the boy or girl

You are a boy in a funny shirt

And, I wear my skirts rolled, twice at the waist

We are at odds, but we must have our reasons

 

We are strangers with contrasting views

We sit two at a table of four

We talk loud, but no one hears each other

 

It isn’t arrogance or deniable truth

It isn’t anything that ever was, and will be

It is fact that there are two empty red, plastic chairs by the corner

 

I confess, on some days,

I tug at these strings more anxiously than I should

With more desire than I would dare loose on you

 

I wait breathless to feel the air suck me close to you

I wait for time that comes and ensnares me dearly

I pray for a table, the one with the two red, plastic chairs

 

I might just be a crazy girl with trembling arms

Holding up both ends of the rope

I might just be living a two man’s life,

 

But, if you are what you love and not what loves you back

Then maybe, I am the boy who likes funny shirts

And you, fold your skirts twice at the waist.

©Ub Matthews et Anis Syahirah – 240909

.....knowlegde is only a read away.

Vainness

Visions in flashes, and melody, and crashes
The leap to step, and the heap of mistake
Distress calls, the stake just raised
Here is the vanity of haste,
The enormity of waste
Was it karma? Is it common?
Long nights and a brief dawn
Is it Tuesday?
There are footsteps of night on the wet lawn
Lights flashes, twice, static
Life’s champion lies, panting
Drowned in cheers and sweat
He won the race that has not finished
The fight against self, the race toward time
A mind against will,
A basket full of wishes

©Ub Matthews - 100509

Shattered – A Remix of Anis’ Story

I watched you
I watched your silhouette block the light
Beams of light rushes in from the open door,
Throws a spotlight on you
The reflection illuminates my messy mind
In a moment it is swept away

The night closed and we surrendered to cold,
Making our way through spills and shattered glasses
Shivering, from cold and fear of shattered chances
One two minds, is this one mine?

The speech in my head cancels the words on your lips
I heard what you said, not the ones from your lips
In heaps, tears begin to form…
My quicksilver frozen tongue,
All the things you should know,
I surrender,
I surrender as cold tears travel down my chin

© Ub Matthews et Anis Syahirah -170409

My White Dress

Veiled in white
Whirling and whistling
I think I feel
Just like a princess
*hiss* the gentle wind says;
Dance!
…and I sway,
Serenaded by passive silence
Feels like freedom
Free as wisdom
Free,
Like birds and dancing trees,
Like nature and crying rocks
I put on my white dress
I feel like a whirlwind

©Ub Matthews-120209

So, I decided to play with Sara's (http://annawhispers.blogspot.com/) words literally. I wanted do something on a topic sentence that has been playing in my head for most of the time we was at the orphanage today. Some kids kept saying stuff that I thought I could build a material on and then I came home. While conversing with Sara for like 10minuteish, I stole some of her words and played with it. Forgive me Sara, but I had to post stuff here today.

Two Mothers

Two eggs and a nest
A mother and her wings
Perching, silently on twig,
Watching

Too scared for rest
A mother on her knees
Crouching solemnly on couch,
Praying

Took years and a tears
A mother and offspring
Raising voices at each other,
Bonding

Two mothers and a love
The mommy and the hummingbird
Singing lullabies to little juniors,
Daily

Nests weaved with a beak,
Words sealed with a peck
One human, one not
Two mothers and, they love.

©Ub M - 200209

Aloof

Here is a testament, a story of love shared
She assumed, ‘…freely received, freely give’,
But, was it enough to go around?
Hand me two loaves and five fishes!

Here is the melody of yap yap yap,
A cover song for deep-seated hate
Now tell me who believes in fate,
For what goes around, surely do come around

Hear them speak in muffled tones
‘She loved the one and rugged another’,
Was she drugged?
See! Sleepwalks with such frantic pace

Here is a dream with a moral punch
Not as much as sweet as last night’s wish
A quick blow as the eyes blink
Why must conscience suffer for sins of abundant grace?


©Ub Matthews-120209

Killed by the rain

Trickles of rain
Trick, trick, I sleep.
Deep, peaceful, as a morning death
Pieces of me sprawled about,
Lifeless, listening as fear moves about.
Thunders clap as lightning steals the light,
Packets of sweat bond with my frightened skin,
Yet still, I sleep,
Killed, my fingers crawl still
Is death as sweet as this?
Is there a street of gold?
I wait, for I am scared to haste
Still, I lay
As heavy as the rain
Still, I pray
Carnal, nonetheless
Trickles of rain, tingles and tears
I am killed by the rain.
©210109 - Ub Matthews

Two tears

Yesterday came again today
disguised as Sunday.
then I saw a man
light up the sky at day.
I cried two tears,
one for yesterday, one for tomorrow.
Then the glory of the sun
Consumed the pride of men
Her fiery
Boiled up his sweats
Again I cried two tears,
one for yesterday, one for tomorrow.
When moments disappear like mist,
and we resorted to planning and reminiscing.
When the hopes of the future is threatened
by the visions we cooked today
I cry two tears,
one for yesterday, one for tomorrow.

