To you.

There's a whole lot to me than what i tend to let surface. One cannot truly engage in conversations of desires and identity out of hues of blue. One waits for the right time. And that time did not come. Perhaps it never will.

There's not much you or I need to know about who i was, who i am or who i want to be - because i am not defined by all that -- not even by my name. not anymore.

My name does have some form of bearing to my life and legacy here on earth. But what is in a name? Countless times i've failed it's meaning. Countless times i've acted adversely out of spite, immaturity and folly. What is my name? Do I really want it to matter to you? You, who've walked with me through all shapes of my sorrow and grief. and you, who've shared my laughter in times of childishness. Or you, who've sat with me under the tree of imagination and dreamed of higher heights no human have yet tread.

My identity now lies in someone more wonderful than I. He gave so much to be with me. So i choose him. And he will always take precedence in my life.

So no, i'm not interested in any other person, any external relationship, any developing bond that may threaten to sever this budding tie and usher me into distraction, into the comatose.

I cannot yet engage myself in another. Not till i'm ready. Not yet, not now. For i have awakened from twilight's tight grasp and have now seen the sun at the end of that tunnel. I will not turn back. You can't make me.

True, i may meet someone on my way out of that tunnel. But it is not Now. And you are Now. Therefore, things cannot be.

There's just very little time. Too little, in fact. It's too early for me to be wandering about sorting issues of companionship.You'll find someone who is and will be ready for you.

But i am not. I come through those doors later. You finish before me.We are still running our races simultaneously. But Parallel and not Together. You will always be a cherished brother.

Fret not. Our hearts are made up of more than just cells and tissues, and it pumps and works with more than just blood or its platelets.

I can only hope you understand, dear old friend. I can only hope.

Sincerely,
Phoebe Lee Mathius
p/s Phoebe : radiance

When Wednesday Met Thursday

Darkness.
...was all I could see when Wednesday met Thursday. My timepiece indicated an incredibly foreign hour of the morning. Couldn't really understand my body's enthusiasm to meet the day. Neither could i comprehend why an ingenius and divine concept, such as sleep, could ever be this elusive. Pure in-

Sanity.
...is what I have in moderate amounts these days. A shame, that. 'Tis sanity that keeps most of us afloat, even in the most deplorable of conditions. And this very same trait, I lack. Retarded, i seem to be, for the better part of the day; and all thanks to the tiny men at war in my already delirious grey matter. Why all the strife, you ask? I'll never really know for sure, but i have some -

Ideas.
...Conformity, for one. To feel safe, to belong and all that balderdash. We've been taught to follow things blindly and we've all wound up stuck in waist-deep sludge. I sullenly watch as my fingers drummed the table in an unsettled fashion. Still uncertain. Did the muck around me ooze out from my very own pores? Or was it just there all along, waiting innocently for some poor cretin to step in it, yell a string of inaudible curses - break into melancholy song ( i.e. Nobody Knows The Trouble I've Seen) and contemplate suicide simultaneously, whilst painfully submerging into the bottomless, tar-like puddle at a disgraceful rate of one centimeter per minute? Either way, I only have myself to blame for being here. Nevertheless, everything in me, the very essence that survives me, cries out to escape the System, to be my own person, to be contrary; different to the reeking normalcy of today's stale-tuna-sandwich culture. Tiny men at war in my head. Conformity Vs. Individuality. The bugle has sounded. The battle is -

ON.
...The bold word returned my blank gaze. I'd been fumbling around in the dark and a bump or two later, the lights had flickered on, swallowing the darkness that once engulfed my personal space. I remained in the deafening silence, eyes still getting accustomed to the shocking brightness that now illuminated every nook and cranny. My finger, still on the switch, lay motionless; frozen-like; as I stood stupefied at the single-syllabled word: ON. Right below was it's regal antonym, in similar print. OFF. ON.

OFF.
ON.

...How feeble our faith. How feeble our lives. How great the Creator.

OFF.

