Another Icicle.

Hardly one shall be missed or understood in this whole ordeal. This is the withdrawal. The drain after the shower. The release after the capture. The giving after a taking. In the absence of an awareness as when one lives in the moment, I have left my heart unguarded. Filled with passion and love for that temporal time, I beget nothing now that all is done. Everything else shall be left unsaid. There's only so much can one give to others. Let not then I be the fool, the subject of ridicule to my own carelessness. But is this the path worth taking? Because it made me feel alive. It made me feel wanted, desired, it filled my heart with hopes. It felt so good to be loved. Especially when one loves back to perfection. What a tease life had done unto me. I thanked with such sincere gratitude not knowing the feelings I would achingly feel in this horrendous aftermath. I still have my pride of which that matters. Nevertheless, what use is of my pride now but a reminder to regrets of all that I could have achieve but which I didn't. O the sorrow. So much pleasure, so much pain.

Can The Mind Swim?

There's a hole. I fell into it. I think I might be in here for some time. Waiting to be rescued. However, no one can stay in this hole for long, because eventually everything dies. Everything rots. All shall return to the earth.

There's a spell. It upsets my mind. It made me believe I was in a hole. I still do believe. I do not know who had done it to me. Everything is in slow motion. Breathing feels a challenge I must race. I want out.

There's the world. All shall suffer. All waiting for a rescue. All in a race, challenging themselves to compete. All shall eventually die, and rot, and return to the very ground they were raised to life from. All in all, without a reason.

Down, down, down,

The Hole I fall.

Round, round, round,

My head goes in confusion.

All, all, all,

Without a reason.

"Then shall he quickly hop into the showers of knowing, and beget himself all his desires.

What shall the point be, he wondered. All shall be mine, as mine shall be all forever no more.

Slowly, he ceases to exist. His reality chucked aside, as imagination governs the new world.

In time, only body roams the earth. Mind drowned in an everlasting hole of make-beliefs."

Let me out.

Posing An Answer.

Diseases, he brought with along the many unseen particles, including doubt. As doubt stumbled into the spacious room of one's own, fear was carelessly spread, how when a bucket is emptied of its content across the porch, not meant for just one spot of dirt, but the entire to be cleaned. Fear does the opposite, it messes. Every person who comes into his world, would be uncertain of his intentions, and his credibility of being able to trust. Thus as with all others, not knowing him, the circumstance of not knowing enough, causes that very well known fear. He isn't to be blamed, no one is matter in fact. For fingers to be pointed at the people who raised him would be inaccurate, although not entirely wrong. The agreement should be based on both nature, and nurture, not against these two factors.

There is no subtlety. Just a rush to dispose all that is known. It is inaccurate, although not entirely wrong.

I. What do I want? I. Who do I want to be? I. How do I perceive myself in the very best way?

An Expression, Merely.

Where have you been?

Why do you ask?

Because comfort was mine from your absence.

Thus, the answer.

I do not understand why.

Because you live.

You really must, don't you?

The wind has not a character, I have not, my will.

As such a circle life is, that everything in it must play a role, and that role is set to a rhythm.

As clockwise, shape conscious.

Precisely.

But if I accept you, love you... peace be with me.

But?

A restless bargain for with peace, comes the perfect sight, losing judgement, accepting all.

There isn't much fun in that. What's life without the fear of Death? Courage in abundance, wrecking all, experiencing all, greedy with joy, and generous with envy.

All or nothing. Anything else comes regret, and confusion on the discussion of 'balance'.

Meskipun wajahMu dicari, namun tetap cuma yang telah meninggal akan dipenuhi jawapan buat segalanya, kerana mereka akhirnya bersamaMu.

Isn't it strange how a choice determines everything.

It is no stranger then the idea to keep one's mind. 

A Light.

Center point is focused on, clearing the clatters of the mind. Composing a new system altogether in the cores of all thoughts. Ridding the chaos, the calamities of the uncontrolled mind, the lack of progress. Such a life that we need absolute joy, bidding so much pain goodbye. Refusal is key. Refusal of decisions that brings harm, choices that clashes with inner peace, influence of emotions, they shall all be refused. Accept the good traits of one's own, polish them, make them able to reflect the brilliance of light from the Almighty. In such a dark world, many shall come to light should they desire goodness and truth, and beings becoming beacons of affection and justice shall rule the corrupt. 

