The Diary of A Broken Man

Aboard the deck, the pirate stands tall. He hails from the dark end of the east with a hook for a right hand and a sneer that would force even the biggest of men to jump off the edge.

Wide eyes fixed on the horizon, fingers gripped firmly to a treasure chest laid close. He had no men to shelter him from the rain of enemy fire, he had no achilles' heel to grant him invincibility. He was ordinary. But he had love to serve as the crucial factor in sailing himself home. His Helen awaits in a kingdom decorated in gold, but only held by pieces of wood that seemed a quarter century old.

As he inched closer to shore, he found himself drowned in elation and intoxicated as he imagined holding her in his arms and breathing in the scent of her perfume, that often seemed to fill the air that surrounds her over a meter radius. But he soon caught up w reality, and found complete darkness and emptiness in the pot of hope, extending his longing for the princess that he dreams of, while nestling into a deep sleep under the flickering diamonds that line up the sky.

She has always been so close yet so far. Her voice makes up the nature that surrounds him, often reverberating in his head. He was content to feel her in his heart and let the howl of the seas recreate his only moment with her out at sea. But if truth prevails, he felt absolutely dreadful, for his only wish is to have her hands reach out to him and let their fingers intertwine each other, and have their veins attached themselves to allow the flow of each others blood appease the heart in a way only love could.

But how could he now, he was nowhere near home, nowhere near love, nowhere near anything. He felt trapped in a vast, endless, grey screen. He could only wish. Wish that this treasure of memories would reopen and bring him to a place where he knew he'd always belong.

- In her heart, and in every heartbeat.

I'll take the examples of my idols, I'll include some of mine, and I'll be what I hope to become when the time is right. I'll never stop working and I'm gonna push myself to my own limits and I hope to reach the stage where as a kid, I have always envisioned myself placed under a spotlight, floating above the swarm of people who love me. I have the support of my loved ones and I know these are the kind of people who are crucial in my development and I won't ever want to feel disappointed at myself for disappointing them. I wanna fulfill my dream not only for myself but for them too. I know in this world, I can't live alone. There are scores of people who are bound to float by my life like the passing time and I've gotta learn to adapt to that and only recognise the ones that will accept me for who I am.

I will do what it takes to have it all in the palms of my hand, only if you grant me these blessings, dear god. I'll do good with whatever you've given me, good or bad. I'll take in my turbulent days and hope for a brighter day at the end of it. I wanna be the pride of the family, the heart of millions of people out there and the shade of others when the heat becomes too overwhelming. I know I could do more with my life, I know there are tons of possibilities for me. I know I can be the person I've always wanted to be. I want to be able to see the world and see everything else in a different perspective and I wanna change like how everyone else does.
We all change anyway. We all find different people to replace.
I'll choose to change too. But I'll only change in a way, where the only one I'll replace is myself.
I'll disappear without anyone noticing, and I will return to rise like a phoenix from it's ashes and leave my former to decay in the soil.

Till then,
Shazz.

At some point of time, you would find yourself staring at the window, realizing that you've just done the most horrible crime anyone could ever commit. Hurting the ones you love. You stare at the skies intently, and a moment passed before you shut those eyes to create a world of darkness. One that only brings a reminder of the one you truly hold dearest to your heart. You try so hard to channel all the pain you've caused, to yourself. Literally shredding your heart into pieces, yet it'll never feel the same. The amount of tears you pour will mean no more than a single tear she shed. And the pain you unleash is no greater than the pain felt.  

You wasted what would be a glorious 20 minutes of time spent to unleash your anger and fury on the person who has showered unconditional love for you. You hold your ego like a prized possesion, unwilling to allow it to shatter to pieces. But it mightve not crossed your mind that you've just shattered the heart of an angel. Becuz you're a fool. A fool to man's obsession towards pride. Call yourself an idiot, even in 10 other languages, there would be a word to describe you.

By the time you realise that the outcome couldve been different, it is all too late. The light years of time for realization to strike you proved too long. For you can never mend the broken parts that you've smashed with your very bare hands. You're a bastard with no room to place a real heart beneath the surface of your left chest. You're as cold as winters in Antarctica and you could never be forgiven, even if you have the gorgeously sculpted face of Matt Dallas. You don't deserve it. She deserves more. And it isn't you that she deserve. It's love that would promise a rocky ride, but without the possibility of being extremely hurt. 
You could only wish for her forgiveness. But it'll take more than that to gather the pieces and have it in place again. 

