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Yenson Sep 2018
Yadda......yadda......yadda
he's dying of loneliness
Go listen to the news
They're Nine million people lonely in the country
You're all known for your coldness
Some don't even know their neighbours
You abandon your parents when they get old
Put them away in Retirement homes
when was the last time you saw your elderly mum
when was the last time you called your sister
Thank God for the GRASS being the scapegoat used by crooks
To illustrate community mobbing let us all gang up together
Now you're hugging the Asians and the blacks are your best friends

yadda......yadda......yadda
come join the club we are all mates now
against that outsider grass we welcome all
the ***** ******* are molesting women oh it's just
to make grass envious cause we've stopped him loving
talk to me I hate you no more because grass is more hated
no more bullying you just join us and help us harass that grass
don't trouble that foreign shopkeeper we now want him to join
welcome Muslim brothers and sisters come join us
we now like you cause we have somebody else to hate
hey Mr ugly come here for a hug just make sure its in front of grass
you my loner friend be lonely no more you are now a club member
you Somalian, you Ethopian, you chinese, you Ugandan no matter
everyone is friends no more hassle just hate the grass as much as us

yadda......yadda......yadda
this is politics we fool and fool you all
when we need you you are our best friends
we show you our commonality and bring you into the fold
just make sure you do as you're told and don't grass like grass
we will give you opportunities to make grass jealous
we will forge a grapevine from here to Kathmandu and beyond
we will teach you hate and poison your stinking minds
we will imprison you and make you our slaves to serve us
just make sure you give that grass a hard time and come for a prize
this is all our secret and your minds belongs to us gangstalking crew
make him lonely make him friendless and show viva democracy
You are all simpletons and that's how you will stay in our pockets
this is a union of morons by morons for morons and the crooks win
yadda......yadda......yadda
v V v May 2013
We have a cat named Ben who doesn’t wear a collar.
I know a saint named Ben whose picture's on a medal.


I wear it for safety, a bigger one we hang above the door for
superstitious reasons like a black cat that isn't ours
walking across our path, Ben is ours but Ben is brown not black
and Ben won't wear a collar so he stays indoors.

     St Benedict of Nursia the patron saint of lots of things,
     of remedies for poisoning, of evil witchcraft,  suffering,
     a patron saint of lots of things, of aggies, engineers,
     spelunkers and those with fever near the gates of death.

     He is the patron saint of gall stones but not kidney stones
     if so his medal would have saved me from significant pain,
     but still I wear his medal when I go out to keep myself
     protected from whatever it is he protects us against.

     before he became a good luck charm, before he was a medal
     he lived in a cave in Italy in the year 400 a.d. where for
     three years the townsfolk brought him food to eat and finally
     talked him into coming out. No, not that kind of coming out
     he wasn’t gay, he was a priestly hermit who was celibate.

     They put him in charge of a monastery when no one else
     wanted the job, but when he made the rules that still stick today
     they didn’t want to listen so they tried to poison him twice
     both unsuccessful. This is where he gets the nod for sainthood.

     Divine intervention saved the day, a raven stole the
     poisoned bread and a spasm smashed the poisoned cup.
     if they wanted him to go away they could have asked him  
     but I guess they needed a saint, someone to martyr, so
     he went back to his cave and was promptly forgotten

     until the Connecticut witch trials of 1647 when a captured
     witch confessed that her powers were contained by a
     conspicuous medal that she’d never seen before mounted
     over doorways, and she heard the whispers of the townsfolk say
     the medal was the medal of a saint they called St. Benedict.

I can personally attest that the medal is quite unique with
Latin inscriptions on both the front and the back. On one side
of the medal he stands and holds the holy rules, at his feet
a raven and a broken cup. An inscription on the medal reads:

            “May we at our death be fortified by his presence”

Flip it over and you’ll see:

               C
          C  S   S
       N D S M D
          P  M   B
               L

“May the holy cross be my light”
          “Let not the dragon be my overlord”
                      “This is the cross of Father Benedict”
                             “yadda   yadda   yadda”

Along the outer edge it looks like this, strangely similar
to a Ouija board.