ON.
OFF.

Darkness.
... was all I could see when Wednesday met Thursday, and when Thursday met Friday, when life met death, when train met tunnel. Just spaces void of -

Light.
... was all I could see as the tunnel approached its end - when life met eternity, when men met God.

-Written in 2006
-By Phoebe Lee Mathius

First Day of School

A poem I found on YouTube earlier this year... I came across it by accident then, and i stumbled upon it yet again today. It pulled up so many fond memories....I absolutely love this one. but then, all good videos are most pleasant when least expected.

smile.

Phoebe Got Gig! (Update)

I'm performing again....

FEEDBACK Open Mic Sessions

Venue: Cloth&Clef
Address: #30, Jalan Changkat Bukit Bintang, 55100 Kuala Lumpur.
(on Changkat Bukit Bintang facing Frangipani)
Time: 9:30pm onwards
Date: 12th July, 2008 (Saturday)

It's featuring some of Malaysia's better music artistes; showcasing the likes of Rendra Zawawi, Reza Salleh and Ana Raffali. Come Support?


Cloth & Clef Page (Courtesy of KLue):
http://www.klue.com.my/venues/802-Cloth--Clef

FEEDBACK Open Mic Sessions Events Page on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=522203114#/event.php?eid=18561148577&ref=mf

Passion Is Coming to Town!

Guys, PASSION is happening gabsmack in KL! If you haven't already registered for passes online, DO IT NOW! It's going FAST!

It's going to be an amazing event schooled for the collegiate generation - facilitated by the likes of Louie Giglio (!!!), David Crowder (!!!!), Charlie Hall, Chris Tomlin, etc. - welcoming us to Jesus; in the most amazing of perspectives - periscopes that finally gives us some semblance of coherence so as to resolve the confusion that is us. I guarantee God will blow us all away! And I'm excited!

ARE YOU GOING?

I am. It's been an event I've been waiting for since I was a wee eleven year old lass. Just about the time i discovered my other love...

SWITCHFOOT.

Feeling a little deluged in nostalgia at the moment. Musn't let myself go too deep.

*chuckles* I just might kill us all.

More Writings

This happened awhile back actually. Some of my short fiction pieces have been featured on this website called:

http://555stories.com/

To read them or just browse through, click "Short Fictions" and scroll (middle scroller) all the way down to the bottom.

There should be a list of my stuff down there somewhere.



Alternatively, you can view the "text only" page, by clicking here:

http://555stories.com/phoebe.html

Disclaimer:
There are stories with elements of death and suicide merely because they were initially writing assignments for an english class. I just thought I've spent too much time on them and that it deserves a little public eye and critique. Feel free to browse and make comments!

Happy Mother's Day!

11th May, 2008

Happy Mother's Day, Mom (and to all the great mothers, I know!)

Love,
Phoebe Lee Mathius

True Malaysian

There is a rat infestation around my apartment area - leaving me most grateful that i live on the fourth floor. (Before, it's just been me grumbling all the way up those bleeding steps.) HOWEVER, this isn't the story.

We have about three regular domesticated felines royally parking their soft, fuzzy behinds outside our doors and on the steps; patrolling the pavements of my block with dainty, annoying paws. You'd think... (yes, YOU!) You'd at least THINK they'd serve as a comfort somewhat; well, simply leaning full-body-weight onto the very logic that cats eat rats. (Garfield is a slob. Not counted.)

But for the benefit of my readers who got sidetracked by that Garfield comment, let's just say that again.

CATS eat RATS.

LIES! All of it!
For I, Phoebe Lee Mathius, have with mine own eyes, beheld the very treachery of the feline-moronic-beings. They betray us! They betray us!

Here! My account of the atrocious crime:

We had just arrived at the foot of our building, my sister and i, and were walking through the Rat Crossing alley. (We've named it that now as it is not uncommon for us to see up to 3 FAT rabid, crusty-furred rodents running by; one of them randomly looking up at us with a quick "hello-how-do-you-do" nod, before heading off their merry way, disappearing into the deep, deep darkness - leaving very little trace of their pilgrimage. Some claim to have seen the tiny, glowing halos hovering over their heads.)

