of Children’s Woes

What’s our hardship as compared to what our parents have undergone?

Ours seem so simple and easy to cross in their eyes.

Yet to us, it’s like a brick wall that just kept rising.

To them, it’s just a pebble on the beach.

What’s our hardship as we sit behind the screen, typing this out

when people had no means to contact their loved ones.

What’s with the frustration in life

when some people have trouble filling their stomachs.

What’s with the jealousy and envy

when people are crying for their loss, never to come back again.

What’s with the world?

It’s not as simple as it seems, getting more complicated with every year passed.

What’s with us?

It’s so hard to express what we feel.

Yet to a stranger standing there

it’s damn clear as day.

What’s wrong with the silence?

It does not mean a bad thing.

Listen hard and you’ll be able to feel

through the veils, the different meanings of it.

What’s with our Mother?

She’s getting tired.

We need to save her.

That’s what we all say.

What’s with time?

It’s running away faster.

We’re the hunters, chasing along

Or are we the prey?

What’s with each passing day

Something gets done

Yet, nothing satisfies?

What’s with the World.

 

of Feelings in a Bottle 2

I saw the old bits and pieces today.

From back when I was little

and progressed through the years.

Those scraps of paper.

Tattered, and slightly yellow.

The handwritings’ fading.

The notes we passed, the letters we exchanged.

The giggles we shared, the slight flirtations we had.

They made me smile a little as I caught a glimpse of me.

Have I change?

I cringed a little at my language.

I had goosebumps about the intimacy.

I ran my fingers over them, a bittersweet ache.

But they’re all memories I chose to keep.

Yet, for another year.

Have you forgotten?

Now that there’s another by your sides.

Have all that passed come to naught

turned to dust, blown away.

Or you, too, kept it within

Buried deep underneath.

Do tears still greet your pillow

when you remember?

Does a wrinkle settle upon your brow?

Or is that a little smile whilst you recall?

Papers, words

It’s the thoughts that count.

With all our heart, we gave it a try.

But all that seems to matter now,

is no longer sweet or bitter memories.

All we could do now is to look forward and smile.

With each new day, we force ourselves

Memories, they’re fading.

Slowly.

They seemed to be a scene instead.

Slowly.

No longer alive; unable to revive.

 

of Whims and Fancies

Last night you came to me

head down, looking at the ground

A shy little smile and that dimple

danced in and out

Took my hands, kept them warm

held them close

walked the distance

Air of contentment

Together

throughout the distance.

I dreamt of you.

 

of Changes and Life Luggage

How long ago was the last time you said, “So-and-so has changed”?
How long ago was the last time you said, “I have changed”?
How often do you comment that “So-and-so has change!”

For me, it’s always the others who have change more than I. People close to the heart seldom seem to have change, not that they didn’t, but we just,somehow, failed to see it.

Yet once we noticed it, we get all surprised and flustered over it.

I know I have changed in little ways. More jealousy, envy, pride and ego. They’re heavy luggage. Yet, I can’t seem to put them down and bury them nine feet under the ground.

I’m no saint, I’m born a human, die a human (I hope). I scoff at people who claim that they are perfectionist or act all high-and-mighty. I am skeptical when people are over-friendly or nice, believing that they have motives or probably just wanting to build a facade of I-am-a-Nice-guy/gal.

Recently, I seemed to have gone from bad to worse. I got irritated when I read some random profiles stating that they hate hypocrites, backstabbers, liars, gossipers etc and wish that they would all vanish from the face of Earth. Rrrright.

All whom will be left are probably just new born babies.

 When we say that someone has change, is it really true, or is it just that we ourselves have change? They could have been like that since we know them; just that over the years, our luggage gets heavier, weighing us down, making us perspire and the perspiration blurred our vision; thus, causing us to think that they have change?

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Rats of the Race
(by dayever and no offence meant!) 

The place’s a spinnin’
We’re all adaptin’
We’re all changin’

We’re all rats in the race
Chasing for the big Cheese
Hypocrites and backstabbers
They are labelled as the Nasty Rats
those who label are the Successful Nasty Rats.
Liars, liars, pants on fire
They are there to weave some pictures
and spin their tails tales.
Who else provides the mystery to test your brain
when they are not there to tell tall stories?
What fun is there, if all you do is run and trip others
Jump and step on others?
Gossipers, they’re there to the rescue.
Oh she didn’t! She did? Scandalous!
Isn’t that so much fun?
Entertainment, free of charge.
We are all rats. In the race.

— — — — — — — — — — — —

I kind of like this song -
Wishing it away By Jesus Jones
Lyrics here