The wise
could be stupid
the stupid could be otherwise
thus, they equalise

Anger in words unconstrained
the heart, a boiling cauldron
the poisonous arrow must be shot
aimed directly at the target-person --

stand aside, you watcher, be silent
this is none of your concern
you would not know the thickness
of my blood nor my hidden reason.

Do
      Do.....doo.....doo-dooooo I, I, I...... have a
d
     r
       i
         n  
            k....
                drink....dri--nk
                                            king.....drink....
                                                                      dri-nk.....king
                                                                                                 prob,  pro-b..
lem... prob...prob... pro-blem?

   ......spew......
                               you,  you,  bug..bug  bug---gers
why, why.... should you care?     You aren't...aren't my fa---fa--father!

Officer-on-duty to subordinate:  LOCK THIS BABBLER UP!

Over-optimism--it could mislead
  it's wise on some pessimism to feed

Music is the gateway to the highest spirituality

the eternal consolation and the most blessed grace

in her generous caress and imperishable beauty

it flourishes and enchants in any clime or place

But taking stock
implies your barn
holds much goods
you need thick accounting books
don't miss any item
assess the worth of each
with utmost care
allow for wear and tear
(depreciation that is)
the aim:  profit-maximisation
business people can't afford
to slack.  Done!  great satisfaction!

As for me,  no material goods
come into play---I have nothing
and what I mean by stock-taking
is simply this:  my life-evaluating
as I move towards trying
to find purpose and meaning
I could never take anything
when I own nothing
and as I'm writing
the following
a voice within me
is prompting:
be happy and content
you are not in the pursuit
of money-making.

This is a typical travelogue:
bad food, poor sleep, rude people, cultural shock!

Salam, Dr Zik.  You are profound.  Everything of lasting value will, in the last analysis, bear, at least to some degree, a mark of the spiritual and sublime.  Prose is less eloquent than poetry though it is powerful in its own right but the most subtle and profound is found in the unfathomable mysterious which is the heart of great poetry.  We are only a blade of grass in the field of the Universe but are nevertheless blessed with a soft poetic voice that makes us human.

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Peter Lim <[email protected]>
11:06 AM (6 minutes ago)

to me




     I had no quarrel with time
     but it looks askance
     as though saying too long
     I have been around
     or worse--that something wrong
     I have done--

     the sentinel eternal
     the judge inimical
     the party unfaithful
     the heart unsentimental

     but
     I'll not be cowed
     to myself I belong
     if life is a battlefield
     I would be my own general

      winter chills in season
      unforgivingly
     but my heart
     shall not be frozen
     man shall never
     be smaller than fate
     there's no glory
     in out--living
     if with meaning
     I have lived

     life's chaos and angst
     has not diminished me
     I have stood up
     with dignity
    
     in my nameless humility
     and my naked humanity
     I am content  
     and joyful
     ( despair and regret
      set aside)
     with what remnant
     to me
     has been given.

I must cross-over
I can't breathe on this side
smog is all around me
no fresh air does abide.

I must cross-over
they won't leave me alone
loudly they knock on my door
and shout: You can't be on your own'

I must cross-over
they say further: ' Don't be stubborn'
but they've never met or known
me-- and they dare declare: 'You are rotten!'

I must cross-over
I'm beginning to lose my voice
the cacophony is chocking me
I'd die soon from their ceaseless noise.

I must cross-over
though they've built a barricade
by the still of midnight
I'll bypass them through my secret gate.

I must cross-over
they would leave me no mental space
they are the mind-raiders
they would stalk me in any place.

I will cross-over
to the side of my choice
I won't allow them to dissect me
in their mind-lab--I'm free to find my own voice.

