A Murder in Poetry

 I have rehearsed it

a thousand times —

The perfect crime,

The getaway, the alibi.

I rifled through my chest,

Each cavern, every ravine,

For traces of fingerprints

And of guilt I have to leave behind.

I mirrored my soul

As I watched my conscience practice its silhouettes,

In the dark — slow and meticulous,

A confession whispered at night.

I smile at your closed eyes,

Let your ghost dance through the door,

Lit off that lantern,

May you wander, may you get lost.

I do not want my hands stained,

I do not want rain that tastes of iron —

Yet in every epilogue of my poetries,

I have already killed you with a thousand knives.

I will lose myself in the songs

And of the prose I leave like footprints,

And if only thoughts could kill —

Oh my! Then mine would be a quiet genocide.

Make Peace

 Make peace with the battles 

You fought so hard

But did not win.

Make peace with the struggles 

You tried with your best

But did not come out clean.

Make peace with the silence 

You always tried to speak about

But never dared to open your mouth.

Make peace with your heart

For not always siding with your mind 

But learned to be kind.

Make peace with person

You always wanted to be

But did not become.

Make peace with your "what if's"

You tried so much to justify 

Until then, you will be satisfied

Trouble in the Old Town

 There's trouble in the old town

And the whistle 

Is waiting to be blown.

They killed the Mockingbird 

Only for the Mockingjay 

To be born.

They made the perfect crime

Troubles and troubles

In the heart of the old town,

They're enjoying the show

Just in time when the whistle 

Is finally blown.

P.s. 

A lot of people (I know) are so blatantly condemning corruption inside politics, shame on them! They don't look at themselves, they're busy joining the social media posting their disgust, when in fact, they are the very same people who are corrupt in their very own jobs. Shame, shame on you!

P.p.s.

Don't confuse the scheming corruption in your job as a blessing from God to sustain your needs/wants. If you think that way... Then you are mentally broke.

Of the White Dress Unworn

 But we love dark things 

From afar. 

They seem beautiful 

And Mysterious, 

Noctivagant.

But not until it gets us.

Moving in shadows,

Devouring our light.

A wraith in waiting 

With Opaline eyes.

And in the dark that veils us,

We yearn once more

To be there in the distant,

Just Watching 

With the moonlight.

But as we walk in silence,

Like a ghost in prayer,

We learn that

Freedom comes 

In different enigmatic ways.

Freedom is acceptance 

That some things 

Are just numinous dream,

We cannot dare to claim.

They are meant to be elusive.

Freedom is forgiveness 

Even without an apology.

For it is a waste of time

To wait for something 

That may never come.

Freedom is parading 

That long white dress

You did not wear,

For some shameful reasons 

You no longer care.

Freedom is wearing 

Your silver shoes 

Meant for the altar.

But now you're walking it

In the pavements of your street.

Like vellichor and withered pages,

Yellowed book from ash and age,

You yearn and learn all the same.

And slowly as your heart breaths 

You kiss your grief goodbye.

Point Nemo

 But first loves

Belong to the past. 

When fairy tales

Wrapped around the innocence 

Of forever ever after.

Kindled by sparks,

Blown by the Winds.

And when life happens,

All that is left 

Is the embers...

Ashes...

Cold blackened charcoals.

And yet here we are

Still believing 

In Phoenix.

That from ashes

They will return,

Burning...

Scourging...

Rekindling what's left.

But first loves 

Belong to the past.

They remain in the clocks 

Of forever not in present.

They flicker in a glimpse 

In the chasms of our lives.

But they will always be

Closer to space than land.

A Point Nemo

In a vast of mosaic emotions.

A hiraeth...

A nostalgia.

For All the Stars (I've Wished Upon)

Once upon a time,

A vast of labyrinth 

In the sky.

I wished upon a star 

So ephemeral,

But it was an epiphany 

In my heart.

My pristine heart

Found ebullience,

Like a limerence,

In the oblivion 

Of the dark...

Opalescence.

So again 

And again 

I wished on every twinkle,

On constellations,

And nebulae,

Orion and Equulei.

Oh! But Alas!

Each and everyone 

Fell.

To grant my wishes, 

My fervent prayers,

At night I spelled.

They left 

The heavens. 

Leaving my sky

Empty and barren.

As deep sense 

Of sonder, in me deepens.

