because I find them rather tedious when they are overemphasized with tangible indulgences.

I've enough hoards to fill up the cabinets, I've eaten the best food I could ever taste, I've wonderful friends who are always there for me and I've been to the pinnacle of my realization to last me a lifetime, what more could I ask for myself? Although I haven't achieved my million dollar mark - doesn't everyone go for that? - or have become a celebrated writer of sorts, or attain nirvana, I guess I'm okay with being the writer behind my blogs and then some...

The day after my birthday I caught the flu and ached from head to toe. Maybe that's something I could recall in the coming years though it's not quite an appealing thought. Even as I write now, two days after my birthday, I am still sniffling, sneezing and spinning like a horror writer being possessed.

Ahh ... what a day to reminisce. Maybe I could write a poem about it too.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Dotted lines

the dotted line says this ...
you have to sign here.
If you don’t
we can’t deliver.
But sometimes the dotted line
says otherwise.
Please tear or remove
to include as proof.
Eager dotted lines
tend to lead our eyes
to watch the direction
as we go.
Whatever it may be,
there’s one thing for sure
read before you mistake
the dotted lines for ants

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

The costumes that people wear

People wear costumes to entertain each other
they wear them for culture and tradition
they wear them to deny themselves
they wear them to enhance themselves
they wear them to make a statement
they wear them to hide their shame
they wear them to party all night
they wear them to be alone
they wear them to be revered
they wear them to be heard
they wear them to die
When will we stop wearing costumes
and reveal our true naked selves?

Dementia

Rummaging from her elusive world,
she objects to life,
she objects to live.
Macerating away
in the rainless desert,
where the skies are barren,
Suspended,
hanging around with the thieves of time...
sobbing at the beast.
And then,
when she breaks,
her fortress crumbles down.
You’ll find her
a laughing mourner,
a weeping clown.
Her insufferable mind
mothers the dark,
keeping her banished
from the eternal fire of the sun
and the after glow of the moon.
Her soul gropes within an incubus,
circling reluctantly without a thought.
All the world’s a zoo,
insanity is her God.

Saturday, July 5, 2008

They Do That To Children?

They frighten the child
and then ask him why he is a coward.
They stunt his creativity
and then ask why he is not resourceful.
They drum directives into his head
and then ask why he is not thinking.
They shout at the child
and then ask him why he is not listening.
They break him
and then ask why he is not strong.
They taunt him
and then ask why he is so sensitive.
They confuse the child
and then ask why he is so screwed up.
They indoctrinate him
and then ask why he is so conservative.
They push the child
and then ask why he pushes back.
They kill his dreams
and then ask why he doesn't aspire.
They destroy his vision
and then ask why he is not insightful.
They condition him
and then ask why he keeps repeating the same mistakes they have done before.

the boy i did not know

There was once a boy
who kept my art as his fav,
someone I did not know.
In the world of millions,
one tragic end of silence,
I never knew him,
I never knew him.
By the time I realized
that I had been appreciated
I was already standing at the door
where he left,
now he's gone,
now he's gone.
It's not how we surrender
to the hookwink of the world
and ignore the ones who know
about the bountiful
things to share.
It's how we change
one another
through our quietness,
through our songs and poem,
through our art and sketches,
through our spoken word
or through our presence
of just being there.
Perhaps I never knew this boy
who loved my work,
but I do know him
I do know him
because we were connected
for awhile
but now he's just
metamorphosed.

Monday, June 30, 2008

People Who Know And People Who Don't

There are two kinds of people in the world. They are people who know and people who don't.

The people who don't are simply people who are reluctant to know because they think knowing too much is bad for health. So they choose not to know and that's the end of it.

People who know are divided into two groups. Those who know and do something about it and those who don't.

Those who don't are simply those who couldn't be bothered with doing anyhting because they think it takes too much from them to do it anyway. So they choose not to do it and that's the end of it.

People who know and do something about it are divided into two groups. Those who do it with love and those who it do for all the wrong reasons.