                             PAX
                    B                    V
                V ­                           R
               I                    ­             S
                L                             N
                 Q                          S  
                     M                 V  


PAX  for Peace

The rest is this:
“Begone Satan yadda yadda yadda
          for evil is what you prefer yadda yadda
              so drink your own poison yadda”


350 some years since its inception and the medals popularity
still flourishes.  I reach down and finger the medal beneath
my t-shirt and I realize what the strangeness feels like.

It feels like witchcraft.

I guess I’ll wait and see if anything happens
before I pass judgment.

I hang it near our bed at night and while
we sleep

our brown cat Ben likes to bat it around.
Recently published in Storm Cycle 2013: The Best of Kind of a Hurricane Press
[Paperback] A. J. Huffman (Author)
Yenson Aug 2019
whatever, some are of higher births
some are from the lower echelons
the difference is obvious hence the complex
hence the yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda, yadda
so sorry you can't get over yourselves and your start in life
still shows in all the things you do, can't take the pain out of you
sorry but I still live better than you but I don't mind giving you lifts
yeah! yadda, yadda, yadda, yadda, yadda, yadda yadda, yadda,
Ah...the poor pale face is so sad and angry, I hate that black boy
Ah...poor pale face stop feeling so bad, just go get a proper education
we cheat all the rest for you, you are one of ours, stop feeling inferior
Don't let them see you are inferior and uneducated and insecure and weak and stupid and racist, do not let them see you, hide, hide, hide
jasmin allen Oct 2011
I like Prada (what you like)
Got ***** in my hand(what u got)
And All yall ******* be like Yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda...
Got **** i don't think u even ******* understand
Come close, you dont even know who i am
Snappin at my *** like a ******* PARANA
You an under ******* achiever gona Snap ya like a twig..
Overdosed nirvana
When im up on the block all the men faint
Their girls hating cause i am who they aint
Im always open so call me for a date
Leave Ur girl behind, she'll never know what hit her
Up through the grass hissing like a snake
She’ll never know what bit
unsxfe Nov 2017
[Alright, I don’t know how else to say this, but...
You know Unsafe?
I only made 3 parts.
I keep getting wind that there’s a part 4.
I’m starting to think that SHE continued it somehow.
How she did is beyond me, considering she isn’t exactly real.

Oh yeah.

       You might want a little clarity as to whom i am referring to.

Alright. so, the series X is written about a mystery girl that is called (or rather represented as) X, no?

Well, the reason she’s called that is because nobody knows her name.

I never gave her one.

Getting back on topic, it’s supposed to be written by another fictional person, whom for the sake of continuity, we will call W. Now, W and X were in love, very much so. W is offed, X mourns, yadda yadda yadda, et cetera, et cetera. Well, I felt that in order to give X more clarity and depth, that i’d have to write a second series, One that is written in the perspective of X. This premise became what you now know as Unsafe.

But, for some reason...

As I continued writing Unsafe, it felt more and more like I wasn’t even writing.

It’s like she had extended into my subconsious, from the fictional world in which she dwells, and into my pen.

Luckily, she’s easy to identify. I write her in ‘a special way’ as opposed to my [normal] writing.

Wait.









Alright, Don’t be alarmed, but She MIGHT (this is a big might) have escaped the domain I made for her,

Unsafe,

And into my Notes.

I cannot tell if it’s true or not, as this notice is considered it’s own poem. I cannot interact with my Notes until I decide to leave any poem that I am currently in.

But more importantly, this also implies that she is SENTIENT, and no longer needs me to convey her thoughts and actions.
Hell, she might be fighting for control over my account as I write this!

Ahahaha...

I really ******* myself over, huh?

Anyways, if you see her, tell me IMMEDIATELY! Just whatever you do, DON’T interact with her! In her current state, she is most likely extremely hostile.
I do appreciate you reading X and Unsafe, but this is getting a liiiiitle serious here, so uh...

Please take caution! I couldn’t live with myself if one of my readers LITERALLY GOT KILLED OFF by one of my works.

I’ll update you guys if anything meaningful happens.

In the meantime, I think I’ll go somewhere...

Familiar.]
‘finally, FINALLY! I’M SAFE!’          


