I’d take a train
to travel far, far beyond any man’s reach
to a world undigitalized
where conformity unexist
where people be who they are
of no thought of whom they should be.
I’d like to take a train
where I can camp and swim
with the mist and early morning ducks
without the worry of getting raped
the worry of getting kidnapped
the worry that keeps me shackled
this build up paranoia
that eats away humanity
nesting and nurturing fear
trapping the uninhibited free spirit of all of us
putting us on the safe track
bundled with everyone else.
One day we will be free of this planned life,
a unit of human energy,
to become one with our soul,
once and for all.
in the velvet dark of a night, a fox made her path around us, as far as she could, mistrust in her eyes, padding her paws softly and lightly on thick snow. we held our breath and stare at the beautiful creature, a gracious wonder that makes my impulse quicken at this magic encounter. the fast beat of my heart remained long after she was gone.
a suspended bird in its flight, in a static pace, right above your head, is a split second wonder that pulls the time space to only the vertical movement of the beating wings.
how can they sleep at night,
knowing they had destroyed homes
how can they sleep at night,
knowing someone had died in their hands
how can they sleep at night,
knowing they would be cold and hungry
how can they sleep at night,
knowing they make children cry
how can they sleep at night,
knowing someone is praying them dead
how can they sleep at night,
knowing such hatred
they can sleep,
because they dont know what awaits
they can sleep,
because they think its all a game
they can sleep,
because they think there’s no Judgment Day
they can sleep,
because they think it all ends in this world
they can sleep,
because they still don’t know
i fear the things you do to them, the horror and terror.
but i fear more, the things He will do to you, with horror and terror.
kadang-kadang diri terasa seperti bayangan di tanah.
macam asap yang lesap di langit, buih yang hilang dalam ombak.
namun, hati kan tetap rasa berat. badan pon lebih kurang jugak.
ada jugak masa dia ringan. maksud saya, hati tu la.
mungkin bila kan tulis, tercalit hidup ini di alam tak nyata.
macam aluran daun di pasir. atau batu di gunung.
memberi makna kah?
siapa tahu?
sometimes, some people see beyond.
a pathway to heaven right in front of their eyes.
they take each steps closer to the bright light at the end.
a strenght, notches higher than the rest.
with full confidence, what she drops would be safely caught.
im walking on the earth.
heaven yet too far away.
taking long slow strides.
dragging legs, covered bloods.
misty heart, cold and bare.
one day, she decides to end her journey.
she looks back with a smile.
found inner peace, sword in hand.
for her children is safe in God’s hand.
and her duty is done.
i try to breath,
grasping the wall,
suffocating in engulfing sins,
reaching a hand to my mother.
closing my fist on empty air.
a little word from you, mother.
a bit of care.
a show of love,
in this low level of my heart.
in this dry earth im scorching my feet on.
before you soar to the sky.
leaving me on the ground.
head straining upwards to the stars,
eyes upon your shiny wings.
blurred by tears i care not.
mother, you were an angel in my dream.
in blue dress,with beautiful eyes.
i dont doubt heaven is a place for you.
i give my heart to this path you take.
it had been two months,
before i heard your voice again.
i was shocked i couldnt guess it was you, mother.
i didnt know it was you at the end of the line.
just a bit of love before you go.
a bit normal like other mothers.
a text would be nice.
a warm ‘how are you’ would be lovely.
a word of courage to when you’re gone
would keep me going.
not the silence after you broke the eggshells below me.
to leave me with heart astoned.
trusting i would climb up when i fall.
i do try, mother. yet i fall again.
dont you realize, mother.
i see Him when you do.
i do not see Him with my own eyes.
i see Him through yours.
and as you leave,
with full confidence it will make me stronger,
i am scared.
not of losing you, mother.
but of losing Him in my heart.
i need you not for the love of a mother,
the way other daughters do.
you are special, and so are your way of love.
i have put out that yearn in my heart
for you are closeer to Him than you are to me.
i am happy for you, mother.
but i do need you, mother,
to walk towards the light.
dont you see me, mother?
when you helped the orphans,
the poor, the needy,
i do the same.
dont you see me, mother?
i try to follow the path you etched.
stepping into the steps you’ve taken.
but the place you are going now,
is where i have to stop following.
it is not yet for me.
it may never be.
and i can only pray it would.
this is where it ends.
where do i go now?
where shall i take my steps?
i could only hope, mother.
that you will always see me when you turn around.
