Friday, April 26, 2013

Girl Next Door- Part 1

You know what’s interesting. Cloud shapes. Cloud shapes and water puddles.
I think someone put redbull in my coffee this morning. That’s how I ended up at the wretched bar. Geez. Everything happens for a reason though, doesn’t it.
Voyeurs do that sometimes. They have a keen undertaking into a world they don’t really want. It outs them, puts them on the precipice of discovery but never really being enough to push them over that edge.
I like my coffee black, 2 sugars, no milk. I’m a purist.
Being on the outside does give me one thing.
It gives me a story to tell.
“You’re ridiculously late today”
“Come on, you can’t be that mad”

James smiled. Every time he looked at Michael, he was reminded of a younger version of himself. No lines, trendy hair cut. Now his face was lined with the memories of yesteryear. He felt old.

“How’s the prep for school coming along?”
“You know me, I pack one suitcase I’m done. Apparently though mom thinks I need a lot more. I caught her sneaking bleach laced laundry tablets. How the hell am I supposed to know how to use bleach laced laundry tablets?”
“Don’t put them with your coloured clothes?”

James laughed. He remembered the day he first went off to college. Michael was only ten, all he knew was big brother was off somewhere. Some big new special place that he needed a whole car packed with things for.

"Don't phone mum when you need the cash for new clothes."
"Funny. What's cracking my big brother?"
"Nothing, I figured I'd try to catch you before you become a big college man."
"Can't believe I made it man! You reckon college can survive me?"
"Might have to widen some of those doors to let that big head of yours enter."
"Very funny."

Michael signalled the bartender. 

“I’ve been thinking of going back to grad school.”
“Again?? Don’t you have like a hundred masters by now?”
“How’d you get into college again? Your maths estimation is horrible!”
“I think it was purely on my good looks, you know the drill.”
“College admission officers must be blind then.”

Micheal scowled. He remembered wanting to go to college ever since he saw James wore his first college sweatshirt. He was so excited when he got his college admissions letter.

“What are you looking forward to the most?”
“You want the college admissions answer or the actual one?”
“I want the “brother” answer.”

Micheal thought for a moment. He twirled his glass, especially the last ice pieves. He loved those bits.

“I guess it’s just the people. The ones that come from all over, the crazy ones, the misfits. I’m excited to meet the world, as cheesy as it sounds.”
“And the girls?”
“That goes without saying. I mean come on, college girls. That has GOT to be a step up.”
“What about Amanda?”

That made Micheal pause. He hadn’t told James yet.

“We broke up.”
“ What happened?”
“School happened.”

Truth was Micheal was really hurt. She felt like the right one. The one that fit him like a glove. But the both decided that maintaining a relationship was going to be hard since they were on opposite ends of the coast. So they broke up.

“That doesn’t even begin to describe it.”
“So, what KIND of girl do you want?”
“If I say big boobs and cute ass does that get me a beating?”
“It gets you a stern stare.”

Micheal and James looked around the room. Down to the left of a bar there were a bunch of girls, definitely pre- drinking for a night out.  Short skirts, fun tops, loads of glitter everyewhere. They were loud and they were proud.
Near the door there were a bunch of kids playing pool. On one table, there were 3 girls, 2 guys. Definitely more then a regular pool lesson going on there.
On the other table there was another girl with a few guys. She was bespectacled, wearing jeans and a sweater. Practical in the weather. Talking about the game on television pushing and shoving like she was one of the guys.
James noticed the one with the glasses. Michael on the other hand was glued to the other girls, the ones down the bar.

“Probably those girls over there. They don’t want much, just a good night out. I can’t handle anything more serious then that.”
“What about her?” James pointed at the girl in the glasses.
“Oh yeah. She’s kinda cute.”
“Not the kind you’d go for?”
“No I’m not saying that, I’m just saying she’s kinda cute.”
“What are you really thinking?”

Michael stopped for a second, he actually wasn’t sure. Truth be told she was really pretty but you wouldn’t notice at first. She had a friendly smile, she had gorgeous hair that was all messed up. She had an easy time making the people around her feel at ease yet not one of them seemed genuinely interested in her. He guessed that there must be something wrong with her or something.

“I don’t know man. She seems nice enough but I’d rather just find someone to have a good time with.”
“You mean like college air heads over there?”

