A humble Malaysian's poetry blog, with a bit of fluff here and there. Reflections on love, life, spirituality, the human psyche and yes, the dark rivers of the heart.

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No lyrics harmed in the making of this blog.

about me

> malaysian
> catholic
> iban
> computer nerd
> ex-CSSUPMer
> male
> introvert
> slacker
> sophisticatedly uncomplicated
> romantically unromantic
> desperate for glory
> arsenal fan (help!)
> hard to impress
> still sane
> can be an ass
> drives like an ass
> devil's advocate
> tells it like it is
> sucker for pets


⊆ 7:50 PM by Pete | . | ˜ 1 comments »

Fire is a force magnifier..
A quintessential soul purifier,
Scorcher of the threads of time,
Burning black ancient trees of sin and grime.

Fire is a golden anvil,
Creator of things past or ever will..
And Fire is a vengeful hammer,
Destroyer of Creation,
Bringer of War.

Fire is a fearsome maelstrom,
A gale of heat and dire storms..
Blowing away the seeds of doubt,
And sweeping avast the sails of passion.

The Boy in the Corner

⊆ 6:56 PM by Pete | . | ˜ 1 comments »

Beneath the mists of time..
Sits a boy in a corner,
And where these walls and corners meet,
His mind wonders to a time
Without mists,
A time of radiant illusions and dreams.

And through a window he could see
Birds flying in twos..
Each for another, none for their own,
He wonders at butterflies fluttering in the wind,
Streaming happily towards flowery wells.

But the age of innocence have long gone..

For now through the window all he could see
Are thick chimneystacks of vaporous clouds
Streaming and snaking into the air...
Corrupting his world with smoke impure,
Darkening it with clouds of worms and maggots.

And now these worms of rejection and sorrow,
They squirm deeper and deeper,
Spawning trees of anger and despair.
And from these trees they turned him a puppet,
A Pinocchio in eternal misery,
Unwanted and discarded...
Destined for the flames of unending solitude.

How he wanted to hear the birds sing!
And how he used to sing with them.
But now they are naught but pestilence in his eyes..
He had reached for the window...
And closed it shut...
And turned his back on life.

And in the shadows where he resides,
Ranks of faceless figures his company,
One by one they file past..
An unending throng of monotony
Trickling through the valleys of time.

Until one day he sees..

Eyeless birds gliding above,
Unholy scavengers for a sacred meal.
And he stares in wonder and trepidation,
As they swoop onto his vestige of Joy...
Cawing and jostling, they pick it clean
So that no whites of bones could be seen.

Turning away from the eyeless birds
He glances now a glorious sight,
A sight of marbled walls,
And floors of precious stones.
And behold, for there he sees,
An image of him near a fire,
With his books and pipe
And plenty of wine.

But the boy feels naught but sorrow at the sight,
For the books are unread..
And their pages unturned..
And the wineglass unfilled..
For now joy is stripped boneless.

Shackled forever... a stringless puppet,
He now he spots a window long forgotten..
Alight with gold slivers through her glass veil.

Pushing back the worms,
He reaches out and tugs it open
And with every inch of his being,
The window bares itself,
The effort of a bloodied hand.

And a mighty windgust rushes forth..
To a miasma of birds in twos..
And radiant dreams.
And butterflies flutter away to flowery wells,
In streams of color and glorious beauty.

And with that the pages are turned,
And the wineglass filled to the brim..
And with the birds he sings once more
His companions of song and gales of joy.


⊆ 6:58 PM by Pete | , . | ˜ 2 comments »

I know..

Of the softness of your lips..
And the warmth of your touch..
Over the smell of your hair..
And the feel of my hand..
Melded in yours..
Bonded together, forever,
And ever after.

And I know of these halls..
Flowing through these walls..
A rush of sounds, they swill on and on..
Cascading and tumbling, sounds of laughter we shared together..
Oh how wonderfully we laughed together!
Loud and tender.. nigh on forever, and ever after.

And I know of this floor so shorn, so alone..
For down her marbled dawns, we danced forever..
Once, just us, all nights.. together..
Once, so happily..and ever after..

And I know my name you often whisper..
In empty nights of your sleepless slumbers..
To yours, dear love, I wisp and hover,
Still hover your lips as you hover mine,
Still mourn your touch as you mourn mine,
Still hunger your smell as you hunger mine,
Undeniably desirable, intolerably unattainable.

But now I see..
These fragments of dreams that drift away..
Now uncatcheable..
Now gliding further and further..
Now to yours my shadow lingers..
But it too will fade and slither away..
Into the maw.. smoked in.. forever..
Into oblivion.. to the place I am..
To the land of shadows, sorrows..
The land of the Damned, and the land of the Dead.

Legends of Mamacona

⊆ 6:57 PM by Pete | . | ˜ 1 comments »

Behold, my friend, the hall of heroes…
Seven heroes who saved the world,
Forget not all their deeds,
For to them, we owe our debts,
Our lives and our souls.

The first is the hero GX,
Who holds the beast’s number of triple sixes.
As such he fights demons, devils and mighty Cerberus,
His very name loathed and feared in the underworld,
Alas, if only he weren’t such a noobie.

The second is the hero Gamesky,
Whose mighty sword tramples the skies.
As such he battles upon mighty Pegasus,
Thus we call him Lord of the Skies and Stars…
Though he died easily of hentai addiction.