*Skin crawls*

Seeing as we almost always bump into a rat or two at the Crossing, we usually stop to wait for the demonic creatures to pass (not unlike waiting to cross the road). But today, hoho, today! When we came upon the Crossing, there were two cats by us (it was a very busy freeway that night, you see)! We looked at each other, my sister and i, and declared (telepathically, of course), "Today, we will triumph over all rodent-kind! Death to the Rabid Rodents!...

....DEATH!"

And we watched and watched in earnest, as the cats approached the Crossing. To our already miserable and unfortunate existence, (or in other words - utter, utter ... bewilderment) (some may even refer to this as an "out-of-body experience"), they STOPPED! They stopped to wait. Just like we did! As if there was a bleeding traffic light hanging somewheres, and it had just turned bleeding RED! Gah!

As the three RATS (perhaps the very same ones) ran by, wagging their insulting tails behind them, I squatted by a brown-gold like feline and with pleading eyes, begged: "Do as you have been destined! Go! I charge thee! Let there be a massacre! Let today be written on the history books of Rodentdom forever! Let there be....

....BLOOD!"

All to no avail.

I hung my head in shame, for all felines, that night. And as we walked through the Crossing, I turned to my sister and mumbled in my bereavement, "Apparently, in this new era, cats and rats live in peace and harmony..."

My little sister pats my back in act of consolation and said to me that night what i believe to be true words of wisdom. Wisdom beyond her years.

"They be true blue Malaysians."

Ya heard?

Random Conversation

I went to the next building to buy myself some thick, gooey mango juice.

PersonSellingJuice: What can I get you?

HappyPhoebe: Ice blended Mango Juice!

PersonSellingJuice: With Ice?

BlurPhoebe: ....

And mind you, THIS he did on two separate occassions, weeks apart. I thought it was blurness the first time, or him just making sure of the order; but now...

Reality Check

Hey, broken pride
Did reality and nightmare finally coincide?
did you ever imagine that the day we died,
I'd never, never be his bride?

O dream, short-lived!
Each breath, you sting!
Why were we convinced? I believed!
How did we end up a blasphemous fling?

Butter fingers, butter fingers
how quickly our hearts intertwined, released
Its desperate final grasps of hope
nothing lingers, nothing lingers
Broken pride, I'm dead! Are you pleased?

Are you pleased NOW? Or am I?
Now, in thick darkness,
I grope...
I hope...
you DOPE!

MEND! I charge you! Mend!
You broken thing of the past!
My hatred, my friend.
You shattered thing in my rib-cage
Barely beating; barely.....barely AGED!
Mend! I charge YOU!!!!

You're bigger than this, I tell you.
You're stronger than this!
Love as you perceived it was pure bliss
But where are we now? What is this?
WHAT IS THIS?

Foolish, foolish
broken pride.
Foolish, foolish, foolish.

The Star Online Newspaper

Sunday March 2, 2008
Slammin’ time with poetry
By AHNAF

Malaysia’s first ever Poetry Slam was held in a trendy nightspot, cool people turned up, and fun was had. Who said poetry’s only for tortured souls with no social life?
YOU know, I rather enjoyed telling people what I did last Saturday. When they asked me about my night, I’d say, “Oh, I went to the Poetry Slam.”
Then I’d casually mention that it was held at The Loft at Zouk nightclub and watch their eyes bulge disbelievingly. Ahnaf? Club? Huh? Ahnaf doesn’t have a social life!

A high score from Phoebe Lee Mathius, one of the judges randomly picked from the Slam audience.

