the last day of summer

survivors

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

scooter, bicycle, a picnic with some cheap (yet good) wines.
roots, mine. leaves, yes i seem to be leaving a bit of me in places.
(more so of late, in places i have never known before.)
train, and falling in love with it all over again.
sheep, to lose counting. a fat cow, to milk for strength.
hills, those downs and ups. 4 wheels, and just keep trucking.
home, trying to find a close resemblance of it wherever i plant my feet.
fences, fending and even more so every step further from home.
birds, oh sweet aromatic freedom. light (house), and a direction.
the great ocean, with one great sail i shall own.
stars, and the representations of everything that we can only look,
in adore, with curiosity, and a distance that seem within reach,
but impossible to touch. perfection exists but doesnt live.



good is good enough for me. bingo.

the sight

Friday, October 31, 2008

i skipped across the green and smiled with the blue.
chasing after the colorless scenes that run inside my head.
the hues that flew away with benchmarks,
the city buildings that dissolved into the clouds,
the noises made of voices sunk into the bed of words.



we don't need reminders, we just need to remember.
my questions grew into beliefs. believing it.

time in abundance

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

i have taken on a challenge with the great british pounds,
the soles of my feet have been abused and sore,
having covered distance i had thought impossible to conquer.
i truly miss the taste of meat, white or red.
the texture of flour, soft white, grainy wheat or crispy toast,
has lost all its charm in my buds.

there have been mornings before the sun rises,
i would hurry off the (bunk) bed,
just to feel a little less alone in between piles and miles of strangers.
every single night was surprisingly the easiest,
when i could effortlessly fall into deep sleep due to weariness.



harvest.
i recall the growing years,
and try in much vain to remember the details
of the happier stage in my life, called childhood.
imprinted like stubborn stains are the absurd deadlines,
lousy suits, childish bosses, idiotic clients, backstabbing colleagues,
escalating expectations, meaningless chase after materials,
ridiculous costs of living, painful society, crazy standards,
failed relationships, suffocating competitions,
terrifying examinations, incomprehensible subjects,
exasperating teachers, smelly schoolboys, endless homework.
countless things that we'd rather not remember,
often remain vividly scarred in our memories.


and there comes little moments that scatter randomly over the years,
when the silence isnt deafening and spaces are not empty.
the fields and greens are there for no pretentious reasons.
i could almost hold and feel the minutes of serenity in my hands.
might not be worth all that years and tears,
but just enough to get up and walk on.

variate

and open up.



there have been places, faces, traces and too many more.

flour and sugar

Monday, October 13, 2008

it is amazing, how simple treats can do wonders in the least expected way.
lately, i have found pleasures in trivial inessentials.
just subsidiaries or on a good day i call it, bonuses.



i also found peace in the most exasperating ways.
i would call it walking over hot stones during Thaipusam.
the eminence of disregarding anything unfavorable.
for the moment i walk out of the bakery,
it's all good with a cookie in my hand, loose change in the other.
leaving the rest behind. the ones that smell too rich,
the ones that look too sweet, the ones i cannot afford.

after all, i can only stomach one, the one i picked, my favorite.
that sweetness of content.


i was using this phrase a little too often about a month ago,
"how do u pack only 2 pairs of jeans out of 20 favorites?"
it is almost impossible to know how,
especially when i have been brought up in a society,
where it doesnt matter how many times i've washed my jeans,
it matters how many pairs of jeans i have changed in a week.
it is even harder to tell myself what i honestly believe is fine,
than to pick that 2 lucky pairs of jeans.
that glamor of letting go.

i am fond of choosing to appear in a most reasonable state.
so that you may have the ease to sort your knots.
so no one (or yourself) need to feel sorry or neglect the fundamentals.
and when your absence deafens the silent hall,
i choose my presence and two seats close to the door,
just in case. (you know.)
and i know that you know how i do not conform.
that harrow lane of members.

i have been holding on strongly to everything.
polishing various words and filling in random blanks
that have increased through the lapse of time,
and the lack of attention.
i have drawn a picture of several interesting objects,
fitting together in an oblong portrait.
waiting for the day to be impressed onto a plank,
to be fed with colors and to be living on its own.
that bottle of spirit.

two

Friday, October 10, 2008

they came and they went.
how hard they fought to shine, for all to see, side by side.
the brighter complemented the other.
one has never been short of the other, the way i remember.
i couldnt take my eyes of either.
not while looking out for the wheels that could be coming my way,
not while making sure the signboards read where i was going.
they left too quick and before their peak.
too quick for anyone to blink, comment or savor.
only various stories told of how they used to be,
however true, unjust or surreal.
however anyone qualified, ignorant or relevant to perceive.

grace some mustard and chilli

Friday, September 26, 2008

some say baki

i read your heaviest words.
taking it upon me. and yourself, to feel for me.
to share that bit of pain that cannot possibly lessen mine, though you knew.
if you chance by again one day like you used to,
would it be too much to ask for a smile?
that smile you radiate with a twinkle in those bright eyes,
that only you and your infectious laughter can own.
that thing you do.

i saw your endearing photographs.
the faces so familiar, almost dangerously and easily, neglected.
they almost moved in the still of the screen,
in an imaginary motion that creeps into my skin, through those ribs,
and i felt that from down my spine, like a gun shot up the back of my neck.
a quick throb on my head.
my brains seem to suddenly function once more.
like you telegraphed a post-it,
pasted it carefully next to my bed. slightly slanted.

i recalled the things you like to say.
i tried to imagine what you would tell me if you are here,
next to me like before.
its the only way to make it all easier to fall back to sleep.
easier to behave like a child you thought of me.
that impulsive, impatient, feisty and nonchalant snob.
we always have a lot to talk about,
we used to talk about strangers and people who didnt matter.
now the subjects matter the hearts, ours.

i listened to a song you like.
that tune that makes every eye tear.
but i can only remember your smiles,
and they make mine.

depiction

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

the intermediate between black and white,
of ashes, of the skies that remind us of the storms,
of tiresome exchange of pangs, of the un-colored time(s).

amongst,
the prized manifestations of pigmented instants,
almost countable. how can one not be greedy?

but indispensable.


an ignorance of time, just sandwiched in the zion of my trusty clouds.
and keeping out of that kitchen crowded with cooks.