DREAM

How hard can it be,
He thought,
With his fragile hands,
He try to dug himself out,
Out of the madness.

Cracked lips,
Bruised legs,
Bleed hands,
Determined eyes,
The child refuse to back away.

To get out from the cold and merciless weather,
Freezing and windy,
That he still can't get use to,
Lost in thoughts,
Of the outside world.

Imaginations,
Run wild in his mind,
Igniting his courage,
To move forward,
And step out from his lonely world.

But he thought,
He was doing it,
Do something to get out,
Alas, sitting near the little fireplace,
Alone, dreaming of an escapade.

Always

They come to me when I'm alone
When I have no one to talk to
They are here beside me, whispering.
Sometimes, I just ignore.
But, mostly I listen to them.

This bit by bit consumes me
Bit by bit, I am no longer myself.
And now we have become one.
Somehow I am relief
That I'm no longer alone.

Thinking

WARNING: An overused of one word is particularly used in this story and people who can easily be annoyed by it are not recommended to read it however you may tell your friends that are less annoyed by or easily offended to read this. Audiences with less sense of humor are also advised not to read it. Thank you.

I think I’ve read too much that I think I can write a story. It’s just how this started. You know just like the time when you’re floating with ideas in your head and by the time you grab a pen and a paper, the ideas just disintegrated into oblivion or maybe straight into someone else’s mind and it somehow made that someone else famous. Or maybe this is the case of someone else’s ideas and it somehow flew into my mind but with exception of that famous phase.

And I think I’ve read too much that I’m scared to think or indulge in deep thought. I even thinking of something else at the moment when writing this, something that will get me caught if I do it. Or maybe I just over-think things. I think all these reading has done me some damage in the head particularly my brain of course. I thought of putting part of the brain’s name but eventually gave up because I can’t find my old anatomy and physiology textbooks and I’m not a fond of technology (to a certain extent) where these youngsters (or elders) prefer to use the search engine on their smart-phones or laptops and etc. Heck I’m even writing this on a sheet of an A4 paper before transferring it in my laptop. It gives me satisfaction, you know.

Whenever I read (a book usually), I try to think further than what was written, however you don’t have to for my writing, particularly this one. And with this over-thinking mind, I’ve formed a few opinions or perspectives and those religions orthodox probably unorthodox too might kill me if they found out what I’ve been thinking. I even attempted to point out one of my supposedly bizarre opinion to my parents (they can be quite strict regarding religion and ethics) and I’ve managed to obtain myself a lecture from my parents for being such a – hmm what was the word again…?Well never mind that, they’re still good people and humble, serving to the Almighty. And they don’t kill others in the name of religion, isn’t that what is important nowadays?

Ahh, I took some times to write again after those rants you’ve just read. I’ve met with a concrete wall blocking me away from what’s beyond where there probably have overflowing ideas and blossoming flowers and magnificent rainbow and probably a writer’s paradise. Usually, somewhere at this point, an amateur (or maybe some renounce writers/authors) may state the time right now however the pros will do more vaguely. For example, yes an example is needed, ‘It is 3.10 a.m and I can’t sleep so I’m writing this because I just miss you and I keep on remembering your face and how it glows under the moonlight,’ and no this is not my attempt to state the time nor it is my story. And please believe me that I’ve never seen anyone’s face under the captivating glows of moonlight. Really please believe me. (Yes, this is a cue for you to smile, please smile for whatever reason). Please keep in mind that, this is not my way of stating the time or sort and also to state that I’m neither an amateur nor a professional writer. I’m just a normal (I hope so) human being who reads too much that I think I can write a story.

