Surpassing

I stare at the skies

my heart aching

from my own defeats.



How much longer can I erect my own banner

rally my one-man army

by the sheer force of optimism,

that fades when I run out of strength.



I wear masks;

of sorrow, smiles and wisdom

to protect and delude myself

I have nothing but these masks

To make things worse, I am talking to myself.

I am insane.



I stand on the edge of myself and what is beyond me.

Something in me must count.

Something resonates deeply in me,

that I am fearfully and wonderfully made

My spirit won't be snuffed out like this.

It must not be like this.



I discipline my body to fight against my adversary

I prepare my spirit to war against a burglar.

But they always come in ways I do not expect

and whip my behind.



I am

but the moral expectations of the flawed ones

expected acheivements of myself

and the hand given by God to me.



I am cracking under the strain. I can only think.

To surpass this mortal common self



I contemplate the heavens, the compassion

the cold heart, the nature of forgiveness

hypocrisy and damnation. the depths of the unexplainable

the mad chase of wind by man being of apes or man?

the political problems in this world.



Who has gone up to heaven and come down?

Who has gathered up the wind in the hollow of his hands?

Who has wrapped up the waters in his cloak?

Who has established all the ends of the earth?

What is his name, and the name of his son?

Tell me if you know!



Each question jumble up my mind,

till it cannot hold in anymore

the balloon is dangerously filled with too much air

b e f o r e i t e x p l o d e s

taking me along with it into empty oblivion

where we just don't care anymore.



Then there is that poor soul who

jumped into the MRT tracks

or hanged or got stalked or got plain unlucky.

Kick back on my unseen hammock

and while life away

for a little while more



Things aren't that bad when you put

them into perspective,

with a certain pair of eyes.

Wind

Meandering under the HDB flats
this lone guy sits in his mind
and slowly reviews his day.

Another day full of passion and of wind.
To endure another barrage of mockery
by the same haunting enemy.
They are legion, sniffing for blood.
(of course not actually blood
if they did, they need to go to the blood bank.)
They prime grenades of accusations
shoot falsehoods
and feast on gossip.
It might be better
if they attack the body,
not the spirit

They do not know
They do not feel
They do not understand.
Come to think of it, they are the best hypocrites.
Not bad, being the best and all.

They are a fury of wind, blown
from the north to the south,
spun around by the east and west.
Come to think of it, being blown
in so many directions they can only stay still!

Perhaps you have taken a foolish path
by becoming a marked man
for the things you did not do.
Just because you are different.
They think it strange that you
do not plunge with them into the same
flood of dissipation, and they heap abuse on you.

Perhaps you are thinking too much
You see enemies at every corner.
Shadows whisper of devils
the winds try and stop your hot head
your head is no longer safe.
maybe you need to have it upgraded.
add heat sinks and improve its connectivity.
You are still on dial-up.

The lone guy looks dispassionately
at a bunch of rowdy boys.
Two of them give shouts
and race the wind, circling each other
crying out strange things
their arms are ready to grapple
and they end up in an entangled heap.
There is a sickening crunch.

A pair of bent glasses die on hard concrete.
the lens shattered under the weight
of one too many rear ends.
It made a desperate bid for escape
from an owner who can't see

Things might not be so bad after all.
Once you see them clearly
and let the wind refresh you

***
that's my poem folks. If you got a problem with it, I don't care.

Woe to those who derive pleasure from using mean words which hurt others. You have shown yourself weak by trying to feel worthy. You destroy others by deflating the worth of others. You may feel jusitfied because of your skill, but anyone can have skills, but not everyone can have integrity of heart. You have acquired an important thing, but not what that is most necessary in your life.

Can I help you?

This is my attempted entry for commonwealth essay competition. Ahh, you see I blog now, but I just happen to be free. I know it's a poem, appreciate it,. it takes lots of work.

Can I help you?
It is a marvelously cloudy day.
The sun is snuffed out by gloomy dark clouds;
dark behemoths prowling above men's heads.
I ride these beasts hunting hell-bound souls
today I am looking for you my friend.
I spotted you like a shark which caught the scent of blood
and swooped down like lightning from the heavens.
You look pale as you lay down on the road.
Curious strangers gather round to see you.
Your head is twisted unnaturally,
resting on a red thick puddle called blood.
You are dead.
You are done with joy and sorrow.
It doesn't matter now to you or me.
I am here to escort you back home, Hell.
But I wonder what is in your mind
Don't worry, I will invite myself in.

I stood on the threshold of your mind,
the abyss of suffering in you,
at the outskirts of your mind called Limbo.

Can I help you?
I see you are grading your life right now.
You scored well and few could point out your errors.
You have seldom been on the naughty list.
yet You look around for heavenly gates,
for the applause of the heavenly hosts.
Nothing happens.
No singing seraphs to usher you in.
I become your unholy Virgil here.
Leading you through the torment in your mind.
Come now, I don't have much time to tarry.
I paid Charon a dollar for this trip.

I am on the rim of the circle of your consciousness.
I can smell rotting hokkien prawn mee.
Something must be disgusting in your soul.
I cannot help myself but taunt you

Can I help you?
You are feasting on garbage greedily.
Your breath is noxious in the very least
and horrid sores form on your tongue and lips.
You ravenously consume anything
the world has to offer to your pleasures.
Your eyes corroded by pornography
and your saliva dripping malice.
You have a stomach full of avarice,
eating over anyone for your gain.
You are chained to me, bound by addiction.
I drag your gluttony into the boat
I descend deeper into the abyss,
into your life, maimed by your own evil.
I hear many loud screams which are your own.
You fear seeing yourself in great torture.
However this I must see for myself.