So ... on Feb 23, Malaysia had its first ever Poetry Slam, organised by Dram Projects with the support of Singapore-based literary organisation, WordForward. And by the end of the night, I was definitely noticing a pattern in people’s responses.
“So how was the Slam?” I’d ask them.
“Good,” they’d say. “Good ? very good ? good?.” Well, there was also an “excellent” thrown in for variety.
Slamming is not reading. In a Slam, poets compete against each other for up to three rounds. There aren’t any professional judges; instead, audience members are randomly chosen to give scores.
Given our kambing culture, I was expecting Malaysians to shy away from this kind of involvement. Well, I was wrong.

Malaysia’s inaugural Poetry Slam winner, George Wielgus, aka Mighty Jah-J, showing the rest how it’s done. – Photos by IBRAHIM MOHTAR / The Star

Things did start slow – the event was supposed to start at 7pm, but with typical Malaysian savoir-faire the poets waltzed in after 8pm – but by nine-ish the crowd had swelled to almost 200 people. It was a tight squeeze, but judging from all the talking, laughing, and cheering, no one minded.

Nine brave idio– er, individuals joined the first round. The Slam fell on the anniversary of poet John Keats’s death (if you went, “John who?”, shame on you, look him up on Wikipedia ? like I had to), so every poem in the first round had to use a line from Keats.
Strangely enough, the three girls in the group put on rather limp shows: Sheena Baharudin, 25, gave a ho-hum reading; Nurul Hamizah Muhamad, 20, put on some rather half-hearted sass; and an elegantly-dressed 30-something Kathleen Choo failed to impress with a morbidly melodramatic love poem that had the audience impatiently snapping their fingers.
Which left six guys for round two. Joe Hafiz, 28, went from a cute rumination on his New Year weight-loss resolution to a more serious, introspective poem. Unfortunately, his rather muted delivery couldn’t carry him into the next round.
Hugo Yap, 19, followed up his earlier irreverent, whimsical verse with some short, raw angst. I liked its directness, but his nervousness was evident and flattened his delivery, torpedoing his shot at round three.
The four guys who made it to the last round had much stronger stage presences. Nick Green, 19, took fourth place with some brief poems that were more swagger than substance, but entertaining anyway.
Just a shade away from second place was See Tshiung Han, 27, whose long, meditative poems completely escaped me, but whose earnest, intellectual demeanour thoroughly convinced me of their quality.
First runner-up was Reza Rosli, 28, who played the sincere, oh-so-shy underdog. He had some interesting images and topics, like his first poem about crabs (the animal, not the disease).
The undisputed champion, though, was George Wielgus, 24. Wielgus’ poems (Wine, Women, and Weed, Word Porn, and Civil Disobedience) were a bit one-track – too many references to sex and booze and everything else people talk about when they think they’re being rebellious – but he was an outrageously gripping and entertaining performer. The man can certainly hold a crowd!
“I love people having a good time,” he said later. “People were laughing, clapping, cheering – I love being able to do that for people.”
Wielgus also said that he didn’t really care about the marks since it was all quite subjective, though he admitted that getting them was “nerve-wracking”.
For the audience, though, it was a completely enjoyable experience.

“I actually found it really, really fun,” said Phoebe Lee Mathius, one of the randomly selected judges. “You have to pay attention to other things, not just the words, like performance, the way they are, expressions.?”
What did she look for while judging? The “poet’s heart’s voice”, she replied, noting that sometimes you could really feel a poet pouring him or herself into the poem.

The people behind the Slam were certainly happy, with WordForward’s Chris Mooney-Singh calling it a “good opening gambit”, and a Zouk marketing employee saying that the club would definitely host the event again.
“What I was really happy about,” said the organiser, Dram Projects’ Daphne Lee, in a later e-mail, “Was that the audience wasn’t made up of the people I usually see at other local spoken-word events.
“It’s what Chris and I hoped for, that we’d attract a different crowd of people because of the venue and the nature of the event.”
The Point, as the Slam slogan goes, is not the Points; the Point is the Poetry. But really, I felt the point was actually Fun. People weren’t swanning around with lit degrees and dissecting every syllable, they were out to have a good time – and they had it.
So, if you’re looking to join the fun, or if like me, you need the illusion of a social life, look out in April for the next KL Poetry Slam – and invite me along!

