芭樂成熟時

Ahhh, how long has it been?

The guava tree is bearing its first few fruits. 

Growing up with a guava tree, we climbed it to catch a glimpse of the neighbors' tv.

We hung lanterns on it and learnt about bugs and caterpillars.

Ladybirds and grasshoppers were still a regular sight. 

Occasionally big locust to gaze upon too. 

Not all was good. There were also annoying flies that made worms so that we were left with none. 

Folding newspapers wrappers and wrapping those little guavas wasn't a fun activity,

Repetition, routine plus all those buzzes of nagging... We'd prefer the Big Mac combo. 

But, we surely had nice green guavas to eat almost all year long,

For years and years I have lost and forgotten. 

And I decided for good, that guava is my favourite fruit. 

Which day was it when the tree was fallen?

I can't remember but only knew that it might have well been 20 years!

Gosh!! 

We had moved on to coconut tree climbing, with another story on its own

And that, that giant coconut tree was also "removed for development"... 

Fight War With Peace

War of the worlds

War of people

War within yourself

#IAmPeace

8th August 2014 Meditate for Peace at unify.org

Misses n Wishes

Somewhere far away, she found home 

and love beyond what I could give..

Getting off

Wait,

God.

Tonight I send you my words

I will come 

No pain piercing up through the heart

From every step I take 

Will stop me from coming 

Dragged along will be the guilt and sins

Turned into fruits of my offering 

As I sit here learning to give life me 

Quietly I stay obedient to the path beneath 

For the swamp and fire to let go 

Whence my palms gently touch it

With that I shall come

But wait,

God

I send you my words

I will come

Silent guilt in the cold January

As birds,

They've returned

Cozily in each other's 

Wanting this guilt pardoned 

解决问题

家里最近来了一窝黑蚂蚁。

什么甜的酸的咸的辣的油的，没多久就一片黑海。

终于忍无可忍，去跟黑蚂蚁女皇请安。

“陛下，我们后面家烧猪肉的。

你们去那边啦。。。” 

辣椒逢知己

指着天的辣椒。

忘了何时家里来了这么一棵。

不久前想摘几颗辣个炸开的时候，发现好多红的都被吃掉一半。

直到前天，终于有缘看见它。

小树枝很轻，它很重。

没法站稳，看它吃得怪辛苦的。

人生难得遇见口味相投的朋友，却不能靠近。

命运弄人啊。。。

家园生命

周六不停生活

小小绿园里有记录不完的事。

记录了一个又看到另一个。

看到了又不能不记下。

眼看笔迹越来越凌乱。

也感觉中午的阳光快来袭。

还好这时来了一只红眼大苍蝇。

站在纸上，搓起双手，然后四只手一起搓。

Geumanhae. Jebal.

终于搁笔。真乱。

乱中浓浓的思绪，怎么解读。

One thunderstorm in November

I had to shake this trembling off. In so I draw.

If I weren't this life, this me, would I miss this man? Nearly, I turned them all away. What is left then for this old fool?

Everything that's been thrown are all worth their fullest. But there's always a twist. Nobody knows. The fool lives its name, knowing that they are locked out there, with accomplished mission. 

The stories I've come to learn stamped into the consciousness. Between now and the time they fade, something grows. We know not what it is, as of all the nows. And in small steps, we continue to draw our trembles, not knowing what else to do.

Mood Cross-over

So much to lose. Are you taking this away too? There ain't a lot on the plate but you just can't let it be, can you?

Half the week is on a low heat. Water vaporizes and so is any lingering strong emotion. With jokes and gags still good to laugh at, it's hard to tell. When you pour everything in for a stir-fry, wouldn't it be great if it turns out good for your soul? But when it's in the blood to go where there's no queue, you are risking the past, present and future.

Shit. I just hit in an idea that will keep me walking alone for a long time. It's poking at me all the time anyway. Makes me wonder what the hell did I ask for at the first spark. Right now, my guts is telling me to hold it all together in the wok. I need a real big one. I don't. Maybe that's the problem...

Writing monologues out front... way to go, myself.

Now, fortunately, I am still in the mood to draw. Putting my prayers in it too. I'm really clueless when it comes to the pangs of life. It must be agonizing to watch from outside huh? Drawing is probably just the only way I see I could do at this point. If it sucks, it's just me though.

On cohabiting, living like the world accepts differences when it harshly scolds you off is picking on the nerve. Still fighting to not get used to it. As thought should. Kan? (Excuse me, sir. Your Malaysian is showing...)