Talking about story, how do you rate a story/movie is good? Is it because of its moving words? Inspirational quotes? Superfluous vocabulary? Stunning pictures? Or is it just easy to comprehend? I don’t know about everyone else but I think most of the story that I’ve read (or seen) took less dialogue between human beings and more in describing emotions physically. This can be seen especially distinguishable in movies (exceptional to blockbuster movies) that have won some awards. Let me elucidate, this pattern can be seen – let’s say a love story – a man and a woman, strangers to each other just talking among themselves while waiting for a bus at the bus stop. They talk about weathers, probably a good restaurant down the street but they don’t talk much, the man asked and the woman answered. The woman asked and the man answered and suddenly the picture changed to someone else walking down the street with an umbrella in one hand, a corporate man talking to his phone oblivious to the surrounding, a dog peed at a pole and then sunset! All of these happened was accompanied by a romantic piano soundtrack. The story continues with the man and woman sitting next to each other in the bus silently and awkwardly (still with the romantic piano playing in the background). And the story again continues with the man and woman keep on bumping each other at the same bus stop at the same time (probably intentionally). This developed into a feeling towards each other I supposed and then the story abruptly ends! Hah! You’ll be hearing the movies won a lot of awards and prizes after that. Well, this happened in multiple occasions, really. So yeah, all of these movies has the same pattern - less dialogues-> emotional scene -> occasionally awkward silence -> soundtrack with other scenery -> abruptly ends. You may justify that they want us to think or imagine what is going on in their minds or what will happen next is up to our own interpretation. Well then maybe I have a low IQ or something because I sometimes tired of thinking all these things. Hah! I’ve contradict myself, I said I’m an over-thinking peasant before and now I claim myself  that I’m tired of thinking. Well, I’m just a normal human being you might say because I lied to myself.

Steorra

A see through star,

not transparent,

just unnoticeable

carry the light of millions.

 

In the vast space,

the star has met with many,

of different shapes and colours.

Sometimes with no shape or colour.

 

Though this star is not much yet brings beauty to the night.

Soft light penetrating the eyes.

But not appreciated even when given the galaxy.

Mortified and depressed it went into regress.

 

And now stared into the eyes,

capable of taking things from dynamic to stationary.

With the hands that bare life.

Powerful and mighty with nothing to stop it.

 

Prepare for next,

oh dear see through star.

Do not bound with anything anymore.

Let sorrow be free and fire takes in.

Math and rock is a thing

This has been a discovery for me as I found that there’s a genre called math rock. A ninny like me who doesn’t have a diverse knowledge in music industry found this a very fascinating thing to explore.

Probably some of you have already listened to such genre and probably some of you don’t realize (like me) that you have listened to them. For instance 凛として時雨 /  Ling tosite sigure and HaKu. Both originated from Japan. Very talented indeed. These are my favourite :

For a more old school band, try Zeni Geva. Much awesomeness.

What? Japanese bias much…Aight, here are some non-Japanese works which are also nothing but pure awesomeness.

Anyway, if you want more, you just have to find it yourself. Maybe you’ll find some that will pique your interest other than my selections above. Or why don’t you guys start from here

The Masses

This is not a crime
As you told everyone
Or you think you have told them
In your own ways

An artistic and unique it may seems to you
But not to others who thinks differently
All you did is for the sake of humanity
The sole reason that keeps you going

Eliminate the unwanted and the violent
Who are you to judge,they said
Throwing curses and hates at your shadow
As they can never catch you

Your mind is the ultimate work of god
Swift yet delicate fingers that works the magic
They can never understood such human can be a monster
But you don't want them to understand you.

Aria

The last piece has been put upon the puzzle.
    The final drop of memory has been drained.
Emptiness is reveal, conjuring scenery,
    Of something that he had always dreamt.

Kindness and violence are different actions.
    But has the same mechanism.
Even now, reading has the same mechanism.
    He is now aware of the connections.

His eyes are now covered.
    Leading to the cold path ahead.
Deeper into the darkness.
    He has chosen and will never return.

That poor lake yet soothing.
    Winter does not make it into ice.
He wondered and probably found the answer.
    The skin is impaled with vigorous cold straight to the bone.

Birds are still singing and wind is still blowing.
    Oblivious of the human being.
The paper is floating eventually drenched.
    Still no human can be seen.