Doubt

I greet you with a sense of accomplishment. An accomplishment of having made my way to this forsaken pedestal that we call a stage, to be pried open in the eyes of the audience, to be drunk in by ears. Truth is, most of what I'm saying is untrue. 

Who am I? The audiences asks me. 

Who am I? I ask myself.  

A simple molecule of thought stirs, trying to answer that relentless question because the rest of me does not want it. Who is this man that dares to stand before you this day is not the question, nor would it be the answer. The answer of your fears is more complicated than that. The answer, to the demons crawling beneath your feet as you watch me, 
eyes 
on 
me! 
The deception upon you that I lay with a seemingly friendly face of warmth and innocence, the way my words pour sweet honey down your ears, the question here, is why?  

As the monsters of your nightmares reach out now to touch your unsuspecting faces, I say ask yourself, why! The shell of mortality that you now inhabit screams for you to stop lying, stop deceiving yourself, why have you come to the point where you doubt your own words? 

As I stand before the mirror I say nay to the demons, nay to the fears and thrice nay to doubt for I am me, as full as can be, as complete as can be, as free as can be.  

I hear mother calling. It must be time for me to step away from the forsaken pedestal I call a stage, away from my own judgemental, prying eyes, away from this mirror. I may yet learn to love myself again, yet first I must fight these demons that make me doubt. 

We


She. 


It was initially a song to me, a mantra to recite under my breath as a testament to angels that walked amongst us. I am not a perfect man, far from it. My flaws drown out my contribution to society, but then again, that's my opinion. 

It was initially a far-fetched dream for me, a hope to keep alive when all was blue and living was a fuss. I am not a strong man, yet I think she saw it. She saw the glint in my eye that gave away that I could love again, that it was an option.

It was an epiphany for me, when she slowly walked into my life, how her bright young eyes threw up a ruckus. It was her perfect hair, her smile that really hit. I saw an angel incarnate that walked my way showing me I could be whole again, and I thought she'd run.

It was a love as old as time for me, a harmony of existences without strife, coming together to sing a song of the cosmos. I am not alone anymore, she gave me back my magic. The way her smile lit up her face when I tell her she's beautiful, she is brighter than the sun.

It is now a goal worth living for, to me, a future I can bring about in my life, keeping my love tender and without loss. I wish to belong to her, if she would take my heart and keep it. She was the reason for my rhyme, as my poetry tried but in vain to show her we are not two, but one.

We.

Between Land and Sea

Eternity. How would you describe it?

Lights were bright that dark evening, dancing in her brown irises that made his heart race. She was the ocean; her soul was deep and full of life, a deep-seated sense of quiet that has the potential to move nations. He knew she was bound by strings she herself weaved into ropes and then linked into chains, and for some reason, he knew he was the only hammer that could break her free.

Forever. What was forever to a single soul?

Her hands were soft and welcoming, yet she would squeeze her palms to tell him she loved him. Her smile was one of soft hesitation, but her lips parted every time to tell him she loved him. Her arms would try to push him yet her hands found refuge and solace all over his face and his back to tell him she loved him. She never uttered the words, but she would give him a silent kiss and an escaping sigh to tell him she loved him. 

Always. Was always just a synonym to repetition?

He knew their love was sudden yet borne out of eons of patient waiting of the universe to finally converge and complete itself. Like the meeting of the land and sea, they were together irrefutable and undeniable. Their passion was the storms that beat upon cliffs, like the rivers that carved grooves in the land in an embrace of millennia. She found root in him, he knew she did, but like the tides she slowly pulled her hands away every now and then, only to come back again. 

Gently loving, gently touching, gently kissing. Coexisting.

While he was stationary, she had traversed miles upon miles. Her past made her passions tender and raw, unsure yet of which coast her waves would settle upon. And so, as the universe had set the precedent for him, he would wait too. Her final embrace before she went on her pilgrimage of self-discovery was long and warm, a fire akin to the volcanoes that had shaped him before her arrival. He watched her walk away, her artistically curved hips tracing a rhythm of love in the air. He longed for her, but he knew he would wait.

He knew that, her love, if he was worthy of it, would be 
eternal, 
forever and 
always.