This story may be found at *click!*

(Star Online Newspaper)

New Compositions : I Lose

I LOSE
by Phoebe Lee Mathius

VI:
You're my design
I made you the way you are
You'll never find
Someone other

Prechorus I:
Still you go away
in your impatience
all i can say is stay
and promise you aviation, my love
i promise you aviation, my love

Chorus:
So i lose you to
Things i don't compete with
Things i thought would never precede me
So i lose you toa beautiful discovery
So tangible, So carefree
mesmerizing you
away from me
away from me

VII:
You are my dream
I saw you the way you are
You'll never seem
like someone other

Prechorus II:
Still you steal away
in your disillusion
Don't go, please stay
I promise you aviation, my love
I promise you aviation, my love

Chorus:
So i lose you to
Things i don't compete with
Things i thought would never precede me
So i lose you toa beautiful discovery
So tangible, So carefree
mesmerizing you
away from me
away from me...

New Compositions : You Inside Me

by Phoebe Lee Mathius

Just like the heels that kill my soles
Iniquity - it bores a hole
Into my heart
Into my head
Alive yet faint
Breathing yet dead

Just like the hurt that hides behind my smile
Dishonesty torments me all the while
stabbing my lungs
wounding my mind
let me escape
oh, let me find....

Chorus:
You
fill the void building in-
Side
you covered and you saved
Me
You Inside Me

Chorus 2:
You
clear the hate building in-
Side
you colored and you said you loved
Me
You Inside Me

New Compositions : A Few Months Later

Lord, I am weak
And I am weary
And all I can think of
Is how cold it is
Outside

Can’t see what’s ahead
I can’t see behind my head
And all I can think of
Is how cold it is
Outside

Shed some light my way
Turn my night----- into day
And fill this emptiness~

A few months later
Would find me sitting in a little food place
Alone
Smiling at every other face
A few months later
Has found me sitting in a little food place
Alone
Strangers, but still saved by grace
Still saved by grace

Inhaling rust
Exhaling pain
I’ve lost my trust
To the blithering rain
Outside

Your face I keep
In the nooks and crannies
Of my mind’s deep
In my soul’s cold
I hide

Shed some light my way
Turn my night--- into day
And fill this emptiness~

A few months later
Would find me sitting in a little train
Alone
Staring at every other face
(How could I know?) A few months later
Would find me sitting in a little train
Alone
Strangers, but your grace sustains
Your grace sustains

New Compositions: Weary Eyes

I've had the privilege of working with a good friend and musician for two weeks now, and it's been awesome! I now have several songs in the soup factory and it is BOILING!! Haha. Just thought the two (or few, no difference) of you who actually read my blog entries, might like a little teaser to my songs. So i'm gonna be posting up my new lyrics everytime i come up with new stuff. Afterwhich, they shall all be archived into: http://pocket-tissues.livejournal.com/ (This is basically where i stash all my lyrical compositions)

So without further ado, my first song in a long while:

WEARY EYES

VERSE I

Exhausted and it’s no surprise
It’s how I meet each day’s demise
And I’m all burnt out and tried
No pondering of hows and whys
It’s time I recognized
What my mind denies

PRE-CHORUS
Shadows merge to solids
Jovial smiles turn morbid, yeah

CHORUS
All I want to do
Is sit with you and hear you speak
And watch you dream
All I want to do
Is dance with you and be with you
Till I….
All I want to do
Is walk with you and watch you think
And see you breathe
So be with me till I
Have to close these weary eyes

BRIDGE
I know I’m a little tired
But only just a little
I’ll stay with you, if you don’t mind
For only just a little
I know I’m a little tired
But only just a little
Stay, please stay
Till I close this weary eyes

Hot Chocolate (or The Kid at Christmas)

I bite into a sugar cracker and gently stir my little mug of thick, hot chocolate. I can hear tiny clinks of my teaspoon's ocassional meet with the ceramic-wall, on the inside.

