Conversations with the Old Lady

One day a boy spoke to the Old Lady
Look!! There’s a pretty little flower!
No, no. Leave it alone, little boy
Leave that pretty little flower be!

Then the boy pointed to the Old Lady
Look!! There’s a cute little puppy!
No, no. Leave it alone, my dear boy
Leave that puppy with its mother be

Thereafter he showed the Old Lady
Look!! The big mango on the big ol’tree!!
Come on down, oh little boy
Leave it where it’s supposed to be!!

Frustrated the boy asked the Old Lady
Why can’t I have the things I see?
You can have all you ever want, the Old Lady said
when you learnt to let go and leave things be!!

Rhetorical Questions

How are we to make it work
when sometimes we’re worlds apart?
How is it that I get to you
when you have yet to surrender your heart?

How is it then that we may not fail
when we’re so fearful of starting
How are we then to make it work
when the longing for each other
so strong could hurt?

How is it then I stay my hands
my arms, my legs, my very heart
when you intrusively occupied my thoughts
How would I then
be complete again?

For all the How’s and the When’s
For all the Here’s and Then’s
I have no read answer; only the pain remains
A multitude of hopes,
and you my bane.

 

Dead Silence

There was no saying how disappointed I was; I had been looking forward to the date for a long time. Our last date was…3 weeks 5 days 6 hours ago…and counting. As I was locking my door behind me, car keys in my hand, it was almost ritualistic that my phone gave a tremble in my pockets; she sent message saying she could not make it for the date, again.

Again!

Something really did felt out-of-place, but I could not put my fingers to it. A fortnight ago was a faulty car engine, last week was a sick niece she had to babysit, and then it was an emergency with her pet cat.

Gosh that stupid Persian!

Once again, I was left standing alone at crossroads, in possession 2 movie tickets to the latest Fast & Furious, a complimentary dining voucher for two at the Dome, and a buy-one-free-one coupon at our favourite coffee parlour.

“Why waste them?” I supposed and gleefully I went.

If finding a parking at the shopping mall was hard, it was even harder getting through the crowd at the cinema lobby. I cancelled my plans for a chilled Coke and popcorn at the sight of a long and endless queue. Walking straight to the counter, I lined up to have my tickets checked. The light indicator above beckoned me to go in already, with the movie starting in about 10 minutes.

The line was slow and some customers were anxious to get inside quickly, and soon a scuffle broke out. It was then I saw a familiar silhouette, roughly a few feet before me.

It can’t be her.

Before I knew it, a couple more stewards came and formed a line between us and the entrance to the halls, stopping me in my tracks. I stood there stunned. My fingers found the keypads of my phone and pushed the quick dial.

“Hey…I’m just calling to check up on you.”

“Yeah…I’m at the vet’s. Can’t talk now. I’ll call you again later?”

A nudge from the back brought me back to my senses, beckoning me to pass through the now cleared counter.

“Why bother?” I assured myself. “Fast 7 comes first!”

*******

            Shoulders against shoulders, I made my way out of the cinema, as the crowd squeezed through a bottleneck of a shutter door. Feeling the grumbling of my tummy, I made my way to the Dome. The waiter threw me a surprised look as I turned up alone, but I pretended not to have seen his rather impolite stare.

            “Just what I ordered, please,” I said to him just as he was just about to speak. Promptly picking up the menu, he left. I sighed while throwing a glance across the hall, which was pretty deserted bar a few occupied tables. A barely audible gasp escaped my breath, as I saw a familiar silhouette right at the far corner of the room, chatting happily to the man sitting across the table. I scampered for my phone in the pocket.

            “How’s your cat?” My heart sank as the silhouette answered the phone right at the same time.

            “Erm…I’m still at the vet…still…waiting for our turn.” Her hesitation was evident in her trembling voice.

            “You know I could drop by…and check on you both,” I made sure to sound reassuring over the phone.

            “Erm…no you really shouldn’t…erm…my..my mom is with me,” she stuttered, before continuing, “You really don’t have to.”

            I could have sworn I would have heard her just fine without the phone; she was so agitated that her company was concerned for her, enough to rest his hand on her shoulder trying to calm her down.

            I said no more and hung up. In a moment of madness I switched on the camera and snapped a photo of them, an embodiment of my shame and failure as a boyfriend. The food arrived as I slumped against the chair. From afar I saw her excusing herself to the toilet, no doubt to recompose herself, and reapply some of those foundation powder and lipstick. Taking out a 50 dollar bill and pining it underneath an ashtray, I left.

            I could no longer recall how I actually ended up back home safe and sound, having to drive 10 miles in that state of mind. But it took her a week to finally come looking for me, since I no longer called or texted her after that.

            “Hey,” she knocked was my door. Apparently my mother had let her in. “I haven’t heard from you in ages so I figured…” She sat herself comfortably on my bed while I remained seated in my chair, staring into a blank worksheet before me.

            “Writer’s block?” Her voice tinged with a dose of concern, which translated into a painful pang in my heart. The more concerned she was for me, the more it hurt. Ironically, I would have killed anyone or anything to have her treat me like that.

            “You know, I’m really sorry,” her tone changed. “I know I’ve missed a lot of dates but now,” she put her arms around my neck, “…but now I feel like I want to have one.” Her cheerful and sweet smile reflected on the computer screen.

            “Where have you been?” I broke my silence.  A bewildered look hung on her face. “Last Monday. When we’re supposed to watch Fast 7 together.”

            “Ah? Didn’t I tell you my dog was sick?” Defensively she crossed her arms. “I had to bring her to the vet.”

            I swiped my phone and opened the photo I took the other day and tossed it to her. Gasping for air, no words came out of her mouth thereafter.