Those who do it for all the wrong reasons are people who are overwhelmed by the fact that they know so much they ignore everything else because they think they already know. Which, in truth, brings them back to square one with the people who don't know. So they choose not to do it for all the wrong reasons and that's the end of it.

People who know and do it out of love are divided into two groups. Those who do it out of love because they know love and those who do it out of love but they don't know love.

Those who do it out of love but they don't know love are people who are always expecting something in return and are easily disappointed and will eventually give up and go back to being people who don't know because they have tried but failed. So they choose not to continue doing it with love because they don't know love and that's the end of it.

In the end there are only people who do it because they know love and love knows no boundaries.

So how much do you know?

Sunday, June 29, 2008

St. Dalfour is to Die For




The first time I tasted St. Dalfour in the promotion miniature bottles I fell in love with the Wild Blueberry and Black Cherry. It's immoral to even refer to the preserves as jams because they are not the jelly filled mush we get at the stores that mimic the taste of fruits.

Every spread is a generous dollop of real fruits that are simply luscious and you can't help but smile like a kid who's tasted candy for the first time. It's scrumptious to the very last morsel. In my previous blog about food that make you smile, this is one of them that's a must try if you have a sweet tooth, a jam lover, a fruit lover or a lover of al things good and wonderful.

It goes well with bread, scones, ice cream, salads, fruits, vegetables, biscuits, dishes and all kinds of desserts. Emm mmm...

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Dream Of The Wayward Child

The dreams do come
in folds & creases,
fluttering images
& interwoven messages.
Fleeting moments,
spanning the timeline,
quick sequences
in my mind's defenses.
They bring on visions,
in panoramic view,
incredible perceptions
& discarded stills.
In a soundproof room
with voiceless people,
of pandemonium & noises
swirling with dances.
Everything in a flash,
a purposeful journey;
gone again in a dash
into an unknown territory.
A fly by night scene
filmed on budget.
The world's a city of dreams
if you can find it.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

We Are All Destined To Die

The times of pain are only too real
when it turns from day to day.
The wounds will open and then heal,
come rain or shine, come what may.
I like to dream of unreachable stars,
beyond my scope of being human.
I can't believe I've traveled this far
towards life's one and only destination.
But the journey sometimes confuses me
with things of love and anger and disappointment.
If only I could be completely free
I might close my eyes and not think of reasons.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

The Happening: The 3 minutes rebate or minimum 2 hours wait if you want cash

Everyone was excited. There were all kinds of people gathering at the source of the phenomenon. Old and young alike. From the fairly well informed to the poorly notified clusters. Papers were passed out and people took them and followed the instructions very carefully and meticulously lest they be denied and rejected.

Strangers became instant friends asking each other about the event that is going to change their lives. No one took noticed of the other person's ethnic group and everyone spoke various languages just to make some small talk while waiting anxiously for their turn.

We exchanged stories, histories, a peek at each other's numbers and anything else to keep our sanity going in the overcrowded room that has doused the air conditioning into a trickle of zephyr. I sat there since 10.30 am and the number in my hand was 1538 and the ones that were up then were 1157. It can't take too long, I thought to myself. I mean, look at them, they are quite efficient. There were stamping sounds, murmurings, occasional announcements without the PA system and people swarming in more and more by the minute.

My mom was exhausted and we decided to leave everything and come back again within the hour since the number has only popped up to the 12oos. It was almost twelve noon. We did some errands and rounds and came back to some 1300s and there was no sign of acceleration but a gradual ping of the digits. I told my mom to go back home, feed my father and have her lunch and I'd call her. There was no other way.

I took a break at the restaurant and waited. I should have brought something with me to read, to write, to anything but stare in the sacredness of the emptiness I was feeling. I dread going back inside. I knew what to expect. If it were up to me I wouldn't even bother but I had to do it for mom.

I called her again and she returned, looking refreshed and rested. We gaze at the queue, which was never ceasing, always swelling up like a bad wound. Some of the people were exhausted by then. But those who just entered continued to fill the room with anxieties and queries no one could answer except an officer who kept telling everyone this is how the government want it and they is nothing more and nothing less he could do.

