Hunting for my answers
Sometimes we think too much into a person's actions,
Perhaps even a little more than what we should think about.
Translating your every move into a language that only I understand,
I misunderstood and realise that everything I've been thinking of was insane.
Mulling over prized possessions which mean nothing to us,
The essence of time does not reward our youth.
I reckon that maybe we should all just keep quiet for a little while,
Listen to what your troubled friend has to say.
Perhaps give a little shrug or hug,
And brighten up your friend's day.
Poem #2
This is something I wrote last year, just in time for Singapore's big four o... A little outdated yeah, but who cares?
40
The big four o really,
Isn’t such a scare silly.
A nation of prosperity and IT,
Clearly firm and steady.
Like middle aged men,
Passing time quickly like the hour glass sand.
Like middle aged women,
Plastic surgery on our image time and again.
Yet another bountiful year,
Let’s open up some tiger beer!
We are getting older,
And even much more bolder.
The big four o really,
Does not make our legs jelly.
Our habits still stay the same,
It’s just like a waiting game.
When single and in loneliness,
We pray at halls of worship for happiness.
I say get out and find your true love,
Don’t wait for them to drop from above.
In buying more lottery,
We hope to make more money.
The pastime of our country,
Will never change after forty.
And there is the rest of the poems that I wrote randomly.Dreamers and SinnersI was once told that if we dreamt of good things,
It could probably come true.
Not knowing how much of dreaming was ample,
To get me closer to the place I wanted to go.
I was once told that if we thought badly of ourselves and others,
I would have sinned and been ostracized by throngs
But not actually knowing what was good or bad to think about,
I went about clueless and dissatisfied.
Bickering foolsWhy do I get upset when we’re apart?
And even more so when we’re together?
Uncovering more and more of your habits,
I fall in love with you more and more.
Is it the little evil jealous ego in me?
That puts you into a fix?
Or the soft hearted complexion of my nature,
That allows me to forgive you over and over again.
The Battery of my EngineLate nights are kept in the top attic,
Eye bagged and yawning.
I type away on my laptop aimlessly,
Who is to know of tomorrow and after?
Ever wondered why there weren’t any sign posts,
To direct and enlighten our souls?
I haven’t stopped looking for one in case,
Checking twice at crossroads to make sure.
Sickened and DisgustedWhat is it of you that you need the world to know about?
What is it of you that is so important that it has to be said out loud?
Is it just your personality that everyone can see?
Or is it the foundation and lip gloss that makes up the mask you hide behind?
You have already got the attention that you need.
You have already gotten the kick of doing it so well.
It sickens and disgusts.
It probes into the nerve that becomes irritated.
What is it of you that needs to be told?
What is it of you I do not know about?
Is it time to stop and instead,
Watch others and learn?
The Girl in my ClassThe girl in my class has short oily hair.
The girl in my class is bespectacled and curvy.
The girl in my class speaks at the top of her voice.
The girl in my class has no etiquette and standards.
The girl in my class is partially honest.
The girl in my class mistakes crude insults for compliments.
The girl in my class does not have patience or tact.
The girl in my class is sadly unwelcomed.