Quite Truthful.

Repeatedly my mistakes are made, with little conscious effort of seeing them not as they are. A deliberate attempt of stupid to overcome what I suspect is depression, of course to no avid. Why are times the same? With certainty, the absent of change. Easy it is to be complacent, but to choose the strive for growth (in all aspects), is by far, a part definition of living, and thus the very most challenging process. The view of the future merely is a goal, most of which cannot be achieved overnight. What can though, is the believe that the smallest steps can move the greatest mountains, with the blessings of Time, and Life.

I judge, and have been judged. For all have different ideas on rights and wrongs, whether fashion or decision. I have been, yet again, am at a point of a crossroad. My choice is simply determined by my feelings. Everybody wants that better feeling in life, or they should want for those otherwise. Will it be the better choice, now that shall be considered if regret appears.

If, and regret. If is half real, and regret is dreaded.

Reality here seems wish-wash, imaginations real.

Left Back On Intentions.

How can one person be so ungrateful to all that has ever been said or done for? I have been nothing but nice. I am always the person with the most humility, and no care for material possessions. I have offered the most I can. Yet be treated back with such little appreciation, in fact complete isolation. I am angry, and upset to be treated this way. I wish everything for the very best to happen but probably been gossiped back in return with false accusations. I pray karma satisfy my vengeance.

Pissed.

Fucking mad of the all that is. The fact of imperfection is eating me out. Everything is being scrutinized to its finest detail. I want to exist elsewhere. I want all to end and to begin anew. Let this warfare win with the deserving change. For fucks sake.

Oil, Should Lack Ripples.

A lamp of oil held by the left hand shall symbolize peace of the state of mind and heart.

A sun held by the right hand shall symbolize the size of passions in life.

For one to obtain serenity in one's soul, one must always keep that lamp steady in the left hand of one's heart. No pressure of mind, or emotions, shall be granted a chance to affect the firm grip of that positioned hand. The hand simply must not move.

The sun pictured passion in one's life shall be attended to closely with both eyes on its size. If the passion grows overwhelmingly, its fire may catch the lamp filled oil which would be grave even to the imagination.

All shall be kept consistently, carefully, and most important lovingly. It is not a chore, nor a duty, merely a will from a choice made.

- The Hidden Words of Bahá’u’lláh

"Whither can a lover go but to the land of his beloved? And what seeker findeth rest away from his heart's desire? To the true lover reunion is life, and separation is death. His breast is void of patience and his heart hath no peace. A myriad lives he would forsake to hasten to the abode of his beloved."

Scrunched, and Coiled.

To think that change should be welcome is an idea supported for years. However now, realizing that change does nothing but destroys everything worked for, all to bring about a new flow of creative paths and opportunities. It is difficult to be a tree. With the wind blowing hard from both directions yet she remains there, sturdy, never backing a defeat. Never doing another's influence, or listen the telling of others. Many a times we're told that perfection lies within, and that imperfection is but an imagination. Perhaps the disbelief comes from believing it otherwise.

Honest Reaction.

In a dark room, with no escape. Light centered up the ceiling flickers ever so often. The one who resides know darkness consumes with no attention to anything but itself. How shall living be carried out in such a reality? It is no wonder the only wonder ever had is for a reason. The reason believe to be courage. How can one attain a knowledge, a revelation, call it whatever you may, a power that brings forth much courage to put darkness to its very end. Should one envy the obtained gift that isn't owned?

Hopes are not set for people to understand. We come as we are, and so we leave, too. 

Thumping The Thuds.

Tapping the slight spaces between leaves of browns, causing growths beyond physicality in the deepest of grey. Child may wander between the folds of a curtain, partly drawn, partial pretense that light is imminent, from a distance to act out a dance. To maintain the field of creativity at ones' own expense.

As such as my world is now.