Some of the people around me whispered about the government's intent and that this sort of thing was only temporary. One man said to a woman, you just got to get what they give before it's too late. It was a scary thought. After twelve thirty the tempo sped up. My heart went along with it. 1520 ... I was counting ... 1521 ... my head was swirling with madness and I could almost cry out with joy. 1525. 1530. 1534. 1536. I told my mom to go to the counter to prepare for the great escape. 1537. 1538. It finally came at 1pm. My mom stood beside me while the lady at the counter took our form and processed the data. She took mom's hand and thumb printed her. And then she dished out RM625 for us and we thanked each other.

We walked out of the post office and breathed fresh polluted air and I thanked god it was all over: the happening scarier than Night Shyamalan could ever imagine.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

My Father: The Man Who Could Not Dream


Father who is one with nature.



My father's healing surgery from May 14th
after a fall which fractured his spine.



A poem

My father's dreams may be forgotten,
but his silent tenderness is swathed with love.
The sound advice and level headed decisions,
the joy he gives is the best he serves.
His strength withstands falls and winters,
his unconditional support lasts all spring.
Our lives are blessed with year long summers,
My father, the man, who gave us his dreams.
For a day of happiness, for us,
for a good life, for a moment of peace.
The darkness he treads on barefooted
are decorated with fervent bliss.
To think a man who has lived in vain,
with all his days that are watered down,
but if it hadn't been for his refrain
we would have never stood our ground.
For a man who has not much to dream
he has the riches of a lifelong scheme.
For a man whose deeds have gone unclaimed,
tis, my father, who'll always be in my book of fame.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Like Gold

In the morning,
when the sun rises,
my backyard is lighted up like gold.
The lemon tree sparkles
while the palm tree glitters
and the birds flutter in the cold.
The mynahs are building a nest
the kingfishers take turn to feed.
The bulbuls play their fancy games
the sparrows hop and leap.
I pause and ponder
and wonder how I've come this far.
My mom's busily cooking
and my dad's calmly reading.
I sit and stare at everything
glistening perfectly like gold.
It's sufficient,
it's magnificent.
The silence is unassuming
and the love is simply breathtaking,
and I can't quite imagine
how simple it all can be told
when you're surrounded
by people and things that radiate
like gold.

Monday, June 9, 2008

Megalopolis for Megalomaniacs

The coffee is so godamn bitter
and I paid money to drink it.
The cake is so awfully sweet
and I forced myself to eat it.
The traffic is an absurd madness
but I join in with the queue,
the dress is extremely small
and I squeeze in to get my due.

Life in the city
is all about that.
To live the urban life
you first got to be a rat.

The music is delirious
like a vinyl on a skip,
The human need is loquacious
crescendoed by the whip.
I feel like I am drowning
in my stretching financial woes,
My metropolitan babies
are thriving on my throes.

Everyone's buying, grabbing and hoarding,
What else can one do for leisure?
The head is bloated with aspirations of abundance,
The body is stuffed with excess lard and decadence.
The soul is warped with devout sketches,
The heart is eagerly waiting to get more answers.

But that's life in the city
where you go nowhere fast.
When age devours your vanity
just put on some plastic clasp.

Say What You Want

Get me a life
or get me a knife,
to start me living
or leave me dying.
Said the isolated man,
said the unloved woman.

Play me a song
or play me no wrong,
to succor my soul
or wreck my body,
Said the guiltless infant,
said the ragged veteran.

Eat me some food
or drink me some wine,
to starve me for good
or cast me to pine.
Said a recluse someone,
said a pompous everyone.

Let in the sun,
and bring on the rain,
Let me die young,
and bring no shame,
Said the angel of thought,
said the devil of sort.

Friday, June 6, 2008

Toni Kassim: The Woman Who Stops At Nothing, But Stops For Everyone



Like a sunny season,
she is always there.
When we need a fearless warrior
she comes without despair.

Like a soldier marching
she keeps on going strong,
through the bitterness of angels
she moves with us as one.

Can you see her light tonight?
even in the dark
With our eyes half close and dreaming
she leaves us with her heart.
Can you feel her love surround?
like the morning air
It's like a warm and amiable embrace
that takes away the glare.