            “I was there. The cinema too. And no, I didn’t follow you. I meant to bring you there.”

            She had a palm covering her mouth, trying hard not to break into tears. Her other hand was grabbing onto my phone as hard as she could, before finally tossing it on my bed. Soon there was nothing left but dead silence in the air, an invisible wall erected between us, a connecting bridge collapsed. At that moment I knew it was over.

            Grabbing onto my phone, I walked out the room, only to pause at the door, intending to leave her a final message. I could hear her sobbing.

            “It was the Persian,” I said. “You told me you brought your Persian cat to the vet.”

            10 minutes later I returned to the room only to find a void in there; whatever we once were, stripped to the core, was just lies. Sometimes I do wonder, if I could just pretend that everything is fine, that everything is beautiful when the ugly part is swept under the closet, and that every that is a new day worth living for.

            But I know, deep down, I just could not bring myself to forgive her for what she had done.

 

 

 

Bittersweet

“Yeah, this is kinda weird,” you remarked, still staring at my ceiling.

“Yes it is,” I responded with equal rhetoric. “I hope this changes nothing,” I continued.

“Of course not,” you gave a rather weak smile which I didn’t think you noticed yourself. Repositioning my head on your broad shoulders, I shifted deeper towards your neck, resting a quick kiss on your cheeks.

“Please don’t,” I whispered into your ear. “Don’t make promises that you know you might not keep.”

You said nothing in reply, knowing well what I meant in context. To your credit, you did forced yourself a smile, although it did nothing in your attempt to pacify the growing restlesss inside me.

“I had fun yesterday,” you broke your silence.

“It’s always about the sex, eh?” Grimly, I posted that question against your stonily expression. Seeing you caught out like that really did gave me an ego boost, but I probably should cut you some slack.

“Silly you,” I reached out and gave you a kiss on your forehead, before uncovering my naked legs that was hidden under the thick cozy duvet. Skilfully, I wrapped myself with the bathrobe lying on the floor. I blushed as soon as I saw you staring at me. I was not going down without a fight.

“Petrified?” I said with a high pitched voice, like those posh ladies in London, “By my beauty?”

“Hardly,” you responded with a chuckle. Clearing your throat, you switched to a scouser accent, “I was more impressed by the perfectly shaped booty of yours!”

What followed after was a pillow fight; grabbing the closest pillow to me I bang it as hard as I could against you. Without retaliating, your parried away all my attacks. Frustrated, I held on to the pillow tightly before diving onto the bed, trying to pin you down under all those thick cottons. Throughout the mini skirmish your laughter resonated all over the room.

Finally you decided to retaliate. With a huge heave you overturned the tables; I was now the one pinned under your big arms, unable to move. The laughter ceased along the fight. I was staring right at you but I no longer blushed. You cracked a smile and kissed me full in the lips. I thought you tasted like honey lemon with a tinge of tobacco.

Bittersweet.

你这也太潇洒了吧？

你这也太潇洒了吧？

“Mojito.”

说分就分，说断就断。他对着电话已有三天，手机的每个震动，信号通知都过于期待和渴望。 查看来信者就会垂头丧气，闷闷不乐。说起来，他也并非完全无过；一向来自尊心极强的他却不甘下风向你祈求。他说不是面子问题，而这是一种衡量他在你心目中的分量到底有多么重。

说着他又把酒杯里偷的烈酒灌了，用力把杯子塌在柜台上，豪爽地命令调酒师再呈上鸡尾酒。

“Mojito，again.”

你可曾经问他，那么多鸡尾酒当中，最喜欢Mojito? 这酒，他并不常喝。你去年夏天外地出差，一出就出了四天，他就连接和了四晚；上个月他回乡探亲，每晚这个时候不失去了酒吧，就在家端了啤酒自个儿喝着。这回你们小闹一番，他就溜了这自己喝着。

你说他这是在喝闷酒吗？奇怪的是每当他端着酒杯，就是呆呆地晃着酒杯，细看着薄荷叶在酒里飘着飘着。过了片刻，叶片也逐渐沉在杯底，他就一口把酒全灌了。

“Mojito.”

调酒师脸上挂着怪异的表情，似乎担心他会把自己灌醉，又或者好奇这怪客何以什么都不喝，只喝这带点辛辣，味道稍微平淡的Mojito鸡尾酒。调酒师最后还是把他要的饮料给呈上。刚伸手他顿时呆了，凝望着身前半尺以外的酒杯，不时脸上就流下了两道溪水。他闭了双眼，咬着嘴唇，摆上了一幅回到过去的表情。人在这里，心灵却该是回到了以往跟你相处的光阴。

你这也太潇洒了吧？

Message in the bottle

I was baffled, you were holding an empty Johnny Walker bottle in your hand, and I wasn’t entirely sure what you meant by that.

“Empty bottle?” I asked quizzically.

Smiling in reply, you proceeded to leave the bottle in my arms, turned around and walked nearer towards the bank. I followed as I witnessed you rustling for something in your backpack, trying to dig out something from that pile of mess.

“Where is it…where is it?” With my mouth gaping, I wanted to ask what this was about, but seeing you so engrossed trying to do something seemed to be enchanting in some ways. I swallowed back my curiosity.

“Ahah!” Triumphantly, you thrust your fist into the air as you turned around, your face glittering with joy. Sometimes I do wonder, how was it that you do what you did?

While your euphoria subsided at the sight of my ever baffling expression, your smile remained sincere. Tilting my head a little towards the left, I subtly indicated that I was still pretty much unsure about what you were intending to do.

It was then you held out your palm, revealing a piece of charcoal and a stack of sticky notes…

***********************************

“Hey there…what have we got here?” Blacky the dog wagged and sniffed furiously at a protruding piece of glass at the shore.