‘this feeling is so wonderful’          

‘i can forget my past’
jasmin allen Nov 2011
i like prada(wht u like)
got ***** in mi hand(wht u got)
and all yall ******* be like
yadda yadda yadda yadda
got dame i dont think u even ******* understand come close,
you dont even know who i am
snappin at mi a$$ like a ******* PARANA
you an under ******* achiever
gona
snap ya like a twig...overdosed
nirvana
when im up on the block
all the men faint their gurls hating cuz i am who they aint
im always open so call me for a date
leave your girl behind
she'll never know wht hit her
up though the grass hissing like a snake
she'll never know wht bit her
Brandon Sep 2014
Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

All the words you write
All the words you say
All the meanings you intend
All the thoughts you can't comprehend

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

Congratulations on fooling the masses once again

Yadda yadda yadda
Radda Radda Radda

You've bored me thru and thru
With every thing you do

Yadda yadda yadda
Radda Radda Radda

Oh just *******
Won't you
Dave Robertson Feb 2021
Stuck on the actual prime meridian
where gambling and grown up shenanigans
are viewed all *****
hurting society, though I could legally go to the drain on my street
and drop a thousand twenty pees in it
nae bother
our equivalent bet
as high rollers we are surely not

I miss you Vegas
with your daft anti-reality cushions,
the strip with no history or heritage
necessarily
but with goofy drunken dreams brimming alive

and I know vice, bad, horror, addiction yadda yadda

I miss you Vegas
Will Storck Feb 2013
‘In the end, it’s the indifference that gets you. You think you’ll have years to get to know each other and, what the hell do they call it, grow “emotionally” together. Relationally. Forget it. That ****’s for the birds.’

Scrtchschrrttchschrttch.

The subject arched his extended index and middle fingers on both hands twice in quick succession as he said “emotionally”. He pronounces “birds” as if it’s spelled b-o-y-d-s.

‘I’m serious. I’ll tell you I’m deadly serious. You think you’re going to grow old with some broad and not cater some resentment? Where the ****’ve you been, kid? Didn’t your old man teach you about women? The times change but one thing remains the same: women. You think that fancy piece of paper over there on the wall really means anything? There’s stuff out there you just got to live through to understand.’

Scrtchschrrrrtschrtschrttch.

‘Well, yeah sure, okay that bit about taxes is true too. Taxes and women. Anyway you got me off track. You marry a girl and sure you feel good. But whatcha don’t know is that a successful marriage is the product of compromise. Love has nothing to do with it. It becomes something you just accept, like gravity. The apex of microdemocracy at its finest. We’re talking respecting and loathing, and I cannot stress enough the irony here, a person too much you wonder why you don’t just wake up the next day and put a bullet through both of your sorry skulls so you both don’t have to live out this day-to-day ******* nightmare anymore. No more waking up and sitting at a breakfast table so quiet the steam rising out of your cup of joe is audible. We’re talking no natural human noises whatsoever. It’s like high-security solitary confinement, but where the schmuck in the straightjacket’s not allowed to even use plastic silverware without the business end of at least three 9mm’s pointing at him by state-appointed officers of the law, not allowed to even ******* feed himself. He’s like almost forced to live like he’s 5 again, kind of like a sick joke, adult supervision one hundred percent of the time. But then at home it’s worse because there is someone in the room with you. You feel this hole in your soul and it’s big. It’s like both of you are looking at the elephant in the room and at the same time looking at each other looking at the elephant. You want to cry but you can’t, you just physically can’t. Screaming won’t help neither because then everyone else but her will hear it. We’re talking about complete isolation.’

There is the sound of cloth across cloth and loose change jingling as right ankle is lifted off of left knee and left ankle is placed on right knee. The subject is visibly perspiring. His face does not have a flush look to it as so much as a sort of the homogenous color of deli ham. An office door slams. The subject’s breathing is audible and moist.

‘What happened? Why doesn’t she give a **** about me anymore? Why don’t I really care? Why do I feel worse about not caring I care than the actual caring? Jesus. Jesus.’

Scrchtchrsctrch. Schtrschchsshtsch.

‘I used to love her you know. That **** I said to her in front of God and Jesus and, like, everyone I ******* knew, those promises to till death do us part and yadda yadda, none of that even came close to mentioning what this is like. I used to love her. I think she used to love me too. I don’t know what even happened, my marriage. One day we’re on a beach in O’ahu and next thing I know I’m shaving in the shower with a straight razor, eyes closed, and hopping on one foot, just tempting fate. I haven’t seen her smile since last May, the episode of my missing glycerin tablets. Heart murmurs.