You're still the biggest duche in the world, but you love her more than you think you do. Maybe more than you'll ever love anyone in your life.

Stars gleam and flicker,
scattered in the night sky like diamonds.
They force a gush of wind,
even when the darkness tried to pull me in.
Nature,
despite it all,
you still will win.
But in time to come,
you'll still be here,
but you'll just be seen through a computer screen.

No how, no why, could make you believe.
That your beauty is all but just a dream.
Albeit your presence, unbounded in hours,
None would see you through their balcony.
They'll force the changes, designed to fail us,
With techs and wires, replacing your flowers,
and all else is common, just like we've seen,
and apple becomes a company.

The little red heart that we both drew,
is a little piece of me and you.
Though our hearts are in a frame,
our love was never made to be the same.
Bring me your doubts,
and I'll hold em' in my palm,
I'll then take you in,
and have you set yourself in my arm.
If it is said that success is the pot of gold,
then our pot contains a love that will never grow old.

Happy 11th my love.

-AmirulShazz.

You used to be around often enough, to the point where being with you felt like living in a sunset.
It's not always bright, but it keeps me in my own fantasy, knowing that you're always there during good and bad times.
As I grew familiar with your presence, I became complacent. Thinking that I'd always have you and I will never be restricted to seeing you. But I soon realised that our priorities are threatening to tear us apart and I'm beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel slowly and painfully vanishing. Life without your eyes to stare at, and your hands to grasp becomes difficult, for those are one of the things I have become accustomed to, over the course of our eventful relationship.

I can't feel any form of dehydration as my throat tightens itself. My skin starts to dry, as if exposed to so much sunlight, and so little water. My hands, calloused, as though my life has passed 60, and all that I ask for is to have the surface of your palm to slide against mine, to restore the joy and youth I once possessed.
I am lost and nothing without you, even if it's temporary.
My love for you runs like a pipe that could last for infinity, and it could only go on if I have you here with me now, to complete my heart's desire.
But I am consign to being apart just to ensure the safety of our individual futures, but I'd like you to know that I would stand outside your doorstep to have you return back in my arms once this phase is over.

You bring me joy and you are the surprise in the beginning of every day.
You are my beautiful sunset at your best, yet you're the lightning that could fry me to my bones at your worst.
But I still want you and need you with every day that I go through.
For you bring comfort and cushion every blow against my heart even if it's you who created the dent.

I love you babe.

I've never wanted to be acknowledged for writing, but at times, I wonder if people actually take their time to come by and read the things I've written. For me honestly, I've never entered my blog to read the things that I trash into this site again, unless it brings great meaning to me. Because writing for me only brings closure to my turbulent mind. It brings me joy too at times, to express my feelings freely, in every way and in every bit of command for the language as I can. It is and has always been my passion to write, but time just can't seem to go my way these days. And I've never given myself the chance to write the way I used to.

Certainly, I've lost a huge chunk of my ability to freely manipulate words, and I've lost much of my confidence to write, for I'm completely paranoid that my writings would be heavily criticised by the ones who actually voluntarily waste a huge 5 minutes of their lives just to read the things I put up here. But one crucial thing is that I've lost much of my interest for the language, cuz I've seen way too many people who takes passion and interest for the language into a whole different level. For some, writing has become an unofficial competition while some feed on the credits of others.
It's hard and disgusting to see, but sometimes you gotta adapt to a world that picks up trends more rapidly than the burning of rainforests.
I've always raised issues on this, and the only reason I do so is because I love this language so much despite sleeping and creating extreme mischief during English lessons. Honestly, English will only be as fluid as water for you if you have undying passion and interest for it. No amount of reading and learning can make up for it. It's who you are that will define the way you write. Only the best ones could capture and notice the style of other writers and only the best could pick out the ones who are pretending with ostentatious display of writing in place for a little moment of attention.
I never was a professional writer. And I know that I hold no special place among the elite. But I am well aware of my style of writing and how it doesn't change even if my post varies in emotion.
My posts could be joyful and depressing the next but that's just how life is.
Your mood fluctuates and you write, with your emotions as the solid foundation to your writing.

If you are an aspiring writer, get inspired but do not rely on other sources to derive your writing from cuz the ideal step towards writing well is to always allow your heart access to that pen you're holding.
Because for me, that's where the magic starts.