“Hush boy, hush!” you threw his favourite tennis ball a dozen a yards towards the inland, trying to distract from his new toy, and boy how fast he went.

Foolishly, you tried kicking that shinning piece of glass, only to numb your toes from the impact. Slightly unimpressed, you dug around the bottle and gave a hard thug. Before you knew it, you were on your backside having pulled too hard.

You almost swore until you saw it – there was a message in the bottle.

*******************************************

“I can’t believe that you still remember that!” I barked against the backdrop of the waves chiselling the rocks.  “I thought you never knew.”

Again, you put on the same smile that you always have, pure and pristine. “I knew it ever since I saw that bottle on your piano…” you finally broke your silence, before adding on “the chip at the neck…it was on purpose so that I could tell.”

“You knew all along? You played me good,” half snorting and half laughing, I rested both palms in my back pocket. “You knew all along.”

*******************************************

You thought people only write and put them in bottles, but this had not words. Instead in the bottle was a portrait. The lines were crude, uneven and thick, but there was a sense of elegance beneath that murky scribbling. It was mythical and stunning. It was you.

“This can’t be ink…nor lead,” you muttered to yourself, by now Blacky was already feverishly nudging his snout against your thighs, asking for a replay. “Go get them,” you said as you threw as hard as you could, this time even further than it was.

Staring at your own little reflection, you rested yourself a couple of yards away from the water, putting the now emptied bottle next to you. Turning the portrait around you scribbled something on the back, before reinserting the portrait back into the bottle. You almost threw the bottle before a thought struck. Picking up a small sharp rock, you chipped away the neck of the bottle, making a very minute yet easily distinguishable mark on it, before releasing it back into the wild that it may continue on its voyage.

*******************************************

“So when I invited you over…” I stuttered as I tried to supress my own laughter.

“…I knew it was you,” you responded in equal hysteria. “I half suspected that you put that bottle in plain sight, expecting me to know right away.”

“But….” I shook my head in disbelief.

“Yeah…” you responded, looking at your toes digging into the wet sand, your hands behind your back.

“You didn't show any response to the bottle so I thought…you may have forgotten,” I took several strides closer, and beneath my breath I prayed that you stay exactly where you were. “I thought that erm,” I stumbled trying to find the correct words, “erm…it was pretty cool of you to find it.”

“It was,” you whispered, and as I caught those words my heart went racing. “I figured it would be nice to start on a clean slate,” you continued yet you fixated your eyes over the horizon, ignoring and pretending my stares on you.

Words failed me, so I held out my hand. This time you responded. Smiling, you turned around and held both the sticky notes and piece of charcoal. Picking up all the signals, I gave you a smile, after which I wrap my hands over yours, and led you towards the fallen coconut tree several metres behind and set us down.

“What are you gonna draw?” your voice slightly mellow yet furnished with tinges of hope, you asked.

“I’m going draw,” I drew you near, landing my lips on yours, indulging myself in that moment, holding the world in my arms, I whispered into your ears.

“I’m going to draw us.”

*******************************************

Oopss...I did it again

Yeap?

Yeap. It was pretty awkward. The situation wasn’t helped by the fact that my fingers were biting into my palms, yet I felt nothing. I was sure someone striding past me could hear the sound of my heart rampaging against my rib cage, and the fleeting thought of you hearing it slipped into my mind at the same time.

Yeah...

I have always knew what I wanted to do. Pushing to the very limits of my cognitive capacity, I have played out the scenario to bits multitude of times, running the simulation in the comfort of my own imagination, playing out all the same outcome and response. The good ones, of course.

See you tomorrow?

I thought I could be slick and smooth, but I wasn’t so sure anymore. Not after seeing your fidgeting lips and those mysterious eyes. I swear those eyes could drive anybody looking into them crazy. They seemed to tell a whole lot of things, and I felt I understood them, but then again I was too fearful to know for sure, as if my senses were dented and incapacitated.

You have always tend to overthink.

And I let go; I let the rescinding doors receive you into the box, I let the worst of me getting the best of us, I couldn’t do it. And as you retreated I thought I saw a pang of disappointment in you, masked by the weariness in your eyes. I looked away, and almost instantly regretted it. Turning around, I caught a glimpse of your parting smile before the doors closed upon any hopes of second chances. I hated myself; my weakness, indecisiveness and foolishness. I did it again.

Have YOU learnt nothing?

Somebody there?

Who can give voice to the cries of the soul?

The pains of the heart,

The mourning of the spirit?

Can you tell my tale,

Or serenade my grief to the world?

 

Who can give life to the agony I go through,

Whence my mind wanders

in mortifying loneliness?

Can you sing my tale,

Or paint my troubles to the world?

 

Who can give heart to the distress of my heart,

a ear to my grumbles,

and a hand to hold on to?

Can you yell my anguish,

Or share my woe to the world?

 

Who can? Would you?

 

P.S: I dedicate this to all out there who suffer in silence. You may be alone in body but remember that you'll always be in my prayers. I feel you.

