A little bit of hurt

I keep a little bit of hurt
in the corner of my heart.
Sometimes
it still smarts.

But I don't want to heal
or forget the past.
Because I'll always want to
remember you.

So that little bit of hurt
shall stay with me,
and so will you
in my memory.

I hope it counts
as love.

What I Imagine

It's been a while since I've last felt this way. Everything that I've been feeling and thinking, I've held it all up inside of me. When I try to vocalize it, I fail to find a good grip on the ideas and concepts that I want to speak about. It's like my thoughts, insecurities, fears, hopes, dreams, expectations, dreams, realities, and my essence are spattered across the space of my mind like a haphazardly interconnected web. There were a few previous attempts at publishing my thoughts in some form of comprehensible, linear narration. But I quickly abandoned them because my feelings just run helter-skelter, as if an unknown monster was hunting them and they were trying to escape without reason.

Tonight, for the umpteenth time, I will finally succeed. I trust myself enough in this iteration. No more holding back, no more thinking, no more aimless flailing around. I will just put it down in words whatever that needs to be said. I won't worry anymore about missing out on a point which I feel might be important to make, nor about spending too much time on anything.

Pushing aside the flamboyance and verbosity, all I wanted to say actually was that I've forgotten what it feels like to be excited. And all this time, I was so afraid of being unable to explain why. So afraid of people misunderstanding my situation, afraid of people having inaccurate suppositions about what I'm going through. But I've realized already, that just gets in the way of me being me. So tonight I'm just going to be me, even if this period lasts only for a pitiful modicum of this fragment in time.

I was thinking of writing something significant to express my excitement about Jia Wern's wedding to May. But I kept fearing what others would think of me. Would I appear too casual, too nonchalant? Would I sound distant? Would I fall short of my own expectations of what a best friend groomsman is supposed to be like? What should I say, what can I say that would be perfect for this union of two lovers whom I boldly claim to be my friends?

I can only hope I don't cause either one of them to feel bad that I've been grueling to get the fact that I'm a groomsman registered into my psyche. But that's the truth; I'm selfish and insecure, when there's nothing to actually be anxious about. They deserve more than that. I cherish the opportunity to share one of their happiest moments in their lives, and I'm gonna have to man up about this whole affair.

So I've finally made up my mind. I'm determined that the best response I can have is to just join them in their reveling. To be at least half as excited as they are. To be excited at knowing a fraction of their journey of coming together, at knowing that they're finally tying the knot, and at knowing that they're going to spend the rest of their lives growing deeper in love with each other.

If that ain't exciting enough, I don't know what else would be. It's definitely very, very exciting. Well, that's what I imagine. ;)

Slipping

We would talk all night
Just the two of us
Until the soft dawn light
Then leave we must

I keep hoping that
It would never end
But yet it's your heart
That I want to defend

Your skin on mine
I wished you won't let go
Just one more time
I wished a wish you know

I'm slipping too fast
The tide has turned on me
Before I know it
This feeling flowed so effortlessly
I think I might be slipping slipping

Maybe maybe why don't you tell me
That I'm just imagining things
That there isn't much rush

Why Don't You Tell Me

Write down every memory
That I have of you
On a piece of paper
And tuck it away neatly

Write down every single thought
That I have of you
I'll write them on all these walls
I know that it's not a lot

If I could take every colour
To paint a picture
Of your beauty and grace
That you've shown in this place
It will never be enough

If I could take every melody
To sing a harmony
Of your gentleness and love
It will never be enough
It will never be enough

Why don't you tell me
How do you feel about all my dreams now?
Why don't you tell me
That you hear me crying

Why don't you tell me
How do you feel about all my dreams now?
Why don't you tell me
That you're near...

He is for you.

Swept along

In a world that’s dancing

to a meaningless beat

The current is strong

Can you hold on

To the one song

Your heart used to sing.

Your ideals

Swayed by reality

Your goals

Now lack clarity

Be still and know

You, in your world,

orbiting a star -

one of the millions

in a galaxy -

one of the millions

in the universe,

are loved.

By none other

than the Creator.