Changes Made Incoherent.

Wings splashed with colors fade in distant suns, splitting mid air upon every flutter, only to sail the winds back to ground gracefully. Minor they may be, but changes are nevertheless clear that a small incur would largely impact its outcome. Am one sort that a path has only crossroads with no ends. Just a constant change in destiny all due to the incapability to force stability. May a choice be made and not change.Can a surrender be made to eternity of constant yet benign progress? Doubts taken to sleep, having woken up by tempts of idle beings. It is clear of what life is, but unknowing of his own strength.

Direct Release of Me.

When juices flow on celebrities' gossip, I fade away, fail to converse along, for a simple enough reason; I pay absolute no attention to unimportant facts that are so corrupted in reality, in the profound perversity of media attention. Eyes frown upon me upon my ignorance making me doubt my esteem, but it comes clear later on in solitude, that principles should stay true to one's self, hence in oppose.


I take joy in fashion because I lust upon beauty. Worldly, yes. A cause, perhaps. Recent months had me going through many articles of clothing expressed through the creativity of designers. I see hope, I sense myself being able to express all I am in J.W. Anderson's 2013 Spring collection in a random selection of a chosen designed costume worn by any of the models. Via Marc Jacob's Resort, I see a brighter, and better future, believing, vivid colorful angular designs, amplifies beauty. Such beauty shall take the world off its mind to war. Lagerfeld's contributions speaks of attributes which focuses serenity, and oneness, blending man and nature. Could the preconception of fashion be more than expensive clothing?


I do not watch TV, spending my time staring into windows, ceilings, thinking of ways to conquer perfection. Always falling back into depressive thoughts because understanding, yet not accepting wholeheartedly that it does not exist. Also pondering the unlimited amount of 'what ifs' in life. You can live a life outside of reality, which of one in mind, should it be strong enough to separate consciousness. Else one would fall into a series of schizophrenic episodes.

I dream of a simple life. One with a companion, children, pet, with no interceptions of the ideology of current social living standards. Away from the world, yet on Earth. Away from fear, away from Death, into everlasting standstill of time. With no misfortunes, with no pain, with no regrets.

In in me grows something anti, diminishing aspects of courage. I fear living, as her, we sometimes wish Death to be our answer.

Composed, Further Than Being.

Winds escaping her lips tend to be blown at higher force at times when turmoil exist among emotions. All are different. Carnal colors bursting forth, mingling in prides of sexes, and of the act itself. Sound of written words, assumed in neglect of truth, but in inclination to self desires, be wrong to deceive one's self, be right in skips of pleasure. Beast of the air, atmosphere radiates a cause, stirring hidden thoughts caused to resurface moments of despair, (and or joy?) with transformation of mattered essence. Twinkle, and shine do the dots journey one to an adventure of mind, creativity not to be bound, and bordered by the current existence, but to push forth to an unimaginable, thus imagined creation, to all that has no meaning, be meaningful. The sense, works in miraculous wonders with time when understood correctly, perform an act of acknowledgement to reality as a whole. What said is there, may be a confrontational belief. Two against integrated segregation of power, a common mixture in simple minds. The vibrating air, with her secrets, must be first loved, in order to befriend her secrets in return. Expansion of what known, first to destruct, then to create, before chisel into scored perfection.

Is Not?

Reality of predisposition thoughts. Silently judging beings without cause. An effect of worthlessness, and one without meaning. A question comes to mind; the reality of life as a whole. An understanding that none shall remain constant, all shall change, all shall end. With that, the reality it creates is one with no attachment. A foot on the ground in a clear case, with the evidence of existence already made obvious, will be raised. Hence it shall come to show that to all that has been proven right, it is not. Deeming right, and wrong, may seem perfectly natural in the core. Right only exist in wrong, and so is wrong to right. The 'yin' and the 'yang'. Creators have made it such that borders are swirled, and not lined, don't this speak for itself that the only consistency it portrays is equality in the attracted opposition. Should borders not exist, unity is of whole. Unity is the end of what we know. There will be a new start, a last start that has a repeated past.