because i am always there,
looking out for you.
a landmine of broken pieces,
i pick up the breeze and blow on the ashes.
a heart of swollen tears,
screaming whispers no one hears.
a little strayed, a morbid step,
a dancing twirl falling trap.
a car that rode to rainbowed hill,
sun that shone and almost real.
slip a bit of dew on my palm,
rosemary falling through the realm.
a light, and wind affluter hair,
heart a disease, as sore and rare.
a mottled clot of lumped dots,
thicken, blacken,and breaking bloods.
a gasp, a silence, a wedged sanity,
engulfing soul and entirety.
a limp broken puppet,
twitching fingers in its socket.
the last breath,
a heaving sigh,
prayer,
frozen tears,
unblinking eyes.
a florette for the dead.
listening to viva lavida, listening to its heart-touching story of napoleon in his glorious days makes me very concious of our mortality and the time running out like the sand in the sand dial.
history of humankind and the world has been so rich, so really deep that this present life we have now seems bland in comparison. could the most amazing building in Dubai now compare to the pyramids, the gold castles of faraway kings, always set in precious stones with the most meticulous artsmen in hand. could what we see in the deep forest of Germany or Asia compare to what the Mesopotamia had seen in their once lavish land? How clear is the water that reflects perfectly Narcissus beauty?
could our bustling lifestyle ever be as sated as the life of the maidens and lords of the Grecian days? carving out the image of heaven on earth. Odyseuss’ journey, Cleopatra’s reign, Napoleon, Alexander the Great, the japanese geishas, Parameswara and each and every other figures in history, what had they felt? What had really happened? What had the prophets go through and felt and how can we relate to this in our time now?
makes you want to weep.
weep for all those forgotten peoples and sacrifices. all those who had lost it all. embedded in the river of immortality. dying in the wind’s whispers. lost in memories of history. taken into slumber. taking with them the secrets of the worlds. taking with them treasures no eyes have seen. taking with them such presious lives. bloods that spilt have long dried. but ties severed stretched even more. tears of princesses and maidens. lovers who remain in each others’ embrace. lovers who have promised ‘forever’. heart aches that would make earth shatter. smiles from the children whom never knew any other colour. witches and wizards who were now myths.
reality-story-history-midwives’ tale-legend-myth-fable.
us who would never know. them who smile at such ignorance.
unhappiness is like a vacuum that sucks a huge deep blackhole in your soul,
filling it with cavity, making use of none,
and suddenly, there is no happy memories to keep that spirit alive,
no energy to rejuvenate, no heart to make shift your tears.
it stays muddled like the dead sea,
anguishing over in the swirl of condemnation,
haunted pale faces of the past try and reach,
and you stare hollowly back,
giving in to their deadly gaze.
wait for the sun to shine,
wait for rain to fall,
wait till the flood bring life to the pool,
and rainbow gleam.
and then you walk up and away,
looking back, dreading,
the next time you will visit its slumer eternity again.
an african woman sell her colourful goods on the floor of the market.
traditional, african clothing.
so out of place in this cold, grey british sky.
sitting restlessly. tired eyes proud.
softly chanting to herself.
she saw her kinswomen.
tried to speak to them in her hearty voice.
none looked back friendly.
to each his or her own.
in this foreign land,
foreigners need to move on,
the colourful garment only serve
to bring back the smell of the African soil,
whether its colourful like the exotic leaves that flutter,
or bleak like the dunes of black sands,
it is path left behind.
a heavy ache in the heart.
by noon, the african woman stood
looking down on her bundle of unsold goods,
a sad smile adorn her leathery face,
eyes a longing distance,
singing a song from land far away.
singing an african lullaby.
i open the door of possibilities.
took a careful cautious step within.
everything so familiar yet so deranged.
one wrong step, you bleed.
another turn, another mystery.
hold mystery in your hand.
trust your curiosity.
open.
and wonders appear.
the years you spent on earth
caught up with you.
merged. meshed. separated by age.
bits of pieces of you.
open.
and you find treasures.
a year long yearn.
old, forgotten antiques.
craving touch, wanting light.
open.
and be aware.
harsh, metallic, coiled.
staring at you coldly.
close it.
open.
and the world spins.
you are everywhere yet nowhere.
you see everyone with no one.
you cry with no pain.
laugh but nothing tickles.
a heart. a soul. bounded.
close it and save for another day.
till every littlest things lay uncovered,
open.