Tag Archives: faith

Carthago Delenda Est

the mishaps they prophesised

is just another lost epoch for me

over my head, the neon glow

flickers with creed of premonition

.

madness, restored under faith

under penance and keeping such

congeniality running circles in a

genuflected vacation for hedonism

.

the sirens rehearsed another tale

unsatisfied with the heralded audition

drowning the ingenuity in between

applauses of deranged diaspora

.

disparaging exhilaration eliminating

the oxytocin behind my constantly evolving

flesh again, as the vicarious deception

makes me bow my head and continue the end.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

paenitet

i wish to offer

my honest apology

but mere pixels

aren’t enough to carry

heavy sincerity

.

so perhaps when

we finally meet again

and when i gather

my aplomb to call you

my old dear friend

.

and humbly accept

repentance for my mistakes

hoping that i don’t

have to spend another year

in resentment, i’ll do

whatever it might dare take

.

and perhaps, when this

year terminates, i’ll be able to

abandon such a spiteful

recourse against and with you

because despite everything

we aren’t better off this way, and

i have faith that this is true.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

New Year, New Year

I’m in the sky tonight, there I can keep by your side
Watching the wide world riot and hiding out
I’ll be coming home next year
Into the sun we climb, climbing our wings will burn white
Everyone strapped in tight, we’ll ride it out
I’ll be coming home next year…

~*~

The arctic wind tastes of a million ethereal memories

Beleaguering the lost sympathy in my jaded brain

Thinking about all the moments I spent under the sun

The nostalgia that I’ve forgotten so they’ll eternally remain

Leading on, leading on, marching this bittersweet repast

Words that strike to the very bone, another reeling line cast

In inkstains and furious scribbles that cross out the world

And I did what they said I couldn’t, and I didn’t do as I was told

To the divine songs I dance along to, that told me “boy, you’re alright”

Passion, emotion, vindication, separation, in notes that alight

Saying hello but never goodbye to the quaint darling heart I gained

And to the kindred souls still there for me despite all the withdrawing pains

Sure enough, the months may not have been a consistent flurry of good

And most times, things don’t really work out the way that they should

Ebony turns an even darker shade, and gelid rain falls in crashing maelstrom seas

And when I rest my head every night, a litany of emptiness is all I can see

But with the hope that I once lost, I can fervently regenerate it again

Celebrating the end of the days with the guys screaming Viva La Hysteria Bien!

And with only the secrets I traded and faded, the things I don’t have to hide

I may be dead somewhere, in another time, but for now I know, at least…I’m still alive.

~*~

Come on get on get on, take it till life runs out
No one can find us now, living with our heads underground
Into the night we shine, lighting the way we glide by
Catch me if I get too high when I come down
I’ll be coming home next year…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Six Feet Under, Stars Above

You’re just another set of bones to lay to rest
I guess it’s time to say goodnight
Hope you had a really good time, good time…

~*~

tonight, the sun will go down

along with a million stars into the ground

fading into silent eviction

and every speck i’ll count is but a perception

taste of blood i feel on my tongue

as heavy as the lonesome bed left unsung

muttering the wrong name on my drowsy lips

sharpening the needles of apologies

perhaps it’ll be alright, if i’m able

or perhaps i’ll end up sleeping on the kitchen table

with a Jack and a flat drunk dial tone

picking up where i left off on the disconnected telephone

but i will never forget your infinite sighs

when you whispered softly “we should die in style”

and tonight, when the sun goes down

i’ll be waiting for you, six feet under the ground.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

i’m always listening.

i’m a doubtful man

always questioning

the things i receive

but somehow when

you sing that for me

i will always believe.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

a soft place to land

in a distant land

of nothing but

rocks and gravel

at the very bottom

i’m standing at

the top, and only

looking for a softer

place to land on.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

The Game Played Right

Is there anyone who can make me see?
Help me breathe
Is there anyone who can make me feel alive inside?
Sink or swim is all I know tonight
Well take me to the bed, it feels so right
Wake me up…

~*~

I keep on lying. The silent pieces remain unapologetically in my lips, melting and melding together and apart, clashing like shades of blue and gold, until my smiles are mutated and my bated tongue is in shreds. Fear is an embrace I’ve learned to take upon myself, selling myself short to it, buying away the final remaining original thoughts I’ve slaved over in myriad sleepless nights until I’m a-la carte. Change is to blame for the causeless effect, and I’m asking for more from what can’t be taken away from me, cutting corners and targeting the contrition with a bolted gun, as if that would solve my problem. Would that open the deadlocked box of hope, containing those transient reminiscences of what used to be faith, keeping my wrists from giving itself up to bladed handcuffs and abrading ropes?