James looked at his glass, deep in thought. Michael watched his big brother, feeling a little uncomfortable. He knew they could talk about anything but in all honesty, he was feeling a little guilty for not picking girl in glasses first. It’s not that he didn’t mean too. It’s just that she wasn’t his first choice right now.
James took a deep breathe.

 “Take that girl. No just one minute look at her. She's the nice one, the girl next door. She's there ready to offer a smile, a kind word and hugs. Her hugs could probably cure cancer. Doesn't hurt that she's gorgeous to.
Let me tell you, she's miserable.
I've seen her kind before, the kind that acknowledge they aren't perfect. The saddest thing is that when she does, people find those cracks to. I'm betting you anything she's been shot down more then once because she wanted something and the reason she can't get it is her own fault. Girls like that don't last very long. They are the people that fade into the background because when they put themselves out there, when they acknowledge their imperfect, people cannot take her in anyway seriously any more. There's only so much the human tolerance allows you. And that's why she's miserable.
She'll smile anyway, because at the end of the day, we can't be anybody else but ourselves can we."

Micheal finished his drink, unsure what to say. James looked at him, smiling.
“Come on, lets see if you can get one of the airheads to give you her number.”

Girl next door huh? I think I see a future in that somehow.
Fyi, Bar’s have horrible coffee. But they have beautiful stories, if you’re willing to look.
Someday, I will look through it again, but right now, I need to stop seeing sounds.
It’s creeping me out.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

The Violence of the Human Spirit

I am angry.
I am angry that a human would do this.
I am angry that you will harm another, that the race I belong to, the human race, is capable of such monstrosity.
I am angry that my fellow brothers and sisters are victims of violence.
I am angry because my fellow human beings decided today I will blast, I will harm, I will maime, I will Kill. 
Today, I am angry at the stupidity of mankind. 
Today, I am angry at the spirit of man, the mean, ugly spirit of mankind.
I am angry that a person’s conscience fails them.
Today, I am angry at myself.
I am angry at feeling helpless.
I am angry at watching the world be torn apart.
I am angry at feeling unable to believe in human kind.
But that would mean you would have won.
That would mean that you have succeeded in creating fear in me. 
I won’t let you. 
You WILL NOT cause me fear. 
You WILL NOT cause me injustice.
You WILL NOT cause me to lose hope.
I will not let you win.
I will not let you make me feel afraid anymore. I will not let you make me feel angry anymore.
Each day I will do my part. 
I will be as human as I possibly can be. 
I will remember my responsibilities to my fellow man.
But I will not let you make me afraid. I will not let you. 
I will not let you make me forget how much responsibility I have to the people around me.
To the world I belong in. 
To my human race.
You have tried time and time again. You have tested the limits of man. You have broadened the ugliness of man.
But I will not let you win. I will not let this unnamed bastard win. 
Today, I mourn for humanity. 
I mourn for the victims of violence.
But I will rejoice in knowing you have not brought us down. You have failed today. 
I see man, I SEE your ugliness. 
But I see those fighting against it. 
I see the kindness that comes from an unnamed woman giving a child a hug.
From the people that have decided to help each other.
From a global unity of thoughts that go AGAINST what you did.
From the simplicity that people point at your actions and are conscious that what you did is wrong.
I see kindness in the people that have decided to help each other.
In the messages that pour from all over the world for the well being of another.
I choose to believe in the good. 
And those taking action.
And that gives me hope. 
Don’t get me wrong, I am still angry.
But I will be even more angry with myself if I let you win.
And I cannot let that happen, no matter how much you try I WILL NOT LET THAT HAPPEN.
I will keep believing in the good of humanity. I will keep believing in the good of the human spirit.
Because if I do not, I have lost and you have won.
And I will not let that happen. 

*In memory of the victims of violence that have occured all over the world today.
And an 8 year boy who died watching his father cross the finish line.*  

Saturday, March 31, 2012

A Fools Speech

Joseph “Chipita” Rodriguez- (1799-1863)

Convicted of murder based on circumstantial evidence and hanged in San Patricio County, Texas. A hundred years later, the texas courts agreed she did not receive a fair trial. It has been said she maintained her innocence right through the end, although refusing to testify in court, possibly to defend her only son(who was thought to be guilty) She was 63 when she was hanged. Her last words were said to be, “No Soy Culpable”. Translation: I am not guilty.