懊悔

刮风四起，落叶狂掉。沉默已久的回忆，经过光阴的流失，重新敞开歌喉，高声啸叫。

悠记当年的我，多么无知，多么天真。半点都不理解人情事物，做任何事都未曾三思。所谓年少轻狂，凭着一股热血，要做就做，根本没顾及后果，更没考虑过会如此伤害身边的朋友，更没想过会负于对自己心满期望的人。

当年的我，就是如此的不自爱。

一个人沮丧、失败、孤独到某种程度，那面会做些令人匪夷所思的事情。此乃人生常轮；均无星辰的夜晚，遥望大海，在漆黑都好，总想从哪一片黑暗看破现实的残 酷，人生的艰苦。生老病死，悲乐离合，谁无不曾经历过？但往往当局者迷常常把自己献上当自己狭窄胸膛的傀儡，任这些负能量掌管心思意念，我行我素。

记忆犹新，当年就是这样踏上了不归路；把全部关心自己的人都逼上了不归路。虽说学业顺利，事业有成，好友连连，心里一角总觉空虚。这其实也不算什么；心理学 兼说每人潜意识中都会有个私欲，就好比荣格述说人本性所求的离不开满足自己的性欲。哲学推广的也离不开人生道德观念级做人目标。至于宗教信仰，不就是吧心 里的那份空虚，积聚在一位（或多位）超自然，人称万能的神明身上？

此时细雨遍地，枯叶依旧堕落着，留在我肩膀上。一片一片枯叶打在身上，就好比当时内心良知温和的劝勉和警告。突然天空一闪，雷响四方。我闭着双眼，双拳紧握，把头向天，迎接雨滴。

我最后还是抹杀了良知，抹杀了天真，抹杀了无知，全然阔了出去。

无可否认，全然阔了出去，就好像笼子里的一头狼，重新的自由。天下之大之宽之阔，何处不留人？抱着这种狂妄自恋的心态心，我铁了心，答应自己不再浪费人生每秒每刻，全然享尽人间荣华富贵，满足自己内心任何欲望及私欲。多么快活！

说走就走，说放就放。工作就打了通电话就辞去了，家里的东西一概没碰。而家人是通过老板暴躁的口气中得知自己早不知所踪。那天姐尝试打来好几遍，着急地问个明白。良知方被埋没，想着爸妈年老以迈，自己又是独生子，想到自己实为不孝，就给姐打了回去。

姐半喊半哭，苦苦哀求我回家团聚，何事一块儿说出来。说着说着，姐没听见我回音，就顿时安静了。我趁机说了三字:“我走了”就把电话挂上，整部电话就投进了茫茫无边大海。

一去就八年没回过家，完全没没和家人，朋友、同事联系过。一个人无名无份，如此渺茫，要消失在六十亿人群中，易如反掌。彻彻底底，干干净净，一了百了。

烟酒嫖赌，我享尽荣华富贵。每晚陪伴入睡的，名字也从不过问。只要直性子，你情我愿，各得所求，何乐而不为? 四海为家皆兄弟，一起干过杯，就自认结拜兄弟。视金如粪土，花钱如水，不出三个月，存储就已花光。

额头上再次闪了一下，而随后的雷声比之前更加大声，足见风雨正是朝着自己刮来。手中虽握着雨伞，却也没敞开遮雨，任大雨在身上打着。大树摇晃得厉害，坠落的树叶不再是枯叶，而是经不起风雨的青嫩树叶。

就在如同这晚一样的夜晚，我从噩梦中惊醒。

存储虽已用光，但毕竟自己还是有点小聪明。我唯一不碰的就是毒品，不是因为我明白毒品的害处，而是清楚知道很多贩毒伙子因自己也染上了毒物，常常沦落到自己 无可自拔的地步，逼死自己。我决意纯粹贩卖毒物，以来不让自己陷入绝境，二来尽量从每单生意里赚取最多的利润。一单生意就可为此这长达六个月五花八门的生 活。如此疯狂，如此堕落！

就那晚酒喝多了些，回到厢房又和刚搭上的美妞大战四回，我沉沉入睡。熟睡当而，梦中一片黑暗，却突然传来哀叫声，我突然惊醒。女郎仍然在我身旁熟睡，但我已 汗流浃背，身飙冷汗。心神未定，窗外就刮了大风，雷电交加。我思路混乱，六神无主。走到窗前，仰望着海角上的灯塔，一闪一闪的，有如召唤着我，召唤着我回 家。

我梦中听见了我姐。

流浪天边多年，故地早已沧海桑田，人事已非。提着沉重的脚步，两手空空，我回到那曾今温馨的家。走到门前，敲了两下，开门的却是一张陌生的面孔。原来，曾今是多么的遥远，多么的陌生，我俩已互不相识。时间不留人！

我泪如滔滔江水，脸颊上流着两条长长的溪水，是泪是雨，无人知晓。面对着墓碑，却没有勇气呐喊大哭，因我深知自己早已抛弃了为他们吊丧的权利。不孝不义之子，颜面何在？天地不纳，无地自容！

或许这是对自己最好的惩罚。对我而言，人间已无情无义。再美再好再漂亮的人事物，不再有意可言。倾盆大雨之下，我独自流荡，而脚下的三尺尘土，牢牢护着昔日顾我爱我却被我彻底伤害过的人，永隔阴阳。剩下的就是无比的寂寞和永恒的自责及懊悔。

第三十天

这段日子，可真不好受。按照港剧里演变出来的常理，我现在应该是去五里岗哪里的酒吧混一混，戒酒解愁。可惜天生宅的很，一整天把自己困在家里头电脑荧幕打开着一系列的经典港剧，从头看到。到底看了几遍都不清楚了，心头里唯一赖着不走的悲伤仍然还在。

 再悲伤，在不愉快，日子一样要过，干嘛跟自己过不去呢？

 说来容易，要做出来可真的要鞠行啊。之前从大伯家里溜出来的烈酒，正好派上用场。一开始还想着模仿电视里酒鬼一杯一杯灌烈酒，好像很威风，很潇洒，结果隔天醒来额头疼的厉害，喉咙哑了半天。

俗话说得对，时间可以冲淡一切。

日子久了，烈酒感觉上也没那么烈了，味道也逐渐黯淡，习惯。偶尔就换了烈酒，再喝得烂醉，隔天醒来方觉家里弄得一团糟。每当酒醒就会觉得很颓废，很没出息。但深夜失眠，可奈何，依然选择捷径，麻醉自己，昏昏迷迷过日子。

