Nightmares....
My nightmares,
talk to me.....
How do my night fare?
Don't stop me.
I wish I wasn't there,
don't kill me.
Lay out the big mat.
My clean bed,
So pretty.
End up I sink there,
So muddy.
Maybe I stink there,
no hurry.
Could you bring me back from my dream lands?
My nice hair,
don't touch me.
Do I have to beg there?
Don't tell me.
What if I ain't there?
The night stares,
so lonely.
How do I get there?
Follow me.
Peace of my mind here,
don't lie to me.
Sleeping or awake here?
Untidy.
Waiting for you to save me.
My big gate,
nobody.
Anyone out there?
Hidding please...
Can I just grab ya?
Bony creeps.
What if I tear ya?
HELLO THERE?
Don't call me.
Are ya asleep yet?
Don't ask me.
Maybe it's time yeah?
Don't touch me.
Fall into pieces...
Tick tock tick.....
Acid Rain
Run, it simply can't kill me.
Acid burning through my veins.
Breathe, the insanity kills me.
Scent of death through nose up my brain.
Slowly all starting to peel me.
Cry, if tears can dilute the biting rain.
Yet, no one could ever save me.
Spare me from these pains.....
The Next Me......
The next me is not gonna be busy,
yet busy as can be....
Strive at all the troubles,
yet leisurely see....
The flowers by my side,
the birds by my life...
The moment I shut my eyes and count...
What an inspiration.....
Miserable Rain
It has been raining since April 2008,
the rain who pours filled my ears,
filled my lungs,
top my mind,
the bitterness which follows.
Stop?
It's already too late.
I could not see the rainbow behind it,
yes, I pretend.
But this rainbow as I've imagined it,
was just an old broken bridge.
Yes, it was raining heavily since that day I reached out my hand and forgot to close the tap.
Yes, you can pretend.
On this bridge of a particular night where nothing's out of the ordinary,
it rained.
Yes, I know it's raining, I can feel it. Yes it rains.
Yet someone's reading me a story book of a sun shiny day.
So on this dark night, yes I pretend.
That the sun is bright and smiling shine
only from a book which was closed.
Reincarnation the 2nd
Pop a bullet in your head
and ends the misery pain in ya
as(s).
Paint not
black.
Pain no
lag.
Beats the freedom in the tag.
Look of holes
in my head,
think of salvation in my bed.
See no evil.
See no river.
Walk the streets like there's no tomorrow.
The knife.
Your neck.
Slit down your back.
Drop your skin and feel the gap.
Left way.
Highway.
Right way.
My way.
Walk down the narrow single sky way.
To roll the core back into a meat
ball?
Discard the wheels and watch it goes.
No more forgiveness.
No more pretend.
Once the door slams,
it is THE END.
So drop dead
or roll over.
Too many in place.
Fast or slow,
I can't wait.
Lying within the lines...
My pencil....
I write with it...
Draw lines with it....
The line of defence I drawn....
So long.....
My pencil,
I draw
with it....
Beauty of life
it is....
Within all that magical moments
they lie....
My Pencil.
My mind's with it.
Become one
with it.
Among turns and curves which hides....
So time,
it is....
Among midst
of risks...
This sharp
weapon of defence....
Foolish Obsessions
Faithfully you awaits your dream to come?
Uncertain who's the one lying.....
Cunningly with words twisted & iced on a cake,
killing all flames on it softly......
Only one can guess the scene behind the curtain.
Foolish ones, they can only dream....
Faraway on a distal mountain crying sins.....
Optic Rain
No one seems to understand what's said in the rain,
a torch which went missing or the soundless pain?
The shadows which have gone beyond or the mocking lames?
A time desired but deemed as a falling paint...
Of blacks, no greys,
the heaven sane.
The dice, being rolled
a global bead.
To judge its colors
is a strange morbid.
With time and reference,
a mindless game.
He, who sits
on a sinking raft.
She, who lies
on a broken cradle.
All who stood by the evening rain.
Once they perched
on rusty names...
Very Silent Night
I am not a mute.
The world has forgo me.
Within these walls of solitude,
no news to be broken.
I do not seek to be understood.
I did not seek contempt.
I am but just a puppet
playing a very quiet show.
I know the buttons to touch.
I know the strings to pull.
But once the show's over,
what more behold?
The PERFECT Lie
Deceived
upon myself.
A trust which could not be seen.
For he
who could not answer
to the many queries and doubts of many minority who present
themselves on a scale
not to be comprehensed.
But see
my name
forgotten long before I was introduced.
That feeling,
that belief
so you were told
couldn't have been real.
But the houses
so simple.
Like papers they stand
that it seems weird you do not question
the liberty of them.
And though time you have lost
the words you have spoken,
how simple it could be
like a bead of the fallen.
On the tan of its death.
And the night of its spirit.
The ones who had mourned.
Non-existence.
Black Jack
My dark son.
Why does it always rain on a spring
day which no moon though cold could
live?
No thoughts too bold, too small.
No inspirations could live.
Like weeds though strong but
not meant to be
yet broken
of unorganised chaos
live the ground beneath our feets.
Though gentlemen, ladies,
thy claims their names.
Of mocks and hallucinations,
on drugs of propositions.
Yet a candle
so dim
that one flaps the wings
of shadows and cast
bigger than seen.
The old man came home,
sat on broken feets
that meet their ends
on the cold white land.
But if tomorrow shall end
today on a stand
which only magic could hold
and money shall roll
along with heads of tolls.
What a sight it would be?
My money and me.
My words and dreams
and dead old coffin.
Dark Sky
September 1st, 1939.
The air you can't breathe in the sky.
The masked men behind watching crimes
of human histories through trails of time.
1. Noon. Nick of time.
A date they won't remember,
to you like slime.
The 'code of conducts',
languages of nobles,
like fleeing spirits,
captives of alters.
The smiles on their faces
or tear on your cheek.
The locks on prisoners
following a moon.