"bina dinding, jangan tumbang
elak mereka, yang tidak mampu paham"

angkat kaki, buang sakit dihati,
henti berjuang, mereka tiada peluang
kamu tahu, apa yang perlu,
dalam hidup, untuk jiwa menjadi redup
disini kita jumpa, disini kita bersapa
jangan gelisah kerana kita akan berpisah.

shivered by your presence
my train of thoughts collide
breathing life into my pleasance
absence of heavy hopes to confide.

subtitle.

Lo siento
para cada subestimación
hice de usted
porque yo
estaba en negación
que to fuerza
era fuerte
y dejo que
me afecte.

stability.

they felt
they held
they ached
they bled
they fought
they fell

he bravely chose
not to forget
always aware
of its strength;
it bend him
to the point
of fracturing him.

but he no longer
dip his legs in the pool.

while she lingers
in the realm
of cold thoughts
tracing her steps
as forward fades
lose valuable senses;
mistaken for strength.

yet she still drowns
even in the clearest mud.

The point of Reality.

grab the falling heart

take it away from the dark

drown it in colours;

it shall not beat for others.

a breath of fresh air
away with my words
didn't know I was suffocating
till you revived my soul.

it could be the end
it should have ended
you were never a thief
but Gambit, unintentionally.

Prelude

for you to read at the end of my words.

influenced.

is it fair
for me
reminiscing
your ways.

is it fair to you?

is it fair
for me
hiding
my feelings.

is it fair to you?

is it fair
for me
wondering
us together.

is it fair to you?

because I keep reminding myself to be fair to you.

Don't cover your ears
when you lend me your words
don't shut your eyes
when you share me your thoughts.

Don't push me away
when you waved me hello
don't bury me deep
when you question my opinions.

Don't hang your heart
even to stop the bleeding
don't hang your soul
even to stop hurting.

Don't torture your sanity
even to keep your identity
don't commit suicide
even to save yourself.

Shooting Star.

You are my far-fetched hope
created within tears and blood
of a busted happiness
you shouldn't be existing.

You are my far-fetched hope
of purity within affection
created within respectable lust
you shouldn't be existing.

You shouldn't be existing
created within aches and breaks
of a pre-loved expectations
you are my far-fetched hope.

You shouldn't be existing
of a faded reflection
created within trust and promises
you are my far-fetched hope.

To The End.

The gunshots have become my heartbeat

but I did not sign up for this.

The screams have become my song

but I did not sign up for this.

The cryings have become my lullaby

but I did not sign up for this.

The corpses have become my companion

but I did not sign up for this.

"In the system we trust."

With every beg for mercy

I stab my own sanity.

With every blood dripping

I choke my own throat.

With every eye dimmed

I curse my own soul.

With every body 

hitting the ground

God is taking away 

my breath on this world.

"Don't ask how will the country serve you,

but ask how would you serve your country."

*******

a homework based on Naomi Shihab Nye's "All Things Not Considered"

You cannot stitch the breath

back into this boy.

A brother and sister were playing with toys

when their room exploded.

In what language

is this holy?

The Jewish boys killed in the cave

were skipping school, having an adventure.

Asel Asleh, Palestinian, age 17, believed in the field

beyond right and wrong where people came together

to talk. He kneeled to help someone else

stand up before he was shot.

If this is holy,

could we have some new religions please?

Mohammed al-Durra huddled against his father

in the street, terrified. The whole world saw him die.

An Arab father on crutches burying his 4 month girl weeps,

“I spit in the face of this ugly world.”

*

Most of us would take our children over land.

We would walk in the fields forever homeless

with our children,

huddle under cliffs, eat crumbs and berries,

to keep our children.

This is what we say from a distance

because we can say whatever we want.

*

No one was right.

Everyone was wrong.

What if they’d get together

and say that?

At a certain point

the flawed narrator wins.

People made mistakes for decades.

Everyone hurt in similar ways

at different times.

Some picked up guns because guns were given.

If they were holy it was okay to use guns.

Some picked up stones because they had them.

They had millions of them.

They might have picked up turnip roots

or olive pits.

Picking up things to throw and shoot:

at the same time people were studying history,

going to school.

*

The curl of a baby’s graceful ear.

The calm of a bucket

waiting for water.

Orchards of the old Arab men

who knew each tree.

Jewish and Arab women

standing silently together.

Generations of black.

Are people the only holy land?

of Tal and Luna.

 

He said

"I have nothing

good to offer

but nothing more

than a loyal ear."

It was more

than enough

only on good days

only when he did not

try to catch the rainbow.

He was okay

as long as 

he did not 

take a second

too long.

She stays

behind her covers

always so shy

to flaunt her scars.

It was not a bother

she prefers waiting

quietly, to shine

time had proof

she is a beauty.

She accepts

the scars all over

but only when 

stars were tired

stepping in her spotlight.

Welcome To The Night Vale (Cecil Baldwin)

"Time is weird. So is space. I hope ours match again some day."

"Did I ask you for attention when affection is what I need"

because I hurt as bloody as you do
and I love as deeply as you do
but all for another
none for each other

we let our curiosity wander;
the chance of a right responder
what is in sight to be dismissed
with comfort we hugged, not kissed.

reassured smiles

beatings eased.

And I have stepped back
at the realisation of being bias
these thoughts and opinions
of the way you string pearls
and beads, drafting aside
then set it on display
beautifully becomes my soul-chimes.

It is no longer at just for your sanity
the impurities will corrode your faith
and will be at lost, your self.

I would have have your blood
on my conscience
suffocated by your lingering presence
you shall not be wronged, by me.

Woolgather.

slipping into the cold night for warmth
under the blanket of a distant voice
hoping no anchor holds belief down
for comfort knows well its kryptonite

duped by confidence of a naive pride
soul was caught by a pleasant surprise
of innocence's rare findings
in the open arms of faith and hope

she was resurrected by not the past
but dulcet sincerity of the unconscious
the knowings of a being yet to ripened
such no excuse for his genuine charms

and now, sanity strive to hold her down
before any effort goes to envisage
as it has been nothing more than an idea
of thoughts put together, not of his conscious.

Unconsciously Seraphic.

"You’re just a few inches from death, yet you are alive. You can control what you want to happen, to let go or hold on. For once you get to change your own destiny. Feel the power you now posses and enjoy the beauty it holds before the blood begins to rush to your head. Before your body reacts and is forced to return control back to the world, where it belongs. Feel."

- Dulcet

En Asombro; Rough Hush.

As light as the cloud
as heavy as the rain
you affect me in ways impossible to explain.

As attractive as the rainbow
as mysterious as the moonless night
you swim in my conscience without an ounce of might.

As in depth as the galaxy
as shallow as the puddle
with your presence my sanity wants to cuddle.

As powerful as the sun
as humbling as the moon
I leave you in solitude because I am a loon.

"Stillness surrounds me but you found me"