I think this poem wasn’t for me though I talked about my what I call; Hard times in my life, its for my friend who hanged himself inside his own room one gloomy day two years ago. Wherever he was, I hope he figured out already what he did.
I just missed our kitchen chattery and butchery… Those days were the best.
Inside the room, where it been shutted,
Weak light came in from the dusty
Window. What color would a painter can do
Because outside, from its simpleness
The world wanted to peep how good it was
To live with the people around that you love
Yet somehow, men; that they do
Think, keep busy living or you keep busy dying.
That’s the way it should be.
Some people were contented, grows old or be
Dead at fifty of pneumonia, after all,
They be forgotten.
Maggots will eat their flesh turning it to dust
Life is beautiful and life is short in either way
People grieve when they felt they aren’t good enough
They locked themselves making their own obituary
Pick a hand gun or take a hang mans noose
Breaking the midnight silence of a sudden shot
A shriek of a love one wailing desperately
Why he was so naive, why in the world he did
Such foolishness as his lifeless body hanged
Like a crumpled shirt on the cabinet
As their lives shuttered to debris
They blame everything. They blame their cat
They blame thier
Friends then blame God.
Most of us, I think not all
Behave this way, but hey! Look outside
The world remain as it was
Air might begun to breath calmer,
Trees turn in green gloss
Birds started to chirp down the orchard
The rivers on the mountain goes on and on
Hard times comes, no one could stopped it
They just passed and never stayed forever
Often they left scars
Of course, they were painful
I always said to myself. I guess,
No one ever heard my voice uttered it loudly
I walked under the rain while my tears fallen
At the side of my cheek. I got mouth to fed
Bills to pay, how I finish my college
Then a miscarriage. An unborn child we dont expect
To leave us that quick
Made us miserably devastated
I felt sobbered when I think of those on the past
Best or worst who gives a shit. The pasted moon hid
Behind the dark cloud making the asphalt
Lost into sight, the splashed of my shoes
That delved on overflowed gutter
The anxious eyes from the stranger behind the
Wheel of a passing motorist.
Yet how I thank God
How toughed I became fighting daily
on this world of uncertain
One friend told me not long ago
I won’t be grow old. Hated to think I’m growing
older. I laughed and said don’t be a fool. He looked
pensively on the fire that brawled on the wok.
I’m a chef on a fast food owned by some Chinese
I didn’t met. Making a fire beneath my God given hand
To swirl some art on food for a hungry costumer
Who throwed an angry sneer on the food server.
Yes! I mean it. He said then went outside.
I paused, maybe I cursed. He was my friend
Don’t have much.
When I heard the news, it didn’t surprised me
I said damn or dumb I don’t recalled
He took his own life two years ago on his prime
That fool really mean what he said
Sure he did it pretty well
How can I say to him
When the storm is over a yellow orange ball
Will come out, emblazoned the land
Brighten the sleepless world, sipped the last traced of
Dew drops in the grass, eradicated the pang
Of unfair bleakness.The night will come
Then it soon be over as dawn approach
I could say,
I just did a long walked on that rainy day on the road