No, because it’s been open all this time. I’m merely pretending that it’s fully out of grasp, stuffing the sunshine in a pocket with a hole, then feigning remorseful surprise when I grasp the cloth and fail to feel its reassuring outline. I won’t get away, just as the moon can’t break away from its cruel mistress, no matter how hard it tries. Dependence requires sustenance, never mind if one’s getting hurt, never mind if one’s just wasting time and lightyears, never mind that there’s someone who sucks on the cigarette and there’s one who gets snuffed out in the ashes of its former companions, and both are slowly dying with each harmful, addicting, nicotine drag. Perhaps it’s better to move on, burn my house down with the lighter, and stab a flag on top of a desolate mountain, letting the frigid Arctic breeze pierce my lungs, reminding me that I’m dead inside, day by day, every single night.

Yes, the truth hurts worst when you’re lying on your back in a hollowly-carved bed, watching the tick of the sagging clock draw frowns on your dripping beige ceiling, the crude notches on the bedpost your only substitute for a calendar, not even the gathering dust on your windowsill keeping track of your blunt existence, but is that really such a bad plotline to read into? After all, I’m a mere instrument of conflict, and if I do not fulfill my function, I have no point, and dull instruments are of no use to anyone but the junkyard. So, what’s the point but pointlessness? What is there to release from arrogance, from selfishness, from egocentric human needs and desires, shallowness sucking away the will to speak in freedom, constantly starving for lust and lusting for starvation and dying from either loneliness or hunger in the end?

Give me that. Give me an answer that would morph my vulgar counterfeit laughter back into a purely genuine jubilance, give me a reply that would wash away the contracting fallacies in my conflicted mind and make my craving lecherous soul finally taste the decadent truth, give me a statement to swim in and sink under as I ponder deeply upon it and spend all my cashed-in stars to figure it out until I may finally repose in peace, give me an oratorical rhetoric that would drag me out of the hands of the angels in the ambulance and shock my heart into sinus rhythm, give me something, anything at all that would set this hellish perpetual carousel in a dead jolting halt and wouldn’t throw me off the cutthroat ride, give me—give me what I want. Yet, is what I want really what I need?

Never. Because in this reality, the parallel cruelty prevents any chance of a perfect alignment or even a destined intersection between any limits, and it’s all we can do to keep walking in the thin line and keep a painful positiveness, because backtracking to the negatives would devour us whole, render us irrational, and count us as impossible. Yet, despite knowing all of those and sharing such meaningless contrivances to the eyes that refuse to perceive and the ears that refuse to listen, I still want you to lie to me. Lie to me until your lips are mutated and your bated tongue is in shreds, lie, lie, lie, until the wrong turns right, until forward becomes backwards, until the truth is the ultimate lie, and I’ll gladly do the same to you. After all, we’re just doing what we need to do. We’re just doing all we can do.

~*~

These self inviting auras
Made me bring out the sun
Your body’s played its role
It’s ruined my game
And now I can’t believe I’ve done it
But somehow I still feel
But I still feel, so far gone…

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose

Stars In Flight

The hope that you spilled onto my tongue

Still has no discernible taste

And all the second chances, times infinity

Felt like such a complete waste

I want to defy the serpents hissing profane

And light up these lips in butane

I want to believe that yesterday don’t exist

And cross it out of my checklist

But I relapse into hospital wedding gowns

In voices that don’t make a sound

Choking on gold ribbons, feeling the same

As I get tired of writing my name

Spinning in cycles of silver clouds and pose

Faith as banal as a lacerating rose

Telling heaven what I want again ‘til it hurts

Injured by hell, losing to my curse

Will I ever replace restless flames that ignite

As pretence returns to take the fight?

Will I close my eyes against the terror austere

Can I say I’ll still be here in a year?

But I hear you singing in the wind and echoing

Past empty hallways, ever listening

Sabotaging rusted knives deigning to be selfish

With a stellar colliding for the finish

You will never know you’re my angel, will you?

You’ll never know how many times

You saved me from falling out into dark oblivion

As desperation’s bile starts to arise

When you swore you won’t chase in circles south

And whispered as I held my mouth

I did yearn to die, but you make me want to fake it

Sleeping in carparks, I might make it

And the floral pain nearly tears my skin into shreds

But you drink away the poisoned lead

I’m screaming thoughts which you turned into wine

I couldn’t rest until I’m startled into fine

I never deserved all of this, though it might be sparse

You swore it’ll disappear, promise to stars

I’ll be alright, love, I can bleed away all my phantoms

Someday I’ll fly to you, away from rock bottom.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Butterfly Stitches

Give me a mouthful
And leave me nothing now
So chalk it up to the drone
Hack it out, wear it down
Where will you go when
You’re feeling blue?

