Counting on None

Heart downcast
Down and heavy
Dark and gloomy
Desolated lately

Marring the joy
Thought you'd enjoy
With them beside you
Of time made free

Dead Tired

I'm tired.

I'm tired of being judged, of being told what to do or what not to do.

Just because I frequently opt for simplicity over complexity does not mean I'm useless.

The Drama

I refuse to be caught up in the drama
A drama caused by things
Conjured up in the minds
Of the Insecure
To push us out
Further and further away

My Dear Precious Gems

my dear precious gems
so you're into tunes, films and games
spending hours, money and worry
then and again, times too many

but word to the wise
they aren't not a vice
drawing you in with lies
turning men into mice

We Call Ourselves Muslims

We call ourselves Muslims 

But we prefer to listen to songs 

Rather than listen to the Quran

We call ourselves Muslims 

But we recite the lyrics to songs and dance to its tune 

Rather than recite the words and follow the teachings of the Quran

Lost Time

Hey, time wasters, I’m talking to you.

Yes, you! The one who is right now fiddling with your phone playing games.

Yes, you! The one who is right now lying on your back on your soft comfy bed.

You do nothing in particular, just staring up into empty space.

Go on, close your eyes

Go on, close your eyes

Carry on dreaming

Ignore the warning signs

Pretend you still have time

Make Every Second Count

Make every second count

To prove yourself worthy

Of living in a perfect place

Populated with perfectly nice

Beautiful, happy people

Not a Single Tear

Not a single tear

You let shed for him

The one you had lost

At long last was unveiled

Had never been yours

Out of The Picture

I'm sorry, but I have to take you out of the picture.

It's not working. Don't think it ever will.

When I agreed to go into this I never expect things would turn out so bad, oh so very bad that it's beyond salvation.

I'm Not Lazy, It's Just That My Blood Freezes Over

I try to get up
To pick up the broom
And sweep the floor
But I couldn't even lift a finger
As my blood freezes over

Why?

It makes me sorry
It makes me wonder

To seek solace
Why use your voice
To carry o keys
And not turn to the Book

Why I Hate the Baju Kurung

They say wearing the baju kurung
Is very decent
Makes you look demure & sopan

But what I hate most
About the baju kurung

Expiration Fund

I often ponder, full of wonder
How much have I in my expiration fund
Is my good more than my bad
Or is it the other way around

The Psychedelic Blues

The bamboozled psychedelic woman

The Psychedelic Blues

The heart is on the floor

No more energy...
Spent and drained