Sctrtch. Sctrchtrchschtrschtchschtrchshctrch.

‘Of course I’ve thought about a divorce. She’s got to have to considered that too. But here’s the ultimate irony. You go through these pointless gestures every ******* day; every ******* day you get up and wonder just how much more you can take it. It’s like it’s so strong you can feel every second walk on by and slap you on the mouth. It’s so strong that the sight of her literally, literally turns you mute with pressured hatred. Hatred towards the ***** sitting at the other end of the table but sitting there with her head down, complete undivided attention on her toast. Hatred towards yourself for not getting up and chugging every bottle under the kitchen sink right then and there. Hatred for realizing you have nothing in common with your wife anymore and she couldn’t care less that it’s eating you up so bad you get cold sweats. It’s so strong you just sort of freeze and not say a word, just sit there and take it all in, praying for that arterial blockage that will take you to the promised land.’

Sctchschtrch.

'Do you know what it’s like to live with self-contained hatred? Feeling this hate but at the same time just not caring. Hatred that only grows from not a lack of communication but a complete absence of communication, like, I can’t talk to her because I’m too full of pent up depression, loathing, anger, anxiety about actually trying to talk to her, anxiety about failing to talk to her. And these feelings just stew in me and shut me down. No talking. With her. Just sitting there, the desire to communicate just to see if we’re even on the same ******* page, sitting there and wanting to talk but can’t because the loathing and anger towards your wife completely and utterly removes the ability to express any sort of rational thought and the anger over your spontaneous speechlessness just keeps growing making the attempts at even idle chit-chat a prospect steadily receding into the sunset. Just sitting there feeling perhaps the strongest emotion I have ever felt but at the same time feeling completely apathetic towards the current situation.’

Sctrchtrchschtrscrchtrchschtrsch. Sctrchtrchschtrschsctrchtrchschtrsch.

‘Do you know what that’s really like to have to live in this cycle of perpetual hate and silence and the same time indifference toward the hate?’

Sctrchtrch. Scrtchschrrrrtschrtschrttch. Sctrchtrchschtrsch.

‘Do you know what that’s really like?’
Wack Tastic Nov 2012
No!
Now shut the door behind you,
There’s only one regret I have,
And that’s not having you,
One last time,
You sure are beautiful

But then I’d be focused on the outer cast,
Instead of making love to the inner frequency,
I would regress to the outer self,
Because I no longer love the inner you.

I ended it the way I want,
I’m truly self-aware and happy,
Truly,
Just a little dumbfounded that it took so long,
My chest heaves easier knowing that I have moved on.

I knew I found it with you and I know when I will find it again,
When the outer shell is decorated so keenly, so lavish, begging,
That I’ll try to find out about the inner you,
I’ll be more aware of what I need next time.

In any given relationship there are two people,
Before anything, these two are on as polar opposites as possible,
One knows only one truth, “I am Me”
And Two knows the same exact truth,
But they are so drastically different that it would take an eternity to sort it out,
And no one has that kind of time.
These two truths represent the beginning chain of Order and Chaos
It is needed in everything, just in balance
As One and Two meet,
Certain traits and offensives come out of the woodwork,
This represents the Chaos,
It will grow unless taken care of,
These are the little fires that can be extinguished,
Then the Chaos of the Big Fire
Climb and grow and soon,
They start to be indistinguishable and blend
Into the One Order (Love, Unity, Harmony, yadda yadda yadda.)
It’s where time is impregnated by you and another entity.
This was a memo of the infamous night that resonates into the harsher "Untitled" poems.
Anais Vionet Mar 2024
(There’s a song for this: ‘Confessions’ by Sudan Archives)

I remember it like it was yesterday (it was yesterday).

I arrived on a cool (42°f), blindingly sunny New Haven afternoon. It was as if they’d opened up that troubling ozone hole just for me.
I was as happy as I’ve ever been to be back. It was as if New Haven actually meant freedom.