She died.

Timothy John Evans (1924- 1950)

Also known as the case that caused the abolishment of capital punishment in the UK, tims case is a sad one indeed. Accused of kiiling his daughter, this welsh man kept accusing his neighbor Christie as the murderer of his daughter and wife. Only after his death was it found that he was indeed innocent. This sparked a calling to abolish capital punishment within the uk. However,

He died.

Derek William Bentley  (1933 – 1953)

At the time of his execution, Derek was said to have been illiterate. He suffered from epilepsy fits due to falling 15 feet off a lorry at a young age and also because of his home crashing around him in world war II. He was convicted of burglary and the killing of a police officer with malicious intent. Malicious. A man with with a 77 IQ understands the meaning of “malicious”. I ask you, did his punishment fit the crime?

He died.

“So, so you think you can tell
 Heaven from Hell,
Blue skies from pain?
Can you tell a green field,
 from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade,
your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war
for a lead role in a cage?”
Yes, this coffee drinker has once again fallen back on the lyrics of a song to execute the flow of feeling. Music has communicated so much to me, today, I hope it communicates to you to.

The song questions the very core of man’s ability to distinguish between what is right and what is wrong. If we truly understood the difference between a field and cold steel rails, why do we build train tracks through a country side?

If we had the true ability to tell the difference between what is right and what is wrong, why are there so many cases of people being hung when they were clearly innocent?

 You say, “You have only listed 3 lives.” I say yes, I have listed 3 lives. What right do we have to take away these three lives? WHAT RIGHT DO WE HAVE TO TAKE AWAY THESE THREE LIVES?

The fundamental route of the death penalty is to give justice to a person. If we come from a race, where justice is taking away peoples’ lives because of oil, what makes us so arrogant to think we have the right to take away a person’s life in what we deem to be “the justice system”?

I am for the abolishment of the death penalty. But I digress. There is more to a story then a fools rant on the death penalty.
Generally, I’ve been a person that looks at life through tinted glasses of gold and silver. I’d like to believe the best in every one and some might call this being a fool.
But there are some things even a fool would not be able to ignore. 

Over the course of the last 2 weeks, I have seen people post up stories, be it about Kony 2012 or about Bhai Balwant Singh Rajoana. I have been ask to pledge my statuses, change my profile picture and doing so much more to “raise awareness”.

More and more it became apparent what a bandwagon truly is.

Note: No offense meant to those that have actually gone out and done something about any of these causes. And No, CHANGING YOUR FB STATUS OR PICTURE DOESN’T COUNT.

You ask me why I don’t pledge orange. I tell you, it is because the death penalty has been evil from day one. NOT because of this one man, but because of the millions of others that have died due to the death penalty.

This issue has been around since the dawn of time, but when it becomes one of our own, THAT’S when we start to stand up and fight?

You say, yes we fight now because it’s our own person being attacked. I ask you to remember Guru Tegh Bahadur, who gave his head to protect the Hindus.

Shame on you. Shame on you for standing up for ONE  man when millions of others have died because of the death penalty. Shame on you for suddenly standing up and believing in one person when the death penalty has been around for thousand of years.

What right do we have to take someones life? The most precious thing any of us have, and we treat it like something that can be taken away, because we decide it?

The wars, the destruction, the pain and suffering, this has been around for millenia. But we deem it now necessary to make a hoo ha which dies down after every alternate week. Brilliant, beautiful human nature.

I wonder, when this is all over, how many of us would keep fighting for the abolishment of the death penalty? I wonder when this all blows over, how many of us would keep up the pressure to take away the death penalty completely?

You are right, I have no right to judge you. I have no right to tell you what you are doing is wrong. I am a mere mortal pointing out what I believe is true.

But I beg each and every one of you today, ask yourself, are you a true freedom fighter, a person who is willing to give up their jobs, their lives, their families for a true cause? Or at the very least, devote time to educate the people around you against issues like this?

or are you a facebook freedom fighter? Who changes your status and your pictures and thinks you’ve made a big difference?
I will now give you a list of names, and I hope you will read their stories. I wonder though, will their voices be heard, or will it be drowned in a cacophony of noise made by what I’d like to now refer to as, “Bandwagon causes”.