Can I help you?
You have been chained to a chair with envy.
Then you watch your past over and over again.
In glorious LCD and surround sound.
You are greener with envy on TV,
never better than Tom, Dick, Harry, .
You writhe at your unglamorous misdeeds,
while others outstrip you with unreal ease.
Inwardly, you flinched at your sourness.
Your mouth frothed in anger.
Worms eat away at your acrid insides,
shriveling up from your envy.
You thrash inside the restraints of your seat.
Half of you wants to smash the TV screen
while the other wants to run from it all.
Your heart is devoid of any goodness
as you are engulfed by green envy.
Your face was like a devil sick of sin.
I easily drag your wasted body,
for your self-righteous self to despair at.
It sounded like a zoo on as I descend.
I hurry because Charon is touting.
He has rigged his taxi-meter slyly.
I should ask for free transport as a perk.
But pity Hell has no labour unions.

Can I help you?
You are afraid, I wonder why?
You are guarding your Anger.
It is a magnificent monster.
whose eyes are indiscriminate anger
its paws rend through all your relationships.
Its escape will hurt everyone, including yourself..
It feeds on the frustrations in your heart,
especially when your heart struggles hard,
to carry your burden of suffering.
It is not a friend but your betrayer.
You gladly give it the crop of your pain.
When men mock you and days drag on and on.
A deluges of pain nurtures your rage
Your poor poor poor heart staggers at your strife.
You cannot carry this weight anymore,
then you pass it to this fiendish monster;
who grows strong on this nutritious diet.
You are nervous as it grows day by day.
You cage with society's iron bars;
fear of embarrassment and of disgrace,
fear of ostracism and and loneliness.
These bars cannot hold it for much longer.
Anger's huge roar shakes their foundations.
It rattles hard at the bars of its cages.
Your Anger wants freedom and it won't stop.
Just like many times before, it breaks out,
Just like many times before, it hurts you,
While you my friend are going to break down.
Who is the jailer now? You or it?
You have died in a whirlwind of fury.
Anger has left its mark indelibly.
It will never be caged again by you,
the tired warden is out of a job.

Deeper into the Hell you made in life,
I have chalked up the boat fare in thousands.
I will need to put a claim and complaint.
The Boatman is exploiting consumers.
Charon directs his transport through this mist.
I turn around to see you bent double,
hiding from your impending fall from hope.

Can I help you?
You can't see through the thick fog all around you.
You have become too proud of your own self.
You must be alone and you must succeed,
you must be the best for you are the best.
And your spirit can displace God himself.
You are deluded, your delusion covers your eyes.
You write reports to Milton, Wordsworth and Boey Kim Cheng.
All of them dead though Kim Cheng won't take long.
By then, they are too dead to even care
but You won't accept that this is the end,
when you have your literary genius.
in blank verses, rhetoric and Dante.
You are neither artist nor a writer.
I would like to see you in self-despair
when you have attained self-realization
that all mortals are equal before Death
You are dead yet you are blinded by pride,
shrieking and waving violent fists at me.
Your footing slipped and you fell on the floor.
I pick your pride up with my mighty paw
and cast it before your horrified self.
Can I help you enter paradise now?

I circle around you in bright red tights
and wear a ridiculous horned hood.
I flap my bat-like wings that can't take off
while swinging my useless pitcher fork.
This is a ridiculous uniform;
the tail doesn't even stay on sometimes.

What is the point of your condemnation?
When in life you made your own brand of Hell.

Like a broken docile dog you follow,
herded by the self-satisfied lion,
my colleague, Sin, who crouched at your door,
his head held high and furious with hunger.
Sin had done its job very well indeed.
It desired to have you and you did not master it.
Can I help you? You are beyond help.
You know why you are doomed to Inferno.
You can cry for help and will not get it.
I am here to lead you to the city of woe.
I enter the very center circle,
ready to extract what is left of you
and force-march you to the ancient archway
where these inscriptions stood for a long time.
ABANDON ALL HOPE YOU WHO ENTER HERE
I approach the darkest darkness in you.
To claim any pathetic part of you,
a compound of meanness and avarice
a fury burnt out and pride fallen hard.
You cleverly cloaked with hypocrisy.

Bad choice.

A spear of light had cut through the darkness.
It slain my beastly colleague easily.
I flee for I am no match for ts strength.
Your broken soul was snatched from my dark claws.
The light provided a ladder for you.
Your past shines with every little good deed.
You hungered for righteousness and justice
You were gentle and humbled in spirit.
It gives you strength to scale up the ladder;
From the darkness which is his rightful place.
I won't understand this divine reason.
This would never be called the Inferno.
Dang, I fancied myself to be a poet.
I heard the Light whisper to the mortal,
who labours to climb the final few rungs.
“Can I help you?” the beautiful Light speaks.
I would protest about my copyright.
But I watch as you accept the Light's help
and disappear into glorious light.
All the tools I had failed against this light.
The light that shines in darkness, but darkness cannot overcome it.
I am troubled as I will lose my job;
this already happened twelve times this week.
Maybe I should go for skills upgrading.
Or just change my line of work for the light.
I won't understand why Boss wants them.
We are already overcrowded down there and
the perpetual screaming keeps me awake.
While my visa hasn't expired yet.
I might as well visit the Bahamas.
Lie back on a hammock and watch the stars.