一个人不曾醉酒，根本不可能体会到醉汉的心态。你问我为什么喜欢喝酒，还喝得烂醉？喝酒真的那么爽快那么High吗？酒，酿得再香，调得再好，始终都是苦的；天下地上根本没有不苦的酒。没人会因为酒好味道而灌酒。大量喝下辛辣的烈酒，常常戳伤喉咙，损坏肠胃，这些举动其实是很自损，很犯贱。

 这是何苦呢？

 心里的创伤，疼痛欲大哭，要哭却哭不出，这种感受难熬。这无痛的痛，是没办法用言语行动来表达的。就像忧郁病人自残来体验自己的存在感，灌酒得来的辛，舌头端的苦，让痛楚有了声音，让悲哀有了表态，就这样得以释放，可以释怀。

 你不知道吗，没声音的痛最苦，而没声音的苦最痛？

想你的夜

车尾灯早已陷入黑暗，相伴着我的只是剩下凉凉的北风。我屹立不动，仍然瞪着前方的漆黑，默想着刚才你你我我的局面，嘴边顿时露出笑意。

记忆犹新，我手里还能察觉到你遗下的体温。空气中悬挂着你喜爱的兰花香，循环着、围绕着我。闭上双眼，你那羞答答的脸孔又浮在眼前。我伸出双手迎接你扑入我怀，但你依然笑着不动，却移开了眼神。

你逗我笑了两下，一不小心，你就从我眼前消失了。叹了口气，张开眼睛，我仰首望着夜空。你又逗我傻笑了。我舌头舔了舔双唇，嘴里还留着你的味道。又闭上了双眼，我顿时又在车子里，双手紧握着你脸颊，嘴唇牢牢地印在你的嘴上。

逐渐的，一开始被动、害羞得你，开始热诚、主动起来。心里掩不住欢喜，我笑了两下。你也笑了。我正要说话，这次你却把身躯投向我，用自己丰满的嘴唇，封住了我的话。虽也无言，但真情流露，你我都明白，没有任何东西是永恒的，没有什么会是永远的。

一阵冷风，把我灵魂打回原地。没有了你的笑容，没有了你的撒娇，更没有你带给我的温馨，我顿时觉得无比的孤单、寂寞。但我知道，天涯的另一端，你也会一样地对我牵挂，百般相思。

“Hey...我真的好想你。”

我行我素

血方刚 士气烈

摊手自信逆伦常

岂能一指定天下

 

心顿灰 意甚冷

仰天渐觉溪两颊

俯首方感鬓双白

 

口叹气 唉声矣

合掌奈何问苍天

宽指舍去泪满襟

该背道攀亦顺势堕？

 

心正思诚 不足矣？

意直念恳 曲折需？

热血淡泪 格外清

是非对错 额外明

人情世故自古清则明

 

坦然相对 报之怒颜

肝胆相照 换之贬视

由古惟吾任我行

至今无异纵我素

悲乐

试问世间何谓情

至叫吾肚绞断肠？

探遍人间何为义

竟使尔为人舍己？

 

双眼含泪问苍天

情义何以难共存？

俯首叹气问大地

红线月老弄七夕？

 

吾心虽悲亦无憾

一阵甜蜜三分酸

的尔知己满足已

有此红颜无悔兮

你---给不到

你发问的时候...

这一刹那，我自己也不知道自己究竟想要什么。我到底期盼些什么？感情上的解脱，还是那钩人心思的牵挂？直觉告诉自己，此时放手最为明智。但心，确实百般不想，万分不愿。

难道我要的那么难以琢磨？所要的，所需的，可都一样吗？我要的是什么？伴？能互相诉说心思的红颜，互相倾听心事的知己？还是那一刻终于得到一向来梦寐以求的一阵满足感？我真的不知道。

我曾经何年何月何日何时，以为自己真真实实拥有这一切。但，树欲静而风不止。世事十之八九，不如人意。一眨眼，酒后三分醒，梦毕六神清。愿意与否，自己就从这自欺欺人的梦境，被打回这残酷的现实。

我要的毕竟是什么？很遗憾，很可惜...

你---给不到。

Come By Faith

I have no words to calm your heart,

or the presence to give you assurance.

Take a little leap of faith,

come, pray with me.

 

I have neither the expertise to ease your pain,

nor the control over the sore and ache.

But do take this leap of faith,

come, weep with me.

 

I lay no claim that I can comprehend,

what you are going through.

Do take  the leap of faith,

Come, wail with me.

 

There are no magic words to sooth the agony,

or the power to make these go away.

Let’s take this little leap of faith,

Come, jump with me.

 

I have no faith in the age-old lie,

that “All would be, and will be well”.

But believe me, for “What will be, will be”,

So come, soar with me.

 

Let none the bells of St. Peter’s gate,

high up ringing and lamenting in grief.

But should it must, then so be it,

for I’ll always be here for you,

 

SO HAVE A LITTLE FAITH IN ME,

COME, COME LEAP WITH ME!!!

 

F/N: This is dedicated to a dear friend who is struggling to overcome a massive challenge in life. There are no words to express the mortifying agony that stems from  my inability to do anything to provide any form of assistance. There is nothing that I can offer other than these words; a sincere prayer, the anguish expressed from the heart. May these words of prayer be a source of comfort to this dear friend in time of trial and need. And amidst of  the troubled waters, gives hope and form to  the words embedded beneath all the pain and sorrow. May this poem also be the prayer for all that may also be struggling with life.