The Boy with His Heart on His Sleeve and the Girl Who Never Tried to Fix Him

http://www.dailylove.net/2010/09/91710.html

=)

Not Enough

Sore limbs

Bruised knuckles

Bloody eyes

Ragged breath

Jagged teeth

Man in motion

As fluid as poetry

Senility of the sentry

Residing in the sanctum

Sanctions and semantics

Cerebellum cerebella

Erasing data

Like an impulsive medula oblongata

Itchy chin

Explosion of emotions

Tired of these songs

On this boring radio

Mesti Mau

Walau jauh kau menjelajah alam semesta
Ku tahu jawapannya
Walau apa jua rintangan yang melanda
Kita sudah siap sedia

Luahkanlah isi hatimu
Agar kita bersama
Kuatkanlah pendirian
Bila kita hadapi dunia

Yang ku mahu hanyalah kamu
Bersamamu selalu whoa oh
Jauh jelajah kau kelana
Kita kan tetap bersama

Bila lidah hakimi ketika berbicara
Engkau tak perlu gusar
Ku kenali warna hatimu yang sebenar
Tak usah pura-pura

Cekalkanlah isi hatimu
Hadapi dugaanNya
Kuatkanlah pendirian
Agar dunia milik kita bersama

Yang ku mahu hanyalah kamu
Bersamamu selalu whoa oh
Jauh jelajah kau kelana
Kita kan tetap bersama

***

"Mesti Mau" by Pesawat (used in Twisties ad)

Can't Stand

A song I composed in the solitude of Brunei, where friends and family (and at that time lover) were out of reach. Perhaps, someday, I will video myself and post it on YouTube or something.

****

The orange glow from the setting sun

Crawls up your soft arms

You look at me with those beautiful eyes

And capture me once again

The purple skies and radiant stars

Remind me of your gentle voice

I draw you close enough to hear your breath

But still, you're just a dream

And you've got me sitting here

Thinking about

You

I want to hold your hand

I want to hear your laugh

I can't stand

These lonely days without you by my side

I can't wait

To see your face again

I can't stand

These lonely nights without you by my side

I can't wait

To hear your stories

I miss you

Second Hand Seven

Grab a helium-filled balloon

It could be blue

So it could hide among the skies

Take a jump and never look down

Let's fly and fly to the moon

If you're tired then let's rest

A tight slumber up in the clouds

But meanwhile I'm in bed

Itchy uniform and pin in my wrist

Sounds a lil silly

But still it was something she said to me

That Seven is a magic number

Now as I'm about to close my eyes

I start wonder

About this Seven the Magic Number

Can I just get one for myself?

Like my sky-blue balloon

I won't mind even if it was

A Second Hand Seven

How Do I Love Thee?

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning-

You and Me

It's like a

worn-out tee,

not much variety.

Frayed threads,

easily snapped,

a little holey

here and there.

But it's comfy,

Just what I'd wear.

I don't have to put on airs

You know me.

Thinking Of You

Pitter-patter of raindrops…

On the window ledge
Faraway whooshing of cars
driving into puddles
They used to walk in the rain
Skipping along hand in hand
A gentle lip-lock
Wet smiles and shivering giggles
Hair glistening underneath
the shimmering curtain of
grey-tinted showers
*************************
Sleepy growling
The skies threaten to
pour on this land
Mouse cursor blinking
I read these lines
I wonder if I’m on
your list.

The Prerogative of Pain

I lash out

to cope

for dictate emotions

uncontrollable actions.

I gloat at your distress,

flinch at your lack

of remorse,

angered that retribution

doesn’t make

a difference

to the hole in my soul.

Every lash becomes

a backlash

but I cannot

stop.

(Something I wrote a while ago and posted in my blog. Just exploring the extremes of rage.)

Smash

Hasegawa arose from his slumber. He threw his blanket aside nonchalantly and rose to his feet. Slowly, he paces to the valuable shiny silver mirror. He observes his reflection. Newly tattooed symbols on his shoulders were still sore.

He drew a deep breath, held it momentarily before exhaling it forcibly.

And he went back to sleep.

