A Chance

I need a chance,

To make mistakes,
To hurt somebody,
To cry.

So that,

I can learn,
I can grow,
I can remind myself of who I am.

Meaning

I personally, oppose any form of disgruntlement and vengeance. And for so many years, i have been believing in this crap. Unbelievably, I even worshiped myself, for my capacity to forgive and forgo. Perhaps, I was too ego-driven or I hadn't been experiencing real life.


But now, I'm awake, with sweat dripping down my neck and hair plastered to my forehead , like a terminal patient awakened by the call of God. The realization has finally descended upon me.


I'm not a saint.


I'm unable to forgive or perhaps, I just can't swallow defeat. However, I want to question you, are you ready to? I bet you are not better than me. We are both losers but possibly, you feel nothing.


And so nothing is torturous. Or, you can just keep on pretending that there's a fact.


We are both loser.


But unlike you, I feel sore, as a loser but not a pretender.

Give And Take

“I want to play a game with you. A game there’s no turning back. Once you embark on this endeavour, never look back because nothing will stay the same ever.”

X

“What the hell is this?”

Baffled Gabriel cursed inaudibly on the message he just received. “Is this a joke?” He wondered why people became so obsessed with riddles and cryptic codes. He had received no less than 3 this kind of messages over 2 months and routinely, the sender was unknown. He tried to recall the last two similar messages he received, one during he burned the midnight oil and one during his condemning exam.

“Look around, who gives who takes, who are you?”

“Give or take, it all depends on you.”

Damn, what’s the sender up to? Extortion? Moral lesson? Oddly, he had an inkling that there’s a sender, not senders. He tried to track the number in vain. Therefore, he deleted it. Now, he regretted because this might turn out to be a trap to set him up and pose a danger to him as well as his family. “Damn it, why hadn’t I thought of this before? I should have sent all these bullshit to the police and let them handle the prankster, psycho or whatsoever. But this message also made no sense, it’s not threatening, it’s somehow more philosophical than intimidating.

His phone bleeped again. He nervously tightened his knuckles and stubbornly held his breath. Stealthily, he stole a look on his phone as if it were contagious. “Dave, damn it, since when I became so paranoid.” He could feel an invisible grip on his thorax released slowly and finally, he could exhale not erratically, but smoothly.

He decided to save the message, just in case if anything happened, this message would prove vital. “Goddamnit, he really freaks me out.” He couldn’t help to curse the God. By the way, how did he even know God was a he?

X

Dear diary, it has been few years since I first placed my trust on you and you have proved that you are my only trustworthy friend. Never did you try to gossip my secrets with others and forsake me when I was in need, not even once. I once asked, who are you? Why you stay in the dark and remain enigmatic? Definitely, you are not void. Are you intrigued by me or my stories? I don’t know, where’s your curiosity? You are not a cat, aren’t you? Maybe you are, if not, why are you afraid of facing curiosity? Tell me, can curiosity really slaughter you? How? Cut through your throat or break your backbone? Speak to me, behold of me. Give me answer, not taking my secrets selfishly and turn your back on me.

X

He could feel his hands shaking like a Parkinson’s patient. Trembling involuntarily and juddering as if with a tremor. “Here you are back, tell me what you want, tell me what you fucking want!” He was almost reduced to senseless shrieking streak before something crossed his mind at this pinnacle of his insanity.

The threat was imminent. Everything was as real as a goddamn soap opera.

Reading the message, it’s like putting a pernicious dagger around his neck. His eyes were popping like a dying fish and he just couldn’t stop mumbling meaninglessly after received the clandestine message once again after having lunch with his friend, Dave.

“Are you prepared to prepare? For a game you’ve to play. Tomorrow, you will be an angel and there’s a challenge awaiting you. You might encounter your friends or foes. All you need to do is to abide by the rules and play your game. Oh, before I forget, I would like to wish you good luck and enjoy your game.”

Who was the sender? Dave or a hitman or a fallen angel. What the hell did he mean by becoming an angel? He meant the thing that could fly and always spreading good news as fast as an insidious disease?

The more he pondered, the more he felt unsettled. He attempted to locate the faintest hint shown in the message to no avail. Nonono, it all went wrong, nothing in the message made any sense. Every vowel and consonant were like twitched together, reduced to some hapless abyss state and everything was a fallacy!

X

Dear diary, tomorrow will be my 20^th birthdays. Tell me what should I expect tomorrow and you shall be forgiven for high treason. You treacherous wretch, how dare you defy my order when I asked you to give me answer? Are you the sender of the message? Did you just make some humourless jokes with me?

Dear diary, tell me why there’s nobody ever remembered my birthday? While I saw people with piles of presents, I envied, I became jealous. Why should I receive nothing when everyone else is drowning themselves in felicity during the birthday?

