If I walked away

How did the world come to be? If I didn't see you again, How would it be, to be able to see? If It didn't leave me in pain. So addicted to the way you frown, What would you do if I said? If I wanted you to be down, Only then I can see you, friend. After all the words, how do we carry on? The paintings of a lone tree, it breezes away, The funny little things you do, how can I look away? But what would you do, If I walk away? I have been here before, like the paperwalls I keep changing, The raspling grass, the rocky waters and the dying days, It came to me, like a jukebox, old melody played the samed, All the words, all the faces, all the encounters, its insane. What would you say I wonder? Or will it always be like this? Just silence? Or will it be a day when you are blue? and then you can speak to me again.

Days and Nights

When the sun drifts away,
The moon wakes up to play,
When the Moon falls away,
The sun drifts to the morning bay.

Having frens who are lsimilar like the clouds,
Often it seems, you can't live without,
Having frens who sparkle the darkest of nights,
Often it seems, they come in flights.

So pray to god, our soul to keep,
May life be fill with full of relief.
To have the cloudy days and unlit skies,
To have them sunny and night so bright.

So on cloudy days, I'll keep those tears,
Till the day you come out without fears,
So on unlit skies, I'll keep my window seen,
Till the stars come back from sea.

In other words,When you cry, I'm always here,
Tilll the days, they finally clear,
And on unclear nights, i'll keep you here,
Till the nights, you leave from here.

The Battles Within

Everyday grows ever frail,
Times wilt and turning so pale,
The age of trees grew old and weak,
The age of iron smoking thick.

We bring our swords, no longer steel,
We bring our armors, no longer shields,
As we walk to our destiny ends,
We sit on metal chariots without sane.

Though everything changes in contraband,
Something always do still remains,
Here we are here in this brotherly war,
Here we are, still brothers and sisters of war.

But, hopefully someday when skies turns clear,
We will all sit together once a year,
To share the stories, to share the pain,
And make our friendship not in vain.

We kill and brute on each others time,
We tear and cry when somebody dies,
But one day my brother, we will all wine,
In vahalla we are all gifted and divine.

Though we fight against and compete,
Remember this my friend, I repeat,
No matter what happens outside,
I will always be by your side in the inside.

(a part of a draft, from my written chapters in "Book of Emperium")

Life in My Little Cubicle

The grazing grass fickle and play like wild fire, as it breezes by the dry cold wind. Its sweltering hot with a far distant shadow in sight. As the shadow grew thinner, the figure of a rival stood there as if the ground brought him from wherever he was.

As I walked down to the stranger, the strumming of guitar from a spaniard nearby can be heard. The strums keep up with the heartbeat of a second. As I go nearer to the stranger, the strums go ever faster. It was like tango, the only thing different here is that he is a GUY. (I'm no gay)

Then I stop, cause there weren't anymore ground to walk anymore. I reached for the gun... and he said.

"Oiiii.... Jin stop dreaming. Go back work lah dude"

POOOFFF

And there I was on the table, looking at the screen. It seemed that I felll asleep.. ehhehe... Oh well.. back to work...

Hope you guys, enjoying life now. you hear?

The new and still old

Everyday it always seem to be a goodbye to something old, it always has been that way for me, for another or someone else. Its either an old habit, a trait or the way I speak. I guess in a way, I have to change a lot of 'me'. You know sometimes, you can't get this funny feeling , that you aren't doing your best even though you did? Well I guess it haunts me even more when I try.

Everyday though I learn new things, I tend to dwell on the old. For some reason, I still don't know why. To me, in a way, these things are loose ends and needed to be closed behind. But still the solitary part of youth inside me, just want to turn loose and let go..(lets hope I don't turn crazy just yet) Its as if I'm trying to grow but the past, I can't let go.

I guess its a transition, we all encounter and the sanctuary we try to hide from everyone else. But in a way, it does have its ups. When i run away from the 'real world', I live a life of dreams and fantasy. The lonely bus rides and meeting strangers in the bus. The things we can do, when we aren't living. We can pretend to be angels that walk amongst people. In a way, I like to be alone. but then again, its a solitude place where its llimited to dreams.

The paints of my brushes still paint the lights of the skies, and yet I'm still here looking at the screen hoping they will be someone out there in the other side. People tell me to stop writing poetry cause its a waste of time. But yet i still write, even though I must admit I must change the style.

Well as the new pages of my life seems to unfold every minute, I can't get the feeling that the things of old still remain. The old textbooks, the funny letters, the pranks I did, the jokes I failed, the cards, the embrarassing moments that still haunt me, the ghost stories, the cheeky thoughts will always remain with me.

As in August of eighth, I'm still a little boy of me.

The First Post....

Things start here like any other day, its as if the morning were shorts and nights were longer. As it passes like a breeze, you can miss it a like a moment and gain it back a second later. The skies seem endless and clouds were like vanilla cream a floating on its surface.

This is my e-diary i think, here I will try to potray my everyday life of myself as interesting as it is or just plain dreamy. Most of the post will be written here. From my most funny moment or moment of others, I heard and seen.

Poetry and other writing can be seen here.