Blue Funk - 3


So we come to the point where my music picks a dance. A dance of souls, me, with my ever breaking heart and her with that eternal presence that brings me to my knees in prayer. A dance of hearts, showing vestiges of love never before exposed, a wonderment of words. Yes, a dance, a tango, a salsa of words, as she wrote with me.


Her...
Your island
Is a cluster of clouds which 
Dreams descend on 
From your god-like eyes

Me...
Your heart
Resembles the water and the life within
Deep and full yet rich and dark 
That forever will catch me by surprise 

Am I diving too deep as she slowly opens her well of affection for me? Am I going in unbidden into her world that she guards in hopes to never get hurt again? I don't want to be a source of hurt, I want to be her solace, her serenity. She replies.

Her...
Your touch of emotions
Caresses me in ways I can't handle
Like the rain drops on glass
You see through me, but you really want to seep through me

I can't hold back, I can't stay away again. The way she speaks through her smile makes me die a little inside in my craving. I reply.

Me...
Your eyes of deep hazel 
Betray an innocence that wants to be real again 
Like the warmth in the cold of the rain 
You would say no, but you know yes is what you would need

In the blue funk she first walked in, she turns to leave. Her hesitance all but keeps my fragile heart from breaking as I choke back my tears, did I say something wrong? Broken is my middle ground, my motto and my resolution, but would she break me more? 

No she did not. 

In a rush, she wraps her arms around me as she whispers,

Your eyes speak wonders of the deep waters 
They flow with high currents 
Waiting to dip on my shores 
Your love

You have anchored hope on me
And I can not move it 
You'll always be the gentle strength in me.

I wake up from the dream that kept me sane in my lonely reality. She was my reality, she was my reason to rhyme. As the blues and funk odyssey sounded from my headphones while I type this, my mind spews out my message, my prayer.

I shy away from the sun now, the glare it's too strong to stay me, 
I leave myself in this moment now, a true sense of serenity, 
The shade it'd save me from myself now, lest I burn and end up less than me, 
I snuggle into your loving arms now, this is where I belong and where I shall be.

Why doth you forsake me?

Blue Funk - 2


But it still breaks me apart.
 
I don't know what I want in this crazy, large and stormy world. I am in a sea of my own undoing, wondering hard and wondering long whether my next move would bring pain or suffering to the people I think I care about. I think I care about them, because their smiles, their tears, their gazes mean the world to me. Is that what care really feels like?


Shaken down to the core of my understanding, I sit myself down and reevaluate my happiness and my centre of being; my serenity. I have lived thinking that all that made me happy was the happiness of those around me, but when their actions bring me pain, who am I to blame? Oh, would it all be the same? Is my life an eternal game? 
Eternal as it will always be this way. 
My end when it comes would be an end to my name. 
Beyond that moment, I will not know pleasure, confusion or pain. 
If only my mind would forever stay sane. 
Would this all turn out okay?

I ramble as I watch her, eyes on her, waltzing in my mind. She has more than one face, which leaves me in a daze, a simple yet elaborate craze of emotions fueled and fiery like the need to get out of an eternal maze. I touch my face, wondering if my smile was still there, would I ever reach there, my hands grasp at a void that was created when I decided not to care.

Yet the blue funk drowns me in my own undoing, the sweet music that played as I pressed START and entered my own mind, my own game, a game of no return;

A shameful way to end my choices made.

Why doth you forsake me.

Blue Funk - 1

Shaken down to the core of my understanding, I watched as my life unfolded in the existence of a third person, another me, taking over me and all I held dear. 

I watched from the back seat of my Cadillac of a mind, firing on all pistons, trying hard to catch up with the tempests that hit me again, again, again. Heaven forbid I wake up now and take over the wheel; I'd rather not have control again, this feeling of finally letting go of the reins of this torrential existence a sweet, sweet serenity. Broken shards of my reflection look back, asking me why I'd let my efforts go in vain, but were they really in vain? 

No, I just wanted to make a change. 

When she waltzed by in the blue funk that enthralled me and my consciousness, I knew. I knew that the tempest was only getting stronger. 

I knew my life has only begun.

