Hug

I just need a true hug...
Is it that difficult...
I thought it is simple...
But you made it so difficult...
Much more difficult than climbing the highest and most treacherous peak...
Much more difficult than crossing  the quicksand area...

I need you to open your heart as how I had opened mine...
Yet, somehow you realised that you can't and never could accept me...
as a whole... a person with plasters, scars, and cracks...
 with ugly stitches and bruises...
I am different yet similar to you...
you have scars and bruise too... and yet I do embraced them as how I had accepted you as a whole...

I was patiently waiting for your presence...
amidst the hustle and bustle...
yet you grew further, swept by the crowd...
lost in the 'workload'...
I accompanied you in the crowd...
but I only have blurred glimpses of you...
and it was the only time i could see you... in the crowd...
it was never about both of us...
it was always us, them, they, others, everyone in the group...
and none of only us...

then you left...
saying you don't have time for us...
only us...
but you always have time for everyone...

the moments had became a performance...
merry cocktail parties...
with warm people...
with warm conversations...
and mine a teary heart...
then it became a really marvelous thing that you were able to spend even just a minute with me...
the laughable 'wonderful moment' that even friends are capable of offering much more than that...
 it was unbearable, and it is unbearable now...
 that is why i write...
i do not care the tom, dick and harry who visit my post...
but i do know that you would never care to read this... as you are never curious of its presence...
I became weak as you drain the smiles from me...

Now I am even more broken, though I am patching myself up...
I know life has to go on... Just that i do not understand why...
why your sincerity was gone in a flash...
I know not of this side that you covered...not covered but portrayed at such times...
your childish and lamest excuses...
all these... while I thought a matured figure you are...
but...
it is also my misjudgements that you were my forever...
I just realised now that whenever I was with you, I was actually just alone...
alone in the moments that i thought was for two...
What am I all this while to you?
An ornament of pride?

Why did I not see the signs....
Bravo to me... I hit rock bottom in this area...
But I know time will heal me...
time... time is always comforting...
it dries the cracks and holes that are wet... never fails to do so...
i thought you were much better than this...
I have too much confidence in you...
that is why i hit the rocks so hard... the cuts are deeper than ever...
so deep that you could see the bones...
the cracks in the bones as well...
yet i will live better now though it is still unbearable...
however the unbearable goes only as bad as writing it out... not worst...
it is the venting of you out of my life...
the anger and disappointment that you are just a man... walking by...
with the shadow of a toddler crawling on the ground... passed me... 

Howdy life?

to run into another wave just as the race to the shore ended...
why others could calm and sway with tides...
and that I could never close my eyes for even a moment...

people who slogged, people who do not...
the latter succeed at the right moment...
as smart is what they aim for...
the best at show...
that reveals not those that are beyond skin deep...

why is that life is so,
that holding on is just another tiring grip...
that loosens as you loosens...
and that would never be grateful for your persistent past...
and which it snap at the very first fly that landed...
that flown through the evening mist unaware of the jaws of ticking time..
and there it went within seconds...
all is well for time...

so the grip as though it never exist...
there it was holding on to the newest blossom...
and there you are falling as light as a petal blwon by wind in slow motion...
drifting to the ground...
where sunshine moves further and further out of sight...
the dark ground is where the vision lies...
waiting for the next revenge in years to come..
when the first shoot releases its veryfirst leaves...

fading...

eyes blurred as both start to see...
air is transparent..
it allows us to see reality as it is...
transparency - the thing which keeps us alive...
once a upon a time only trees which drives this transparant spirit kept us alive...
now people creates solids which create illusion..
art - something to capture permanence out of the impermanence but yet it also creates illusion...
indulgence in the illusion of permanence...
fading..things
fading with time...
stones erode...

un - equilibrium

Change... things changes... people grow...
as how the forest fire did to the woods...
that is how it is to the grassroots...
the burned down trees...
the near barren trunk...
the grips of vines and creepers...
buds of new plants eager...
to share the sun...
to provide a new shelter...
the pests... burned....
the rabbits burned....
the squirrels burned...
the deer burned...
and all the inhabitants burned...
some came out alive in burrows so deep,
the tongues of the fire can't lick...
there is a time were it would always come...
a realisation...
of something big...
of something that is beyond the comfort zone...
something tha could or might stop oppression...
yet, care must be taken... for ignorance is also eating the society away...
ignorance... as what become of the top most in the rat race...
as what the world will be...
the freedom should be optimal...
not more not less...
that justice should be optimal...
not more not less...
and when  the optimal rule is set...
there will be not more not less dissatisfaction...
not more not less contentment...
and when not more not less exist...
that is when people wanted more,
and that is when people had fallen less...
and that more or less do count in the
disruption of the equilibrium...
let the race this time be more or less equallized for both...
for the country and the people...
so that more or less people are born in peaceand harmony...
more or less 'un- ignorant'...
that more or less is a measure for contented people,
that more or less means nothing to the greeds...

missing the stroll~

The pair of shoes... speckless as it is...
arranged neatly on rack... waiting for dust to fall~
it has been a long time, time to gallop like wild horses in the great piece of open area...
run free in that unknown meadow...
where no man has ever reached...

the evenings are filled with sore... as flares sharpen the tar road as hot as the burning metal rod...
evening strolls are rare now... with so many walls around...
so many cold pavements...
there are no more chilling winds...
no more fenceless space...
it seems like a cell...
the horse lives in the cubicle cell...
its muscles wasting away the time...
the brittle bones...
a knock will bring it crushing down...
yet the greens....
the ever inviting greenery... that sprout wild in that meadow...
it looks desirable... a sign of home... a pang of home - sickness...
no, what it has just stared at is a tourism advertisement pasted on the forgotten lamp post across the road...
the edges rustle in the wind...
desiring... the freedom...

I hate green~

I hate your presence flashing, but you are not anywhere...
I hate the fact that lies or not... the smile is still there...

Whatever comes...

Eyes swollen as the beady bull frog's...
those are natural, but mine a condition...
staring into the world of artificiality makes the sight blind...
blind to the real world...
all pursuits are in the crystal ball...
watched by them damned witch...
cursed in crow blood..
cries that are more throaty and croaky than ill omen...

where tides are high, the horses fly...
as i said in one of my previous post,
one which I could recall not the exact date...
foams and froths spewing not from their mouths, but from their insisting confrontation...
a confrontation that never won...
as the battle of the land ends right at the curls of the toning down waves...
they run but they do not belong to the land...
they wonder...
everywhere throughout the sea...
searching for a land that they could land...
resting their dampen hoofs...
a taste of definite settlement...
yet, not I a condition...
I really dislike being conditioned...
yet now circumstances have it...
a sweet regret...
of leaving behind the curls of waves...
the tired horse lies on its side...
thinking...
its mouth chewed the metal stuck uncomfortably there, jus right a the sppot where smiles are forced out of pain...
of leathery ropes, or are they even called ropes... cling so every tightly to the head...
a desire to turn the eyes towards the curl of waves...