Long will live her distance
far will her message go.
Her smile catches like a brilliant fire
someday we will know.

(gonna miss you so much...)

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

In The End

In the end,
in the end,
everything comes to an end.

The major deals,
the sacred kills,
they will all come to nothing
but a forgotten past.
The amassed lucre,
the secured future
they will soon be fleeting
away into dust.

For all the madness
for all the grief,
for all the unnecessary
we create to deceive.

At the close,
at the coda,
everything will take a bow.

For all the anger,
for all the tears,
for all the stupidity
we've kept for all those years.
To be reunited
to be divided,
we go uninvited
to the only place we know.

We live without a clue,
we wander into graves.
We can't even see the hue
of love among our braves.

Monday, June 2, 2008

The Dreary Journey Of A Lonely Man

Living by numbers,
we haste our lives through time.
Haunted by our powers...
scamping within signs.

The sign of money,
the sign of times...
Has us all apprehended,
a rumpus in our minds.

Dear people we are mortal,
why then drown our dreams?
Already time comes close to ending,
even before it could begin.

No one can see our island
no one wants to know,
we cannot hear each others silence,
there’s enough noises for the woe.

Don’t jump the gun,
don’t jump off the edge
there are shot guns everywhere...
Don’t carry on
with the same mistake,
don’t leave us in despair...

My choice really

Week after week, day after day,
time passes as though there's no return.
I'm feeling a little queasy and I'm feeling a little low
Like something's going to happen and it would soon show.
The waking is not right, the skies are sombre,
booming away are the sounds the distant thunder.
The heart's out of place, the head is shaking with thoughts,
when I hear a sad sad whisper I know nothing of that sort.
Like everything's coming to an end
the world that I used to know,
My life has not even been lived
and it's already time to go.
Someone's thinking about the same thing
and we are reaching out to each other.
Could it be true that our desires are similar
or should I hold that thought and lie to myself forever?
I sit alone and ponder this moment
as I long for something I haven't got.
I don't know what it is or where it's at,
I only know I've got to live life more than that.
My dog's sleeping with pretty dreams
when I watch him twitch and snore.
How can life be so lonely for anyone
when there's love and so much more.
Reluctantly I hear the call of my destiny
I refuse to believe my dream is not alone.
I could ignore it and miss the opportunity
or I could seize it now and know that I am home.

Friday, May 23, 2008

Segregated By A Fault Line

Generally, people are united when left to live in peace. They only become segregated when they are taught to disassociate themselves according to what they believe, what they eat and what they think.

In our past histories leaders have been known to use that paradigm of divide and conquer. By instilling fear in their subjects they manage to keep everything under their control and within their jurisdiction. Up until recent times, people actually are convinced that that is the only way to achieve peace and harmony. But as the time shifts with new forms of consciousness and awareness the people of the world are beginning to break out of their fabricated realm.

From the time The Matrix shook everyone into a concept of possibilities we began to stir from the boundaries of 'what ifs'. It actually made some of us think. With other masters of creative powers who challenge us to question life from various point of views we are also plunged into a series of tosses and turns to find the answers. And since the internet came into realization more people are able to reach out to those who share corresponding thoughts whether they are unschooled, unenlightened or subjugated.

To be told that we are no more than puppets, slaves or minions won't cut it today. Everyone has a fair share of opportunity to acquire just as much knowledge as everyone else now. New ideas are rapidly flourishing on the cyber world, from peer to peer file sharing to contemporary methods of copyrighting, exposing corruptions and business dealings, metaphysics to spirituality, and a host of sites to teach, to learn, to inspire are all out there to make us come together. One way or the other.

Unjust rulers and domineering dictators are trembling from their thrones and calling everything that is not working to their advantage the devil's work. If we were told that in the 15th century we might still believe it's true. But at this moment in time, we are beginning to realize that the devil does not have horns, a tail and a pitch fork because it is always in disguise.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

A Lover's Return

So alone in the wilds,
like a meek little child,
springing high and free...
trudging home.