I don't want to fly
I'm scared of any height
as long as I am on my two feet
I'll feel completely all right

Because I was left behind
my right path I managed to find

It doesn't matter
    where you set your sight
     as long as it is right

Free lunch?
Of course
I'll go to my kitchen
nothing will it cost

Life is a general picture
of conjecture and wrong measure

We could never escape
others' false suppositions
in whatever size or shape
in myriad twists and contortions-

words so subtle in such they drape
it requires vigilance to sport their insinuations
too keen to catch us  unprepared and agape
they excel in the art of machinations.

An English village dated 1754
a silly wandering *** fell into a hole
the villagers saved the creature and the village prospered
the ground was held a lucky spot and named ***-Hole!

Melancholic heart

at loss of what words to say

night stirs up past love

He who's empty
  has no fear:
  there's nothing
  to be taken away
  he holds nothing dear-
  
life is illusive
like will-o'-the-wisp
to have dreams
is to be deceived-

he who's empty
doesn't seek to compete
win or achieve
in being nothing
he doesn't lose anything-
unseen, unknown and unnoticed
he retains his life's intrinsic

My heart is forest

it hides deepest mystery

am I in a dream

Where is love?
it's in the kitchen
for home verily
is heaven.

Where is love?
it's in the garden
soiled fingers
happy haven!

Where is love?
it's at the sewing-machine
mending torn socks
then washing them clean.

Where is love?
not just felt but must be seen
lock it not in the closet
all this as said is what it should mean.

Does feeling
incorporate
unconscious thinking?

The best wish
is not having
to wish
then belonging
truly to yourself
needing
nothing else.

I would like just
to be a pebble on the shore
let the tide of life
all over me run over

and I'd have no reason
like the rest to complain
side by side me each knows its lot
none does know any human sorrow or pain.

If life
were an illusion
what's all the fuss about?

How many times
did I lie today?
lost count
really couldn't say!

My youth they stole, my manhood they confused and I was grievously bruised. You are young and foolish. You are aimless and lost. We'll lead you to the rightful path. Us you can trust.

They became my shepherd and I was a blind sheep. I stayed in their tent and shared their food not knowing it contained slow-working drugs. I'd give them my life for they couldn't do any wrong. I was addicted and intoxicated. I became delirious
and I suffered from strange and frightful dreams.

My youth they stole and my manhood they bruised.

I lost my best years.

No luggage
and no baggage
this is the true gift
of calm old age--

non-essentials set aside
forgotten like an old book-page
read long ago. Buried is acrimony
vegeance, disharmony and rage--

the heart is kind and in a state of grace
love is its never-tiring message
understanding and compassion
speaks the most comforting language-

life shines in renewed light  
darkness has quietly made its passage
the years ahead hold promises
with every gladness to engage.

Silence in the room

music, books and coffee

such great company

It's the same drone
of the day--in minor key
of life's song. Gone
is the melody-

the world it does seem
to have lost its will and staying power
where has vanished its once-proud dream?
would it ever re-discover its golden hour?

Its mind is clogged and its heart is fainting
love is bewildered and longs for sleeping
the flowers in the bower are sombre even in the spring
no message of hope or cheer do the seasons bring--

but I the lover eternal will never lose my longing
even in my absence, you would hear my heart's wild beating
the kisses we exchanged they will do the remembering
I will return from the faraway-- the vows I made are in my keeping.

Young woman by stream

             cooling her feet in water

              sees her reflection

The cul-de-sac indeed taught me

much more than the wide-open thoroughfare

I'm infinitely grateful for the experience

that I acquired when I was there

To know
the legal
first try
something illegal.

Imprison
the war-mongers!
down with
the nature-destroyers!

Bring them to justice
the corrupt and heartless leaders!
let  food and homes be distributed
among the forgotten poorest!

Let's get rid
of the liars and impostors
the mind-benders
and joy-killers!

Though we can't create a utopia
we can bring back life's beauty and wonders
we'll instil young minds with hopes and ideals
which will lead the world to brighter tomorrows.