Better than now

I am still dreaming

Of a day when I'm better

I am still thinking

Of the reason I'm bitter

It all comes to nothing

Really? Again I wonder

Truly there must be something

Under all this thunder

Wondrous singing

From a wondrous writer

Joy and hope, will it bring?

It seems there is no answer

Time to do something

Time to quit being a quitter

Time to rise for changing

Time to enter the Winner

World: Advent

Before a Nether Advent Major can earn his stripes to perform a Phull Manual Kheopt Jhump, he would need to accumulate enough Daytars on his Nether Advent Fone.

But this one decided to turn Renegade on the Greatest Rendezvous, defying the Holy Council of the Heavenly Celestial Knights and the Sacred ArmMore of the Guardyans.

The reason:

To search for a New Pheauture.

Mess

What a mess the room is

Paintings strewn all across the floor

Bed sheets tossed aside un-ceremonially

Chairs not in their proper places

Documents with neat handwriting in disarray

Curtain billowing from the gentle wind

Wrinkled clothes abandoned in the basket

Boots and stockings unattended

Outside, the brown rustle and fly around at random

Pleased to just run aimlessly

To laugh unrestrained

We roll in the meadow

Not worrying about the dirt

Nor minding the grass stuck in our hair

As long as we can hold each other

In our arms

Our lips touch gently

We blush and you giggle bashfully

Who cares

Let this mess

Be the evidence

It's been awhile.

Looking back 20 years later, it's amazing to note how life turned out the way it did. No, “amazing” isn’t the right word. At that very moment, it was devastating – so utterly crushed was my bright, hopeful heart, so utterly razed to the ground the dreams built on youthful idealism. They say time heals. Perhaps, but I prefer to believe that time numbs. Some scars don’t fade – they manifest themselves in the form of a crooked smile in memory of events. You know, the kind that doesn’t make it to your eyes. So yeah, perhaps a better word than “amazing” would be…mind-blowing. It wasn’t entirely terrible, because fatalism, which set in after a while, dictated that I see the best in everything. When you learn to watch for the slightest hint of beauty in the midst of murky darkness, you tend to notice so much more. Life wasn’t always painful, it was seldom totally bad, it was never without that glimmer of hope.

I don’t remember every single detail of what took place, but when I try to, the familiar feelings flood over me with overwhelming intricacy, leaving me descending into what seems to be the cellar of my heart. Over the years, the door hinges have rusted. I gradually stopped reliving the heartbreak and heartache. I have stopped feeling sorry for myself. It was easier to march forward mechanically, holding back the tears till an opportune time when no one was watching. There were times I second-guessed my choices. I was proud and young then. I took matters into my own hands with the detached pragmatism I so prized. No one knew the pretzel my heart had twisted into, and I didn’t want their pity anyway. No, I didn’t want their wisdom, I wanted to take full responsibility for our mistake. My mistake. I wanted to do what was noble, forgetting in youthful pride that my judgement of what was best could be clouded. I don’t believe what I did was noble anymore, but I don’t know if I would have wanted it any other way either.

I’m sorry for everything you didn’t have a say in. Life would have been different (though not necessarily better) if you did. I thought it was best that you didn’t know anything – it might have made moving on easier. You had such a bright future and it would have devastated me much more to destroy your dreams, more than it did when my dreams came crashing down on me. I did what I thought was best for you. Even though I am content where I am now, it was still unfair to you. I know, and I'm truly sorry. I hope this brings closure, if you ever still wonder what happened. It’s been 20 years, I’ve moved on, and I hope that you have, too. I apologize that it took me this long to pen you these words. I wish you well.

Just so you know, he knows your name.

What is Love?

What is love, I asked

A little boy of seven

“When she lends you her favourite pen,

and smiles like an angel from heaven.”

What is love, again I asked

This time a spunky young maiden

“Oh, when he sends you flowers and gifts,

and phones you twenty-four seven.”

What is love, I questioned

The middle-aged man on the street

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m running late. I can’t

lose this job, I have mouths to feed.”

What is love, I wondered aloud

Old Grandma passing by heard

“It’s hearing tenderness in the gruff,

forgiving seventy times seven past hurts."

What is love indeed?