Hi, my name is Has.
This is where my favourite ramblings go.
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War and Ignorance
Take me back to long ago,
us in the darkness all alone.
Out of here so hot, so bright
and into the cool dark, dark night.
Take me back to when Moon was fair,
man was young and man still cared.
We’ve dug too deep, no end in sight.
Don’t tell me this is justified.
So take me back, I don’t want to know
of changing worlds and what we let go.
It’s not for the better if we still fight.
For our destructive selves, there’s no more knights.
—-
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Quiet bus rides
I think and dream of you
on long bus rides to and from the city.
I always pass by that one place
from that one time long ago.
Sometimes, I stare until it goes out of sight.
Sometimes, I try to ignore it and pretend that it’s not there.
And sometimes, I ignore it without meaning to.
My eyes were closed, I was too busy dreaming of you.
—-
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Womanifesto
In honour of International Women’s Day today, I present a revised version of an old original poem and my interpretation of a ‘Womanifesto’. Let’s hope that all women everywhere will be able to one day live and believe her own declaration of who she is and who she wants to be. Happy International Women’s Day and have a great day!
—-
I’ll tell people advice that I will be
heeding myself. “You deserve people who
can see you’re awesome, who loves you for you.
No more pining now. This you need to see.”
They will never know what or who has changed.
They have never known who was there before.
But I know. This girl, this woman has changed.
It’ll be for the better. I now adore
this brand new me, all spirit, spunk and sass
The passiveness that I have been is through.
I’ll paint the town red, and do it with class.
Goodbye, the old me. I bid you adieu!
Methinks you’ve been around for way too long!
In place, steady strength. I am woman strong.
—-
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Poisonous
Our lives together grow tiresome.
Somehow, along the way,
I have begun to love because it is necessary.
Our lives now so bitterly intertwined that it escapes me
where the sharp twine of you ends
and where the rotting scarred flesh of mine begins.
Where has the love,
that was before,
hidden to?
I vaguely recall a distant memory,
so far away it feels like a dream.
We were together and happy then, I think.
Now, I am tied to you like a dog tied
by its leash to its master’s hand.
I am your slave dog, your bitch.
This is no great love,
there is barely a lick of an ‘L’
leading our love.
Some may not call this love at all
except that we have known
no other name to call this.
This arrangement we have has become tiresome, but necessary.
The poison has become our blood, our mutated life-force.
To drain the poison now is to die.
To keep living is to die slower,
the poison pumping through our veins, like a noose around our necks
made a millimeter ever so tighter every hour.
I love you out of necessity. Of this, I no longer even try to lie.
I love you. I need you. I love you because I need you.
You’ll be the death of me.
And I, you.
—-
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Gladiator
I am in awe. I am afraid.
I shake like a slave-girl
standing before the greats.
My fate is seemingly decided for me
but I cannot let this unfairness be.
It is then I remember your whispered advice
Champions are not born, they’re made.
If you must go down, you go down fighting.
If you live by your sword, you must die by its blade.
—-
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Reasons
That tingling feeling with the bells,
the notes soar and so does my heart.
Remind me once again why this
has claimed both my heart and my soul?
It’s not cliché if it’s this true.
This is the me that makes me whole.
I shouldn’t hide this away but
I am ashamed by what I’ve done.
Measuring by the wrong ruler
and not being able to reach
the fruit that is on the wrong tree.
This long hopeless chase tires me.
So do I choose the safest road?
Or dare I even push my way
through in a sea of doubt and pain?
Remind me again of this truth,
how the notes make my heart soar with
feelings I can’t deny again.
—-
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The Voice
The voice heard is painful.
The voice unheard is lethal.
Weird.
How the voice that protects me.
And how it makes me finally realise.
That there is something out there.
Ready. Fierce. Hypocrites.
They may attack every part of me.
No matter what their guise.
I must carry on.
I must keep calm.
I must continue the pain.
Pain is good.
Pain is your friend.
But pain does NOT mean you’re alive.
Sometimes pain extends your non-living.
Sorry, encik.
This moves me because I imagine the internal torment of a soldier that rages silently within but all that soldier can say is the last line, “Sorry, encik”, with “Encik” being a formal address that soldiers in my country make to their superiors. I imagine that brave soldier in the middle of war who has seen and felt everything but holds it all in. Because personally, the loud silences speak to me the most .
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Strength
I wish I were stronger,
maybe then I’d be able to throw off
these invisible chains
tightening around me like a snake.
But I am not stronger
and these chains dig harder into my flesh.
I can’t see these bindings. I feel them.
Stronger than any steel
and certainly not stronger than me.
I’d like to make my sincerest apologies
to my weak mind and my even weaker heart.
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A Victim’s Cry
I won’t let this define me.
I won’t let this decide my fate.
Deep inside, I’m still strong.
This heart here can’t be wrong.
I’m still here,
and this heart pumping
blood and courage through my veins
is still real.
—-
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An old diary
Ever had that moment
when you look at words you’ve written
a lifetime ago and feel like
another person wrote those words?
Essentially that’s true. You’ve grown
into a different person, leaving
your old life behind. It’s not necessarily bad,
it’s just different and it’s okay.
It has to be okay because there’s
nothing you can do to go from
a place of knowing back to a place
of not knowing. Innocence to experience.
The blank slate has been coloured
but no one can agree
on whether it is silently beautiful
or unspeakably grotesque.
—-
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Ass
I lay my heart at your feet
and you, O pitieous braying fool,
trample it with your hooves.
I should have known your true nature.
You’re no brave steed.
But it’s too late for realisations now.
My heart now resembles minced meat,
you know, after you chewed it up and spit it out.
And this whole situation
smells a little too much like horse manure
for me to stand anymore.
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False hope
Stop looking at me like that.
You give me false hope. That is,
hope I cannot afford.
People like me
just don’t get to have what people like you
should be having. If there’s something
on your mind that you need to say,
please say it.
I need you to be the first one to say it,
to speak out and reach out to me first.
I doubt myself.
I think I must be such a sad, pathetic child
that no one wants to bother
reaching out to me before I to them.
I wonder. I really wonder.
And I want so badly for you to be the one
to prove me wrong.
—-