Being Lewis Carroll

I created your world of my old bimblebin 
Shining, glittering with shatrells in within, 
Yet dark are the nights, of jaberwockee ruin, 
Dark are the corpses of my mind's undoing 

Did you enjoy my little poem? A play on words, but a truth forgotten. 
I build your sins and vultruous want, for an evil never begotten
But when my words come alive, who is there to see? 
No one, not my game of five, four two one and three,

Oh Wonderland you ask me how, 
Lewis, may I enter now? 
I warn you one, the magic is greed, 
It's a broken world, my mind which seeds, 

Alice was a young maiden pure, 
She is joyangladest to see you here, 
Yet when my devilions evil traps, your soul, too late, 
You cannot leave my Wonderland here. 

Hark! Welcome to my friverfishing mind, 
A land of narcotics, strong nuf to blind, 
Meet my best concoction, a carnival of horror, 
A smile, a laugh, oh yes, my man the hatter. 

He is only one of a thousand you will find, 
In Wonderland, a trick of my mind on your eyes, 
Let me ellenbreak your souls in kind, 
Now follow the white Rabbit, lest fear leaves you blind


Lest fear eats you alive.

 As it doth gobbledrained young, pure, innocent, Alice.

Last past the gate

There wasn’t so much to say about his current situation. 

Another rolling sound woke him up before sleep could fully claim him, the sound of an aeroplane taking off into the dark skies above the Kuala Lumpur International Airport. It was a flight like any other, an engine sound he knew was different but without the skills or the ear to tell apart. He exhaled a breath of exasperation, at nothing in particular, just his misaimed sense of existence.

He smiled as kids voiced their opinions at everything they saw, their parents not giving a rat’s ass to their noise and banter. Jeremy remembered when he used to be like that, a constant nag at his late mother’s side, but making her smile and beam in happiness all the same. A mother’s love is late in being appreciated, a bit too late in his situation, but when the full effect and the breadth of it hit Jeremy, tears led to a gladness words could not explain. 

He was a truly loved child, and his mother was an angel to him. There was a not a moment of his childhood which he would change, the lessons learnt and the bruises earned. All the kisses of encouragement, and the screams and stern lectures that his mother used to give him was what moulded him and shaped him, which led him to this fateful day.

A bell rang through the speakers, signalling his chance to board his flight. The mood was sombre as Jeremy and the people flying off to Libya left their seats at the gate to walk to the military plane that waited to ferry them. The children saluted him in the best way they could, his uniform riddled with velcroed badges denoting his rank, his successes and his designation. Not only was he one of the First Asian Trapper Squad, elite and dreaded commandos, he was the leader of his squadron. With his lieutenant in tow, Captain Jeremy Woo Chow walked into the skywalk and towards the flight.



He, along with all his squad and people who knew them, did not expect to come back alive from the war. He wished the refugees well. 

Crossing the line

Two shots rang down the open plain. 


Deep breaths, he told himself, just breathe in deeply.
There was no movement in the distance. The futility of war hung heavy in the air as Heinrik De Graas watched ahead, trusting his entire existence to both his close friend Jensen and the clothes he wore. The canyon rose around them imposingly as the sun glared with full, unclouded and unblemished glory, raising mirages ten feet tall, blurring whatever was beyond half a mile.


He shivered.


A passing wind carrying the warmth of the canyon went eastwards, raising up a puff of dust that grew menacingly large, and Heinrik stiffened. He knew they would use the dust as cover, he knew they were next to invisible. He flexed his toes trying to get his blood circulating again, his mind clear and his purpose defined. 

That was when his demons decided to come back to him. 

His body worked on autopilot, not missing a single detail as he lay on the lip of the canyon, the entire expanse of the pass open and visible to him. His mind wandered, faces appearing unbidden, and for a hard, cold man, Heinrik shivered again. The heat did nothing to deter the coldness he felt, a sense of numb detachment of self and morality. He was nothing but a tool, a highly efficient one at that. But the sharper he got, the more blunt became his defence against the souls of the damned. He heard a distant yet distinct click of a rifle.

Trusting the wind and trusting his luck so far, Heinrik stayed still. As soon as the shot was sounded, he felt the ground roughly ten feet to his right erupt in dust with a loud crack. Deep breaths, he told himself, just breathe in deeply.

