Stood amidst a swaying crowd
Could it be, but did they sing:
Songs of love, hiding hate
Spoke of truth... your life and faith
It pains to know I'm alone
Yet strangely brings some peace I crave
Sorrow embraces me up from my feet below
As I persist in crafting my grave
Deeper and deeper, I helplessly sink
Into endless chains I was called to break
Hear my infinite scream through thunder and rain
As the crowd tells me who I was again
My fists, now ravaged by hatred and rage
I think of all those times I prayed
'Shield me from the harm and pain...'
... That'd come from tonight's free-fall into dismay.
What have I become -
O man of little faith?
Or what will I eventually be
As truly, now - I find it hard to believe
Is this all a fault of mine
Or does it perhaps fulfill Your will and plan
This world speaks painfully predictably,
Among signs I find hard to comprehend
But, sing to me Your angels' songs
Of Your love and truth, my hope and faith
Restore in me the peace I knew
Would come home again, some day.
I will sing and I will dance again
Yet in Your presence I would be still
Salvation true, from me from my iniquity
... I find I'm divinely tranquil.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
The Misadventures of Little Bobby (#1)
Warm sunlight danced playfully on his face, revealing cracks and marks in his skin that come as one loses youth.
Gingerly opening his eyes, light poured in - As he took in his surroundings. It was as if he was standing in a sea of blue linen. And still, in the corner of his eye were massive white rock formations of some sort...
It hit him like a train. Bob then saw that he was standing on his bed!
"But how?!" He exclaimed. He must have been a hundred times smaller, reduced to the size of a little ant. Quickly reaching to his arm, he pinched himself viciously - Only realising that sort of gimmick never works, even in the cartoons. Oh, but this was serious. Bob ran a good distance to the edge of the bed, where he peered down. The old and gloomy parquet flooring seemed to be miles below where he stood.
Bob fell down on his bed (which seemed the size of a football field) and put his hands to his head.
"Oh, what am I to do...?" He quizzed in despair.
He had woken up next to nothing earlier. His girlfriend had vanished from within his embrace, and she was still nowhere in sight. As Bob got to his knees, he suddenly noticed a familiar, glittering sparkle coming from the edge of the old mahogany bed-side table...
Bob managed to scale the bed-side table from leaping off the pillow closest to it. As he scrambled to his knees he immediately recognised the little silver trinket.
"This is Natalie's." He thought.
As if it were on some magical cue, a bright light began shining through a tiny crack in the bottom of the bedroom door.
"But that would mean getting down there..." Bob thought aloud.
He pondered for a bit, and glancing to his right - He noticed his trusty box of tissues (albeit now massive) in reach. Grinning silly, he had hatched a plan.
Grasping each end of the tissue with his hands, Bob sprinted and leapt off the edge of the bed-side table and crossing his fingers, hoped for the best.
Now say he didn't die from a gliding accident in his home, Bob would try to rescue Natalie, wherever she was... He would find out what was going on around here...
...And he would fix it!
Gingerly opening his eyes, light poured in - As he took in his surroundings. It was as if he was standing in a sea of blue linen. And still, in the corner of his eye were massive white rock formations of some sort...
It hit him like a train. Bob then saw that he was standing on his bed!
"But how?!" He exclaimed. He must have been a hundred times smaller, reduced to the size of a little ant. Quickly reaching to his arm, he pinched himself viciously - Only realising that sort of gimmick never works, even in the cartoons. Oh, but this was serious. Bob ran a good distance to the edge of the bed, where he peered down. The old and gloomy parquet flooring seemed to be miles below where he stood.
Bob fell down on his bed (which seemed the size of a football field) and put his hands to his head.
"Oh, what am I to do...?" He quizzed in despair.
He had woken up next to nothing earlier. His girlfriend had vanished from within his embrace, and she was still nowhere in sight. As Bob got to his knees, he suddenly noticed a familiar, glittering sparkle coming from the edge of the old mahogany bed-side table...
Bob managed to scale the bed-side table from leaping off the pillow closest to it. As he scrambled to his knees he immediately recognised the little silver trinket.
"This is Natalie's." He thought.
As if it were on some magical cue, a bright light began shining through a tiny crack in the bottom of the bedroom door.
"But that would mean getting down there..." Bob thought aloud.
He pondered for a bit, and glancing to his right - He noticed his trusty box of tissues (albeit now massive) in reach. Grinning silly, he had hatched a plan.
Grasping each end of the tissue with his hands, Bob sprinted and leapt off the edge of the bed-side table and crossing his fingers, hoped for the best.
Now say he didn't die from a gliding accident in his home, Bob would try to rescue Natalie, wherever she was... He would find out what was going on around here...
...And he would fix it!
Antidote (29.01.09)
I am alone.
In the silence of tragedy and betrayal,
Within it, I have made my home
A humble abode... akin to my grave - Yes, my grave.
Voices of regret, sounding out
They call loudly to me, pulling me deeper in
Now knee-deep in guilt, and waist-high in sin
I weep for my soul, only to fall again.
Trapped in a macabre dream, I seek to get out
I've murdered, I have fallen, and only realise I regret now
Wishing the chips had fallen well
As you and I finally fell into love
Now too late for one last kiss
I'm drawn deeper into your absence...
Time is a crawl for a final goodbye
As we find ourselves torn, by searing light
I cry out loudly, but no one can hear me
You know not of the battles I will fight
Against the white-noise of haunting screams
Lies a portrait of my solitary nights
Always wishing, never receiving
Taunted by the Ones who roam the dark
Yet hope is near, always believing
In my rain-soaked blitz to the Ark.