铃声

或许，我不是你所需的，更加不是你所要的。但我想让你知，我现在，还在你心窍门前徘徊。或许我太在乎你，不容自己逼你做你不要和不想做的事。很自愿地，为了成全你，就牺牲自己。双目无神，泪满双襟，默默地守候那渺然的期盼。

难道你不曾心动，仍然坚持拒我于千里之外？难道你不曾心软，对一切无动于衷？难道你麻木了，就好比我盲了双眼？难道，一切的一切，这些的这些，所有的所有，都弥补不了你心中的空缺，你心灵里的缺陷？

你可真的是那只永远不会出现的野兔？苦苦守着株树，换来只有岁月的冲洗，光阴的遗弃？难道一切都是纯粹的偶然，真的并非冥冥之中的天算？

望梅，倒可以止渴；画饼还可以充饥。对你单恋的痛楚，相思的悲哀，我到底要用什么来麻痹自己？

你在我心里设下的毒，何时方解？

Falling Into Heaven: Silent Night

Picking up the chilled tankard, he emptied it right down in several big gulps, before slamming it onto the surface of the black, sleek table. Feeling it rising inside him, he braced himself against the incoming burp. It hit him hard, almost ending up regurgitating all the booze he had been drowning himself in for the past hour.

Trying to sooth that dreadful feeling, he held a palm across his chest, another against the table, resting his forehead upon it. When it finally passed, he leaned back against the chair as far as he could, both hands covering his face, giving his stiff back some stretching. All he had been doing for the past few weeks were just typing and drafting proposals and documents, and that’s gradually hitting his breaking point.

In a spur of madness he laughed hysterically, drawing plenty of attention from the other patrons of the bar.

Screw it. Nobody knows nobody here.

This wasn’t the usual place they hit on girls or get drunk all those times. It’s more of a pub than a karaoke lounge or a club. The patrons here are usually senior citizens or people that actually wants to have a proper conversation surrounded by somewhat jazzy ambience. He wasn’t in his suits either; just jeans and a denim jacket hiding the hideous Spiderman T-shirt he got last Christmas.

Like all bartenders, this one seemed to telepathically read his mind, popped another bottle of Heineken free of its cap and placed it before him. “Thanks,” he smiled bitterly. The bartender replied with a thumbs up before saying, “Haven’t seen you around before. You new in this neighbourhood?”

He nodded, “Just passing by.”

“Where’re you headed to?”

“Anyway but the city, I suppose,” he answered after giving it some thought.

The bartender stared back at him, then smiled back at him empathically, before he was summoned to serve the other customers. Feeling relieved yet partly disappointed, he was sipping his beer alone, left to his own thoughts. One hand holding the bottle, his left was constantly reaching out to the peanuts, stuffing them in at a staccato-ish tempo…

“There you are!!” A voice boomed from the back, before a palm landed on his shoulder.

“Another one of his, please!!” Dyke, in his suit,  rested himself right next to him, while busily texting someone on his mobile. A moment later the mobile was shoved into his pocket, and Dyke turned his attention to the beer of bottle that was just placed before him.

“Cheers,” he held his half-drained bottle mid-air, waiting for Dyke to return the gesture.

“To your health, mate.” Both of them took a big sip, before resorting to another stretch of silence.

“You cool?” Dyke broke silence, while staring intently at him.

“Yeah…no…No, I’m not,” he replied, decided to be honest to his workmate in the end.

“You mad?? It was that night, isn’t it?? I’m sorry but we were all high. I was freaking high. I couldn’t tell from left to right,” Dyke resorted to his apologetic tone.  

He allowed himself the luxury to chuckled for a moment of two, before sipping on his beer, almost choking himself when he tried recalling how high they were that night.

“YOU, my friend, were TOTALLY WASTED,” he continued, “no offence taken.” Dyke sighed in relief, but in no way was prepared for what came next.

Raising his beer mid-air, he gave Dyke toast. “To your ignorance and stupidity, for which if absent from my life would result in a severe deterrence to enlightenment and understanding, of which I  be subjected to a loop of endless  self-gratifying and self-pitying of my own.”

Without waiting for a response, he emptied his tankard, leaving Dyke stunned and speechless in his spot. Dyke was just starring at him, trying to comprehend the incomprehensible. Slamming the tankard onto the table, he said, “The tab’s on you,” before standing up and left for the door.

Making his way onto the streets, he paced northwest towards the city, not exactly sure where he intends to go next. Even more so after insulting and pissing of his one of the few friends and colleague he could actually mingle around at work.

It’s gonna be so AWKWARD…

He wasn’t sure why he acted that way, and the reason he had uttered such hurtful words was beyond his comprehension. But he felt good afterwards; some kind of poison expunged from the inside after his outburst. Someone had to pay for that and Dyke was the unfortunate scapegoat who took that head on like a champ. To be fair, nobody is MORE QUALIFIED than Dyke to be at the receiving end.

Perhaps I should apolog…

CRASH!!!

All he felt next was a crushing blow descending upon his skull, and a searing pain punctured through his left temple. He crumbled onto the ground almost instantly, before feeling his hands on some kind of slack fabric. It was pitch black but soon enough he was tasting blood in his mouth. There were lots of shouting but there wasn’t anything that he could make out before he lost consciousness…

Religious Diversity - Reason for Bigotry Or Room for Love??

There can be no worst start to the year 2014 with the news of the raiding on the Bible Society of Malaysia looming over the headlines of every major news reporting portal. It is utterly offensive, intrusive and disappointing that the whole “Allah” row has come to such a stage.

Some say that this is a mere political gimmick. A hand dealt by the politicians to divert the Rakyat’s attention from the more abrasive issue of rising living costs and inflation rates. Like first delivering a body blow which is swiftly followed by illegal elbow to the chest. Surely both hurt like hell, but the victim would most likely cry foul over the illegal assault, forgetting about the real damaged done by the prior attack.

