clarity

that said, it's always still a jungle to wade through.

the remaining 31 days, how will you change? for out of the heart come deceit and schemes that stick us up in wrong directions. will our desperation drive us out of line? will these tunes be enough to carry us to the other side? will our hearts be healed of these fresh wounds? will the soul live to tell stories to our grandchildren?

be strong and of good courage.

it's my honor to watch this crumbling fall. that after all the wrongs and rights, you still allow me to walk along and now to chide and remind. i'm content to know now i have found my brother. back from the wilderness of the calloused. that now we have somewhere to go. a journey ahead for a few good years. belief that stood the test of time. a heart that's now redeemed.

makes me dream and ignite new hope. to see new beginnings from this recent death. to understand how possibilities can look like. new partnerships and formations. i'm proud of you. how you've grown up. how you are looking more and more like dad.

i'm here. always. as it was. your guardian. your dependable.

i love you.

nemesis

all i ever wanted
was a friend
a brother more than a friend
a friend to watch my back
a family to guard with my hands

why has it now become so very evil.
that you despise the very sight of me
that you conjure up rationales in your head
of how it all ought to be
of how it ought to be your way
or is there a highway?

i made you a promise
to never stop short
go back to the dark port
dump my body beneath the deep docks
my faithful friend
i want to believe
for i've trained my fingers for so long
all the work and progress we now belong
i want to make it back
to be the best man
part of your blueprint plan.

may this pain never be the fuel to drive me
so i sing, write and archive, still, away
i won't back away
i will continue to be your nemesis
the door of your swinging mat
to remind you of what you once believed
don't throw away the good along with the bad

boulevard of broken dreams

i can't believe it's happened
the way we try to keep it from breaking
it's all coming to pass now
how do you mend a broken heart?

i am helpless and speechless
it's caught you off your guard
even though you thought you saw it coming
but is it too late to mend the seams?

so i swing around the wires
swallow your pride and rage
sit tight and hope for the best
the best of your broken dreams

i watch your devastation
the tears, sweat and desperation
i don't know what to say
what kind of God do we worship today?

i sit, wait, wish for you
that this is just a bad dream
i've never seen you this way
perhaps there's something more you are missing?

and now you're silent
an invisible wall between us
the hand that watched your back
now seems to be shut out for your personal space

so i play the fiddler
all alone on the roof once again
let the music drown out the noise
what noise it seems you ask, are you even listening?

may meaninglessness find authentic hope
may wisdom guide our hands and feet
may trouble break us only to know
the difference between grace and manipulation

34th way

it started yesterday. a scurry of feet and bright sunshine greet. a familiar hand ushered me into the complex aisles where i once laboured. picking up the appliance and a swing by for soft serve in the brisk of summer. we walked home, with our sweet fix, like little kids, for a moment free and careless, like a scene picked out from those feel good children's movies.

like chinese new year. the family dinner. the smell of finger lickin goodness. the bed where i once stood and sang in front of mum and dad. my music book. the scribbles of words to 'rhythm of the falling rain' - pitter patter, i felt like pied piper's peter patter. it reminds me of stories i keep hearing. of routine. of the same thing love does, year in, year out. like the ritual of rites, like the same christmas tree each christmas year, the same red shoes each lunar year, the same pair of white shoes each new school term. I'd rather be poor and know such happiness, than be rich and all alone in a tucked away dressing room. i guess there's a part of me that's still the country kid, the village folk, the simple guy wanting to make it in the big big city.

i wouldn't have it any other way. the birthday song in 4 different languages. there is a gentleness in the spirit of these times. so here's to you, my brothers, my family, my community. here's to another year.

end of the week

it's friday and i don't know what to do
if i can only get 5 minutes of your time
i'd like to discover the precious dime, our commodity

i'm tripping over my wires and cables
finding out the hard way plans don't go as inspiring fables
i'm numb and unwired and feeling a faux sense of capable

we live in lands of opportunity
where freedom knows no immunity
but those whose feet find restless ground
find no part in this holy sound

fowls and fiends gather to feed
whipping our backs to prevent this fix
i'm struggling against the push and pull of these words
will i triumph over these insinuations of extravagance?

when will the day come
when will the mountains recede over the sun
when will it be over the clouds

maybe the hunger will never cease
maybe this, this toil and trouble, will always be

it's friday and i don't know what to do
i don't have a reason or rhyme to celebrate
it's friday and i don't know what to do

i'll do anything to get over this
but for now, i have you, here with me
enough to keep me believing...

typecast

is He irresponsible?
is He the silent type?
the kind that raises delinquents and broken glasses?
the kind that does it in tough love?

are we animals and beasts,
like the grit of nature?
are we here to fight for our survival?
that we have to tear and wear the burdens
to work the garden,
in someone else's curse and eloquence?

why would He speak, grandiose and extravagance,
ideas, possibilities to inspire this penance,
only for the naive to crash and burn?
why would He show us things that could never be within reach,
things that steal our joy, passion and devotion?
why would He be God of all and watch as His children crumble?
why should He be God of us and let hunger be the excuse
to kill, steal and plunder the lives of our brothers?

what kind of a person is this God?

is He responsible enough as we expect Him to be?
is He not the embodiment of justice, mercy, grace?
Or are there insufficient obedient ones listening?
That our defiance has produced such oppression.
That our forgotten hunger has made us too comfortable.
That we find no joy in taking care of the lesser folk.

In love, in consistent grace, will You stubbornly spare the oppressors and let the cause and effect and this vicious fly wheel cycle eliminate those who are broken only with an ear turned toward heaven?

are you God or am i just crazy talking to myself?



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