Wednesday, 19 November 2014

A Story of a Voluntary Slave

When he talked to me, his arms were shaking. His face was gaunt with grief. I had to hold him for a while, to compose his thoughts while he tried making sense of it all. But Jensen something else to say, and he stopped me from quietening him down.

Thus we sat down, and I listened.

He begun, "Never in my life has a mere sacrifice been so significant. But to me - it is everything: because of the amount of effort I put into this. You borrowed us for these little hours, but it all amounted to more than Tarry the amount. You knew what was happening. We always came to your zoo for the beatings. You escorted us - and you knew how hard we were being beaten and the many extra hours we put in because you always escorted us from the safe-haven and to the safe-haven after the beatings."

It was cryptic, but I understood. From ages past, the village chief had practised sorcery, using the villagers as unsuspecting, innate sacrifices for the Moon God. For a pittance of crumbs from His dungeon.

"I was up for this - with much faith in this Village - and thanks to His Exploit - I will have to rethink my dignity in life - because this Village seems to be filled with miserly people without a conscience. Like Him."

He was breaking down into tears, and I comforted him, for I too understood. He should not have registered as a voluntary citizen in Laza.

"Even a kind word seems so hard to get now since you want to keep it private for a greater future of your cult. You think the world only for yourself and your Doppelgängers, and you use the collective force with no guilt. You used the guise of the Church to validate the vanity of this entire comedy - sorry that we all saw through it. We all did -"

In my eyes were a fiery fire that ignited at the Injustice.

"You are powerful, we know that. You with your many sheep, the sheep whom stands guard at the gate, the sheep whom you lock up in pens, the sheep who lock our hearts in pity. But you are the poorest of us all - with your dry, selfish heart. I do hope the repercussions of your Cold will come back to haunt you into having a conscience. You will be remembered for your cowardice - by all of us, and we will come back as legion, as a collective voice - and all who has met you will chant the sins you have committed."

My heart ached with guilt for the Chief - for his Evil had stemmed from an Earlier, more innocent time.

"This fire burns within our hearts, and this light of truth shines upon you like the Sun on a maggot.

And though the truth was buried, it will arise, when you are old and knackly, and it will be remembered."

The words from his mouth disappeared like a wispful sigh and he quickly disappeared into the darkness of the slums.

I knew I had to perform the Anti-Spell to reverse His Curse, but I alas was too young and unable.

It was all for a Better Time.


Wednesday, 8 October 2014

It's an old, tugging feeling yet again.

Visiting melancholy, so bittersweet, stretching heartstrings till ends don't meet

Peace within 

Tuesday, 30 September 2014

I love

I love life, but not how I have to live life not by my standards.

I love people, but not how I have to love people by their standards.

I love myself, but not how I lie to myself.

I love freedom. I love the freedom to be myself. 

I love sincerity. I love the little comforting words friends say when they mean it. 

I love people with a weak heart - for they are the most sensitive souls with the purest thoughts.

I love children - for their outlook on life - on how a little smile and a gentle word can make darkness pull away like a eager tide.

I love old people - for they have lost so much that they are not afraid to lose more.

I love mad people - for they feel.

I love the little voice within me - that speaks of right and wrong.

I love to love.

Do you?

Sunday, 7 September 2014

I Was Ok (A Poem by me)

Familiar feelings once loom again
The dullness -
The slow, but throbbing heart -- -- -- -
The heaviness set once again, -
recalled by ages
- come.
The many –
swivelling thoughts –
of “what-if”. What if. What if
life - gave better choices. What if
life revealed more its - truth. What if
life was easy.
What if love
Was easy,
No?


What if -

Wednesday, 19 March 2014

Worm

Cure this pathetic worm of its coldness.
Of regrets unforgettable. 
For life's sake - finding a haven in the harsh meaningless of life.
Of lost dreams and comfort.

Warm it up with boiling water
Stir it in leaf greens
Shock away the lingering itch
Stir stir stir
Up the troubling reality of time's one way track to hell

Of procreation, survival, and then death
(As an afterthought)
Only a few cycles of seasons to live

Tuesday, 25 February 2014

Indonesia (An old poem I wrote years ago)

In the land of exotic traditions,
New Hope arises, soaring into the skies
Destination? Infinity, as the bagonjong rises up in confidence
Over the shadows of the singkok
Never falling, the cards never turned against its good fortune
Elegant papan banyak reflecting grandeur and beauty
Succinctly people of the land proclaim:
“I heart the land of wonders,

A haven of many islands and happiness in confluence.”

Thursday, 20 February 2014

I'm still a child at heart, not ready for life.

Monday, 20 January 2014

Off colour.

There is a growing uneasiness within me.

Day by day it tugs at my chest, filling me with anxiety.

I am not sure what I am feeling. I am finishing my mandatory service very soon - what is this?

Fear of the unknown? Fear of making a decision?

There is so much to life. So much to live. Yet so little time.

In a few months - I would most probably be going to SMU to read business.

Yet a part of me tugs at the possibility of reading law in the UK.

The challenge I will most likely not take up due to the high initial costs involved.

And yet another part of me pulls me to the entertainment sector.

I just wanna act, and sing like there's no tomorrow. Coz' there's no tomorrow, it seems in this sector.

You work, and there you are again pining for your next gig, being at the mercy of the many casting managers, competing with many talented and aspiring artists as well.

Will I take this life?

I have only 20 years or so of productive working years. If I must be an entertainer, even less.

Time waits for no one, yet now - I await, all the time.

There are so many obligations - and as much as I would want to live a life of giving, I realise - it requires first a lifetime of effort.

This clammy feeling in my stomach is not unfamiliar.

I once, and once again feel it.

Life - forces you to make decisions faster than you are ready.

Saturday, 11 January 2014

Interesting dream I remembered. Interesting ain't it?

I was in front of a condominium, in the lobby. There were large steps leading to the lobby, and it was sure grand.

I was standing there, with a misty Sun above me.

Then there were this being of the night, already transformed, and in his arms lay a captor.

He was one of those who are too far condemned from a life in heaven. Therefore being in the Sun would not bring him closer to the light.

He proclaimed possession over me and all those in his presence. Yet I was just a spectator.

And there were hooded crows, messengers who spread lies over the plain country.

They were strangely silent, yet their hooded heads nodded in fervor.

And then there were people, dressed up like crows, sniggering and hiding. Hiding, but their white, fat faces did not escape our gaze.

And I never knew if they escaped His gaze.

And I heard their conversation. They were talking about curiosity. And that they could leave anytime.

But could they?

And there was this heat.

I knew I was dreaming, but I could not wake up from this scenario. Strangely, that large winged being drew me with his majestic demeanor, his thirst for blood hanging in the strangely misty air.

And there was this constant wind blowing brown autumn leaves, leaving some on my hair - but there was no wind that I felt, only an intense summer heat.

And the white faced people giggled, and switched positions between the silent, still cloaked crows, boasting about the ignorance of these creatures of the night.

And the Sun was swallowed by a cloud.

I woke up.

De Zhong