A.T.L.P-5 (preview)(At that low point)

Pocket shallow unable to pay attention
Pseudo-pain how do I release these tension looking into a broken mirror hoping to see a reflection…

To be continued
Full version coming soon

The UnSpoken Arts


Strangers….in love

I wonder was it fate or was it destiny

that determined our meeting

do you think so? do you remember?

you were a friend’s ex, not meant to be my next

yet, we met, wasn’t under the sunlight nor under the moonlight

was under a school light, you weren’t the one in my sight

you were a friend’s ex, not meant to be my next

you became a friend, a means to an end

my messenger , partner in crime, to get my next

you were a friend’s ex

“lets exchange numbers…” lets exchange cultures

boredom became my drive trouble became my master

my mind became the caster

“do you still love him..”

I brainwash your heart and captivated your mind

until you became mine

you were a friend’s ex not meant to be my next

you laughed, you smile, we try, I was a bit shy

then you became the caster, captivating the heart

no longer a friend’s ex not meant to be my next

you became mine with a kiss while living in bliss

enters change, relation manipulator

everything became less sweeter

I wonder was it fate or destiny

that determined our leaving

do you think so? do you remember?

I wanted to be your sun but I became the moon

I wanted to be your gift but I became your curse

was I to blame should I be ashamed

” I need you but you are  not good for me”

still resonate in my mind we tried but didn’t survived, now we are strangers…in love..

you were a friend’s ex never meant to be my next

Writing Slump

Blank minded empty space, no crickets, no sound
Distant, stretchy road, no trees, thick fogs,
Muted barks echoed from near by dogs
Gray skies no rain a timeless chain a windless storm no sign of calm, eyes closed
Searching for words have misplaced them, “when did I last use them?” ‘I think it was in a sentence…”
I think it got washed away with the flow
That explains why its moving slow
Sleepless dreams colourless scene
….no ideas conceptualize no images materialize frustration my mind having your own sabbath?
Blank minded empty space… Wait am I really in a slump? well good treasure can be found at the dump

The UnSpoken Arts

Embrace it live it

Its hidden in the corner its Hidden deep within

hoping to see the light, hoping you will not put up a fight

wanting to be recognized, wanting you to say “hey!, that’s me”

afraid of rejection, you become something else, true-self not true

but not fake, not whole, left with a hole in identity

a conjured reality, for your safety? self protection

becomes self destruction, expression becomes isolated

eyes become dilated at the sight of the monster, you grew to hate

it’s a hostile take over, the ‘you’ you hid is no longer a four leaf clover

its trying to dig its way to the open eating at your confidence

while you choke, its full

only your acceptance, only your love, embrace it, its you

to become whole you have to accept all, show all, remove the mask

life is a self task

its a Journey, its a quest to be conquered

embrace it, live it accept it

The UnSpoken


I may spontaneously become a non-conformist, in the spore of the moment

I am not that highly fond of consistence, maybe that’s a bad thing, but who knows. I am not saying I am not consistent, I can be but I Have very short attention span, so staying on one thing in a loop, non-changing gets pretty boring real quick, Just saying.  Only, Only if it sparks my interest, my spirit, my soul, my hearts and sets them burning out of curiosity, will I not lose focus or something of that sorts. A good Adrenaline rush is good once in while….no scratch that I need more Adrenaline rush, yes In High dosage. time is moving but I am not, these chains, As though I am Just he time keeper, or seeker. pass me that chainsaw, its time I remove these chains and become refined

oh…well that escalated quickly, that’s some style of writing you got there son, mess of writing, is there such a thing? “ah..well I was just writing what came to mind” I would like to say but I am not quite sure at the moment, I lost the purpose of this content, I think

well no matter, it’s a road to refinement, an endless ballad, let see where it leads me

The Unspoken

At That low point (The fourth)

Without end I Search without direction I wonder

No destination in sight, without thoughts I ponder

What have I been doing? What have I been working for?

They say we have freedom we are free, but what is freedom? I am unable to see

Freedom with chains freedom with stains

I want to move forward I want move out of this hole

Remove these chains of self and duty, chains of obligation and procrastination

What is wrong? What is right? What is truth? What is lies?

I seek knowledge but does it seeks me?

I seek purpose but fear causes me lose focus

Mental support? Parental court

Do you know me? Do understand me?

You claim we are blood but you don’t get me

You claim we should come together but we are miles apart

Your ideals is your ideals mine is mine, we live we learn

We die, then what? I am an outcast, I am sitting on the outside looking on the inside

Thinking out the box while you are inside the box

Where do I belong? Can you tell me?

I am a danger to myself and everyone else

I need a vacation to an island of desolation

Of solitude, I need to be refined I need to be defined

Road to refinement I have entered this endless ballad

I have entered an endless waltz of Mind travelling,

Travelling the road of truth unravelling

It’s the ballad of the mind from the thoughts of a dreamer.


The Individual is shallow, they scheme they plot

in hopes that you will follow

working to trap you in their loop of deception

while we shower in their pouring description

leading us to sure destruction for mere  entertainment

unaware of the impending judgement

walking all over you as though you are solid cement

laughter, cheers, chuckles, your pain is their amusement

low-esteem shows its scheme, plot-twist, unreachable dreams

who’s helping hands? down and out, here comes the ‘step on you gangs’

make a run for it, hidden behind your timidness, driven to madness

going according to script, you lost all sense of individuality

death to identity, no knowledge of reality you are now a pawn a puppet

with no budget, they string you along, you move along with their gesture

no sense of adventure, no knowledge of their culture

attention seekers, authority keepers

no sense of duty,”oh look,isn’t she a cutey?”

they don’t care how good is your life

“my brother how’s the wife”

The individual maybe Shallow