I can roar like the wind,
blowing cool and supreme,
to a place across the meadows...
flying home.

Breaking out in the storm,
to a place that is warm,
it is me...
coming home ... to you.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

The Day Malaysia Came Together


On the 3rd and 4th May KLAB was launched for the first time in the Central Market Anexxe. Organized by Amir Muhammad and Zulhabri Supian this is the first of the sorts of an Alternative Bookfest.

There were four book launches, independent artists, writers, artists, singer-songwriters, filmmakers, activists, dancers and lovers of many other forms. If you had been there you would see the true Malaysia materializing right before your very eyes. Unlike other fests or fairs everyone who was there was happy being there promoting their own products or services. And the most beautiful part of it all were the people. There was no segregation, no distinction, no division of any kind. Everyone was doing what they do best without trying to dominate the other.

Such a scene is rare and almost non existent in many parts of the world. But people are beginning to realize earth is theirs to discover and embrace and its the people's right to choose the life they want.

KLAB may be a small niched celebration but someday it's going to be a major event for many people and many countries in the world. This is where the energy is, the camaraderie, the sharing of the creative, imaginative and artistic and this is what Malaysia could be when everyone is ready.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Apt

Benign, benign
are the days
that are fleetingly gone.
Away from the home
and coming back
to strange quarters.
Malignant, malignant
are the things
we consume and embrace
to our hearts and souls
to our bodies and minds.
Be kind, be kind
to the ones in need,
and those who seek
for a pillow,
and a blanket.
Be awake, be awake
when you're losing sleep
over disconcertion,
going in circles
to a misdirection.

Monday, May 12, 2008

How Do We Know?

In what eye we hold beauty for the beholder?
In what heart we decide to call it home?
How do we measure love's true adventure?
How do we know how much we've changed and grown?
Dare we share the truth we've discovered?
Dare we spread what we think we know?
Shall we tell our heart's most intimate desires?
And raise our glasses to what we don't know!

Monday, May 5, 2008

I Am A Mattress

My breasts are a pillow
to my lover.
My stomach is
a resting place.
My arms are a blanket
to his sorrows,
and his dreams
are buried in my face.
My legs are a bolster
to his energies.
My back is a comforter
to his bones.
My pudenda is
his wayward fantasies,
and my mystical touch
keeps him home.
I am a woman
to his body.
I am an angel
in his world.
I am a sinner
in his ecstasy,
I am a mattress
to his soul.

Friday, May 2, 2008

Donning on dead animal skin is for Neanderthals

How can anyone wear fur when they know it came from some kind of animal which has been tortured and killed in cold blood with no mercy? Even back in those days without the internet and instant communication evidence of these inhumane animal abuse has been recorded and reported by dedicated animal lovers. Why are people still blind to this form of exploitation and call it fashion when they know for certain how animals are explicitly harmed for their skin?

Are celebrities, models, superstars and fashion designers really that insensitive to want to continue demanding for fur and disregard the excruciating deaths of these innocent creatures? Have they no sense? Have they no heart? After all these times can people still be so barbaric? I wonder.

Most people of the world have awoken from a state of inertia which was pervaded by the people of power. What we used to believe in before is now crumbling like dominoes with a reaction faster than we can perceive. Callous individuals who are out there to make a fast buck at other people's or animal's expense can be immediately expose with greater consequence.

Everyone now has the power within their reach to make the change and recreate the world we want to be in. No more oppression. No more domination. And no more justifications for the injustices of the world.

Let us begin that journey.


http://www.peta.org/feat/ChineseFurFarms/index.asp
http://www.furisdead.com/feat-dogcatfur.asp
http://www.caft.org.uk/factsheets/cats-and-dogs.html