I’d opened the door to our suite, dragging every bag I own.
After intense hugs, I'd said, “PIZZA - NOW.”
So, Lisa, Sunny and I, after some debate, selected Town Pizza.
Town Pizza’s specialties are those thin, gourmet pies with crust-free cauliflower crust, oil (not environmentally problematic tomatoes), topped with panda cheese and tofu.
In a shocking development, I got the cheeseburger special which I hit like a vape. †

SO, the three of us were there, happily devouring. Not bothering anyone, when this guy stopped at our table to offer us salvation and introduce us to - whatever (yadda yadda yadda)

I didn’t catch the entire pitch; I may have momentarily dozed off.
“No, Thank you.” Lisa said, politely but dismissively.
Not taking the hint, he reached into his cheap shoulder bag for pamphlets and began a new tac.
“Go away.” Sunny said, unblinkingly, but he jabbered on, showing the unaware persistence of long covid - like we were interested or tolerant.

“I’ll show you my bra if you’ll shut up,” I said, with my best deadpan face. Lisa and Sunny shrieked with several kinds of outraged laughter.
He became a statue, like a Twilight Zone episode where time stops for one person. A second passed during which he didn’t blink or breathe. “eheheheheheheh* I toned, like a buzzer.
“Two late!” I gameshow said, shrugging, “You didn’t verbally accept, sorry, I don’t make the rules.”
He shook his head and walked away—with Lisa and Sunny giggling and waving him off stage.
Our mission was accomplished. We’d defended our water hole like lionesses.

A few minutes later Lisa said, “He DID shut up, I’m not in law school, but I think you owe him a flashing.”
“I guess he wasn’t in law school either.” Sunny observed, between bites.
“I’m taking this to the supreme court,” I promised.
“How did the supreme court get to decide every ******-little thing?” Lisa asked, biting her abomination flavored pizza.
.
.
slang and notes…
devouring = eating like barnyard animals
Twilight Zone = More, so much more, than the most creative moment in man’s evolution. *
panda cheese = Ok, I made that up because it sounded gross.
† the author, in no way, endorses vaping, vape-related consumables or accessories
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: ******: considered cheap and distasteful

*our cast*:
Lisa, (roommate) 20, grew up in a posh 50th floor walk-up on Central Park South, Manhattan. She shares my major (Molecular biophysics and biochemistry) and is easily the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in person (and she’s sensitive about it). Our tastes match, in everything (fashion, media, music, humor) except men.

Sunny, (suitemate) 20, is from Nebraska, she’s a cowgirl (seriously, she has a quarter horse and barrel races). She’s an outspoken fem-facing ladies-lady whose life is an endless parade of ‘sleepovers.’ Sunny always knows all the best gossip and she’s somehow befriended all the professors.
Yenson Mar 2019
Peps, here listen, hear me out
yeah I know you're all really doing your best
trouble is, your best isn't good enough

You're making us look like Keystone cops
all this haphazard stasis-cating around like drunk Ruskies
staying up late back early morning, obsessive yet incompetent

Yes, persistent is the key
thing is though, you're just too dumb
some of you think eggs grow on trees
after all there are  egg plants, so surely eggs come from trees
yes! and we all live in a yellow submarine!

Now listen to me, you plebs
Don't you know what 'Royalty' means
do you think its some wishy washy label from Primark
or some honor you can buy at a Car boot sale
No, you pumpkins, it's not and don't mention 1066
or that opinionated zealous fool, Oliver Cromwell

If you don't know it yet, better know now
our Royal Adversary is Simply The Best
this man is as good as you can get
we are talking Exceptional here
we are talking, top drawer, creme de la creme
we are talking, One of a Kind, the Real Deal, yes!

We are the majority, yes..fat lot of good, that has done
you're all as common as muck, ******, ******* twerps
that's all you are.
yadda yadda this, yadda yadda that we are attacking his psyche
it's psychological warfare, it's mental and emotional assaults
it's your mother's ***, you dumdum, the man is laughing at you
Christ! what's with you people, how useless are you!

I know half of you are demented psychos
and the other halves just plain simpletons and sheeps
now the blasted public are beginning to see that,
they are fed up, already!