Dear diary, what’s the nature of giving and taking? Why I always give but never did I ever get any fucking thing. Pardon me with my profanity, I was just an furious soul with troubles chasing me like an trigger-happy assailant. Perhaps you are that assailant? I deeply suspect you, my dear diary.

X

The first thing he saw in the morning was a girl he used to lust for. Her figure was always something he fantasized when he masturbated in his room alone. Now, with her lying aside, he discovered his pants were gone, but where’s the erection? His penis was limp like a wilting flower. “What’s wrong with my penis?”

He was panic-stricken. Partly because of an unconscious girl, stripped naked lying beside him, partly because of his petite penis. Where was him? This was the second question. He was nowhere. No room, no topless model poster, no porn, no textbooks, no wind, no movement. What he had was his nude dream girl, himself and a blood-stained bed. Something must have gone horribly astray.

What’s that fucking blood? Was it oozing from her juicy vagina? Gosh, was she a virgin? ‘Was’ was a right word and then who took her virginity? Gabriel? Gabriel felt dizzy as if he were staring something down from the tallest building in this world. Maybe she was just menstruating, fuck, she was not, definitely not. Wait, she was a virgin? She didn’t have other guys before?

Gabriel was lost, with no sense of triumph at all even he just got a girl’s most precious thing mercilessly/mercifully. Still jumpy, still terrified. “Fuck the goddamn god” He shouted vociferously when he still couldn’t feel any movement from his penis.

X

Gabriel was an angel. Some said angel was genderless. Some insisted that Gabriel was a man. Whatever… His origin was unknown. Whether created by monotheist’s God or by atheist or some epics, nobody cared. People just worshipped him(let say he had penis). Sickened of continuous quest of his identity, who created him, who nurtured him, what’s him made of, he drank his sorrow in a dilapidated bar everyday, watching people brawling over soccer matches and witnessing collapse of absolute morality.

Everything just went astray and uncontrolled like a galloping wild horse. So one day, he sat down and thought, what could he do for this world? He decided to give everything to men. Everything, good news, dough, gossips by using his power endowed by some god-knows-who.

One day, he stumbled on a country that was so wretched. War-torn, atrocities, wailing children…Hope was sucked and the feeling of emptiness unnerved Gabriel. That’s when he saw a pregnant woman who claimed she was a virgin while she conceived her son.

Intrigued, he descended in front of her and something inside the woman’s belly caught his eyes. That was…

X

“Who are you? What the hell are you doing here? Tell me is this a fucking setting up? Tell me this blood doesn’t belong to you, tell me you remember something.” Strings of incessant questions were babbled out from his mouth with unambiguous clarity.

But the girl lying in front of him now was staring at him as if nothing had ever happened. “For god’s sake, please say something.” He exasperated and still, the girl was unfazed. Didn’t she realize she was naked? Where’s her shame? Was she the dream girl he used to like so much? Yes, she was but where’s her conscience. Nonono, she was a bloody whore.

Amidst the chaos, something was vibrating in his pocket. He dutifully took out the vibrating thing without realizing what’s it. The moment he touched it, his face turned pale. Was it a joke? It’s his phone and it showed that’s a message for him. He could feel his heart almost leaped out each time the phone vibrated.

He pushed the button and started reading.

“Do you enjoy your birthday present? In case you have forgotten her for which I doubt, I shall inform you that she is Amenery, your dream girl. Can you reminisce what happened 2 days ago? You can’t, am I right. You looked straight into her photo, masturbating shamelessly until you ejaculated. Such shameless act was used to be despicable but not anymore. Now, you are free to commit any shameless act with no more restraint from man-made morality. And please be responsible, she was fertile the night you took her virginity away with such valor.”

“Damn, what have I done?” He sunk into desperation, ignoring his flaccid penis and her reddish clitoris all together.

X

The woman’s belly was glowing like a lantern. And there was something odder; Gabriel thought he could see through her belly. But this was not one of his boundless ability, was it? As he locked his gaze on the woman’s belly obscenely, he thought he could see more. Not only how the child would look like, but also the whole saga of this child. He was an adorable male infant and he was going to be extraordinary.

He would travel around this country, performing magic and showing miracle. What’s it? Wait, was it the scene that he turned the plain water into wine? The picture refreshed again. Now he was going to feed hundreds or perhaps thousands of hungry believer with hopes and biscuits. But was he going to die very soon. Yes sir, he was destined to die on the cross. What’s the crime he had committed? Oh, somebody framed him. Who was the villain?

The picture went fuzzy again. Now, Gabriel could see he was carried into a cave after being crucified. Gabriel could feel the moist in his eyes, that guy was dead, for good. He was not messiah! He was not greater than me. He wasn’t giving enough, he died to young. But what’s that? Did Gabriel just saw him rise from his grave? Yes, he did.

Suddenly, all the pictures and glowing light disappeared. What’s those pictures Gabriel just saw? A coming of a messiah or a decease of an angel?

