Nama Yang Ku Kirim Ke Mekah

Jika ada yang bertanya kepada mu

Apa benar aku mencintai kamu

Maka sewajibnya kamu jawab 

Iya! Benar sekali!

Jika ada yang menjuihkan bibirnya sambil berkata

Apa buktinya?

Maka harus kau pekik kepada mereka

Dia menghantar namaku ke Mekah

Ya!

Aku telah menghantar namamu ke Mekah

Aku kirimkan dalam lipatan doa 

Yang dilafazkan sahabat-sahabatku di Jabal Rahmah

Sebegitu aku mencintai kamu

Meski aku tahu bahawa kamu sendiri ragu akan cintamu pada aku

Hiba sekali hati ini

Bila makbulnya doa itu bukan seperti yang aku tuliskan Tuhan memberitahu alam agar mencurahkan banjir di hati kita

Agar cair pekat nafsu asmara

Jika sesekali kamu tertanya adakah benar aku mencintai kamu

Maka aku ingin sekali menyatakan sambil ku usap pipi mu

Ya! Aku benar mencintai kamu

Hingga ku bawa namamu dalam doa ku.

A Grumpy Old Singh

 There's a grumpy old Singh who lives in the city

In a double storey house next to a playground

Where tired shoplots look up to gleaming buildings

and the roads choke on traffic

This grumpy old Singh is a delicate being

"You cannot do this, you cannot do that"

"You should do this, you should do that"

And somehow

"I cannot do this, I cannot do that"

O grumpy old Singh!

I wonder why you are so grumpy

Have you had your roti?

 Or was the masala too hot today?

Ah! I see! 

Work is pricking your sole again, isn't it?

Dear grumpy old Singh

Don't you find it funny? 

When one who hates being controlled 

Ends up sounding controlling?

Oh I forgot! 

Mirrors always show your own reflection

Pick Me! Choose Me!

Pick me! Choose me!

Pleads Meredith with tearful eyes

A scene I watched and felt enormous shame

For I was Meredith and in many ways is still Meredith

Pick me! Choose me!

I scream a voiceless plea

To everyone who should listen but apparently deaf

The small me never really grow up

The big me turns small at every single neglect

Pick me! Choose me!

I am good, I am pleasing, I am self-sacrifying

I abandon myself at your whim, I just don't matter over you

So,

Pick me! Choose me!

Save me from this state of prolong aloneness

I just need a drop of love, of care, of attention

I'll repay you with the whole world

Please, oh please I beg of you

Pick me! Choose me!

Surat Untuk Mak

Mak,

Hayat hubungan fizikal kita hanya lebih sedikit dari setengah dekad

Satu tempoh yang begitu singkat untuk kakak yang kebolehan mengingat ibarat ros jepun di waktu pagi

Memori kakak umpama tompokan titis air atas surat khabar yang kuning helaiannya

Mak,

Kakak sentiasa tahu kematian itu adalah yang terbaik untuk Mak

Sepanjang kakak hidup dengan Mak, senyuman Mak tidak pernah kakak lihat

Hidup Mak sangat susah, sakit dan sedih

Kakak tidak pernah pasti antara dua kemungkinan ini

Adakah sabar Mak setinggi gunung

Atau semangat Mak seleper tanah rata

Ingatan kakak terlampau sedikit untuk menjadi hakim yang adil

Mak

Sepanjang peninggalan Mak, kakak cuba terus hidup

Mak tinggalkan anak sulung Mak dan anak kecil Mak pada kakak

Untuk kakak pastikan terus hidup dan tidak dalam penganiyaan sehingga mereka mampu berdikari

Jadi Mak,

Begitu lah hidup kakak. Sama susah, sedih dan sakit seperti Mak.

Kakak tiada telinga yang sudi mendengar, bahu yang sudi menerima rebahan, atau tangan yang ikhlas memeluk

Kakak tiada apa-apa

Kakak cuma ada intuisi yang mendesak kakak untuk terus hidup

Lalu, teruslah kakak hidup hingga ke hari ini

Mak

Bukan sekali kakak ingin mati

Supaya berakhirlah gelodak jiwa, secepat berakhirnya derita mak

Namun, sehingga itu, kakak akan terus melangkah agar mati kakak bukan menghadirkan susah kepada sesiapa.

Mak,

Kakak mungkin ke neraka. Jika nanti Mak diberi peluang berjumpa anak-anak Mak, jangan lupakan kakak.

Seorang anak yang cuba mengambil peranan Mak

Someone Named Harry II

I once fell head over heels for someone named Harry

A being I felt so magical that my cornea turned rose-tinted

He swoon me with words I long to hear

I was beautiful, pretty, mesmerizing, with sparkling eyes.

It was easy to fall in love with him, but it takes courage to consistently be loving towards this Harry

We circled around the sun for five times and a little more together

A story of pauses and returns, much like the beach and the tide

I am the beach and he the tide

I am still, always steady in my love for him

He, easily influenced by the moon

Us, a constant cruel push and pull dynamic

Which render me eroded

In my stillness then I began to ponder

Is this really Harry?

The same magical Harry? Or is he now someone else?

Could he be captured by life every now and then and returned to me as an aloof, disengaging man?

This sixth journey around the sun doesn't bring me joy anymore

My heart doesn't call out to him as loud

It keeps whispering, this is not Harry

Life has killed Harry, this one is not Harry

The whispers are getting stronger each time the moon pulls him away

Leave! Leave! Leave!

Leave, I have yet to decide

Battered By Death II

I saw a girl by the old spooky well

Wiping tears which she made small

Death took her sickly mother away

And taught her to be so her whole life onwards

I saw a lady weeping by the moonlight

The man she loved whole-heartedly was snatched from her

By death, in the most gruesome way

And her tears never stopped coming ever since

I saw a woman screamed in pain

Hugging a cold body she loved enormously

Death was sent as a relief to her father figure

A figure who was always by her side, a rejected lonely child

She accepted death's unbearable decision  with screams that never quiet

I saw a person

I saw myself

A lady 

A child

Battered by death, physical death that render her lifeless

Battered By Death

I see a man battered by death,

Slumping on a grey sofa,

With head bowed to defeat,

His eyes cries his loss.

Death took away his wife first,

Perhaps, the person he most need forgiving from,

His cries for her were shouts,

For he knew how much he had wronged her.

Death then took his parents away,

One, then the other, after bouts of illness,

He was the first for them, the one who lived together through hardness 

He cries mostly in sobs for Mak and Pak

Death knows no rest,

It came for a sister he dots,

Further wrenching his already wounded heart,

He cried still albeit brief this time.

I wish death would spare him more loss,

For he is at the age where death could pay him a personal visit,

Alas, death continues to hit him where it hurts

Slashing him more severely, mercilessly.

Death took away half his soul,

A brother who had been with him in every struggle,

A best of friend who knew him inside and out,

A voice who soothes, reasons, and sometimes reprimand his temperament.

I see a man battered by death

Pitiful,

Sad,