I tell you now what your ******* problem is
you think we humans are all the same, you think he is on your level
you ***** think he thinks like you, sees like you, reacts like you.
You, yes you, are stupid, does he look stupid to you?
If you say yes, then you're even more stupid than I know

Just be ****** honest with yourselves and face facts
you are just common muck, oiks chewing straws
and the man is Class, quality, top grade, the business
gifted, talented, brave, courageous, exceptional and a ****** 'One of'  
The Man is simply ROYAL, that's nobility for you
and say or write any **** you want, that's the ******* TRUTH

Now, get lost and go continue your nonsense
and don't steal anything on you way out, that's all you're good for!
jingoistic trash, time wasters full of dog's crap.
And you men, if one can call you men, with your floppy tiddlers,
put aside your *****-envy complexes and engage your brains.
( What brains, actually? )
This is based on an except from a speech at a local Working Mens club, during the period when King George wanted to abdicate to go and marry Ms Wallace Simpson and the local people were dead against him.
jeffrey robin Aug 2010
da da dada yada
da da yada yada

hey hey frankie boy
they give ya praise as got no joy
hey hey frankie you

aint no slave now....are you!!

da da dada yada
da da yada you

ye are as man upon de earth
no matter
no matter

or maybe it matter!

ya da da da da yadda true
da hell wit all des flatterers

oh yeah
yea are soul true

so a guess a death thinkin.....

we gotta

jus to overwhelm da lies

with unceasing

true


truth............
Brent Kincaid Jul 2017
If:

There were no people of color, they'd pick on redheads.

If there were no redheads they would pick on people with glasses.

If there were no people with glasses they’d pick on fat people.

If there were no fat people, they’d pick on welfare recipients.

If there were no welfare recipients, they’d pick on non-Christians.

If there are no non-Christians around,  they'll pick on Catholics.

If there are no Catholics around they'll pic on Christians from any denomination except theirs.  

If there are none of those around, they'll pick on college graduates.

Obladee, obladah, yeah! Yadda yeah, the list goes on...

(The same thing applies with Non-Christian bigots. Just change a word here and there.)

Bigots are bigots
No matter what the name
The underhanded tactics
Are all just the same.
They are heartless and evil.
That’s the name of their game.
They are social criminals and
Look for someone else to blame.
Anto MacRuairidh Sep 2015
The cavern was huge and brimmed with echoes
and painted with shadows by unseen flickering flames.

"AH! Sir, you've arrived"
(He put his hand over my head to shield
it from the jagged rock edges that
constituted an opening into the cavern)
"Welcome to 'Love' "- he pointed to a little sign on a chain
"Im Cupid"
(Cupid is not a small chrub after all, believe me!)
"I'll be your host tonight and for the forseable future"
(He sniggered a coda - 'well yours anyway...')
"I'll show you your table, where you'll find your beloved already seated."

She got up as we approached and offered me her dainty digits
(Cupid whispered to me)
It was Madison Johnson whom I'd met a the wake I'd just come from
"Isn't she just the most beautiful thing you ever saw
- and she thinks you're the bees knees. ....enjoy"

(he left us, I think, I can't recall; too busy looking into HER eyes)

"So... that Cupid guy....huh?" I stammered as I began to swim in her gaze



"AH! Sir, you've arrived."
(I saw him switch the sign, Cupid, turned it deftly as some new guy arrived)

(He shielded the head of old Mr Bruce at whose wake I had been an hour ago)
"Welcome to 'Hell' !!"

"I'm Old Nick/Bellezebub/Betelgeuse, yadda, yadda, whatevs.
- Now, get. *******. in. there!"
('Cupid' kicked poor Mr Bruce with his ... hoof,
the leathery point of .."his tail" shimmered in the flames).
love is hell
Cecelia Francis Jan 2016
I couldn't help it
if you came the same
as you did before

And your weakness
is the only thing
that keeps you talking

Yea, yea, yea
Yadda, yadda, yadda
Realize the same thing

Who's been faking
it the whole time?
Yenson Aug 2019
Melted reasoning.......
what is a knife to a tiger
when paws and brutal canines suffices
not to mention the ferocity of powerful jaws
what are nursery Rhymes to a philosopher
or Anderson Fairy Tales to a Monk in the Abbey
where the contemplation of the high minds
dwells not on the Mundanities of fallen minds
not all songs are love songs
breezes can be hot, cold, dusty, clean, light or heavy
just as not all roads leads to Rome
repetition of the lost minds and certainty of fools
vainglorious performances of the superficiality
charlatans in rendition of vaporous noise
the banalities of hungry beasts aflamed
a gnat will gnaw at a Lions impressive frame
with no visible inkling of its presence to the king
a child will grab at water trying to clutch it in palm
only to see it dribble off leaving empty palms again
such is the fool who sits outside a synagogue daily
and heralds daily worshipers with 'Allahu Akbar'
Yes, "God is [the] greatest", mate !
but you've got your wires crossed
elle Oct 2017
i never wished for a happy family because i never really knew what a happy family was like. i always thought that i was content with what i had, and that i didn’t need anyone other than the people i already had. but then i realised, one day, that this is not up to me. it’s not up to me to choose who i want in my life, it’s not up to me to decide.

