sometimes after september

another one. and another. and another. they all speak the same tone. the same history. the one they want to forget. but cannot leave their minds. and so they tell it again, and again. the history once so faint. now become so blunt. all of a sudden, it's on everyone's tongue. it's a wonder how time turns. the event they once claimed as blasphemy. now has become a new religion. a commodity. sold out in papers and magazines. perhaps they're all true. perhaps they're all just stories. perhaps they're a mix. let's bury the hatchet, someone say. but i guess it's not that simple. debts must be paid. plus interest. the longer you're in debt. the higher interest you will get. and now we're deep in shit. in the debt we cannot pay. suddenly everyone claims for the interest. suddenly everyone wants to be heard. suddenly they're all under the siege of the one they wish to be freed from in the first place. the specters of m.

the new comm

i'm just telling you something, it's the message that counts, for i know you think less of me. that's exactly what i'm getting, i said. sorry, but i see nothing but you. the man standing before me. speaking non sense. if somebody wants to give me something nice. i expect a good wrapping. don't hand me over a book smeared with nasty cover. i most probably throw it away. a wise man said it's the message that counts. of course, look who's talking. a cheap person speaks cheap words. peoples are done talking. faces are just masks that one can change anytime one wants to. peoples understand that. it's an everyday life in the world. all are craps. it's a common knowledge now. you just can't get through if you send the wrong message. it's not what you said. not what you display. today it's back to the deeper layer. to the wind that goes along. life will find a way, someone said. humans are ever evolving. we've been seeing each other for millenias. talking for centuries. i reckon it's time to end them all. it's time for the newer way of getting message. i'm pretty sure you all know how.

zombie sentences

sometimes i quote from movies. from songs. from whatever source i can remember. most of the time not scholars nor wisemen. sometimes i quote myself. i imagine myself saying those sentences to me. and then i quote them. for me. words are words. they are without soul. you have to wish them ones. give them the purpose. the goal. and make them live. most of these days now. i'm hearing words without purpose. just plain words. constructed into empty sentences. they are without soul. the speaker forgot to breathe souls into them. for they have none themselves. and now we are living among empty words. zombie sentences. craps of the universe. most of them came from scholars. from wisemen. i see words going back and forth on the main street. without purpose. i watch sentences just standing on walls. with their full body erect. but dead as stones. dead idols. so now i turn to movies. to songs. to whatever source i can remember. to words still have souls. to sentences that move.

nevertheless

hope for it. i cant, i am left only with small pieces of belief. well knit them all and make you a nice wish. and bet them all up? what if i lose? they say luck is when preparation meets opportunity. but they forgot to tell you the third party. the one who arranges the meeting. the one who orchestrated which preparation meeting which opportunity. you may have all the preparations in the world. and you may also have all the opportunities. but not the meeting. you're still a jack shit. i know a guy who's so shallow, the fishes are jumping. but still envoking envy nevertheless. so what's the morale of the story? should we carry on piling up canned foods and prepare for the third world war? should we jack into the matrix 24/7? can we have enough preparations? how far will we go for those opportunities? i know a guy who's so dumb, you can play fetch with him. but he got straight b's nevertheless. i got to admit. he's clever in one thing. sucking up the teachers. the morale? you can see that at least, i still have my faith. at least.

complacent

everybody wants to be heard. to be known. not just fade away. every story gets to be told. every song sung. every flower bloom. it's funny to see some people still think that some corners are just to fade away. not to be heard. not to be listened to. even god created the pebbles. though nobody notice. some people i guess are still living in their safe haven. with their tunnel vision. it's not what you see that is wrong. it's how you see it. like me. we share the same defect. inability to step inside other shoes. unwilling to go that extra mile beyond what lies up here. it's the complacency. time is ever-slipping. like the universe keeps on expanding. humans are not made to stand still. we are made to roam. to reap up new crops. hear new songs. if the story is writing down new chapters. why  staying behind old glasses? you are so caught up with your old school, you forgot to move on to higher education. every story gets to be told. it's not a matter of genre or jam. it's a matter of time.

the sight

a long line of cars, waiting impatiently for a rugged old truck, slowly strolling down the road. i'm exercising my power, he said. you may've found me a helpless nobody sometimes ago. but not now. a motorcycle cunningly slipping through from one to another side. passing over a collection of fancy cars and city cremes stuck in a busy hour. i'm exercising my power, he said. i'm beating down the clock you have taken from me. every dog has its days a clever man said. it's swallowing your pride in a proud way. it's playing your cards well though you're keeping up in lack. when you're a dog. you're a dog. but even a dog has his own days.