Where have all

The Stars gone?

I wonder 

As I look up

And wished to see them

Again, one by one.

The Footnotes

 Inner peace is when they made you a villain in their own stories but you refused to be listed on the footnotes of their books.

That you choose to be at peace rather than battling over some petty and insignificant wars.

Because you know that your integrity weighs more than your reputation.

So let them write series of books about their twisted stories about you and just smile without giving a damn on their acknowledgements.

 But the truth is...

Even if you're good enough 

If you're not the one they are looking for...

You will never get to be chosen.

Echoes of Felicity

 Life is an echo of felicity that disappears in a great chasm of poignancy, an occasional burst of laughter that could be plotted above a graph of an interminable wail of misery, like a terrible giggle in the midst of your horrible forced march to death in hell. It is a single skip of bliss.

Dark Days

 But I have my dark days too,

When I just shut my eyes

And in the darkness 

I Dream,

I escaped reality.

But what's worse is that

I indulge in the darkness,

In sadness and madness 

And I find pleasure in it.

But dreaming in the dark

Has made me realize 

Something worth waking up for.

Like that spark hope you didn't find

So you created it for your own sake.

To warm you.

To keep you going.

Even if it's artificial,

It has the sincerest purpose,

To get you going.

And I have my dark days too,

When I just shut my eyes

And in the darkness 

I Dream,

I escaped reality.

It is where hope resurged.

It is where I start all over again.

Because in my dark days,

I still refuse to quit.

Of Songs We Dare Not To Sing (Hence, We Hum)

 A toast for all the songs 

We dare not to sing,

Forbidden lyrics 

In sacred hymn.

A toast for all the songs 

We dream to sing,

With hearts on fire

Our souls scream.

And for the poetries 

Written in rhymes,

We dare to speak the words 

Without a tune in lines.

And so we pass on

The ballads

Of songs we dare not to sing

Hence, we hum.

Closures

But closures doesn't always end with a period.

For some, it is a question mark

Answered in silence.

For some, it is with forgiveness 

Without any apologies received.

For some, it is running away

With peace of mind inside their bags.

Some have it the hard way

Carrying all the loads.

Some have it the easy way

Changing lanes on the road.

Some have it beautiful 

Like sunsets waving goodbye.

While others have it all blurry

Cause of the tears in their eyes.

Cause love is like a bubble

Beautiful yet fragile.

Clear yet with barriers,

Light yet hard to catch.

It goes with the wind 

If it's gentle,

And pops out just like that

When the wind gets tough.

It is a wonder...

Yet simple as that.

But for us...

Closure is a happy ending...

For each other... 

But not with each other.

But even fate cannot deny...

That Only time can endure forever.

 

Drawn

 But we are just ordinary...

Easily drawn by the sparks.

Whenever in the dark...

We find beauty...

Even in artificial light.

Love and All it's Afterglow

After all the songs have ended, 

You're the echo 

Resonating back to me.

After all the lights 

Flicker and gone,

You are the afterglow.

After all the sunsets have faded,

The twilight dims, 

And the moon hides,

You are the embers 

Lingering orange line,

You are the afterglow. 

After all the stars have fallen, 

Leaving the sky

Dark and empty,

My heart will still be filled 

With all the love

And it's Afterglow.

Love and All it's Afterimage

 

Will it be bearable 

For my heart

To see your afterimage 

If I believe 

That it was love 

After all?

Will you disappear 

If I touch your face

With my fragile heart?

Will my eyes trace back 

Every picture of you

Inside my mind?

Will I be left in solitude 

With stains of your colors?

Fading into oblivion 

With all the love

And it's Afterimage.

Love and All it's Aftertaste

Will you be haunting 

The halls of my castle?

I have built alone

Just to wish you were here.

For You are the ghost

Eagerly invited

To visit the walls 

Long been emptied.

And my heart calls out 

Your name, 

But the corners just echoes it back 

To me without you.

Like a marble sepulchre 

All dead inside,

My safe haven

Becomes my pain.

And this emotion

Is like a hero without the glory,

Like a human sacrifice 

Back when myths were once science. 

Tell me how to break

All the spell I'm bound in,

Kill this witch with a beautiful face

And All the love and it's Aftertaste.

Make peace with time...

And You will never run out of it.

The Art of Time