We are distracted by a technology driven world that is constantly evolving with the passing time. Technology, like cigarettes and drugs are similar in more ways than one. The impacts varies, but it will prove negatively enough to force a state of change in one's life. Many don't realise that things that are not done in moderation will do more harm than good. Eventually, it will become your unintended life.

Life is too vast and too good,
To foresee yourself, messed up and fucked.
Only till you find yourself in a rut,
will you realise that life by then,
would take more than a miracle,
to reconstruct.

`AmirulShazz~

I am cold.
In my room, I'm left alone.
I'd bury my face in my hands from time to time,
envisioning myself, starting the daunting climb.
I wonder, I ponder,
if this world has a place for me.
For I'm not ready,
with bags of vision and dreams,
filled with complete uncertainty.

You're not far, yet you're not there,
how long more could I believe.
That someday, I'll get to you,
and have you write my dreams.
I am a piece of paper airplane,
dead in movement as it seems,
But I'll keep my will and desire alive,
with you away by just a daydream.

As I set myself up to leave, the midnight moon sparkled with silent comfort, all the more filling me with guilt. But I have to, and it'll be a matter of days before you and I have a chance to grasp each others hand again.

I won't be there to compliment your beauty, and you can no longer brand me a liar for that. I won't be there to talk to you to sleep. I won't be there when you laugh, and I won't be there when you get mad. But I will be there in your heart for every night that I'm away, and no matter how heart wrenching it will feel, find your way through the pain. You will soon realise the strength of your feelings and you'll understand the depth of your heart that is often shadowed by the feelings that are set to lay on the surface of your heart.

Our time away would be the bridge to link our hearts directly. Like I've always said, sometimes, words that are unsaid can be as soothing as the waves crashing violently yet silently in the sea. Silence defines the creativity of the mind. Search for me in your mind, and you will find me sitting under the shelter of the most terrible hut. But I'll be smiling. For the sight of you is very much like the painting of a dream that has always stayed in my mind. You are my drop-dead-gorgeous match made in heaven, and I will scurry through every door in the isle of dreams, just so I could get to you whenever you need me. For I'm yours to take, forever and whenever.

I beg you. Open the door to my dreams.

As the remnants of a beautiful Monday begin to fade, I am left to sit alone facing the TV set, digging down the isle of memory lane with the hope of finding something useful to ponder about.

Beautiful things more often than not, end abruptly. And we are always left with a glimmer of hope that it might actually return to fill our empty days with joy that seem to last forever.

I dream and yearn for my days to be unplanned, raw and totally unaccounted for. Unexpected with its turn of events.
I don't wanna live my life as a man of routine, I wanna enjoy and make the most of my days before the dawn of a major examination.

I should be happy with what I have, but I'm missing the spark. I don't have a matchstick to light up my candle, for my pockets are emptied to make way for the anticipation of the blazing sun - The O' Levels.

I lost my will to live, to the weight of stress. Don't let that happen to you.

It is my dream to be able to live the life of a surfer.

The life of sand and beach, and being able to float away in the middle of the ocean without a care about the world.

I love the way it feels to be in the middle of the sea, with no skyscraper in sight. With only calm currents and slight splashes of water filllin' you and your soul on the inside. I want to escape this life of concrete and books, for in here, we live like servants. Servants to books and education systems which will only torment our everyday life. Why gather money and more money just to have luxury, when luxury is gifted in the form of nature and life itself.

I want the sea to be my love. I want to escape and find peace among sea corals and marine life. But dreams are dreams, for I am part of society, and I'm still one of the few who can't swim ):

Be my guess and teach me. Any of you kind souls.

I'm a believer of dreams, who writes down every little dream on a little notebook.

But I'm living in denial. I'm shadowed and left to lurk in the dark corners of social circles.

I'm falling into a hole of destined obscurity.

Now tell me, who writes my dreams?

They live within you,

and they find words to trick you out,

but you wonder if you'll find a day,

when you'll be the one they thrash about.

I am a believer that true love only comes once, and the rest only settles as a phase and lessons, to allow your future romance to grow without doubts, and always float like clouds on a cool morning.

Cutting that short, I found this ancient post, prolly written 6 months ago and left to rot in my laptop. This is pretty short too. But it's something to keep this dump alive before I move on to greater responsibilities. Here you go.

