pot of surprise

life's getting harder and i'm not getting any younger
am i going to complete the things i set out to do
it seems time is passing by faster and everybody
else is doing something, going somewhere

will the good things remain and blossom prettier
or will it all go downhill from here
i think i must change myself to make this world better
and make everyone around me happier

should we wait for tomorrow before any rash decisions
can we believe and hope for nice surprises
like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow after the showers

no worries no fear
i'll take myself further than i've been before
a step at a time and i'll leap and not fall
putting all my trust in the one I call God

Maybe then
we can finally find the pot of surprise after we've braved through the storms

complete

on a lazy lonely afternoon like that
I lie alone on a cold lonely bed
I've come to realize I can't live without you, all I have
your presence would have made this a perfect Sunday
we could kiss away the weekday stresses
we would cuddle away, our weekly stretches

staring at my cellphone, I await your call
dreading the rest of the day without you at all
Won't you appear before me now?
Right beside my pillow, lay your head down
Have your warm body snug against mine
Put your arms around me while I gaze into your eyes

i imagine you whisper in my ears
you promise me a proposal in five years
my heart flutters just thinking about it
i turn on the music, listening to love songs for inspirations to draw
and here i am penning these words, I couldn't miss you more

we paint each other's lives into a shared portrait of joy
please don't let anyone rob of that, not the army my boy
I need you like you need me, we need each other to be complete
we have forever to be together

Kill myself slow

every night before I sleep
instead of looking to God for direction
I look into my cancer box
wondering how long I'll last with what's left in it
and I reach in, fiddling with the content
sniffing in the herbal aroma
so, I dream to kill myself slowly with this stick

every time I light up
each short-lived stick burns faster then I want them to
I'll fantasize about how much I'll enjoy the next stick
even before I can finish the one in my hand
alas, it finishes and my urge to see a fresh stick burn
and I'll just kill myself slow with this stick and the next

killing myself slowly with this stick
killing my emotions and decency
killing all morals and judgments
killing relationships and communication
killing joy killing life

Is it worth

dedicated to a friend who's going through a hard time now..

is it worth the tears
you broke my heart for the umpteenth time
you, a man i still call dad

is it worth fighting for
you tore my art pieces and sold my guitar
you destroyed my world over and again

is it worth living on
you trample on everything we have
you stooped so low to keep up with your dirty gambling vice
you make the home a desperate, unwelcoming den

Every tear I cry
somebody comforts me from above
Everytime I fight
my passion for art and music strengthens
And I will choose to live
to tell a story that will bring hope to the anguished

Was it just me

sorry doesn't mean a thing you say
with each apology the pain adds on
i see the dejection in your swelling eyes
i wish to hit myself against the wall thinking what i did wrong
i grabbed your hand only to find no other words
you pulled away, my grip slipping out of your fingers
standing up from your seat, dejection fading from your face
scrambling ahead to catch up with you
i tugged your right arm with both of mine
a forced smile surfaced, you said "i'm ok, just need a drink"
my heart pierced with regret, hoping i had shut up
my head sought comfort, wishing to solve everything with a smoke

what was it that went wrong
was it my words
was it my expectations
was it just me

snuff out and walk away

i saw a girl lighting up today, the first time in her life
scrambling out of the bus heading for the quiet spot
shoved out a cigarette from the tight package, hands full of jitter
between her delicate fingers she placed the white stick
striking a light twice to make sure it lit
Pursing her lips she inhaled gently, careful not to choke
First huff of white smoke out her mouth
a stream of mint down her throat
Let's try it again, its quite fun watching smoke come out
Second huff, she observed deliriously
a bitter taste forms on the tongue
Standing behind the bus-stop panels, she took
a third, a fourth, a fifth puff as the mint and bitterness piled
Nothing excitable, she thought
and she snuffed out the cigarette and walked away

maybe i should just shut up

"maybe i should just shut up"
this line i've confessed many times this year
i keep finding myself in situations
wishing i never said the things i did
i can't sustain a conversation
or express frank opinions to
my closest ones

feeling mistaken and misunderstood
leaving people in distaste and dismay

i really should shut up
my verbal expression comes out disorganized, uncertain and misinterpreted
my writing obsession: precise to my thoughts, full of conviction

i hate to feel stupid after the words i say
i hate to have words that i could never take back as easy as backspace
withdrawing from the deeper subjects
avoiding discussions that require complex deliberation

Oh who can i turn to for a listening ear
Who shall be patient enough, while i struggle in my failed re-phrasal of thoughts

maybe i should just shut up
and just wallow in a writing fixation