To you…

We sometimes create a cloud around us so when people look at us, they see partially; what they see, they see through an opaque film.
And so we get so lonely bearing our insecurities, paranoia, misplaced judgements and phobias all alone.
Some reach out to us but we shut them out; not because we don’t want them around but cause we are not letting our baggage go.
Friends…good ones would have been made had we not ignored their outstretched arm of love.
Some left immediately, yet others stood by waiting for us to take their hands, but we didn’t.
They left too.
But who wouldn’t?

The past cannot be changed, but the future we seek can be set-up now – the present.
Let go off the baggage we carry.
Love is everywhere, we just don’t see it – yet not without eyes.
Be a friend, accept friendship; not all though.
For a friend could be closer than a brother.


Sad symphonies

They rendered music, sauntering as though unwilling and then…
I hear the cymbal cry out with a loud voice;
The drums beating with a rhythm, never before heard;
Clanging… Banging… Resounding and echoing from within and without.
Their voices carried with them a gory story.
They wept and wailed.
Alas! Alas!
Then I heard the trumpets, joined by the harp and fiddle;
Grandiloquent, sonorous instruments rendered their breathe to the skies pari passu with their brethren
Sad. That’s how they felt. Sad.

About a Lady

I found myself staying up, awake at mid-night thinking about a lovely dark maiden.
My heart seeks her, my head tells me otherwise.
Words unsaid to others were shared with her, as an offering upon her bosom.
For I hold back more than I let out.
But with her, trust and judgement ain’t an issue.

My head tells me I may be treading on hot coals, just reminiscing times spent together with her.
My heart… O my heart tells me to shut the world outside and run to utopia with her.
I do not want to be the betrayer of the brethren.
And I do not want to let go off the yearning of my heart, beating trice as fast.

THAT’S LIFE (excerpt)

I call it as it is in a journey,
Because death can stop your journey,
And the Ironies one gets in the journey.

When we seek for success,
We beget failing success,
Why is it so?

Good people don’t last to be enjoyed,
And it makes the devil over joyed,
Why is it so?

The wicked ones flourish,
Despite living with their blemish,
Why is it so?

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Who Am I???

Who am I?
Who am I??
Who am I???


Asking myself this question already sends waves of an unwanted feeling coursing through my belly and up north to my scalp.

If I am to ask someone this same question, they’ll probably give me a sentence or a short paragraph.

A question made up of only three words seems one of the toughest to be answered.

There are the obvious answers, of course, such as: I’m a man, I am a living soul, I’m a mother’s son, a brother’s brother, a sister’s brother, a friend’s friend; but the answer I seek is the entirety of what qualifies my existence – the deep stuff – not superficial mumbo-jumbo.

I am intelligent beyond measure;
But I stifle the lot that brews in my mind, due to my fears.

I am as strong as steel;
But prefer to act weak and childish.

I am blessed with a special talent;
But wish for another, instead of harnessing the one I’ve got for a good cause.

I am a member of a beautiful and large family;
But let the little things – the petty stuff – get to me, holding me back from showing much love, appreciation and support.

I am the son of the most powerful, awesome, loving, and great King; yes a heir to the throne – royalty;
But I act as a pauper, wearing pride as a raiment, my eyes clouded from seeing who I really am.

I am a young man blessed with love, having both time and opportunities freely given, but I did not know or rather I choose not to know.

I am a recidivist to the core. Walking down paths marred with guilt, pain, regret, hate…again and again.
I choose a moment’s pleasure for long term emotional turmoil and mind battering.
I attain a height for a while and then drop – falling quickly, and at such speeds as though struck by the hands of the gods.

This introspection is soothing.
I pray the side of me I no longer wish to be identified with be dismembered from my parts, and the side I find comforting in, be emboldened and made firm.

You could do same; retrospection of yourself I mean.
You don’t know until you know.