Clink.

"Phoebe, don't dream! Hang the angel already!" I heard my elder sibling say. My 5-year-old stubby little fingers stopped playing with the little bell around the pretty angel's neck and began peering between the leaves for a place suitable to display it. That angel, I remembered, was my single, most favorite ornament then. After hanging the angel, I turned back to our little box of glittery decorations to pick another piece to hang on our Christmas tree. Something twinkled at the bottom. I reached for it.

Blink.

How the little bits of sugar on my crackers twinkle so. It reminds me so much of Christmas ornaments. My mug of hot chocolate reminded me even more of our favorite time of year. I chew my biscuit quietly in the deafeningly silent night. I bring the mug to my lips and take a long...

Sip.

"Don't take so long with your drink! When it gets cold, it's going to taste horrid!" I heard my mother say. "But I'm waiting for the marshmallow to melt," I heard myself protest, in a voice i'd forgotten and ceased to use for so many years now. How strange I sounded. I saw my mother put her hands on her hips to complete the "Look". Bah, I thought, rolling my eyes. As if that was going to work on me. It was then, that I noticed her hands looked different. They were pale-white and young. Where was the age,... the tan,... the freckles? "Well?" Mother prompted. The tiny heart that pumped in my little chest, began to beat furiously. Why was I so afraid? And as if by reflex, I quickly tipped the heavy cup higher, at a steeper angle. The brimming hot chocolate rushed down my throat, scalding my lips and tongue! My little eyes widened as I placed my cup down in a hurry.

Thud.

I place my little empty mug on my table. It's still warm from the hot drink that was in it. It gives me the best feeling in the world, hot chocolate. I feel sad somewhat that my mug is now void of the drink. It feels so much like my...

Heart.

Check. Mind. Check. Soul. Check. Body. Check. Strength. Check. Great! They're all in place, I thought, as I closed the envelope. Yes. That's my Christmas present to you this year, my friend forever. I'm sorry they're second hand. But they're all I have and ever can afford. I sealed the envelope with a kiss. I know you'll know how to use them. Yes, they are weak, tainted and a little broken. But only just a little. I smile meekly, ashamed of my immature attempt at deception. As if I could ever lie to you. But... you'll take them, won't you? You can make them new....,

Right?

Left? Why are there so many roads? And where do they all lead to? I was looking out into the world through my little left window. "Phoebe? What are you thinking? Are you alright?" I heard a gentle voice ask me. I turned to the driver's seat on my right, smiled sweetly and answered, "Oh, nothing. Yeah, I'm good. Just looking out the window." The voice laughed and said, "All right, we're at my house now. It has wireless internet connection, so you can use your laptop!" There was a certain kindness to the voice that I couldn't comprehend. "Coo~," I remember responding gratefully, still in my stupid grin. I gathered my things, opened my car door and stepped out.

Crunch.

Yum! More sugar crackers. Gosh, I miss Christmas! I distractedly reach out for the teaspoon laying idle in my empty, used heart.

Clink.

I think I need to fill it with more hot chocolate.

Press On, Babe!

Printed on card:

"Phoebe Mathius (American Degree Transfer Program):

Press On, Babe!

Michelle"

You have no idea how much i'd almost wanted to burst into tears then.

Earlier today, I had been feeling quite miserable. I had begun warring with my thoughts since before my 8am Chemistry class and it was beginning to take its toll on me. My courage and self-esteem level was dropping drastically at every argument and i was beginning to feel exhausted from being so brave. Still, my mind was relentless and cruelly persisted in coming up with the most hurtful and provoking of questions and thoughts.

I had brought my Bible to school today as always, and i was so glad to run away by myself after class to read. I knew i could always count on God to hear my distress; to comfort and strengthen me - with merely a whisper. And whisper he did.