X

I know you are frightened. You are frightened, too afraid to venture too far. I can see you, lying beside a naked figure. Perky breast, nicely trimmed pubic hair, everything is just in place. What grudges do you have now? You have a lot of complaints huh? But I thought you ask for present, so I gave you one. Shouldn’t you feel gratified? For getting what you desired for, scent of her body, her virginity, hype of ecstasy…?

Tell me why you fret? Flaccid penis? C’mon dude, you are just another loser. Getting what you want but hesitate to take it, to use it. Now, you tell me, what’s your hesitation? Is it taking too much until you are afraid of what you have?

Let me tell you, greed is not about taking only. Giving is an equally greedy act, don’t you realize? When you give, have you ever thought of getting back what you’ve given? No? What a pathetic liar you are! You never understand, do you?

There’s nothing wrong with greed because you can either give or take, which both two are equally abominable. Some people are meant to give and some are destined to receive. Is it possible that everyone is giving? No, it’s not. A person can either give or take, not at the same time. You can choose to give at anytime and to take at anytime, but not giving while you are taking.

You are confused, aren’t you? I could see a flickering of confusion dancing in your eyes. You still don’t understand right? What a loser you are!

One piece of advice for you, you are not a saint you think you are. You give and you shall receive. By the way, she is waiting for another stroking to climax.

X

Tell me Gabriel, you said you saw me in my mother’s womb. Was it true? I don’t believe in you. If you really did see me, why didn’t you warn me beforehand for my vain attempt to cleanse human’s soul? I died on the cross, to save people, to give people what they always want. But are they prepared to prepare? They aren’t even prepared to prepare, miserable souls they are.

Tell me Gabriel, are you afraid in taking what’s yours? I thought I saw you holding your dick but hesitate to penetrate your lover. You are also a loser, aren’t you?

Tell me Gabriel, are you real? Have you ever doubted your own existence? I think you must have myriad of questions but too afraid to ask. May I know why? Is that the reason why you lost faith in your give or take theory?

Perhaps you are not angel, are you?

X

Dear diary, does angel exist? I want to know because I suspect I’m an angel. Really? An angel with no conviction, an angel doesn’t know how to tell the good news to everyone. Nonetheless, I’m still an angel, am I not?

But, if I’m angel, who sent the message that lured me to commit unforgiving sins? Who’s looking at me while I mounted her? Who’s talking to me? Who’s looking through the woman’s belly? Who rose from death?

Maybe I’m them, maybe not.

A Rhetoric

Mistakes, more often than not,

Accompanied by mistakes,

Replaced by more mistakes.

Lessons, more often than not,

Accompanied by misinterpretation,

Replaced by more misunderstanding.

Deliberate distortion,

Unscrupoloue extortion,

Accompanied by mistakes,

Replaced by more mistakes than understanding.

x

We stand in the world, where,

Definition of tolerance no longer distinct, instead,

It's vague.

We fight the war, which

Tolerance never fully understood,

Mistakes never fully learnt.

We chant the rhetoric, which

Meaning never fully grasped,

Action never translated from words.

x

Enlightenment, at the end of the day,

Masked by plethora of mistakes,

Clouded by misundertanding,

And ignorance.

Hard to be myself.

I told myself, there is a stronger me in this world.
I fooled myself, there is a smarter me in this world.
I deceived myself, there is a me in this world.


I'm not strong, lacking both determination and perseverance.
I'm not smart, lacking both psychological and philosophical depth.
I'm not myself, lacking both love and hatred.


I vowed, not to be disappointing.
I swore, not to be failed.
I soared, not to be useless.


I'm disappointing, with hope slowly draining away from me.
I'm failed, with reality gradually drifting away from me.
I'm useless, with purpose crisply spiraling away from me.


I'm not pessimistic.
I'm not nihilistic.
I'm not antagonistic.


So what?


I'm not myself, I conclude.

Drizzle

Drizzle, as rhythmic as ever,

Like a lullaby of yesterday’s fairy tales,

My mum used to tell me before I turned in.

Drizzle, it murmurs to me,

Like an old friend, a guardian

So passionate yet so tender is its susurration.

Drizzle, tell me have you changed?

Do you still nourish languished souls?

Do you still tell stories to estranged sons?

As far as I’m concerned,

Your scent doesn’t change.

The mixture of hometown’s soil and folklore still perturb me.

I’ve seen death.

Death of love, faith and youthful dream.

During my exile to foreign soil.

Only you are still there, faithfully and dutifully.

Call my name,

And be a part of me, when death disillusions me.

Can’t everyone see you?

Why there is always people turn their backs to your call?

Can’t they smell your scent, which is well-blended with melancholy hometown’s soil?

But, now, it’s not my concern.

I’m overcome with joy.

Joy that rhymes with your gentle percussions.

So great to see you once again.