~*~

i may never have the courage to do

the perseverance and hope that you pursue

like making snow castles out of icicles

and twisting lemonade out of bland honeydew

i cross my fingers for fibs not faith, it’s true

and my constellations are merely apologetic construes

but when i pretend there’s a horizon past the ceiling

i close my eyes and watch you taste the sun whilst tiptoeing

for you dance those rhythms that i’ve always faked

and fog the glass over your scribbled breathing mistakes

sew the thread past your heart to fix rivets and abate

shine your smile and sharpen your teeth when you awake

an incandescent perspective in this dismal existence

you may be hurt but you strive and fathom to make sense

dear, i may never have the courage to mend like you do

but your butterfly eyes encouraged me to try being brand new.

~*~

So save me and tell me how
it all got so doubtful
Leave me nothing now
Back on the old road
You’re wishing you’ll wind me down…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Static Sessions

And you can’t fight the tears that ain’t coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah you bleed just to know you’re alive…

~*~

It’s rather strange and desensitisingly nerve-wracking, standing up there with shivering knees, under the judgment of glaring spotlights and hanging magenta lamps, and past the scrutinising pupils of a million watching stars. I do not feel like my own concrete entity, merely a disheveled apparition trapped in a foreign body. The amp screeches—jeeringly, it seems. I momentarily blanch. What the hell am I doing?

Perspiring profusely, trembling hands holding the gibberish lyrics to an unfamiliar forgotten song and an impatient crackling microphone, the beginning intro of the acoustic guitar sounds like a banshee’s scream that’s prompting my knotted larynx to begin making even an inkling of a noise. Quivering, quivering, quivering; dreadful hesitation and a near-death anxiety that wrings the delirious butterflies out of my stomach in an icy-cold freeze. An infinitesimal moment of silence. A skip of a heartbeat. A suffocating breath held until it coagulates. A spill of acherontic reluctance spilled down catatonic spines before one jolts and realises in shock that, surprise surprise, my parched mouth is actually producing sound!

Thus the song proceeds, with or without me. It’s up to me to chase after it’s vivacious footsteps. My voice is no longer my own, simply a phantom illusion; I barely feel it rising up and down, strumming the musical bars to the best of its abilities. Everything tastes like stereo static; clapping and cheering amid guitar and tambourine amid the anxious symphonies I relayed. The quaint scenario tangibly intensifies into a steady culmination, vertical horizons alighting into spontaneous combustion. Steadfast certainty underhandedly replaces the oscillating nervousness within me, pastel assurance slowly seeping in my ticking aegan-washed bones and strengthening every fibre of my abandoned sensibilities.

I find myself closing my eyes and loosening my grip, my driftwood soul getting pulled in the undertows of the euphoric moment. I can barely hear my own voice anymore, and I do not hear the crowd at all. Soprano, baritone, octaves, trebles, notes and rhythms and senselessness and song, they’re all that envelops me right now, my solitary company in this madness of a world. Raging fire burns in my emotions, thawing the glaciated blood in my veins, warming up the frostbitten angels barely holding my terse heartstrings together, bringing oxygen back to my perforating pulmonary flow; and nothing else matters anymore, only me and the music, the music and I.

The interlude swells into a deafening crescendo, and my frizzling neurons go off like fourth of July fireworks, showering the sky with brilliant sparks. It’s infinity on repeat, infinity in my teeth, infinity rushing low, infinity on an all-time high. This feels fucking amazing. What was there to be afraid of? Why had I been terrified all this time of such a ludicrous notion? Perhaps if I had steeled myself sooner, my brillo-pad songs would be less abrasive, and the ticking clock would’ve been on my side. But no matter, for I shall not dwell on the resentment of the past that keeps me embrangled within incarcerating doubt and merciless agony. Rather, I will focus on the now. This is me, doing what I never dared to do, doing what I’ve always wanted to do. I’m doing this for them, my beautiful divine motivations, though more importantly, I’m doing this for me, and for me alone.

The set comes to a slowing halt, the prospect tinging me with hints of sorrowful melancholy, and the audience bursts into polite applause, but the enraptured sensations linger still; and as I amble off the stage, I still find a soft lone melody humming whimsically at the back of my mellowing incandescent mind. It’s over, I sigh out to my palpitating lungs, to my shaky footing, to my disbelieving mind, attempting to calm my frantic pulse back into a metronome lullaby. But it will never be quite over, wouldn’t it? I ponder with a secret smile. I finally found my voice. I only hope I don’t lose it again. And I can only hope so hard it hurts that I don’t keep it to myself anymore.

~*~

And I don’t want the world to see me
‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s meant to be broken
I just want you to know who I am…

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose