Sometimes

Sometimes, I know who I am. I am the strong confident man that knew himself, to the point of stubbornness. I am the man who could comprehend all the philosophical theologies in the world, and argue with you about it. I am the man who helps you if you are my friend, to the point of death, even in betrayal, just because I genuinely do care and I stick to my principles. I am the man who fights God, to find truth, truth that is satisfactory to me. Not because I am stubborn, but because I know God can make it so. I am His. That is who I am.

Sometimes, I don't. I don't know what happened to my confidence. It was shattered so quickly and so dismissively. Like a flicker of light. A glass swan. I don't know why I discarded all my knowledge. Why ignorance was bliss. Why I felt feeling feeling was fantastic. Flimsy. Frail. Flatulent. I didn't see the point in being honorable. In being, loyal... People do not justify it. They are greedy, selfish men. Advantageous only in what they want they pretend to eat out of the palm of your hand in the hopes they swallow your arm and devour your leg. Pathetic. Ponzi. Pain. My hand grips at my chest, soiled, scarred, singed.  I don't fight with God anymore. Because I couldn't care less. What He does to me. If He puts me in hell so be it. It does not matter to me anymore. Do what you will. I do not care about Job or Paul or Peter. I am none of them. You win. Strike your thunderbolt and be done with it. Hurt. Hard. Had. I am still His. That has not changed. It seems not a blessing right now though. More a curse. Perhaps I will see differently in time. I don't know who I AM.

The question

Is it wrong to be selfish?

Is it wrong to yearn for the attention of your peers?

Is it wrong to pine and whine and shine the disapproval of others?

Do we not want love?

The feeling of being cared, supported and appreciated? 

Yet for every person that tries there is a different reaction for all.

Whether it be height or race or skill or talent,

Like slaves in a market are we measured and praised. 

What love is this? 

That a man should give up everything to help somebody? 

Whether it be pride or recognition or time or life?

Is it fair to sacrifice so much with little hope of recompense? 

Like dogs serving their masters we must obey.

Do you understand?

Why we must be kind to those who scorn the thorn in your side?

Why must we bow to the now that is restricting us?

Simply because people or a book tells us so?

It beggars the belief of those seeking the coins of understanding…

So why do I do it?

Why do I obey?

Why do I follow this seemingly unrequited way?

Because of that someone,

That confounding being, 

Who became both slave and dog

To show me what Love is any day...

Like Lust Love

Like
it is not Love or Lust.
it is Interesting maybe Indulging,
but not the Kind
you want Every time.

Lust
it is not Like or Love.
it is Unadulterated, Uncontrollable passion,
but not the Sincerity
you get Twelve minutes later.

Love
it is not Like or Lust.
it Overcomes and Outlasts everything.
it is a Vow you take
that EXISTS forever.

Time

Time
She is not my friend.
Though she motions her fingers
And beckons me with subtle glances,
Her eyes are deceitful,
Like the devil in angelic form,
Or the atheist's mind.
Yet I do need her.
Whether friend or foe,
Whether guardian or reaper,
She controls my life.
My very existence and form.
She tortures me with PAST
Yet motivates me with FUTURE.
Yet all the time running away from me
In the PRESENT.
How I long for her, to have more and more
Yet how I loathe her,
Her absolute hold on me.
Like a gambler with her money.
But she has made me stronger,
Wiser, faster, harder.
She brings out qualities I never knew I had.
And in the end,
When I have accomplished
And everything spent.
When death courts, and she leaves...
I realize...
She is my friend after all...

She is gone...

She is gone...
Like the last leaves in autumn...
Though leaves return again they are never the same,
Yet always leaving again when its time is done.

She is gone...
Without hint or clue...
Like Christie without her memory,
she remains a question without answers,
because she refuses to be one.

Oh flesh of my flesh,
do you feel the burning of my heart?
Oh mind of mine,
can you solve my enigma?

Though heart pumps and mind stirs,
Neither can hear me...
They are gone.

~Kenan Yeh Rong

I feel down. The feeling you have been knocked out by a sucker punch to the gut. I feel disconnected, demotivated, empty. I want to cry. I really do. But what good would that do me. It would serve me no greater purpose other than to prove to my oppressors of my weakness and supposed ingenuity. I wish I could excrete my sadness in it's brave form, yet this tiny insignificant blog should suffice. My not being voted into that damned council for the sake of my even more damned pride has crushed me to the core. I feel demoted from society. As if my presence among men is to remain unnoticed and silent without emotion except my very self. I fear I might one day become quite mad with the feelings boiled and bottled down here. It seethes inside the body, corroding the innocence of mind and purity of heart. The only thing that could curdle the cream even more so is the fact that several idiots who do not deserve to be in the council are there. It is a mere popularity contest. Of which I have obviously conceded. And no one knows the wiser. I am lonely surely, and almost certain to always be so. To want the very praise of men, empty recognition to savor, for that temporary feeling of wholesomeness. That is the life I am doomed to want but never receive. Perhaps that is also for the better. And for all the good it has done, my Lord is an invisible God of single presence and comforts me, yet still alone. He created woman yet left men to suffer an even worser fate, segregation. Does it make sense? Can any be happy about it? I do not seem to be...

Do not daft and utterly proud of yourself. You are nothing, a mere speck in another's eye. What could you do to catch their attention? What could you say in your helpless defense? That God is your help and only medal? Your scholarship rests in philosophical thinking, questionable and unmeasured. Even younger men have done better than you. Why do you think so highly of yourself? Does it give you security and comfort? Or would you rather crouch sulkily in self pity? Such is the emotion you feel now. Such is the maturity you have achieved towards women. You think you understand them. Yet you do not lift a finger to change oneself in order to suit them. Though the time and place change, you are still the same character, proud and ignorant. Even the Great Wall is more moveable than you. Can anyone help you but yourself? The Creator of the Universe could not help you for your stiff-necked attitude. Nor could the warmest friend light up your cold fortitude...

Alas my friend, do not fret.

Calm yourself like Christ calmed the storm.

Time is still on your side yet,

neither pride nor emotion can be undone.

Tis time to grow up, an adult, and be like one.

Slow the heart behind the mind,

in order to put reason before emotion.

Decide yourself firmly the change within the person.

Do so quickly, before you forget, and lose and regret.

Climb the hills and dig the trenches,

Be brave enough to extend your ground,

Beat down mockers and prove those wretches

That you are worth that trumpet's sound.

This last advice i give you, friend,

Do not long for things out of reach,

But chase them seriously till the end,

Practice the talk you loudly preach,

Prove to yourself as the curtain descends.