Psalm 65:7

"You who still the noise of the seas,

The noise of their waves,

And the tumult of the peoples."

All i could do was just sit in awe and wonder of him. He truly knew. Instantly, i felt his significance in me just seep in again. He reminded me, at the snap of his fingers, of the dreams he gave me, the race i was running, the purpose in my life that had yet to be fulfilled. God was really getting me to refocus on him, the bigger picture. And i was so humbled. He whispered more promises through his word and i have scribbled them down on my journal. I came away from my corner, feeling like God himself had given me the biggest hug in history.

But it didn't end there.

It was then that i received a text message informing me that i had to collect something at the Department of Economics. I was bewildered. I mean, what on earth? I wasn't even an accounting or business student! I knew Michelle was, but not me! I headed to Wisma HELP cautiously, wary of a practical joke. But i needn't have worried. I was given this lovely breakfast package and it had a bloomin' rose! Can you believe it? A ROSE! My first this year! (See picture above.)

Reading the card was like getting struck by lightning. "Press On" were the two words I KNEW God was trying to say to me! My skin tingled, my palms were sweaty and my eyes were very close to flooding. Even as i type this, my single rose stalk rests in a bottle on my sister's office desk. It will serve as a reminder to me for years to come. Thank you so much, Michelle Melissa Foo, for being such an inspiration.

As if that wasn't enough. I receive a call from the lovely Tabitha just before lunch. She called and was just being her bubbly self. We talked about things irrelevant and otherwise *chuckles*, as usual. Surely, she couldn't have known how much i'd needed her kind attention and time, right at that moment? It's crazy how God works, but I am not complaining. He has apt timing! *laughs* Thank you for being my ambassador for encouragement, Tabitha Ong.

Thank you, Lord, My Friend Forever, for being here for me. My heart is yours Always.

Remnants

"I'm still not used to your absence
everywhere around me
lips move yet mouth nothing but silence
i tune out visually
everything else pales at the remembrance of you
you're with me each time i exhale
and i, in turn, inhale remnants of you." (-Phoebe Lee Mathius)

Round and round
like a broken record
Unsettling sounds
Like when sharpening swords

Unsettling thoughts
Leave me lost, never found
Unsettled heart
Like a ripple, drowned

Unsettled mind
Prostrates me to the ground
Round and round
my delirium abounds.

Exhausted, I am
beyond comprehension
Writing now
to ease the tension.

Yet...
You see me, You hear me
i have Your attention
You always stay with me
my divine intervention.

i'm never alone. Stay with me, Lord.

Whispered Repentance

I wrote this in 2002.

You came to me in a whisper,
Like a stranger, yet so familiar
My heart pounds louder and louder
Into my head; deeper and deeper
Your voice I seem to know; I've heard it once before
From you I've turned away
Yet you came to me today
In your presence; I'm awe-strickened
My body weakens
I feel myself fall into your embrace
I look up and see your face
It shone in deeper ambience
How could I have endured your absence?
My eyes cloud into a torrential downpour
I feel emptied right down to my core
Faceless and impure; I didn't know who I was anymore
Reality sweeps me over
All I wanted was to be like you
So here in your cover
My new skin breaks through
My old self dies as you take me into the skies....
I remember you coming to me in a whisper
Ah, yes, but yesterday seems distant; today I'm different
I'm becoming You.

When tired, sleep; When tired, write

I'm a little exhausted today
My world's in a daze
This ache --
Oh, this despicable ache!
It gnaws at my pumping heart
in morning's melancholy blaze

I'm a little exhausted, today
My state is inexplicable
Driven on with impossible dreams
Chastized by consequences of whim
Constantly, constantly
remembering constantly
tortured by sorrow, disdain bred
still I strive to keep my sanity sacred

My head it hurts
I have no words
It always leaves me
breathing hard
i feel my lungs
being teased by shards
of glass - as
it strains
to sustain
my limp, beating heart.

18th March 2005
Revised: August 2007