The third is the hero Code,
Though one knows not of the tongue he speaks,
He fights mightily with rabid fanaticism…
Drooling and salivating…
We hold our awe at his retardic determination.

The fourth is the hero Fire,
Who changes and morphs like a Super Saiya,
This champion over dragons and mighty titans…
He now retires in faraway Far East,
Where he lives happily amongst crazy sexy Japanese girls.

The fifth is the hero Aeon,
He scribes the deeds of champions and villains..
For indeed the pen is mightier than the sword,
We tip our hats at this glorious bard…
If only he didn’t take eternity finishing his tales.

The sixth is the hero Hitman,
Lord of Silence and Sudden Deaths..
Forsake the shadows, all ye villains,
For ye shall never escape his grasp.
One wishes he weren’t bald and ugly as his namesake.

The seventh is of course I, Lord Mercurator,
Slayer of all six heroes listed above,
You can do naught, oh dear reader,
But grovel at my feet and hold your awe..
For it is I, Mercurator, that pawns you all.. LOL.


⊆ 6:48 PM by Pete | , . | ˜ 2 comments »

Under the moonsong be creeps and vines,
Home of needle fingers and black thornbush,
A rolling of a name atop a tongue,
He chews and spits
And chews
And spits it out.

See the pale shadows of skyships of night,
They dance along god's great lanternshine!
See a grim task of bones and marrows for a dine,
A sweet suckling of pleasure ..
Unchaste, unholy,
And perfectly…

Silent, they stand, giant guardians of vigil,
Spreading their cloak of darkened wings..
Under the black carpet the creature hides,
Unseen by hunters
And prey alike.

And as tufts of hair scatter the ground,
A hollow vessel lies unwhole,
A faceless stare of a faceless eye,
And a digit cold as a deadened worm.


⊆ 6:47 PM by Pete | , . | ˜ 1 comments »

Rivers of clouds awash the shores
A thousand teardrops for a thousand souls
A thousand souls for a single rose
A rose without thorns... petals, dishevelled and unwhole.

Beyond the passage of time
Lies a story untold
Aslaved by time
The chapters incomplete
But for the mirrors of false memories.

Above the clouds awash the shores
And still I stare... unamazed and unawed
A single rose still I seek
Though the clouds are numerous
And the teardrops still fall.

Slow motion...
Aswirl the currents of white cotton..
Bleaking the days uncounted..
For the rose I seek,
Is torn,
And unwhole.

YOU drive me Crazy

⊆ 6:46 PM by Pete | . | ˜ 1 comments »

What are you?
What planet did you beam from?
You make me crazy,
Do you know that?

Where do I begin, to describe you?
It’s impossible,
You fool,
You’re full of it,
And nothing but trouble.

When you look at me,
You’re so arrogant and haughty,
Don’t look at me,
You little flea…
You’re too naughty,
So full of it,
You’re nothing but glee.

Those eyes, they make me crazy..
Dizzy… dreamy,
What did you do to me?!
What powers do you possess…
You devil’s own,
What gives you the right,
To stare at me,
Stop staring at me,
Stop making me crazy!!!

Soft and tender is your belly,
Smooth as silk, what shampoo did you use?!
You let me stroke it,
Just to make me see,
Just how nice it is.

I hate you,
I love you.
I hate you not,
I love you not.
Now I’m speaking in knots,
All because of YOU…
You’re too playful,
But you know what?
I don’t care,
I still love you,
You shameless little cat.


⊆ 6:41 PM by Pete | , . | ˜ 1 comments »

Shattered are my dreams of you..
Of fantasy birds and fantasy stars,
Shattered as a phantasmal mirror..
Broken, scattered, as petals by the breeze.

Broken is my form, my former shell,
Bedridden with images of you..
As spores of cancer beneath my sanity,
Aflight of memories of you..
and me..
and butterflies in the wind.

So cruel the sun beneath your feet,
As are the stars,
the moons,
the planets.
So cruel you the goddess of my mind..
A butterfly cocooning
beneath the steel gray gaze of

I reach out to you, athirst for your shadow,
That lurk beneath the cracks of memories...
Haunted are my nights of sleepless dreams,
Your lingering wisp 'round my bedridden corpse.

What sins have I, to be thrown..
Into this endless cell of despair..
The chains around me I can't break..
The thirst in me unquenched..
My hunger unsated.

Is there no sun?

No candle to light my life?


⊆ 6:38 PM by Pete | , . | ˜ 1 comments »

Verily the days of evernight,
I walk the depths of her garish cloak.
A leaven pass from her robe of blight,
And be the light of moon I soak.

The deep of heart runs low of sight,
I curse and shy on those of Light.
A gang of goats and sheep of like,
I soothe the pass as that of kites.

A dice of death and sin I serve,
A roll of six and be that more.
To tell the tale of Beasten love,
The hooves that trod the depths I glove.

To be a child of nocturne sleep,
A breed of veins of Ancients bore.
To sink the ships of lives so cheap,
I ash the bones of kings and whores.

And ash to ash,
And dust to dust,
Be that few or be that more,
Be wary you my readers dear,
Be wary of nights and blights and kites.


⊆ 1:01 AM by Pete | . | ˜ 1090 comments »

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