Johny Frank Garett(executed in 1992)- His last words were, “I'd like to thank my family for loving me and taking care of me. And the rest of the world can kiss my everloving ass, because I'm innocent.”
Carlose de Luna( executed in 1989)- Convicted, even though at the time of his arrest he had no blood on him although the crime scene was covered in blood.
Larry Griffin(executed in 1995)- Convicted based on witness evidence by a white man. He was black.
David Spence(executed in 1997)- Was accused of a crime he did not commit, the rape of 17 year old girls.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

5 years

When you become a substance abuser, your only love is for the feeling it gives you. Coffee, is my substance. A high you get from a simple sip, from the bitter taste, to the head rush you get afterwards. The perfect companion for life. The perfect partner.

Don’t believe the hype. Coffee doesn’t kill you.*winks*

Yet again though, this story isn’t about me. It never is. I am a voyeur, stuck in a world which believes its black and white. But everyone seems to be seeing a different shade everywhere.

No this story, is about a man. Someone who clawed his way out of lifes clutches. Someone, who at lifes consistent curve ball, picked himself up, and became more then anyone could’ve ever hoped he was.

*tugs your hand* walk with me down memory lane my friend.


He looks himself in the mirror. 29 years. One year from thirty, one year from ending his 20’s. Looking back, he’d never had thought he would’ve made it this far. Who would’ve. A mere boy running from one destiny to another, all chosen for him by everyone else, now a man, building his own world. The way he wanted it to be.

Theres a distant hum. Like waves splashing on the shore. This is it. His dream home. His elysium. He found it, nestled on the most perfect spot nature could offer. Almost like his own hobbit hole. But more then that. It was his home. There’s a lake facing towards the west, a mere stage for the sunrays playing when the suns put to bed every night. he smiles, he never thought he’d have made it this far.

Sipping from his mug, he sits at his favourite spot. That chair by the window. Reflection. All great men do it, some in ways different from others. This was his time for reflection, his time to see change.

5 years ago, he’d have never imagined himself here. He closes his eyes, and lets his mind do the travelling.


The worlds a stage and we’re all God’s fucked up players. That is if there is a God.

He should get the phrase tattooed on his forehead. Feeling like a practical joke, wasn’t the best feeling in the world. But it was him. He flips through his laptop. And smiles.

Stuck in a rut, where his one ray of sunshine would be the days where he’d get messages like this. Sometimes it was a poem. Sometimes it was a story. It was always a happily ever after. These quips they made him believe. Believe in ways he never could’ve imagine.

But he was stuck. Dead end job, dead end life. It hurt him, he felt like he was in a black hole, one he couldn’t climb out of. Life it seems, was suffocating him. Like the crushing ocean around a sinking ship. Life felt cruel. Yet it dealt him a fair card.

And all that started it was an “Are you single?” message.

It felt good. Being able to talk. An unhindered naivety. And it amazed him to see what she saw in him.

She saw, a man who had been through the most ludicrous of challenges. She saw a man who held the world on his shoulders, and felt weary from being the pillar. She saw a man who in her eyes, was a hero, even if all he saw in the mirror was a man who couldn’t be called a man. Everything about him excited her. From his childlike love for music videos, to attempting to dance to songs without a sense of rhythm. His love for the weird, the beautiful. His conscience. She saw him for exactly what he was. She saw him for the man he shouldn’t have been afraid of being.

He’d sing her songs. With the most off key voice. Eyes alight when he talked about things that mattered most to him, from books, to movies about killer alien robots. His puppy like fascination for everything made her smile. But don’t be fooled. The man wasn’t as soft as he seemed. Hardened by years of unneeded obstacles, he could be firm in his beliefs. But those beliefs made sense to her. Made her think. Made her faith a little faith that people could be human.

He listened to her. With her, every small thing mattered. Every smile, every letter, every word. It all made sense to her. He was still stuck in a rut, but he found himself wanting to get out. He found his her. He wanted to be different. He didn’t need to be prince charming on a white horse. He could be the pauper, but he could be himself. That’s all that mattered.


