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Random Monologue I

The end of the year comes closer and closer,
Celebration shall be arranged very soon,
But for what reason in the world I feel sicker?
So tired, so unpleasant, so uninspired,
So gloomy, so soulless, I so…dead inside?
Nay, I strongly disagree on that! But why so sad, me?
Doing all the thing for all the folks and for nothing
And literally I got nothing returned but scorns?
For all I’ve done, though not much, it’s something!
Something none of them could never ever do!
So little appreciates my part that I done right,
And now they wants more from me, huh…

Right now all I want is just time of solitude,
Time where I could do things for myself that’s all,
In short: Give me a break, you little piece of junk!
For my head and my pit of endurance to calm down,
Or I’d explode it mentally and literally if I can!
But on! I won’t do that! I ain’t that weak!
I just have to get what I demanded,
For myself to adjust and queue up…
So I could advance forward,
With high efficiency,
High stability,
And peace..
I longed…
For it…
With bottles of ale by my side of course!


The Magic is Gone

Imagination one must well-preserved,
Well tempered to the heart of it’s owner,
In order to explore lands-uncovered;
To seek fortunes that real world ne’er offer,

By fortunes are things worth considering:
Ideas, images, pictures, or poems,
In your head; anything enlightening,
Keep them in not just rocks but valued jems!

They may worth nothing to those around you,
But only for you who appreciate
Those cheerful words like people always do,
You know you as much as you know your fate,

Fade out one day they shall do but not done,
‘Till you’re fine then the magic is gone.

In Love

If I say I love you: would you fall apart?
Too good folks, I ain’t in love with a guy,
Rather a thing; an enlightened piece of art:
Art of sound; a song; piece of voice that cry,

Echoing in my heart; those melodies,
Those meaningful words; those sounds resonate
Through the air into my ears and it lies
Into my numb and fried brain I create,

Entertain my soul so much I’m calm,
Enlighten my heart I want to write this,
Inspire me a bit I sweat in my palm,
And I know I must write it for wee bliss,

I notice this is not a good poem,
However: I’m so happy I write them!

Some expressive stuff.

I, once a creative creature that live;
Once a creature believed in all great things
In this far land mountains and all seas,
I, once a happily free-to-fly bird;
Once a wanderer who seeks adventures
Form this wild world to harsh people’s ideas,

Once I was a wanderer of this world,
Once, creativity was my brain’s food,
Once, I’m able to draw pictures with words,
And once I’m loved by people who read them,

What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I use my words
Like I used to do back a year ago?
Why am I stuck in this unpleasant cage
Of numb and dull skin and nerve of all sort
And ignore beauty of all things near me?
No, when did I stuck in this bloody cage?
When did I ignore the beauty of all?
When did I stop appreciate my life?
When did I forget what I like to do?
When did I forget who I really am?

Is it my repeatitive lifestyle that
Make everything seems so none and empty?
Is it my routine that drain my life out
One by one and no one will notice it
Until I become a soulless zombie?
Is it the two above that banish things
I used to do for my own happiness?
Is it all three that made me what I am
Right now telling y’all my senseless suffer
That I face and only I am the one
Who see it and took it so seriously?

Probably is my answer to that one:
See, I am nolonger a wanderer,
I live with creativity nomore,
And I can nolonger be loved by those
Who read my nonsense verses and poems,
Nolonger be able to use my words
To draw a picture they see like before,
Nomore, none of them, none, nothing, rien!

Exploring people’s inspiration’s fun;
Sharing mine with those who care is better;
Manifest it to the world is the best;
But since I could never done it before
I do sure it must be somefeeling else
I could never ever get a chance to feel.

Ah pal, here I go again.

Are people blind or I am a fool to not know:
How world’s changing and how things move freely for years,
Know not I do how behaviour patterns’ changing,
By changing I do not mean changing in that way;
Only compare them from my younger mind and thought,
For those perfect world I dreamt of all the day and night,
I say to thee, younger me: wake up from those dreams!
If not clear, younger me: Thou shalt not cope thy vision;
Coping this vision all the time will tired thyself!
As a future thee I say it proudly to thee,
Please do consider it a friendly reminder,
From a friend that never existed anywhere:
I’d like to tell thee more what I need thee to know:
For now I forgot them and will inform you soon.

xx

Sonnet About My Frustration In My Lack Of Inspiration.

–Allow me to publish this nonesense for my frustration and all sort of thing to come out.

Sayest thou a great sailor? Say I no sir!
E’en all those time on board? Say I the same!
No love thou hast before? Not a lover!
Dost thou e’en have a life? Say I not blame!

Hooray to thy success! Value not I!
E’en all of thy effort? Mine? My effort?
Lo! Thou ignorant one! Title that’s my!
Please stop being thyself. Quand je suis mort!

Please be normal, would thee? Normal sayest thou?
Let be like other please! Say not from me!
Ease thyself for a bit! Sayest thou moo moo?
Aight that’s it I’m done here! No more of thee?

Shut thy cake hole! I will do what I can!
E’en a night time fun? Wait uh.. yes my man?

If I,

If I could fly like a bird;
I’d fly away from my life,
If I am a submarine;
I’d load a torpedo and strife,

If I am a battle tank;
I’d stand and take bullets,
So, if I ‘am’ a poet;
I’d write rhymes and sonnets,

If I won’t write those verses;
I’d have lost all my interests,
And those lack of intention:
Is the worst of all imagination pests.