childhood should be one of the happiest memories of your life, and in some ways, it was, to me. but there will always be a part of me consistently nagging, consistently questioning, how different would my life have been if i had two parents who loved each other as much as they loved me?

it may be selfish to wish for things that are completely out of my control. because, again, it’s not up to me. but sometimes, i hear people talking about their fathers, about the support they’re given by both parents, even about the scoldings they get. usually, i never feel envious. i always thought having a mother was enough. but as the years go by and as my heart grows older, the hole in my life left by my missing father grows bigger and more noticeable as well. sometimes i wish he would be there to give me advice when it feels like my world is crashing down. sometimes i wish he would be there to help me with my studies because it feels like no one else is. sometimes i wish he would be there to share my joys and my worries and the ups and downs in my life. but he hasn’t been here for the past 6 years and i guess i’ve grown used to that absence. i’d like to think that his absence has shaped me to become more mentally strong in front of others, and more guarded of my emotions. it has taught me some form of independence as well, because all those times where i’ve truly felt helpless and alone, i had no one to turn to besides myself. his absence was something that made me, me. keeping my composure in the presence of others has always been something i’ve been rather skilled at, and i know that this didn’t develop purely by itself. thank you, dad, for helping me rely more on myself. because at the end of the day, we’re in this life alone. but i do remember the times when you placed me above you. i remember, recently, when i felt so distraught over nearly spoiling my laptop because it was a gift from you. i didn’t want to replace it. and even though i kept telling people that it meant so much to me because my laptop is the thing that i spend most of my time with, it’s my companion, yadda yadda, i think the deepest meaning, and the one that i would never tell anyone out loud, is still because you bought this for me. and i’m not going to just replace it because it has a special place in my heart. i guess you’ve managed to make a significant impact on me even though i haven’t seen you for a while. sometimes i wonder why i was so upset over the computer. but i guess that means i do miss you. and i do wish you were here. i remember when i had a band concert at the esplanade. i was nothing back then, i had no solos, i was just one player out of many. but i asked you to come, and you came. you flew from china to singapore to watch me play, even though i couldn’t really play at that time (what a joke). i remember you sent me pictures you took of me, and they were so significantly zoomed in because i was just that difficult to pinpoint. i can’t confirm this but i’d like to think that at that moment, you were proud of me. even though i was nothing but a little fifteen year old at her first band concert, contributing close to nothing because i couldn’t even play the instrument properly. despite all this, you still came. even though i didn’t manage to see you because you had to rush back to china right after my concert, you still came for a two hour performance. back then, i guess i didn’t really appreciate your efforts much. i didn’t even try to see you before you left. i regret it now. thank you for coming, thank you so much.

i say all this now, but during the rare moments in life where i actually get a choice whether i want to see him, i distance myself from that possibility as much as possible. is it bad, desperately wanting something deep down, but then lacking the courage and ability to pursue the journey towards gratification? it’s only when i get these chances, that i decide to shut down and act like everything in my life is sufficient, and that i don’t need more. it’s not, though. it never will be. but then again, i know that he did not choose to be the kind of father he is. feelings are uncontrollable, rampant, misleading – i can’t blame them for deciding that they would be better off apart than maintaining some facade of happiness. i know that they both did not choose to place me in the middle of chaos, but they did, anyway. they also chose infidelity, which is something i would never be able to forgive either of them for, but then again, it’s not up to me. their choices are not my choices. i remember being a child, barely seven years old, reading my mother’s mushy, romantic texts on her phone directed to a man i did not know. i couldn’t comprehend it then, but as the years went by and i was forced to recognise the true nature of my parents’ relationship with each other, i understood. i also remember that trip to hong kong when i was nine years old. it was meant to be a family trip – me, my mother, and my father. i think they were fools to think that they could maintain this idea of “family trips”. i acted like i didn’t know a lot back then. but i did, and it made me uncomfortable. but then the big incident happened, there was more infidelity, and that was when i truly realised that i was never going to experience a happy family. at least not when i became more mature or when i grew older. that trip was painful for everyone and there is nothing i want more than to suppress it in the back of my mind forever. sometimes, i want to blame my dad. why did you do that? i also want to blame my mother. you did it too, way before he did. why are you making it such a big deal? i’ve kept this unhappiness sealed tightly within me for the past few years because it’s not my battle to fight and it’s not my place to say anything. but you both have caused me an unbearable amount of pain, confusion and suffering and that’s something i can probably never forgive you for.