I would say that is a rather fair assessment of the situation, but I believe despite the grumblings and complaints everybody is set on adapting to the higher living costs and the weaker buying power that the year 2014 entails. Because there is simply nothing much that we can do to change that fact. It’s part and parcel of life.

But now it seems more to me that they really mean business. To weed out all potential elements that may cause confusion among my Malay brethren, to deter all un-Islamic influence that may cause my Malay brothers to divert from their faith. A blanket ban on exclusive Islamic terminology which are prohibited for non-Muslims. The thought of second guessing what would happen next is really what scares me. The unknown and the probability of religious persecution lurking right behind the corner is what terrifies me.

In all honesty, it doesn’t really matter to me whether I am allowed to use the words such as “Allah”, “Nabi” etc. It is after all, in their words, “non-integral to the practice of [my] Christian faith”. It doesn’t really matter what man calls God, for God has declared that “I am who I AM”; He is God regardless of what you call him.

But I can’t say the same for my Malay-speaking brothers and sisters in Christ. Whose fault it is, that they have little or almost no command of the English language? And who are the ones that go all out to try to reach out to these people that can only communicate in Malay? What started as a mere gesture to reach out to the secluded became a tradition of the church, which has also become an inheritance, a mark of identity especially to those in Sabah and Sarawak.

The truth is, the verdict delivered by the Court of Appeals has almost no bearings on the practice of my Christian faith. I can readily accept that verdict and leave it to God, praying that one day all Malaysia will finally have a leader that Malaysians of all ethnicity and religion can be proud of. Leaders that believe in tolerance, respecting each other and love. A society where churches visited by non-Christians, Friday sermons frequented by non-Muslims, Buddhist prayers attended by non-Buddhists. Isn’t the very core of the whole “Allah” issue is the shallow understandings of our own religion and of others, as well as the ignorance we beheld against each other? It is a really terrifying notion of how little we understand about each others’ religion!!

Aren’t we all Malaysians? Aren’t we all entitled to the same rights enshrined in the Constitution? The right to religious freedom and to practice them in a peaceful manner? Is it even Islamic to protect ones of privilege at the expense of another? Would conducting raids and enforcing bans promote Islam? Mind you, that the more you ban something, the more popular it becomes.

I don’t wish to sound condescending, but allow me to make several anecdote based on my experience studying overseas. There was no “surau” in our campus, but the Chaplain of my university offered  a “quiet room” to my Muslim friends to pray in, as many times as they need. This room is situated inside the Chapel itself. He even had prayer mats and Kiblah signs prepared in the room for the Muslims.

On another note, our Malaysian society was organising a festival for the locals one day. We were busy entertaining our guests with performances, food and games throughout. But contrary to popular beliefs, my Muslim friends were as pious as any Muslim could be. When it was time, everybody stopped working and the “imam” led the prayers right in the middle of the campus, open air for everybody to see. There were many curious stares, some whispering in wonder about what they were doing. But for me, I couldn’t possibly be more proud for my friends, for they were carrying out their duties as best as they can, for all to see. The wonderful thing is, while the Muslims were praying, the non-Muslims were explaining to the local visitors (mostly British) what they were doing.

I’ll leave you with this: Aren’t this two instances the best possible testimonies for the respective religion? Aren’t these two instances the epitome of tolerance, understanding and respect?

AMEN/AMIN to that!!

Falling Into Heaven: Away In The Manger

It was hard to say for sure, but it was quite a long fall, and by the time he finally came to his senses, he could feel his back against the hard, cold floor. He could feel his arms, and the strength that was returning to him after the ordeal. Reaching out to his migraine-ridden crown, he caressed it gently, trying to ease that throbbing pain.

And there was light; the morning sun pouring into the room, its radiance gradually heating up the air enclosed within it. Trying to learn more about this strange surrounding, he screwed his eyes into focus, with his left palm shielding his vision from the light.

But he wasn’t alone. While drifting in and out of consciousness the night before, he could sense others around him. Anybody but his colleagues, he reckoned. There was no doubt that Richard and co. were totally wasted in the lounge at this time. They usually don’t come around until the effects of the drugs totally wore off around evening.

Well, at least nobody’s gonna work today.

“Aha…I see you’re awake,” a voice interjected into the silence. Very much taken aback, he was holding up the pillow in a stance, his back against the mouldy walls.

“That pillow isn’t going to do much as a shield or a weapon,” the old man joked, “but this will warm you up.”

The old man placed a warm bowl of porridge into his cupped hands. Watery and diluted, it didn’t seem to be very appetizing. He looked up and saw the old man staring at him, who as this point was already seated on a chair next to him.

“Eat up. It’s not poisoned,” the man chuckled.

He spooned some of the porridge and started eating. It was then he realised that his hands were trembling. The porridge was bland, but he was so starved that he licked the bowl clean. The old man was right, he did feel much better. Warmth started to return to his hands and his body.

“It’s not much, but we gotta deal with this. Here.”

He took a stained porcelain cup from the old man and started drinking. It tasted a bit mouldy but he didn’t care. The water soothed his burning throat. The old man was holding his water flask in anticipation, subsequently refilled the cup again.

“Don’t rush it, hush.” The manner the old man spoke to him was as if one coaxing a child not to cry, and there was some sort of authority and meekness in the old man.

Soon questions started to flood into his head. Unanswered questions. There was so much to ask, but before he could say anything, the old man stood up and walked towards the basin, cleaning both the cup and the bowl that he just used.

“You’re badly dehydrated when we found you. If you’ve woken up any sooner we would have to send you to the hospital already.”

“Thanks.” That was all he could muttered, not knowing exactly what to say.

