Friendship I resent

Allies slowly break
Left is lonely brick
Congratulations, I said
Deep down I was sad
Years are not to bear 

Calling is not to hear
Changes are loathsome
Routines are blossom
Soulmates are waving hands
Shall I move next to Hanks
[...]
Leaving is deliciously heroic
Staying is viciously realistic
[...]

My Stuggle

A struggle non-stop, so raw
Two different takes from within
One by the mind
One by the soul

We're on the same boat
So the mind heard
Yet the soul was preoccupied
Searching for a wonderland to which it belonged


The Utopia long lives in fantasy and might never be reached
The soul was awakened by an epiphany
Boat people were all celebrating the remaining days before ashore
He was let down by self, succumbing to the cruel fact

Soledad

I
've run out of ideas
How to rekindle self
Life looks as turbulent
As a rough sea
Moments of peace are not likely soon
I often find it queer
For they come once in a blue moon
MC - or its connotation -
Has become more than a shelter
Like a comrade-in-arms

II
Dread is haunting me
For the first time in life
Heavy workload seems so tempting
So soothing that it creates a brief reverie
Way away from emptiness
A state where swallowed is sensed
A dark chamber with loads of partners or couples
Who claim to enjoy a plot
Is not to be stood
Solitude grows fiercer in crowded places

Quantitative

In blissful ignorance of life?
Enjoy your youth and days
For you'll join me before long
Realising delight is no easy to pursue
Let me take an unusual example:
If our lifespan is air
Then happiness must be CO2
And sadness Nitrogen
You ain't into Science?
Alright, try this:
If joy is a mine
Then it must be gold
And sorrow weed
[...]

VS

One-on-one
A war not to be won
"What makes you right all the time?"
I doubt and curse
Silence fills the air between us -
Taken as weaponry
An uneasy wait
A peacelike moment before the tempest
Chicks are improbable to read
Well predetermined in the deed

What I'm like

I moved quickly to a set of double doors, opened them and stepped into the darkness of the auditorium.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

[...]

I hesitate. But I am determined after a moment and step forward.

I step up to the stone. I place my hand around the handle and begin to pull. The sword starts to come out.

The villagers gasp.

I raise the shiny sword out of the stone and high above my head.

Everyone on stage bows.

A silence fills the auditorium.

The villagers rise and rush to me. They scoop me up and carry me around the stage in celebration. I chuckle and then laugh as the group of six-year-olds try unsuccessfully to keep me up. We slowly sag and then collapse. We are all laughing as we try to untangle ourselves.

I become indistinguishable among a group of twenty children giggling and enjoying themselves on stage.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

[...]

I happened to see this distant self when I volunteered my services some days ago. I was helping my kindergarten hold a fund-raising event, in which some young kids had to perform a costume drama. Although the play and the characters were different, the auditorium was the same - both geographically and psychologically.

This piece of memory is intact and it will remain so even if I do not have a photograph of my performance back then.
Others, even if you still have a vivid picture showing either what you were doing or what you were like, you’d rather deny it.

Our memory is highly selective.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

[...]

For all the grieving I had been through [...], I look immaculate to even my intimate friends. I can avidly talk about my current life and future plans with them, but when the dialogue turns towards those days, ‘the dark age’, as I call it, I immediately - and quite visibly - steel myself, as though I knew the moment might arise.

My eyes drift away from my friends. I look across and apologise, while the [...].

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Don’t mention it, please. It’s just too painful for me.” 

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

Never have I put it this way before but I know it’s true: It was me who consciously and willingly gave up all my ‘talents’. It was me who chose to let go. And it was me who determined how others were going to see me. And if I were to be put right in front of the fulcrum point now, I know, I would once again opt against the other possible paths and would never feel sorry because of my same ‘blunder’ and its foreseeable, undesirable consequences. 

Fight

One-on-one
A war not to be won
Chicks are impossible to read
Intrigued by the weed
Let’s embrace the lament
Silence of the Lam(b)

Section Breaks

I
Chit-chat with a young poet
An uncompromised “poetess”
To most of you here
That’s your teacher’s teacher

II
Free-style writing I no longer believe in, he says
Yet, he welcomes small talk a lot
Claiming it could inspire him somehow
I, therefore, get into a conversation with him

III
Right from the kick-off
And throughout
I can’t help myself but speechless
I come to realise what I’ve been doing – from within and deep down

IV
How come I always have a hectic schedule?
Is it because work is not letting go?
Or, am I not letting go of money?
Why do I invariably depict teaching as a profession non-stop?

V
While I often look gauche in school
He’s achieving instant fame
His goal is to be one of the top Asian poets,
To be mentioned and quoted whenever folks look into exotic poems

VI
It ain’t your aim anymore, I argue
How come, he asks
“Your destination’s been reached a decade earlier;
Better look for a new one”

VII
He nods,
Abruptly turns from passive to proactive,
And interrogates, how about your destination?
Have you reached it yet?

VIII
I’m stunned
Those are the questions
That I dare not ask, let alone answer myself
But, I opt not to shun

IX
Like you, I joke
I’m constantly looking for, at and into the chemistry between words
Unlike you, however,
I’m now exiled from my place

Livid

Albeit infrequent
Every time when I pay a visit to my parents' home
- where I used to stay -
Mum would nag me to pack my stuff, leaving me no choice at all
Yesterday, my little enlightenment book on Haiku
Could no longer hide his thick - dusty and yellowish - body
From my mum's eagle eye
He opted not to resist, however
But fell prey to her claws
A bit too leniently, I reckoned

When I saw him I paused for a sec
A while too short to be noticed by my biological parents
I was silently thrilled to bits
For he'd been nowhere to find for years
But he must have found himself abandoned
Exactly like how I felt and feel
I saw myself amidst the silly season
When I came to learn filial piety in front of the telly during last summer
In retrospect, I honestly think it's fine
So long as you demand no more that I call this flat home

Status Quo

I
Been underwater for months
Finally on my way back to the surface
The journey meant to make you suffer
For, you see what you've been through
The worst-case scenarios not to be overcome
But you survived somehow
Driven by desire and its implications

II
Yet, sight shouldn't be counted on much
Light is being refracted
Time before oxygenated is not to be determined
Dying but not yet dead
A situation way beyond control
Hope for the best
Prepare for the worst