Stripes and Me

I am nobody,
a stranger among the crowd,
a friend to you,
sometimes your foe.
Though among the crowd,
you will see stripes, my stripes,
that allow you,
to say my name out loud.

One day I'll be gone,
no longer among the crowd.
Though gone, you will see,
my stripes, my name,
that remind you,
of me.

Lub dup

Lub dup,
it is a thrill,
of boy meeting girl,
opposite attracts.

Lub dup,
it is a desire,
of a boy,
asking for her number.

Lub dup,
is his fear,
that when he calls,
she might not answer.

Lub dup,
she hesitated,
"Should I pick up?"
Beep... it's too late.

Lub dup,
his number on the display,
"What if I call him back?"
"What would I say?"

Lub dup,
both have no clue,
of who's calling whom,
to be continued...

Shipwreck

Still and abandoned,

Wrecked and forgotten.

By wave he's been tempted,

Long has he waited.

Waited for brave seamen,

And sail again.

Hey wait up!

We tend to pace when we’re stuck,

Down and up,

Slow then fast,

Our mind couldn’t keep up.

One can’t wait to leave the other behind,

To get rid of each other,

Both will cross the finishing line,

The competition, why even bother?

He who sat on the bench

Today was no ordinary day for me,

My coffee was perfect and light,

Although they never get my name right,
For the love of God,

It’s Jaime, not Jamie.

But that’s not the reason,

For my no ordinary day,

There’s this girl I’m seeing,

It’s been two years exactly today,

Since we first met in Berlin.

Her name is Elaine,

Poise and pretty,

Up until today,

I was never ready,

To give her my name.

I decided to walk in the park,

To clear my mind, thinking,

How to pop the question,

Then I keep walking,

Until I saw that bench, yes that bench.

It was summer 2003,

The last day of my junior high,

I remembered him vividly,

He who sat on the bench,

How fast time goes by.

I sat where he sat,

Trying to reminisce every detail,

What he was wearing,

To know what it’s like,

To be kept waiting.

He who sat on the bench,

What became of him?

Maybe I’ll never know,

But what I’m about to do,

I owe it to him. 

Me Mum, Me Dad.

Me mum,

the soul that brought us to daylight,

the reason of our existence.

Nine months of day and night,

a blessing, never a burden.

Me dad,

the answer to why we're born,

the reason why we’re not Jesus,

that we’re all made,

not begotten.

Puberty is never easy,

waking up is never complete,

without them yelling.

'I prefer my egg scrambled and buttered’

what are they, our butler?!

our music knows no limit,

so loud that it crumbles the ceiling.

How to get on their nerves?

Try leaving your socks on the floor.

Grounded for skipping class,

we slam the door,

that’s our plea to every charge.

We hate them, 

only to be loved back more.

We raise our voice,

that’s how we raise our case.

As we grow older,

it becomes a long distance relationship,

daily becomes weekends,

then slowly turns to months,

just because we have to run some errands.

We live in a society,

where we make dinner appointment with our folks

for the sake of convenience.

Some think of it as a joke,

They are parent, not client.

Nursing home used to be an option,

now more like a requirement.

I guess it’s karma,

you grew up and end up in one.

You see,

men are no immortals,

so are they.

When the time comes,

even yelling won’t wake them up.

No more scrambled egg to crave for,

your loud music won’t serenade them,

only the hymn of angels.

Your smelly socks won’t bother them,

even if you leave them on the floor.

You wish you could plea a bargain,

just to hear them voice again.

But until then, cherish them.

Listen to them nagging,

like they used to when you’re babbling.

Love them ten times fold,

like they mean the world.

Them Eyes

Them Eyes

Them eyes,

Of a newborn,

Open for the very first time,

Usually comes with a yawn.

The light that passes through,

To see and feel what they see,

It will blow your mind.

Them eyes,

Of a child,

Joyful and innocent,

Curious and wild.

First to love,

Last to judge,

Never condescend.

Our eyes, however

Seem to be different.

We see what we want,

We want what we need,

And our need never stops,

Until we stop to see.

Our eyes,

Start to crave,

People say only belly knows hunger,

Wait until you see the eyes, our eyes,

Craving for power.

What power is this?

One that brings you to the top,

Stepping down friends and foes,

One that you can spend,

Nothing like money can’t buy or mend,

One that corrupts values,

Poisoning moral and virtues.

One that is so high,

Where people have to bow,

Bowing low is never low enough.

And one that justifies war,

Where not killing is never an option,

So easy to pull the trigger,

Somehow pulling is even faster than blinking.

It is with our very own eyes,

That we show desire,

We never stop until we’re full.

Our desire grows stronger,

Stronger than a magnet can pull,

We desire for more than we have,

We take what’s not ours,

We give less when it should’ve been more,

All for the power that we dream of.

However,

It is with our very own eyes,

That we promise to be just

Yet we support injustice,

By committing one or

Seeing and ignoring one,
I wonder,

Which one is worse?

That we show moderation,

Yet we hasten,

As if there's a race to be won.

That we portray humility,

Instead we are so proud,

We even say it out loud.

That we believe in humanity,

Valuing life instead of taking one,

Yet we choose war,

Choosing confrontation over discussion,

Prefer killing to talking,

Killing them eyes.

Yes, them eyes,

It is our very damn eyes that close them.

Our eyes that block the light,

Making them lose their sight.

Our eyes that show them,

What’s left of this world?

The world we left behind,

Of hate and peril.

Our eyes that sweep away their joy,

By giving them suffering,

Instead of a toy.

So let us try,

Never make them eyes cry,

Nor shed a tear of sorrow,

For what they see today is a gift,

A gift of better tomorrow.