In the silence of tragedy and betrayal,
Within it, I have made my home
A humble abode... akin to my grave - Yes, my grave.
Voices of regret, sounding out
They call loudly to me, pulling me deeper in
Now knee-deep in guilt, and waist-high in sin
I weep for my soul, only to fall again.
Trapped in a macabre dream, I seek to get out
I've murdered, I have fallen, and only realise I regret now
Wishing the chips had fallen well
As you and I finally fell into love
Now too late for one last kiss
I'm drawn deeper into your absence...
Time is a crawl for a final goodbye
As we find ourselves torn, by searing light
I cry out loudly, but no one can hear me
You know not of the battles I will fight
Against the white-noise of haunting screams
Lies a portrait of my solitary nights
Always wishing, never receiving
Taunted by the Ones who roam the dark
Yet hope is near, always believing
In my rain-soaked blitz to the Ark.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Futility in Composure (25.01.09)
Fancy lines from a brilliant mind,
All put down in words.
A sentence here to tell a story,
Some dots to pause it first...
Now emotions run high, and like a fever subside
For darkness will soon take its toll
On lines with atmosphere, fear and despair
Will the melancholic shade be known.
She tells a story of love and hate,
In anguish she bears her soul -
Of a love now lost, and a heart gone cold
... Will anyone know her woes?
All put down in words.
A sentence here to tell a story,
Some dots to pause it first...
Now emotions run high, and like a fever subside
For darkness will soon take its toll
On lines with atmosphere, fear and despair
Will the melancholic shade be known.
She tells a story of love and hate,
In anguish she bears her soul -
Of a love now lost, and a heart gone cold
... Will anyone know her woes?
Friday, January 16, 2009
NightInGale (16.01.09)
Walking back, amidst the breeze
Did ever such love and sorrow meet?
In cold dark alleys, forsaken streets
Her images bring forgotten peace.
Time slows down as he turns to look,
Down corners dark, where they once stood...
They held each other in infinite dark
Wondering if time itself, would come to a stop.
There, they held fast to what they loved
Having since learnt from mistakes past
Two futures unknown, they had only 'now'
To answer their questions, on what love is about
In the absence of light, he'd find his hope
Her silhoutte's love would burn the cold
At least for awhile, he'd feel alive again...
Before returning to whence he came.
Did ever such love and sorrow meet?
In cold dark alleys, forsaken streets
Her images bring forgotten peace.
Time slows down as he turns to look,
Down corners dark, where they once stood...
They held each other in infinite dark
Wondering if time itself, would come to a stop.
There, they held fast to what they loved
Having since learnt from mistakes past
Two futures unknown, they had only 'now'
To answer their questions, on what love is about
In the absence of light, he'd find his hope
Her silhoutte's love would burn the cold
At least for awhile, he'd feel alive again...
Before returning to whence he came.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Puberty (10.01.09)
"PUBERTY" - Written for the people who made fun of me, despite my impressive girth and bass-filled, shmexy voice.
I thought I was about to die,
When my limbs grew painfully longer.
I remember grinning like a young boy-king
As my height defied "shorter".
I can never truly believe,
That I won't always stay this way -
When all of my life feels this free
And this piece of paper reads: "Stage 3."
I won't always flash my smile,
As my hormones begin to jump around
In my playground of elusive mood-swings
My person will be eventually found.
And when I'm all built up, as strong as a tree
Facing life - no longer on my knees,
I will turn my head and look behind
The hardest journey past, but - It's forever mine...
... I finished puberty!
I thought I was about to die,
When my limbs grew painfully longer.
I remember grinning like a young boy-king
As my height defied "shorter".
I can never truly believe,
That I won't always stay this way -
When all of my life feels this free
And this piece of paper reads: "Stage 3."
I won't always flash my smile,
As my hormones begin to jump around
In my playground of elusive mood-swings
My person will be eventually found.
And when I'm all built up, as strong as a tree
Facing life - no longer on my knees,
I will turn my head and look behind
The hardest journey past, but - It's forever mine...
... I finished puberty!
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Questions
So... I woke up at 2pm this morning. Washed up, ate a cold lunch and spent hours with Youtube until it was roughly 5 about.
I decided not to write on my cell retreat as I felt...
Well, I just didn't feel like it - Things there kinda ended on a sour note.
And it teaches me to think before I talk. I hurt inside when I was rebuked, strangely enough by a sincere piece of paper... But I just can't seem to stop saying things that would make people look silly. It's my way of making people feel at ease around me, but sometimes I guess I end up driving the people I care about the most, away. Life comprises of opposites.
I did revive my hobby of writing poems. I find that it's easier than writing a song - It's sort of like ignoring chord progressions and filling the gaps with raw thought and emotion. Above all, it helps me with my emotions... And I'm more than willing to share my "stuff" with people who enjoy it.
And now to conclude - In this sentence, lies dead one of millions of things I thought of and wanted to put down in words... But never understood or knew how.
Good night.
I decided not to write on my cell retreat as I felt...
Well, I just didn't feel like it - Things there kinda ended on a sour note.
And it teaches me to think before I talk. I hurt inside when I was rebuked, strangely enough by a sincere piece of paper... But I just can't seem to stop saying things that would make people look silly. It's my way of making people feel at ease around me, but sometimes I guess I end up driving the people I care about the most, away. Life comprises of opposites.
I did revive my hobby of writing poems. I find that it's easier than writing a song - It's sort of like ignoring chord progressions and filling the gaps with raw thought and emotion. Above all, it helps me with my emotions... And I'm more than willing to share my "stuff" with people who enjoy it.
And now to conclude - In this sentence, lies dead one of millions of things I thought of and wanted to put down in words... But never understood or knew how.
Good night.
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