Saturday, March 28, 2009

Just Go and Fuck Yourself!

So what?
I know what you are thinking,
Staring at me long and hard,
I’ll count to three and you better look away
Before my fist teaches you how to spell manners
Just because you fit in this ridiculously monochrome world
Doesn’t mean my colours are any less appealing than yours
Be it blue, green, orange, red, yellow, purple, or even black
Who are you to say what colour is appropriate for what occasion
You didn’t design the world and made humans from clays
Neither had you walked through valleys and flew over the oceans
So before I decide to put away my education and react to your rudeness
Just fuck off!

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Praying for My Love to Come Home

In the morning, I pray
As the sun warms my eyelids, I'm reborn
Into this comely world of enchanting extravagant
I sit under our warm quilt
Hands together, eyes shut as I see you
Hoping, praying for my love to come home

At noon, I pray
As I go through the rigmaroles of a day
Running endless errands drowning my peace
I sit in front of a desk
Hands together, eyes shut as I hear you
Calling, praying for my love to come home

In the afternoon, I pray
As I drag my limping feet down the unwinding stairs
Drained of any joy or colourful beauty
I rest my forehead on the steering wheel
Hands together, eyes shut as I scent you
Blossoming, praying for my love to come home

In the evening, I pray
As I rest my sole frame on the boastful sofa bed
Stares blank into the screen, lighting the dead living room
I embrace the frozen leather cushion
Hands together, eyes shut as I feel you
Grasping, praying for my love to come home

At night, I pray
As I tug my lifeless self into a bed of ice
Wrap my limbs together, sniffling my dreams away
I pull the moist pillow tighter burying the tears
Hands together, eyes shut as I taste you
Growing, praying for my love to come home

As I die before another tomorrow
My love, come back home
My love, come back home.....

Thursday, March 12, 2009

about a boy.... a broken-hearted boy

a young boy was heart-broken.
he sat on the old wooden bench in the backyard, alone.
he wanted to cry but tears were not coming out.
he was scared, had his tears dried up from too much crying?
panicked, he ran into the kitchen.
the grandmother was making tea:
Come take a sit my dear, and have a warm cup of tea.
the boy sat down and stared
at the smoke rising from the cup of hot tea.

tears started to well, and soon flooded his cheeks.
he looked up at the grandmother's timeless face, asked:
Why can't I see it before grams?
the grandmother smiled:
Because sometimes the eyes are blind my dear,
You have to look with your heart....