the presence of a mother has also taught me a lot. i remember the moment when i truly admired and respected my mother, not only as a mother, but also as a woman. seeing her take charge, looking composed, showing off her skills – it made me respect her so much. being a single mother is never easy but somehow she has done it, and i’m still here after 17 years. though i wouldn’t say i’ve been the best, and neither has she, our faults are what make us the people we are today. the sight of your mother physically hurting herself because of something you did wrong is a sight that leaves a mentally scarring image, and i think those instances have built up my mental strength by a significant amount. keeping your emotions in check is something that i think everyone struggles with, but through years of emotional torture because of my own flaws, she’s imparted that skill in me, and that’s what makes me, me. you haven’t been the best mom, and i haven’t been the best daughter, but for years, i’ve felt like what you gave me was enough. it was sufficient, and it helped me grow. even though i’ve openly rebelled, even though i’ve been rude, you never once completely gave up on me as a person, so thank you. something i’ve always wanted to do was to make you proud of me. to make you feel like you did a good job being both parents at the same time. and i really hope that one day i’ll be able to achieve that.

if i had the choice, i would want to experience a happy family. but if it’s not with you both, the people who made me, then i’d rather not. i guess i’ve grown to appreciate what’s become of my life. both your absences, and presences, have shaped me into becoming the person i am today, and though i don’t necessarily love every aspect of my life, it’s something i want to cherish. i do wish i’ll be able to see you both together in the same space one day, without any harsh words flung at each other. i hope that when this happens, i’ll be able to feel contented, and not uncomfortable like i always have felt. i hope you both have matured as much as i have through the years, too. i appreciate both of your efforts in trying to deal with things, especially with a young child thrown into the mix. both of your flaws have helped me grow, and because of that, thank you. when i started writing this i felt a slight sense of dissatisfaction and almost discontent because of how your actions deprived me of the happy family that everyone else has. but then i realised it was never up to me, anyway. things happen because they were meant to happen. and sticking with things just because it’s something you desire won’t necessarily  bring happiness. so, instead of feeling like i’ve missed out on very important parts of childhood, and instead of focusing on the hole in my heart in the shape of my father, i guess i just have to learn to mend it, or deal with it as best as i can. i haven’t spoken to you in a while, but i guess it’s as much my fault as it is yours. you’ve done a lot for me when you were here, and i guess remembering that makes the hole a little bit smaller.
probably the most emotional thing i've ever written, and i admit i cried like a fool while writing this, but it's okay.
Yenson Aug 2019
What is more glaring than the sun
what is more certain than snow in the arctic
what is darker than a monsoon night in the Kilimanjaro
what is more obvious than an elephant in a room in Manhattan
it is the
pathetic repartee of the bullies
the anodyne put-downs of losers
the sneering twist of the cowards
the reverse twist of distinction by the incapable
the sneering take on what outshines the inadequate
the dimming of the intelligence that surpasses them
the ill-masked smite that burns their envy and jealousy
the ferocious rage that rips them as they witness qualities
they can never attain or deeds far beyond them or achievements
impossible for them or talents they can never possess or acclaims
they can never derive or standards they can never attain
the surly curly lipped losers, underachievers and cheap bullies
the brick-bats throwers
the Debbie Downers
the spoilt, regressivess's
the sad immature cowards
the self loathing under-confident sub-human
You stand out a mile and you are weak and cowardly
and you live in fear
Real Talents in so many ways and in so many things have
by-passed you
distinction and excellence can never know you or come your way
You're  just a nickel and dime bully and you are easily recognizable
yadda yadda bad, yadda ******* that all you can do and be!!

— The End —