He remembered occasionally having himself drawn to her for no apparent reason time and time again. And it has been going on since the day he found out she still had feelings for him. But he wondered why the feelings grew when he tried in vain to extinguish every burning excitement that lights up unexpectedly. He just couldn't divert his eyes away from the sight of her at times. And sometimes when she's somewhere behind him, he couldn't help but pretend he was looking for someone behind, when all the while he kept on stealing glances at her. For some reason, she still remained in the soft spot of his heart. Despite being strangers for nearly a year. Despite the fact that they were sworn enemies after the ugly separation, albeit reconciling as friends after a long time later. And the fact that the pain she left him with when she walked away, still burdens his thoughts and his heart. He knew somehow he had to. He knew he couldn't waste his life believing that eventually she'd come floating into his heart. He knew this time that this wasn't merely an infatuation. He still loved her. And the only thing separating him from her was denial. For no true love could be lost, only buried in pain, and forced to be chucked away as forgotten memories. But why does his heart jump and swell at the mere sight of her? As if in recognition, of a love that ran away? What's a young man to do in a time of great dilemma?

*Easy, He did as his heart said. And he'd go on to love the same person again, in the past, present and certainly future.

Happy 16th, Namirah.

You have been such an amazing person to me and you really deserve yesterday's celebration. Even though, all of it was planned at the very last minute, I hope I did my part in planting this day deep down in your heart. I really had a great time, and the last time I felt so much in love with you was a few months ago. This day showed me how much you mean to me, and it showed me how much a good day could do to our relationship. It certainly made my heart heavier, not because it hurts, but because my love for you grew rapidly in the hours we spent right up to midnight yesteday. I hope you enjoyed the day as much as I do and I hope you fell in love with me more than I did with you. hehe.

I know the present  was nothing much. But I put in great effort to put the pieces together. I hope you like it.

For as long as the frame is up on your wall or even in your possesion, I wan't you to know that I'm always there in your heart, honey. I promise.

And if you guys are wondering what's on the pink card, here it is;

For every year, I've had a gift for you.
And this year is no exception.

Happy birthday, Namirah.
At sixteen years of age, you look incredibly beautiful. And I know you will still be as beautiful as you are now, for the next eighty birthdays at least, with my hands still firmly in yours and our love, as strong as it will ever be. I love you, my darling. And I hope you like this.

I sat here long enough to cause me to miss you way too much. I've been seeking for a form of miracle. But waiting has made my eyes grow increasingly tired. Will I be able to hold my eyes together forever, or will I eventually close my eyes and shut you out of my life. I wanna stay awake though. I wanna be there when you call, and I wanna be there to witness our entire life forming into one beautiful fairytale.

If only technology would allow you to live your dream for a day. I know I'd be greatly appreciative of that.

The shoe that stole my heart. The one that produced exquisite beauty and charm, the moment I stepped into the holy grail of shoes.

but nothing beats the love of my life though. hehe

SBSBSBSBSBSB<3

I told you I'd miss you. And damn right I do.

I thought occupying myself with house chores and straying alone at night, would help me keep my mind of you. But it seems a lot difficult the more I try to stop my mind from working. The worst thing is that you're not here, and I do not dare to sleep, knowing that I'll dream of you like I do every other day. I glance at my phone for every 2 minutes, anticipating any unexpected call. I know you can't and you won't, but I prefer keeping myself disappointed. It allows me to believe that you're coming home sooner than expected, even when you're not.

The silence is killing me and the day felt terribly long, and I still have a few more days to go before I finally have you in my arms again.

Damnn, you don't know how much I miss it when you get angry at me, or the goofy smile you tend to give whenever you make a joke. hahaha.

I guess I'll leave it as it is now and sleep through the pain.

A note for you;

I'll still love you for every other day, and I hope the sky seems as dark to you as it is to me when we're far apart.

As much as Im getting along with your absence, I'm not getting along without your voice.

come home, sweetie.

Poets possess a common mind. A mind that openly embraces silence as a blessing, and nature as a gift. Poets aren't what you seem. Charmers, we are not. And definitely, we're not depressed.

We are walking emotions, taking in everything around us as a guide to telling tales of what we are feeling. It's about discovering and knowing to appreciate every little detail, that is found in the world of nature and the world of people around us. Many don't realise that silence come in many forms. There are painful silence, where you can hear nothing except for the screeching sound of frequency, ringing hard enough to hurt the little eardrums in your ears. And there's the silence I adore so much. The silence that comes with the soft breeze of wind blowing in your ears, and the clean, beautiful air that inspires your mind to be it's own voice of thoughts. It's little things like these that makes you think hard to why you are living in this world. And this is why being alone with nothing else around me is a pleasure, that could only be replace by the feeling that love traps you in.

