Lan's life manifesto

Life tis a collection of bio-electro-chemical cues,
consciousness the after effects of crossed wired clues,
We are thinking machines through and true,
where the feels exist naught mind nor you,
the intellect is king and the heart nothing,
automatons we are without feelings.

Tetamu tak diundang

Datangnya tanpa diundang,
perginya walau dihalang,
umpama mentari siang
bagaikan rembulan terang.

Racunnya sentiasa tega,
tiada penawar mujarab ia,
hanya duka jiwa lara,
jadi tanda patukan pasca.

Taringnya mimpi gigit memori,
bisanya kekal mencakar hati,
hanya wajah manis empunya diri,
jadi amanat pengubat sepi.

Penggonzoan berhemat

Hari ini aku sedia,
belakangi dunia,
tinggal segala,
go far far,
bantai tequila,
cari alhambra,
sambil makan pizza,
Malaysia makin hancus,
ade aku kesah?
yang penting aku happy,
yg lain2 aku tak ambik pot.

A heart's lament

It is not within us to control what we want need or desire. Nor can we curtail the world and its entire. The only choice we have is how we react to either. The offerings of the world and what we ache for. But that is the true test which makes us human. The ability to refrain from acting without perusal. The heart feels the brain thinks. The mind ponders the soul considers. There are boundaries uncharted territories. Some we can explore others more prudent not to. One cannot truly build from that which one first destroy. Eggs and omelette's aside I at least would rather not. There are other ways to celebrate other ways to relate. One can still appreciate even without the possessive clause. Happiness shared is at times better than naught.

A burden well worn

Tis a burden well worn, that familiar satchel borne, the grief one carry forward, when the future is torn. For there is no method, to the madness of the moment, just deliberate steps, into the waiting maelstrom. A wicked darkness yawns, waiting for those marked, to the boundary we march, into the final chasm. Adieu, au revoir, bon chance, sois heureux.

The whimsy of the lost

How it cloys and toys, twixt here and now, toiling the paces, yet still remain . How it flips and flops, drips and drops, coursing barbed wire, through melodramatic veins. Tis like a cut, and yet it's not, the pain is real, despite the thought. And yet to heal it, one must distort, that which is real, to what is not. Though I'm replete, completely lost, to walk the deed, too great a cost. Suffer indeed, sans recourse, for tis the nature, the whimsy of the lost.

Sleep's sweet respite

Ah sleep, thy sweet respite. Thine company, I rarely keep. Tis' the season anew, for that most maligned chagrin. For it not to have occurred, I would surrender all assigns. Alas its too delicious a malady, to be cured completely. One hath but to endure the condition, until one secures its transition. Either way pain will ensue, but such is the human affliction. Fragile as we are, to this maladorous infection.

The dance (The Captain and Maria)

Leandler or choreographed replica,
it was the moment that was inertia,
hands clasped eyes meet,
breath held hearts beat,
what intertwined beyond pirouetting feet,
two souls now made complete.

Gurindam Malam

Malam kini tiada tari,
gamit tidur mahu mimpi,
hanya lunak sirna sepi,
deru pasrah persis hati.

Bila kelam melarik siang,
tatkala bulan riuh bertandang,
tunggu muncul mentari riang,
dari ufuk merindu dendam.

Walau jauh di luar harapan,
degup rasa sedang gurindam,
sayang sayang seribu sayang,
tidakkan mungkin kesampaian.

When roti is not roti

They say that roti is roti,
But none have perhaps tried,
The canai of banjiri and roti of bengali,
For once you lips kiss the kari,
Three days kept warm and spicy,
Nothing I tell you really,
Can make your life very,
Tingling and so... so... gasssy.

A temporary high

Seratonin they said,
that temporary chemical high,
in cupid arrow's wake
to a heart that once is shy.

It seeps into the marrows,
dwelve deep into lungs,
a percaloting sated flavour,
that sifts onto the tongue.

Sweetly it danced,
luring the eyes alight,
upon the smiles of lips,
unto the lilt of hips.

And through the whitish wisps,
her chancy dancy trysts,
soft subtle racy gists,
blowing silky salacious kiss.

Alas she flits and flies,
beyond where rules apply,
into the frame of time,
where I am no longer I.
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