The Promise

The more you grow up,
the older you get,
the more you will realize that world is such a messed-up cruel place.

It is,
no matter how you deny it,
and the sadder fact is a lot of people adapt to be as cruel and mean,
for survival’s sake.

That’s understandable,
but not exactly how I believe life should work,
so I promise myself, 

“I don’t want to be like the world. I won’t be cruel, and I’ll still survive.”

Because being tender-hearted is not a matter of personality,
it’s pure a choice you make.
A lot of commitment, but worth it.
It doesn’t guarantee that people will give back kindness to you,
but that’s never the point.

It’s pointless,
but that’s exactly what life is all about,
we struggle, we hurt each other,
for what? In the end we’ll all be gone.
And the hurtings will only stain the story.
The story where we all have the same ending.

And that’s why I make the promise,
not to have a better ending.
It’s not changeable,
but the passage, the middle part of life.
That’s what the promise is all about.

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Between

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When you want to be a good person
for some people,
but that means you’re a bad person
for others.

Like, at times it is right to do wrong things
and doing the right thing is actually…
wrong.

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And most of the time you are both at once,
bad and good, right and wrong.
And you love yourself and don’t
because of what you do and don’t.
And you try, not to try too much.
Because you know the result is always both.

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But that’s life, it’s always… that deadly.
And in the end, no one really knows themselves.
But how come they think they know others better?
And the world spins,
but it ends there… and there too,
it starts again.

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Wolf Cigar

I was dancing

without the music set on

come shine rational

smoky lights!

Let no sound, no voice

no rules tell us how we move

only lips, of yours

and between mine

enjoying a wolf cigar

because when the end comes

isn’t this what we want to scream

by our heart?

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I was howling

watchout!

I summon my pack of wild ones

it’ll be wicked

amongst who we are and were

werewolves.

Under a calling moon

becoming what we may be

respected for our own skin

and freedom.

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Image courtesy: Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind

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Tame Me With Poems

Oh..

how in unwell state my heart is,

burdened with feelings I least wish to feel.

Betrayed by self-ful ego I’d rather slay.

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Told you times, tame me with poems

when I beserk in thoughtless angst

while I yearn for what’s not mine.

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Write me ridiculous passage,

of how you’d like me served,

of course… to stay me preserved

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You know I lost myself from time to time

then if I went wild, tame me with poems.

Do whatever rhym you’d like me to dance to,

no matter how frozen my attire is,

it’d warm me up.

Melt me down,

too a shape you’d like to wear.

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The Keenest Hello

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Open is how they are.

Doors, windows, spaces

where experience is to be met.

While sitting for its arriving.

Let’s learn to appreciate the opportunity

by giving the most welcoming greet.

Let’s wish each other of no more forlornness.

“Hello” is the word. It should do much.

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You will understand.

There’s nothing to unlock. No key is needed.

A smile is sufficient to migrant

from the past, to a new kind of new.

Imagine a life furnished with simplicity.

Hugs, kisses, giggles and laughters.

So, prepare all colors, even black

to paint the sky, the land, the sea

to be as loveable as we can define them.

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And when I call you, believe that

I mean the warmest welcome.

Without forgetting to give a sincere permission

to a further journey,

a future yet to be sailed.

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Pack your bag

with faith and hope of goodness.

But leave some rooms for

new people, person, yourself,

and a love yet to be discovered,

and claimed.

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When you have trouble to begin,

remember the keenest word,

Hello…

However, don’t forget to visit where you left, 

as it must have been waiting with an awful lot of

welcome back…

You will understand.

Those are actually friends.

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