He got onto his feet and started walking around the room. There was nothing in the room apart from a mattress, a desk and a chair; it was stripped bare. Turning to his right, he observed the old man was still cleaning the utensils, cleaning each and every one of them diligently.

He looked away when the old man finished his chores. Turning around to face him, the old man  dried both hands on a sackcloth, and beckoned him to sit.

BANG!!!

The door suddenly swung open, and through it was a young lady whose eyes set upon his for a moment or two, as he was petrified by her sudden appearance, which was then followed by a really awkward moment of silence. From his position he could see the lady starting to turn red in embarrassment, so he turned towards her and offered his hand.

“Hi, I’m Frederic, Fred for short.”

“Hey.” She stood motionless, observing him from head to toe, as if he’s bore something contagious on him, not showing any intention of returning the gesture.

“Hi, nice to meet you?? And you are…”

“Naked,” she remarked. His confused expression bade her to explain. “You’re not wearing anything.”

“Owh,” he replied. His eyes were still fixated upon hers, but he did give a swift glance at himself without trying to move his head. And true enough, he was wearing nothing apart from his yellow ducky boxer. Before he could say anything else, she remarked, “I’ll wait outside.”

Now that’s how I rock. In a yellow ducky boxer.

The old man dropped his set of clothes into his arms, gave him a gentle pat in the shoulder, and then mouthed the word “go”. He hastily put his clothes back on, walked out the door and found her leaning against the wall at the stairway. She gave a smile that he could only rate as angelic.

“Well…I must say you looked better with nothing on; you really nailed it with the boxer,” she sarcastically complimented his choice of fashion.

“Thanks.”

She looked at him as both of them travel down the stairs, putting on a surprised face on her. “Are you a Masochist??”

“Wha…oh no, no…I mean…for yesterday.”

Damn it. What am I getting so flustered for??

“Right,” she noted, again nonchalantly. It’s starting to get onto his nerves, the way this lady speaks and deals with him. But towards the end of the stairs he started to hear voices and chattering of several other people, dozen perhaps, stemming from the kitchen. There were also noises of utensils clanking against each other, as if a drumroll calling all inhabitants of the house to dine.

“It’s time lunch. Everybody’s waiting for you.”

As she said the great oak door was pushed open, unveiling a host of other beings crowded onto the dining table. Most of them were teenagers, a triplet of veterans, two men and a lady. Everybody was staring at the latest newcomer, none daring to blink.

“Uhh…porridge, with some leek. Nice. I’m starved.” A boy passed two sets of utensils to her as she sat herself comfortable at the end of the table and started to eat. Immediately the atmosphere reverted back to how it was before. All bickering and noise as they all dine in one cramped room.

“Are you waiting to be served?” She asked, as he wasn’t touching any of it.

“Oh…it’s alright. I’m good,” he replied, while observing and taking in the details of his new yet strange surroundings.

“Well, suit yourself,” was the reply and she spoke to him no more, ignoring him to himself and his empty porridge bowl.

He had been to one of these houses before; these were Victorian houses. Really old, but sturdy. This one could use some thorough cleaning. Some maintenance on the plumbering could help. There were water marks all over. The place would be flooded every time a storm kicks in. The backyard could use…

“Mister…Mister??” A squeaky voice broke his concentration from the left. It was the old lady. She sounded a bit like a mouse.

“I have some coffee, would you like some?” She asked sincerely, holding a big metal cup in her hand, with steam rising from it. “It’s freshly brewed.” She gave her best with her smile, but she’s lost most of her front teeth. She probably couldn’t afford a denture to hide that hideous smile anyway.

Being polite, he nodded and started to look around for cups. But the old lady nudged him in the arm and shoved the metal cup into his hands. She was waiting intently for him to taste the coffee. Not wanting to look disrespectful, he took a sip…and rushed to the sink and vomited the foul tar-coloured fluid he just drank.

“WHAT IN THE WORLD!!!” he bellowed. Looking furiously at the old lady. By this time all eyes were on him.

“That’s odd,” the old lady squealed, “I’m sure the workers used them only today. I took it from Costa near Bank Street.”

“YOU WHAT?? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GOD DAMN MIND??”

“Watch your language, young man!!” one of the old man stood up glaring fiercely at him. The old lady was so shaken that she started to sob. The teenagers were all silently watching the drama unfolding before their very eyes.

“I say what I wanna say and she’s nuts!!” he shouted, “Leftovers, man!! Leftovers!! Did you get the porridge from McDonalds and diluted it with water?”

As soon as he said it, he knew it was the truth. They were all furious and angry, yet the shame he wrought onto them kept them in their place.

“OH MY GOD. Where the hell am I anyway?? Who are you people??”

Sensing no reply, he stormed out of the kitchen and went into the living room. The condition there was no better. Paint chipping off, water leaking at several spots,  and holes all over the flooring. There was barely anything apart from mattresses scattered all around the floor. The only thing that seems to work is the fireplace, burning feverishly in its place, providing warmth to the inhabitants of this badly dilapidated  house.

This is a shelter home!!

“It’s all they got,” a voice reverberated from behind. He wasn’t sure how long she has been standing there observing him. “It’s all we have.”

“We?? No…no…I’m not a homeless. I’m not a freaking failure like them. I have a life, a career, a dream. I’m different.”

“You asked me, and I brought you here.”

“I…what?? You’re nuts as well,” as soon as he finished he walked right straight towards the door.

“You asked me questions, and so I brought you the answers,” she gently replied, yet from where she stood right at the beginning, again showing no intention of stopping him from leaving or whatsoever.

“You asked, and so I gave.” Then he heard the sound of the door opening and closing behind him, and all that’s left was the sound of the cracking firewood burning in the fireplace.