Just not easy to live on the ugly end of life. You know you should throw the magnifying glass away. But why do you keep hearing it? There must be something. Like, is this my thesis? Oh by the way, all these writings will be done on this intent. I figured the best way to keep the big cat mind occupied is to have some sort of a blown-up purpose. At least it shouldn't keep on feeding the greed. Purr...

Allow me to go back to my prayers in this mood...

My Beer Glass

The glass is filled to its brim.

All the care in the world wouldn't change it good. That one darn thing is all it is waiting for. But I am not. In the past I dreaded because I am not. Like I said, it died already.

Carefully balancing on shaky limbs, the glass went everywhere I went. It's hard to hold and harder to leave it alone.

So what now? Holding a full glass can't take you far. But I am too stubborn about my own assumptions. Who claims to know what's next? I wouldn't bow if I see one now. So let me have my way. I would put it down if you back off. Shoo!

Likeness! See?

How are we to co-exist? I liked what I hear back then. The question must be given thought. Narrow it down -- what would you like to see?

Should we argue? Timing is over-rated. Too quick or too slow in action, you have just drawn yourself something to compare and you are likely to judge. Eventually you fall into your own trap, thinking either more or lesser about yourself.

Falling. Can we associate it with enjoyable? Make it free and gravity-less. Clarity is for those who want it.

If you don't, why even mind holding grudge?

Sportsmanship

I was drowning. If it weren't for that nerve-wrecking game of Cool Kidz in the evening, I would have forgotten to try kicking and pushing the water underneath me. The sportsman loses as a fighter and beats himself while his imaginary team of probably his own seven souls cheers him on. He was on this losing side and the winning end too. As nature has it all the while.

Begging for a lifeline that would never be thrown. Everybody is too occupied, hands and mind. You got to save yourself.

The couch potato found the lost spirit. Listened. It still is there, eh?

Who is that cheeky rascal watching these people living these lives of theirs? Look at the games and the desire to win. Ingrid thinks it isn't bad to be a loser. But she never live on for people to listen to her or find any of what she says bearing sense. Soon, all is forgotten and people pride themselves with poppings of the same old revelations.

Nearing the day of remorse, the familiar pictures are undesirable. You just don't want to be the same. The truth says it's not, if you mind listening. This is an earth-size shoe. You can actually let it slip if you want. Or take it in like a battery-charger. Otherwise, it won't do much good. Of all the voices, you hear the loud people trumpeting on their ego. Not wrong. Just theirs.

I am feeling pretty invisible these days. Slowly turning into a stranger. The fight is personal. I just am reluctant to kill myself for reasons that I think I'd forget after I die, considering my very little sense and memory.

Let me or not, I am still looking up.  

The Moon is Full

I have a human heart.

This heart, is not at peace. It keeps stealing away the focus. Wanting to peek at the stupid mobile device. What is it you wanna see so much? It is all just people. People. So is that it?

Writing, maybe it wants. It wants. It wants but it can't. It can't stay. Still.

I now half-dragging it along. See? Let's sit here and tap away. Tap away madly to your content. Stop bothering the eyes. I know its you. Not them. They are curious twin. Not a doubt. But I know I can give them candies far better than what you are trying to get them to do right now. Stay with me.

Now, I, we have been reading. Quite a lot lately compared to 2012 when the world was cracking. We couldn't take in the words. They meant nothing. For they were all dark and deadly then. HUGE difference in the air surrounding us. All things were wrong. Insane. But they were in the past. They died.

We hide in books, don't we? If not, we will be jumping back into the head. In fact, I just snap out of it. We know all the secrets are in there. Life just had to get us away. We can't stop questioning and discussing. Making one conclusion after another. Then trash them. Then something comes up again. This circle, fool it may be, makes sense because the pain is always self-inflicted.

I made my way into the first chapter of Huckleberry Finn. Memory of it must have been erased, I sigh. How could I forget? This time, maybe I will sink into a clearer plane as the words transform into pictures and crash into the wider forehead. The words and language are a fun to read. So unconventional that I just wanna tap on the old man writing with his feather pen. Excuse me, sir. This is enjoyable. It even made my human heart all shiver-ie... He would smile back. Lick at the tip of his pen. And go back writing under his hunch.  

Ahh... how strangely friendly can a soul be? They hide behind their scripts and pull at the strings of hearts let lose in deep hypnotism.

I can't wait for night to fall and the full moon to rise. Then can I open up to another chapter of Einstein. To have him looking from my bed, I have to tell him to wait. There will be a time. A time for anything. And for a wonderfully self-full thing like him, time will always be eagerly ticking. No absolute time you say, eh? I will trust Isaacson for as long as he keeps me counting.  

My restless heart, will you cheer up... and make peace for the soul on a full moon?