Jensen, a veteran like Heinrik, did not move either, no reaction whatsoever. He tapped once on the stone with a tiny grey hammer, and Heinrik replied in kind. Using a code they had used over the decade and half of their partnership, Jensen communicated with Heinrik, showing him the origin of the first shot. 

What was war, while nothing but a means of achieving an equally pointless goal? What were soldiers, while nothing but the tools of the big and mighty who sat their small bodies on bloody thrones of cash, gold and fear? He adjusted his scope, following Jensen’s instructions, making minute changes to his aim. What was death, while nothing but an inevitability of life? 

What right did he have,
to play God?

His adversary was good, but not even close to Heinrik’s level. Here Heinrik was almighty, as if the domain of his power bent to his will at his beck and call. Whispering words to sooth his troubled soul, he waited for the wind to settle. He slowed his pulse down to a beat every five seconds. His body was his temple, his mind master of everything within the moment. As his finger slowly tightened over the trigger that drew the thin fine line between a moment of life and the finality of death, he studied his target. The lines of his face hidden behind a yellow shaded mask, the way his body lay behind a set of large boulders and then slightly unprofessional way part of his ghillie flapped in the wind which was why Heinrik assumed his adversary to lack his attention to detail. Here was a fairly proficient soldier, with the same orders as Heinrik, and, given the same chance at survival as Heinrik had, maybe he might be as masterful of the trade as him.

The thought troubled him, his attention thrown awry.

Who was Heinrik? What was his right over the domain of man, the kingdom of heaven? The screams of the damned deafened him.

Two shots rang down the open plain. 

Deep breaths, he told himself, just breathe in deeply. 

Caught in a moment

There was a moment of beautiful solace when they both locked eyes, a moment of slow realisation of a truth they had known all their lives. The moment was short and abrupt, a question left lingering in the air; was this their cue to start their lives anew? Were they to find magic again?

She pocketed the change as she made her way to her seat. Her heart was aflame, a feeling she was not new to, but something she thought she’d never have again. The bus was crowded and she felt eyes on her, watching her every move as she looked for the elusive seat number 14, which in the end happened to be the only seat that was free on the sides. Switching her backpack to the front, she seated herself and wondered as to what was going through her troubled mind. 

He, on the other hand, never knew what real infatuation was before this night. Clocking in at 5 pm on the dot, doing work for minimum wage just so he could leave his dad’s home before he turned 23 this year, he was starstruck, wondering if fairytales took strolls down the world of the common people. His mind was not present while he absently did the work of a conductor on the inter-city Rapid-Transit Service bus number 22. He pressed the button to close the door when he pulled the last perforated ticket, trying in vain not to lift his eyes and gaze at the girl that took his breath away.

She was nervous, fiddling with the straps of her travel backpack. In her confused state of her mind, she did not trouble herself with putting her bag onto the overhead compartment. He noticed it, and he wondered if he should go help her. She got jolted in her seat as the bus pulled away from the curb. His heart yearned for a stolen glance from her bright green eyes, the ones that stabbed his heart with a blade of honey, more sweetness than pain, more yearning than a feeling of helplessness. She watched the urban buildings pass by, giving rise to the open road, a scenery of openness and hope as she ran from home. He saw instead the road that had once given him a dreary routine transform into a myriad of possibilities, a road to a solace he had always wanted.

She passed her forty-minutes by pretending to read a book she brought with her, while he passed his forty-minutes sitting in the conductor’s seat concentrating on the lack of traffic ahead. Thoughts were wheeling, questions left hanging between two points of certainty, where the tempest of emotions refused to show them any clarity.

The brake lights lit their wake as the bus neared the stop. This was a final destination, being the last ride of the day for the inter-city Rapid-Transit Service bus number 22. People with lives as diverse as the millions of combinations of a poker card deck started disembarking, going their separate ways, hoping to achieve what little or big goal they had set for themselves. They usually had no goal to their mediocre existence, yet today, two amongst their number had found their purpose. As she walked up to the door, she hesitated, a thousand answers floating everywhere and she wondered which one would finally settle. 


When his hand touched hers, she found her answer.