The simplicity of the whole idea, tarnished by evolution. Is it much to ask for, for life to be as seen on the double Cs fairy? I bring on hold a thought of desire.

Only, Maybe.

Echoes of joy, and rhythms of pleasure seep every surface of skin, and the opposite. Plainly said, I'm so proud of her. Bless her soul. Bless me, bless her, bless the world. Bless the earth, and all of it. The unknown lover. The heart-holder. The lyrics of all love songs. Let it be, so shall it be.

How She.

Feels when she grew with so little confidence in a world so full of itself. Loves without expecting anything in return. Works when most do no appreciate her kindness, and the advantages advanced upon her by the cunning. Is misunderstood with all her intentions of love. Took an absence from her mind to clear the debts of her heart. Frustrates when love blossoms around her empty heart.

As if a turn could be taken when the joyous pronounces their loves for each other. The power of suspicious behavior in the most awkward situations of misery and value of its' end. The end which all fighting speaks its' description repeatedly. The direction given by winds to nature thoughts of despair. Hand in hand, eye to eye, behind the mind of hairs ended in such agony of the greens of envious let-downs. Anywhere, she beckons, he affirms, they share their thoughts projection in musical melodies of carpet-ridden symphonies. The rhythm of mythical joy and strength none can compare. Through the woods they slide in surface of corruption, he hunts. How much I long, o` much I long. The heart only knows, the mind feels, or perhaps it could be the other way round. They is no rationality to it. The parquet stepped upon as floors but they're different aren't they. They witness what the floor doesn't, both sides, and so we must too. I hold on tight, another step, before I fling myself down in a whirl before the swoop that raises all worldly desires into the air, releasing to a momentum held back non-whatsoever by any inertia, before the biggest pools of hopes be achieved in an everlasting breath. I wish to be appreciated, I bet she feels the same.

Weight Upon The Eyes.

I tend to return. And at such an hour, I'm unsure of the effects that will take place on my body later towards the day, what's with work to think about.

"Hurriedly, profoundly, you found me.
Moments of shallow, murky swims,
Together, a discovery had been made,
I fell in love in an instance.


Hurriedly, unusually, you gained my trust.
Moments of creation of moments,
Together, expectations increased unsaid,
I felt the joy, truly.


Hurriedly, subtly, you disappeared.
Moments of great hopes, fly-by-fly joy,
Together, something shattered,
I fell, in an instance."

Always, I have to take the bumpy routes to learn the lessons of my life. The lessons being taught mostly along the terms; insecurity, confidence, and expectations. A refresher was made for me to attend, and passed  I sure did. Happy, I am that it wasn't too emotional or chaotic of a journey that was made (tending my past history), a sigh of relief. Yet, I can't help but fall in torturous joy each time I'm given a proposition of sweet poison (go figure a word replacement, a shy cover!). An understanding that life has brought us out into the open as individuals and to it we shall return, as we were brought forth. A journey we can share but obvious bold lines be there to the amounts we cannot incorporate. I humble myself, yet a slave too have hopes and dreams.

The Year.

Haven't had anything written in months, so I'm back just to say hello to an old friend I thought I'd never have to meet again. It's amazing how it feels when a revelation occurs in your mind, towards yourself, in an understanding that would help make a decision that can change things (you truly hope would be) for the better. I have been in this job for a year now and it seems to me that many things have come about since then. One would be to an idea on how to prioritize my appreciations, and gratitude to matters most valued of. I have seen the world yet nobody has ever asked me which world I like seeing most. To which the definition according to my mind may be different to what world means than to places I've been to. I for one, enjoy in absolute right now being with the people I love most. The world may contain beauty, but beauty lies most in the heart, and through the eyes it expresses. Everything lived for, and worth living for could only be summarized in one word and that is; love. This must have been written and said a million times but we must not be ignorant to the things written and said a million times for there is definitely a reason for its continuous occurrence. Love is the greens of grass, the blue of skies, the hunger, the pain, the joy, the longing, the desperation, the thoughts, the religion, family, God, everything... To put love first is to put everything in its utmost being and importance. To not lack the acceptance it deserves, and to proclaim its value, and its life. I am clueless to these words myself but I must learn from it for it lives within me. A horse rides freely with the wind, it stomps with confidence, embracing her divinity in subject to nature. Yet she lives in her mind, realizing fear from notions unnatural. Should she run, or should she cautiously approach, should she? Yet freedom she owns with might, and we shall never know her mind. I want to gallop with speed, and enjoy the remarkable feel of wind racing through me, caressing my naked body; free from the sins of the world. And just as an orgasm takes place at the final 'feel', so shall I spread my wings at that final moment, and cause a raise unimaginable beyond words of greater heights, and in heaven I shall spend my peace. Let this be, let this be. The love for feelings, and emotions. The devotion put forth upon whoever stood fore. Let this be.