But not everyone understands this feeling. Some people live to enjoy the wild side of life and ignore everything else that surrounds them. While some pretend to be the modern shakespeare, through a series of writings, that they use to only make an impression of themselves. You don't have to really create a guide to writing poems or write a thousand poems in a year to be a poet. It's the build up of your heart and your mind that makes you a poet. Well, once you're a writer, you'll always be a writer. Most of my writings are written in my thoughts. Only a fraction are listed here, for no technology is greater than the technology of the mind. As I'm writing this, I may be questioning the way people lead their lives, but honestly, my thoughts aren't written to derive a conclusion. Only to express in words,from the little voice complaining in my head. Maybe times have changed and people are socially connected through the rapid rise of technology. People no longer stay in places that enables them to go somewhere out of the proximity of a crowd .We all are stuck in a life where spending time alone is a luxury. Even now, I can only seek for silence from the comforts of my own room or the beach on weekdays.

As much as I regard the rapid growth in the beauty of Singapore's city district as a phenomenon. I believe that escaping yourself from the busy way of life, that people have become well accustomed to, is a rare phenomenon itself.

Maybe this is why I am often nocturnal during the holidays. It's during the nights that I observe the sound of traffic and everything else, fade into the darkness, and the beauty of silence bloom, to anticipate the appearance of little diamonds, flickering amidst the dark sky; the Stars.

When I have a family someday, I would build myself a house by the river. A beachfront house would be extremely expensive albeit the beautiful scenery and the calm call of nature. My house would be huge, complete with a huge garden and a stone bench in the middle, coupled with a round coffee-table just in case I needed coffee besides my wife, for company.

I would want trees in my garden, so as to keep me sheltered while I share thoughts with my wife or while I read a book under the extreme conditions of the Sun. I would build a jetty and a sheltered dining area right above the river, and have dinner occasionally there to experience the beauty of the night with the sound of water, rapildy flowing from the river. A portion of my land would be reserved for my children. I could build a mini playground for them or just leave it as it is, so long they have enough space to experience the outdoors and have their own kind of adventures. I want to live a life inspired by nature . I want to be able to open the doors from my bedroom, leading to the balcony, and just enjoy the atmosphere as the sun begins it's ascend towards the very peak of the skies. I want to be able to share my family's joy with these living things. Their greenery provides comfort for the mind, when a day goes awry. Their greenery would slow your heart by a fraction of a second, and make all else feel normal again.

I want to feel normal. Everything's been too fast paced lately.

I wished I knew how to spell love without making a mistake.

Certainly, I wouldn't wna make a major mistake that would mean, me, being unable to erase and change it.

That would mean losing a lifetime of memories and a million feelings all in one.

No man would dream of being alone, when they once knew how it was like, to have a person's hand in theirs.

It's like a dream.

Even if I don't fit just quite right to be yours. My heart is forever yours. No matter what life throws at our plate.

As I close my eyes and set myself for a trip to the virtual world, I envisioned you on my bed all of a sudden, beside me. Your hair, brushing the sides of my face. I knew then I wasn't asleep yet, but then I realised how much my body knows me well, and the back of my eyelids knew what I've been yearning for. And what better than the very image of you, as real as the pillow I always cling on to whenever I sleep. You were real in my eyes, you were warm. And all I could think of to say in my mind was, ' I see you'.

As the image grew more vivid, I could smell the faint scent of your neck, sparking an unusual craze of intimacy in me. Just then I took notice of your eyes; round and deep. Flawless like how sometimes love feels like, you start to draw me near to you. You clung on to me tight, like I was your only hope of survival. You then faced me, and took a deep stare into my eyes, almost like you were yearning to tell me that you love me. But we had to make do with untimely silence, for words do not exist between you and I.

It took a few minutes before I place my hands on either sides of your face and gently kiss you on your forehead. I kissed you a second time, almost like reassuring you to a love that'll forever live.

Just when I thought I could feel you kiss me back, your image disappeared abruptly.

Amidst my disappointment and sadness, I still wasn't alone.  I could hear your voice now.

Your voice,

is my heartbeat.