Of Regrets And Old Photos

I think, for a while, of these yellowing white photos of the past
And the eerily nostalgic tunnels through time they invoke
That seem to suck me in to the details of every pieces of objects
Contained within them all

I remember now every piece of the details, of the background, the panorama
Of once in my youths I'd take them for granted, so proudly so foolish and yet with much hope
As I walked into the light that bear so much questions indeed, unasked and unanswered
That maybe it seem forever that God would withhold His Majesty for only but the righteous?

But why it seems they now be eerie to the sight and to the mind?
When so much times before they'd invoke nostalgia is all beyond me now
But as the pages of these facebooks I turned they'd all sound and look the same
A network of strange highways not fit for even the insane or the profane!

So could they be, maybe for a while at least
A warning of sort for the impending (but hopelessly cliched) middle age crisis?
Of why so much time before this I'd welcome the reverie that came with it
But now I shunned it like the plague with hands and fangs?

Maybe it is because of the regrets that I'd feel not long ago
Be they now soured beyond consumption, rancid at best
Like pop songs that tell of intrinsic stories within the pictures
That they be now much sounding like a nail scraping the blackboards?

But alas, for what its worth, I'd treat these monsters as unwanted pets that used to be cute
Singing and jumping but to me they'd be ogres and imps shashaying in much homeliness
For within these contemptuous feelings I now feel towards them
Be they serve me only to make me move on forever more...

For even though the friends within these photos they'd be now much different in reality
Than whatever it is that froze their young image in time and not space
I would know, that more strongly right now than before, that the past really was my Home
But the one foreclosed forever by God and Time, never to again be opening its doors to me...

So now, maybe you guys can call Homeless for as much as you want now, okay?
Hehehehe....

SAIF MINTAKA
KL
2011

An Advice To Myself...From Myself

Well, maybe it's true then, that the measure of a man is not when he's at ease

But rather when of carnage set loose and never would he get past it, or so it seems

For time and again has it happen to me, amongst all those men I thought they be strong

Shortcomings and chaos as if I'm too blind to see, that none be as truthful as the hour of their trial!

But hey I'm not mad or seems to be sad, forsooth my experience had saved me much grace

But maybe some forgiveness is all I could give them, for I know them be humans of ups and of downs

Such strength be not in them though I'd stand corrected, trying too hard to make my voice heard

And so I'll move on with smiles and stout spirit, knowing of these memories be nothing but fleeting...

SAIF MINTAKA

KL

2011