Ohm, Pt. 2.

Nothing I do now feels worth. The value of my previous post is an emotional sell-out. The need to write to express in order to obtain a clear and sound mind. To rid of emotions before the mind can be silenced. The mind has silenced. But the heart quivers for an unknown cause. I ask myself, "WHY?" But the answer is shortcoming. "You know." I wish to lay down in warmth, with sand (white), with arms, with smiles, in nude. The ecstasy of an idea, the reality through imagination. I take myself on a joy-ride in Fantasy Land. I close my eyes and start my own existence in my mind. I play God ("Forgive me if I had trespassed.") 

Ohm.

Birds tweeter, chirp, flirt.
Highway covered, in a blanket of agony and dirt.
The room sense its presence, in all its silence.
Wonder, why don't they know.
An answer before its point.

For long, far length, impossible distance;
A coincidence. Chanced.
In a trance, living in false impressions;
Routine, "... it ceases existence in control."
False.

Truth, impact of the obvious.
Skill to see, see for a kill.
To live, a birth of Utopian pride.
To lie, a pride of Utopian's birth.

Believing in less speech,
Living by surviving,
Surviving by loving,
Loving by believing.
All in silence.
The key.

To Speak Of,

... non pleasant feelings and situations are always easier than the good ones because usually they're the ones at the top of our minds, nagging and chewing that part of the brain (and heart) just to cause an ache. I shall try, to speak of certain good things, to experiment if it does bring a change to my current aura. So my housemate left for home for his three week annual leave and to waste no time, I cleaned my house to satisfactory levels (having high standards). Before leaving the house and forgetting completely the sense of this post till a week later, now.

Hence, I shall carry this post on with the help of a new pressing against my emotional body. I will run, jump, and fly to wherever and however far this desire shall carry me. I have enough passion for sacrificial requests to be asked. That's perhaps why I view the world differently, minority-ly. I have much to give and fear people might take me all away. I enjoy my shell. Hidden from the world, and how good it feels being so far away whereas the opening is probably just finger-wide. I cannot prevent interventions but I can dodge the fingers of men cunningly side-stepping their heads with fury and vengeance. A walking reflection of the moon, he saw straight in me and had capture my secrets, with fortune of luck on my behalf, he doesn't know its interpretations. With eyes grounded low in humility, I see right up intentions. I desire to be placed in comfort and protection with virginal motives. You handed me a bag of hope, love, and fucked-up passion tied in the creases of its opening. "Take it back!" I screamed. My words were unclear and you begged my pardon. Silence and allowance I answered, shaming in defeat of my lack of will. I must win this race. The finish line has the picture of you holding my bag; of purpose, and dramatic conclusions. Cheers to that!

And A Continuum.

Immediately. My words are shorter now because my heart is too. Accept me, wickedly I shall follow. I shall pour entirely all blood, leaving no drops for life, for shattered, angered, and I shall despair. I threw a boomerang, after the throw, I tied my hands. In same, I caused my karma. Who, what must I expect. I leave it unfilled. Death. In the grounds of little children, I'm watched. YOU threw me into this game.

Sorrow, Shortened Joy.

An illusion it was. Bright, brilliant, blinked.
There can't be less, for more is reserved.
A shivered followed touch, a need.
A must. A follow of desire. Pursuit,
persuade.