If you looked to the corner of the room, there’s 4 wooden frames. Not of pictures, not of photos. But a story. A story called cliché’s. The story talks about a boy and a girl. Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy. They fall in love. They live happily ever after. That story was written years ago. It was a story that described the during, the before, the after. The spaces between each word.

If you look at the other corner, there’s a huge collage of photographs. From 2 month of amazing memories. Every fight, every laugh, every smile. Encapsulated in a moment when the right person took the right photograph. It was a difficult time, but it was a time where much seemed to have changed. It felt the same, but that’s how winds move don’t they. You never know their coming till you feel them.

Isn’t that the concept of faith though. Simply believing what’s not there? Something we can feel, but never touch. Something that’s shines so bright, but we can never see. And faith, in its most unadultered form, comes when someone simply believes in you. Simply believes you can make a difference. That you can be a better man.


He found himself fighting. 5 long years. He wouldn’t stay down. Yes, he was aware of his faults. Yes he was aware of what made him inhuman. He was aware of how much it hurt when he fell.

But his clarity, his determination drove him to not stay down. And he held her hand. It was always the little things that made a difference. That smile when the world was dark. That good morning message. It all made a difference. It all made it different. He made it through every obstacle. From finding his nook in this much messed up world, to building his dream home. His future, his life.

Somethings, take time, but when you reach the end of the tunnel, ur greeted by warm sunshine in cool November rain.

It was a tough fight. A lot of the times he felt like giving up. A lot of the time he felt it was easier to just stay out of the rabbit hole. To stay out of megatrons way. But he didn’t. He became prime. He fought. For whatever reason, whatever drive he fought. Some pumped up robotic shit maybe, but he fought.

And he made it.

“You may lose faith in us, but never in yourself.” Immortal, he lived.


Can you truly make it though? How would you know if you’ve truly made it? It doesn’t make sense to know that you have actually. More often then not, its more as if your taking a breather. Theres always another hill to climb. So what was so significant about this? What was so significant about this 5 years? Surely in the grand scheme of things 5 years would seem a mere nothing to what the rest of your life actually is.

Ah here she comes. The landmark in 5 years. The reason why this story’s even titled 5 years. She tip toes around the room, not wanting to wake him up. Not wanting to stir him from his dreams.

He looked so peaceful in his sleep. No one would’ve guessed the amount that mans been through in the last 5 years. And you’d be surprised where your biggest enemies come from. But at the end of the day, she knew she’d be by his side.

Softly, she kisses his cheek. And he smiles. He looks up at her. His wife. Probably the best achievement ever. Probably the reason why he’d always remember his 29th birthday. He fell in love with his best friend. He found his happily ever after.

Happily ever after wouldn’t end there. It would go on. They’ll be dark clouds, but they both knew they could make it. Whatever life through at them, they’d both be ok.

Because it was them. The perfect two.


*sips coffee* this story has no substance. Theres no mention of events, there is no mention of a proper guideline. No proper plot. An amazing hero though, a pretty stubborn heroine.

But that’s not the point of this tale. Simple really. It’s about believing. Believing that there is another tomorrow, believing that when push comes to shove, you’ll live. You’ll love. And there isn’t such a thing as the world being perfect.

We build the world we live in. we construct it with what meager tools we’re given. But at the end of the day, when we face that final sunset, we don’t remember that exact memory’s but we cherish the feelings we get. From fighting, from losing, from defeating, from being defeated. It all makes us so human.

*places mug on table* Did you enjoy this trip? I believe I have thus far. And I’m looking forward to the next chapter. Because there always is a new one, just around the corner. 5 years? Sometimes, it makes a lifetime.

Saturday, March 19, 2011


Dream of a world
With freedom
Freedom for life
Freedom for our eyes
To reach the heavens
To dream for not a world
But for infinite of worlds
To see us all live
With neither difference nor division
To see us all
Look up too the same sun
Too live a life
Unlike anyones
Not a fear in sight
That’s freedom
To think to breathe to understand
Hail those sacrifices
The one that bring us today
Hail the heavens
Who have heard our pleas
Hail the ability too speak
The unspoken have been heard
Hail life and the lives spent
Hail all that have given us the reason
The reason to live
We are free
As we can now always be

*just a little something to start up the momentum of this blog again. and due to certain pressures from different parties.:)*

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

The million dollar questions answer.

