Walk Away with me Draft 2

The road is long
My burden is heavy
I speak but I might as well be talking to the air
The ancient map we have is flawed
It makes no sense

But my cruel companions push on
I walk in silence afraid to speak
It makes no sense
My complaints are answered with platitudes
It makes no sense

I close my eyes but the questions never stop muttering
It makes no sense
We took a wrong turn again
But we don't stop

I try and argue but they laugh
Is this a joke?
It makes no sense
I cannot go on. I cannot.

My religion does not make sense
I cannot subscribe to beliefs I do not believe in

I will not carry on walking with people who believe in such things.
I do not worship a book
I worship a living God
I must get out NOW.

Then as we pass a shadowy overhang
I slip away.


And find you in the darkness.
We've never met yet it seems we have known each other forever

We walk and I hold your hand
And we share the sunset together.

I feel you touch my heart
It glows slowly then burns brighter than the sun
But you look away with a smile.
You look beautiful in the twilight
But you already knew that.

The darkness fallsYour smile fades
And I lose sight of you.
I call out your name but you do not reply
The blackness of the night shrouds my sight
In silence I wait for the dawn
YMC June/August 2013

I am not your son Draft 1

I am not your son
Even though you gave birth to me.
Our thought patterns are not the same
Our desires are so far apart
The things I love you detest

What I have done
The great deeds I have performed
You scorn
You mock
You destroy

On the altar of your pride
I have gathered the bonfire wood
You sacrifice your very own Issac
Eagerly you stab the blade down
Rejoicing as my blood runs out

And the angel stood aghast and wept

Poetry as Therapy: Rachel McKibbens at TEDxFlourCity

Pablo Neruda-I Like For You To Be Still (Narrator/Glenn Close)

I just discovered Pablo Neruda's work - and wow, I'm impressed. His poem "I like for you to be still" is so beautiful. Well, I admit I'm a diehard romantic. I don't watch football on TV or for that matter any other sport... except perhaps skiing and surfing. But I do love the sound of good poetry. Hope you enjoy listening to this. I certainly did.


I like for you to be still 
It is as though you are absent 
And you hear me from far away 
And my voice does not touch you
 It seems as though your eyes had flown away
 And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth
 As all things are filled with my soul
 You emerge from the things 
Filled with my soul
 You are like my soul 
A butterfly of dream 
And you are like the word: Melancholy 

I like for you to be still 
And you seem far away 
It sounds as though you are lamenting 
A butterfly cooing like a dove 
And you hear me from far away 
And my voice does not reach you 
Let me come to be still in your silence 
And let me talk to you with your silence 
That is bright as a lamp 
Simple, as a ring 
You are like the night 
With its stillness and constellations 
Your silence is that of a star 
As remote and candid 

I like for you to be still 
It is as though you are absent
 Distant and full of sorrow 
So you would've died 
One word then, One smile is enough 
And I'm happy; 
Happy that it's not true.

Singapore 2004

Soft is the velvet night sky
Quiet is the black night
A gentle breeze passes by
In stillness I patiently wait for Dawn

 YmC Sophia Road, April 2004 

I wrote this poem by my balcony back in 2004. I had returned back to Singapore because one of my very close relatives had lost a tremendous amount of our family estate's wealth gambling on the stock market. It was a sum most people will never see in their life time yet this person who is so frugal with her pennies somehow managed to lose a colossal sum in a matter of years. It was a fucking huge sum of money. It wasn't just all gone. She had also managed to mortgage our properties to her debt. We were in deep shit.

To compound matters - she was unrepentant. It wasn't her that called me back - it was the bank credit officer who did. She didn't even have the courage to let us know we were being made bankrupt through her ineptitude. The interest we owed to the banks amounted to an annual salary. I could not walk away from this disaster because of the family legal connections.

The relative refused to admit that she fucked up and kept on insisting that I hand over more cash and to let her handle it. The utter stupidity of her request was really beyond her comprehension.

Clearly she was deluded and verging on insanity. She refused any form of counseling and refused to talk to anyone who did not see the situation her way.
 
But I managed to convince her to go back home to Australia and let me take care of the problem. And so I took over the problem, sent the relative back home, and tried to settle the debts. I remember thinking back then - "How the hell am I going to fix this shit up?" I may have even promised God a few things I couldn't really deliver - go figure.

But I do remember sitting by my balcony, and enjoying the tranquility of the night air (with the exception of those pesky mosquitoes.) It had a certain calm, cool, fragrant, even enchanting delightful feel.

After about a year I managed by the Grace of God to make an untenable financial situation very bearable. Amazingly enough!!! Good heavens I felt I was the king of the world. I fixed it!!!! It was going to be alright!!!

Unfortunately my close relative didn't see it that way. Once everything had been settled- she kept back with a vengeance. Like a demon out of hell she dragged us back into the bonfire again, except this time - it was even worse. So I guess I'm still waiting patiently for Dawn again.

The wait is long. And I'm tired.

Pablo Neruda Sonnet XVII

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Pablo Neruda

I don't get parts of this poem. The references to salt-rose and topaz might as well be chewing gum and badminton.

But the other parts to this poem - I get it. The ones in bold.

I get it. You can meet a million women and then suddenly this one - this one attracts you like no other. There is something in the way she talks. The way she thinks. The small gestures she makes. The sound of her voice. Her smile. And you don't care what she does.You don't even care that she has just broken your heart. And you have no other way than to just tell her the plain truth. Already your body, your speech betray your heart.

The Boat and the Sea

“To put meaning in one's life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire--
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.”

Edgar Lee Masters

http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/283960-spoon-river-anthology