You see,
What does it mean to 'be yourself'?
I wonder,
'Set yourself apart from the others'
'Unleash your true colours'
'Be confident! love yourself for who you are'
Is what I've heard.

You see,
What does it really mean to 'be yourself'?
I wonder,
A conformist is what I've become,
Bound by the wall of mediocrity,
And then it struck,
When? Where? Why?
What exactly happened along the way?

You see,
When I was a kid,
I dream a lot,
The things I hate,
The things I love,
Clear as a day,
Showing it, is what I did,
Free as the wind,
I am,

Again,
What happened?
Life happened,
Is that it?
Do we not change?
Can we even change?

You see,
As we grow older,
Our dream,
The things we love,
The things we hate,
Changes,
And so do we,

So,
Embrace it,
Better late than never,
To start,
Being yourself.

-nuraishahazman-

1
Faerie, fey, in a windless stride
Along the verdant wood and wild
Beasts, so are, here do abide
Yet this urban life, maxims beguile.
So true, the only beast is man
Though he’s born of claw, the tooth
By birth it’s of the haft
Dagger, gun, and perfidious craft.
Apart, I see only one
Together, sparks to bring, undone
Me, for this, I dare not stand.
Such impropriety, a fellow’s creed
Rich are all in my mother tongue
Speak volumes for their egotism,
And seemingly endless greed,
Divest from it, with righteousness,
With acts they before shun.
Bah! To clean air and streams to follow
Network of the aimless vein
Blood for the vindicated!
Whilst they proceed to their empty smog
And free wills ever truncated
Marching headlong and abreast
To Hell they step in tow.
Never mind those evils done
My cure is in anathema, unchained
The inner man, the wild!
Autonomy, dumb, and pure!
I am the center of starry pull
I’m the individual, in me all is whole
I am the blot, the rebel, and the Wife of Lot!
A mark upon the cosmichead
My material exists, destined to rot
But, this death, it shall be free
Unlatched from this society.
No more shall these orchestras
Be condemned to prune as sighs
Now to high monastic chants
To venerate this life of mine.
Every corner of this brick and mortar
Keep us penned, like cattle adorned
In slacks and ties, agendas several miles high
This Fetish-Messiah, Banality
Makes sweet the cuds of humanity
None of this impurity can exist beneath
The canopy, foundation’s wrought of Ego’s dust
Pretense, a star, of foundry of the Heaven’s cusp.
#2
**** this, i have returned
the scwl of the citi
So litle and worthless
Huge slabs of grey metal
--failed of my conviction
i’m knowing in the sense
of Tao (dao), mute and confused
Tying to remove it
farce and utopia!
This cow is really low
Munching on—now, I know
As the faeries said
“At cross, betuta, moss”
What mean, all nonsense. All!
#3
The city was always upon my soft palms
That chaffed when I struck for a flame
The vanity hung in loose little threads
When my sleeves fell tattered, the same
It was through my teeth, my fellows did breathe
Strangers upon the tongue
I saw in the water the face of them
And heard them in my curses  
A stranger voice said “we” and “them”
Had genesis’d these verses.
It was those about me who birthed the world
As I had done for them
Momentum! Be quick! For fellow man!
As I am
As you are
The other’s cosmic order
I’ve built the structure I can deny
But with undeniable mortar.

Alas magic is not true
Once, it was to me
But then I met you
And you stole the magic so quickly

Put high on a shelf
Behind steel bars
Trapped in a jar
The magic left myself

On a frost-whitened afternoon
There are wet black lines through an urban park
Throngs of people pulse along paths.
As all manner of routes come alive
With tributaries of humanity.

On a warmer day some slow and linger
Pausing in the shady spots
Bodies pool there to escape the sun
And the city embodies the lethargy
Of its denizens.

Trains and cabs and buses
Corral and group clusters of humanity
Eject them out in a seething mass
Upon the sidewalks of the tallest buildings
Which vacuum them in through tiny orifices.

From the greenery filled parks
To the traffic-grazed sidewalks
From the tallest buildings
To the tallest trees
The motion of life permeates the geography.

Immersed in it, I feel my blood flowing
Without my intervention
And my lungs breathing
Without me ordering them so.
So too my heart warms
Whenever you are near.