HOPE

He drifts into the knowledge
that what he knows
will never subsume
the unknown.

And so he must learn
to embrace the unknown like
a familiar friend he had lost contact with
for many, many years.

They re-connect,
he and this wine dark future,
and no love feels lost.

(Must. Should. Will.)

The unknown becomes familiar,
to survive the next second.
Next hour.
Next day, week, month and year.

No doubt he will flow with the clock,
yet he reaches out to grasp the reeds
but the current carrying him fast
past
only aids
their razor-sharp edges
to draw deep cuts
into his palms,
rewriting history.

He yearns to know:

Why do you
make me believe
that you are
my saviour
when often
I feel you
delight to
crucify me?

The Deafening Silence

It sings a mocking dirge
A melody untuned
Which rocks upon the earth
Unsettling every dune
And while the tides unfurl
A froth of hope and gloom
A precious little girl
Stands silent in my room.

So much was shared between
The wires of a song
But everything seems nothing
Since you won't play along.

Perhaps I should have not
had that facetious thought.


"But he that dares not grasp the thorn, should never crave the rose." - Ann Bronte

Swept Away

My unbridled
optimism gets in the
way of
my longing to be
a fabulous realist.

It is true.

I think too much.

Your one gesture spoke
volumes.

And a castle rose up
upon the fecund beach
where many ruins now stand.

There another ruin
now stands.

And I feel wonderful.

Eaten Away

Cutting my losses
Just moving on
Accepting defeat
Extracting a thorn

How was I fooled?
Blind as a bat
Humility absent
You're not where I'm at.

Yeah, go on, snigger
Playing your game
Who's your next quarry?
So friggin'lame

Should I just hope you
Choke on your bile
Even your death
Isn't worthwhile.

All this is silly
The anger I feel
Frustration uncloaks me
Rage makes me its meal.

Why this theatrics?
It baffles me so.
Because it was not
where I wanted to go.

And when I relented
You knew you had snared
This stupid damn fool
That could never be spared.

You gawked and you prodded
And when you were bored
Made the decision
To ignite the discord.

This throwaway thing
Is how I do feel.
Frustration uncloaks me
Rage makes me its meal.

A Curious Blend

Burmah Road is one of the oldest parts of Georgetown in Penang, and is a main street for Kampung Serani. This was where a Eurasian community re-settled from Thailand, brought over by the British to act as go-betweens between the colonists and the local people, in the late 1700s.

I wrote these few verses to start me off, and hope to extend it further at a later stage.


BURMAH ROAD

Remember when the roads were lined
With shady trees as old as time
A village where proud houses stood
On pedestals or stilts of wood.

The families who lived here then
Comprising of a curious blend,
Were not as obvious just by face
To fit just one specific race.

For here was quite a melting pot
Of foreign ties and polyglots,
Where great-grandpa now buried here
Did come by ship from not so near.

(To be continued... )

No Answers

The turning point
was a fog
heavy and harsh
choking all hope
all sight
ending dreams
with a quick, decisive stab.

Screams of disbelief
like wind-chimes in a cyclone
a mind trying to find meaning,
looking back for signs,
wondering why the earth disappeared from beneath my feet.

Both planted so firm, at least I thought, on a feeling.

But these pass. Like he did, this sniper, and I am still unable to curse his mother.

Fondness became despair,
like the second foot thrust into
the same pyjama leg.