No, this won't do
I've moved too far away
from the destination I sought
no-- I must pause-
the telling-signs
are all over
the sky was friendly
when my journey started
the trees waved as though
to wish me bon voyage
the flowers danced
in the wind
and murmured the clear stream
as though to say:
'follow your dream'
the open road did smile
that I was sure
when I walked my first mile

I had no compass
my heart was
my navigator

(my thoughts
to the past
this hour
they did wander)--

youth, ah, youth
the grandeur
the splendour
the wonder
the ardour
the giving-up never
the dream bestower
the nothing-could-be bolder
the Utopian-follower
the ideals-seeker
the tireless wanderer
the eternal lover--

the heart on fire
***** was desire

  but
reality is never
  the benefactor
  of the desirer)

  and now
  I am young
  no longer
  wrinkles gather
  my look is sterner
my demeanour
is austerer
my feelings
they are far from tender
my heart is colder--

a step backwards
I must walk
it's useless now
to think
or talk--

but as my head
I turn
I discover
there's no trace
of my footprint

in time
I freeze
not knowing
what to do next--
I am hopelessly-
lost!

My mind finds the words
my heart turns them into language
the former is ruffled feather
the latter is beautiful plumage.

There's nothing
to recount
our story was told
long ago-  chronicled
in the pages of time
we are not as before
we have since
turned old and cold

that little boat
we travelled once
together
(you wouldn't want
to remember)
in every strange water
now lies in ruins
on that forgotten shore
beyond recognition
just like
out irreparable hearts
once so free and bold

the fields we traversed
our hours under the shady trees
we read each other Keats' poems
amidst the whisper of the breeze
the love-light shone
in your eyes as you lent me
the ecstasy of every kiss
you would not let go my hold

there's nothing
more to recount
there's no solace
to be found
our memories
have been buried
in ashes--
manifold.

Whatever you write
whatever story you wish to tell
everything is about life
in its abode where we all dwell

joy or sorrow
that marks every single existence
tell or write your story--it will be heard or read
what's living life but every single individual experience?

Another year
as before
despite the hype
will the future be better?

When we consider
human nature
its weaknesses and lacuna
how we wonder

for most lives
are lived in lack
of fulfilment
in the lack-lustre

2025 and all the years ahead
there would be nothing monumental
more of the grind, the existential vacuum
the monotony, the gloom, the fever

Cottage so humble
surrounded by lush flowers
richer than castles

This is our world
Sturm und Drang
confusion and unrest proliferate
reason is hung

ideologies divide
vain and rhetorical debate
the leaders are at odds and they vociferate
right decisions are seldom made

the cleavage of poor and rich
nations their own interests covetously seek
summits are ambiguous and deceptive
promises are unfulfilled and outcome is bleak

history's dark lessons loom and repeat
glory is ephemeral and mankind is weak
foundations were built to be demolished
dark ages return and civilisation falls from its peak.

Have I changed or not?
But no situation is the same-
I adapt and improvise
but retain my name-

yet to be sure
I'm not a chameleon
my skin I change not
like all of you I live and move on

Don't fall for the Romeo-Juliet story
  let love be your own discovery

As a young man I went in search of truth
met this wise man with the longest beard
he said as though he was half-asleep:
'  To be wise, look beyond the absurd'.

Waves as emotions

each movement a reaching out

they laugh and they weep

For your enemies you are prepared
  for your friends the same could not be said

Does your life resonate
or stagnate?

Nothing from you ever
is less than enchanting
your smile soothes and uplifts
and glorious is the morning-

nothing that you say ever
is less than enrapturing
the birds stop short their singing
in their worshipful listening-

nothing that you aspire ever
is less than inspiring
into rarest beauty your words crystallise
nothing is left wanting-

nothing that you dream of
is less than the heart's holy desiring
time shall but re-echo anew
and shower you with every sweet blessing.

I am neither

pro nor con

either leads me nowhere

only openness I stand upon

A new year
      but same as before
      no end of war
      the world persists in eye-sore

     civilisation has collapsed
     humanity perished so long ago
     2091--what would be the scenario?
     I don't want to know!