Whoever said time heals all wounds has got to be the biggest idiot on earth. *No offence mate*.

Time doesn’t heal all wounds. 20 years into the future, a wound that you thought closed off could probably open up and sting again, as fresh as if it were made yesterday.

Time leaves wounds open with a dull ache. And sometimes, sudden memories add salt to the wound, making it feel like it just opened up all over again.

Once upon a time when someone passed away, I would give the public word or statement called “My condolences”.

How irritating I must’ve sounded.

When she passed away, people would come up to me and say “we’re very sorry about your Grandmum.” Even in my ragged state of mind then, I’d always wonder, “What the hell are you sorry about?”

I should be sorry. I SHOULD BE sorry. But in a way I’m not. Why? My grandmum raised three kids, one of which became the greatest father on earth, the other two became the best uncle and aunt that any girl could hope for. But to me, that’s not her most incredible feat. Her most incredible feat was so simple:

She learnt how to love.

She would love you, even if you were a criminal on death row. And once she loved you, you felt as if you’ve never ever been loved by anyone else on earth. She was so unconditional. Never once did you feel like you have to earn her loved. Her love was so pure it was heartbreaking, and its that love that leaves a dull ache today.

Here’s the crunch : She loved me.

She loved me for my craziness and almost cheeky nature. She loved me and she told me that every night we slept. She held me close when I had tears streaming down my face. She prayed for me. Every. Single. Day. I was her Rani, She was my grandmum.

And that’s why it hurts.

But this is not my memoir to my grandmum. That I’m still working on. For that memoir, I want every word to be perfect, just like she was to me. This is to answer that million dollar question , “ Are you ok?”

Here’s the long answer, the one I would give if I had the time. “I don’t know if I’m ok. I could feel “ok” in one minute, but in the next I could be crying my eyes out. I don’t think that qualifies me as ok, but I think it qualifies me as “I’m trying to be ok.” I miss her and every minute of the day I’m confronted with memories of her. Every step I take I’m reminded of how she once held my hand and guided me through. And because of that, every time I move, there’s a dull ache in my chest reminding me that my guide has passed on and now its time for me to light my own path. And I am scared shitless.”

Grief is a funny thing isn’t it? Just when you think you have it all figured out, it just turns around and cripples you to the ground. But boy does it toughen you up.

I once read a quote that reminded me of how humans move on with life. It said, “Fear not, for Death is liberation and grieve not for those who have found themselves in Deaths warm embrace. Rejoice for the moment they lived, and those moments that made them special to our hearts.” I don’t quite agree with the “don’t grieve” part but I sure as hell would like to rejoice for every minute my grandmum walked this earth.

I love and miss you Bibiji. And not a minute in my life will go by not remembering you and your love for me.

“ In my darkest hour you held my hand.
My candle that burnt both ends,
And as you came to the centre of your wax,
You burnt so brightly, that tears would lapse,
Now that candle has disappered,
Leaving me with warmth that slowly dissipates,
I’m reminded by the cold darkness,
That the absence of light is not without reason,
In the hour that’s darkest you always return,
Reminding me its my turn to burn,
I pray to the lord, “Look after my angel”
And weep and cry, for I’m worthless to ask,
Will I ever move on, I have no clue,
But one things for sure,
Bibiji, I love you.”

To: The greatest woman that ever walked this earth
Duration of living: Forever.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Hey people.....

In case you were wondering, the coffee drinker is a purely fictional post. The athelete in the story might sound familiar to a few of you but thats cause my dad told me his story when i was really disappointed on something(details will go no furthere from here people!!)

The coffee drinker however, well thats a character you will be seeing more of. Being a person who is completly bored out of my brains, i invented the coffee drinker as a way to pass time in hopes that i would not rot. But then it hit me, this coffee drinker, a pure figement of my imagination, could be the person who dwelves into memories and comes up with new stories, ideas and a paradigm thats shared with the world.

Who knows which memory and moment the coffee drinker will play up next. But untill the next post at least. I bid You all adieu.

without wax,

Ps... for people who have been following the blog intently, my poetry took a more depressing turn at one point. That was mainly cos of the exams. So dont worry people, Im still completly(well. almost) sane. :)