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

earth is my home

Why am i not allowed
to live anywhere on earth
when earth is my home?
Why do I have
to prove myself
that I belong to a country
when earth is what I have?
Why do I have to
be categorized,
locallize
and traditionalized
when what I really want
is to be free
to walk on the sands,
swim in the seas,
soar in the skies
and call anywhere
I go to
home?
I don't want to have
an apartment
or a condo
or a penthouse
to be cooped up in.
I don't want a bungalow
or a ranch
to keep my boundaries measured.
I want to travel lightly
and stay where my heart desires
eat what I can get
and love my ambience,
surroundings
and environment for what they are.
I don't want to cut down any trees
or kill any wildlife
or dominate anyone
to call this place my own.
I would rather amble on
to experience a rainstorm,
a hot desert sun,
the snow encrusted mountain,
and the deep ocean floor.
And I want to sleep
with the glorious stars above
and the natural ground below.
And I want to call this place home,
and share it with my fellow beings
because earth is all we have.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Where the heart goes

It's not where you are going
or what you are doing
that makes you
who you are.
It's where you are needed
in a time and place
that makes you
the person you are meant to be.
One day in the desert
another in the sea,
you'll never know because
life takes you on a journey
you asked for.
If you resist the nature
of your being,
you will hurt no one
but yourself.
You will disappoint no one
but yourself.
You will deny no one
but yourself.
And you will be stagnant
like the water caught in potholes,
waiting
for another day
for something to happen.
By the time you decide
to get out of it,
you would be too old,
not because you are,
but because you want to be.
Nothing is ever too late
but because of your
indecisions
you believe it with all your being.
And you will lose everything.
Your will, your love, your aspirations,
your dreams.
You sit there while
the cancer eats you up,
while you get mad
at everyone around you.
You sit there and you complain,
but you still sit
ranting,
panting,
wanting
but never ever
doing.

Monday, April 28, 2008

The Longest day and the longest journey

I begin a long day
when I talk too much.
To the family
with tittle tattles and whisperings,
to my colleagues with
ideas and proposals,
with friends about stories,
tales and legends.
Hardly,
do I have time
to be still.
To think,
to dream,
to imagine,
to will
them to come to me.
I begin my longest journey
when I go nowhere.
Like a search for nothing,
with the idea of something
but it is actually
another destination unknown.
And I get tired,
rundown,
exhausted,
disintegrated
from myself
when routines, rituals
and obligations
take over me.
For the longest time
I chase sleep
with my bare feet
running on cockle shells
and overcrowded pavements
to avoid
dreaming of sheep,
but I end up counting them
anyway.
In the shortest moment
I take a quick bite
and write a brief note
to remind me
I am doing
what I do best.

Friday, April 25, 2008

How To Enjoy Life? Be a tourist with the tourists


Haven't been to this place like a million years
and it's fantastic, beautiful and amazing.
One of the few places
that's a must go when in Malaysia.

Monday, April 21, 2008

Death In The Air

As I search through my quiet resonance
I hear a deafening murmur
of distant muffled sounds.
The sound of an empty space
which is filled with a dying dream.
Of sloth and routine.
I tried to walk out of it but it's everywhere.
There is no place I can go to without hearing it.
The skies are grey and sullen, like an old unforgiving man.
The light is almost gone, the dusk is forever long
and never changing.
Why has the wonderful moment gone hiatus?
To leave us nothing more
but the smell of death in the air.
Why does it seem that way
in places as bad as our hair?

Consideration

As we sit down to consider ourselves
the joy of being here,
the passion of wanting there.
Our existence becomes
the founding anchor of our lives
we shift on the hard edges of despair,
while easing on our hope
to be one day
in that chair.
As we sit down to consider ourselves,
we appreciate
the noise of our blood rushing
and the silence of our soft
smooth feeling.
We think of our skin color,
we walk in someone’s
customary shower.
Look at the sky
in a two toned dimension,
to learn what secrets the trees
hide in its naked fashion.
An adventure on the back of a winged creature,
your neighbor’s heart runs like a wild river.
Taste the bitterness that dries the throat,
but it's sweet like dreams sailing on a riverboat.
The sun baking on your ugly dress
the mist stick balloons in your hair.
In the blue skies you look at your life,
while the green grass circles
round your whirling eye.

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Another Birthday Bash & A Night To Remember



This was the night we celebrated Hui Ching's birthday and watched the first screening of Pencak Akhir. What a great treat. Scrumptious food, wonderful friends, first scripted movie, what more could I ask for?