©Ub M - 131108

Cycles

The day recycled,
in the bid to keep the cycle,
a circle - brand new.
Where old things would become news,
Good news,
at least for the chosen few,
so when it ended,
yesterday could commence again.
Would it ever tire?
The endless cycle of same.
Could it be the end?
The slightest form of change.
Those mornings that came veiled,
or the days when the sun shed few tears.
The day recycled,
so Tuesdays became few
Oh! How much time had flew!

©Ub M- 041108

Mimi

The love she thought she had was shared
Cos every heir had a say
Heaps of hate on her head
If only they could make out why
Why she is so fair and frail
Yet all her suitors phase and fail
Was it the ways of men,
Their haste for taste
Was it the waste of when?
When perfect shows, I’ll take
The love she thought she had was hate
Cos every them was the same
When she reels, she may never wrap
For on the lips of hapless men she rode.


©Ub M - 290808

Illusion

Moment fades into vision
Dactyls crawl to a stop, to listen,
To the footsteps of rain tiptoeing on the rafter
Hoping to hear a rhythm
To make music
For the lyrics silence wrote
But, tick-tock tick-tock
The second-hand hurries away
With each stride, sets a pace
As though to a place,
A place,
where language dances to the rhythm of the rain
and with each tap of keys,
The music transpose with briskness.
Like reflex, the door swings with the ensemble
Squeaking a perfect ad lip as it is carried along by the wind
And as the thunder claps to a crescendo
The applause wakens my pulse
To reveal the only music playing, as the tap on the keyboard,
And the melodies of solitude in my head


©Ub M - 260808

Root Three

I fear that I will always be a lonely number like root three
A three is all that’s good and right
Why must my three keep out of sight?
Beneath a vicious square root sign
I wish instead I were a nine
For nine could thwart this evil trick
With just some quick arithmetic
I know I will never see the sun as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality
When, hark, just what is this I see?
Another square root of a three
Has quietly come waltzing by
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer
Rejoicing as an Integer
We break free from our mortal bonds
And with a wave of magic wands
Our square-root signs become unglued
And love for me has been renewed

Recited by Kumar, Harold and Kumar (Escape from the Guantanamo Bay)

I had to post this 'beautiful poem' about 'calculus' I dictated it after watching the hilarious movie Harold and Kumar - Escape from the Guantanamo Bay. Can you dig that this seemingly silly poem helped him win back his college sweetheart? tsk.....gurls!

Charcoal

The light begged to bloom
Just as time snatched away
Pale, she looked, hugging and wailing
But whose tears ever drowned a Boeing’s?
I wonder!

Distance grew old with every thread
But when it flew, she rebirths
If it settles and stays,
Who will wipe the dust on memory page?
I wonder!

The embrace of strong cocoa brew
Veils the hole that valediction makes
A hope that it is only a trip
Gosh! Could this even be a trick?
I wonder!

This time he vowed not to sob
Soggy towels, yet she will not stop
Charcoals and stencils can’t do all the talk
Will this walk be worthy?
I wonder I wonder!

-170608-ub matthews ©2008


Epilogue

Borrowed the first few punch lines from Claire Horner-Richardson from her summary of a painting she did for me as she was parting to a realer place than ‘la la’ land – ‘charcoal on board’.
I adore people that inspire me…no matter how pankey! Cheerio woman! Distance is just a mere deceit in this other world.

Gray

Dark stars on a sunny day
‘Rain on me’ she pleads to say
White Parks dried by winter’s heat
Only grown kids play by the fireplace
The sun sweats from cold?
Invigorating!
Though, tale not well told as days of old.
But, who can narrate the story of stolen glory?
The pauses, the absence of presence, the tension,
Communication mode: tenses.
Excitement weans…
Silence slips in and no one notices,
Steals the show, now everybody’s applauding
‘Awake’! …what mother said to Slumber,
‘Summers don’t come in gray’



- 020606©Ub Matthews

Mother

Mother,
In times like this
Mother,
For better and best
Mother,
A fountain, the founder
Mother,
My tool for growth,
My force, the genesis of dreams
Mother,
The husbandman, the household
Without which, men are mummed
Mother,
When words won’t hold walls
My mother, my spur,
My secret to betterness


Ub M©052008

For all my mothers out there! Especially, the sweetest, Uduakobong Matthews. Mere words can’t detail. I love you! Happy Mothers’ Day!

A life in a box

A world seems unaware
of changes roundabout me
unaware of emotive tendencies
married to what inevitable change?
There’s another summary of a phase
the pattern almost setting a trend
that adieu’ said to a moving train
Ouch! Her rush of air crushing,
Trying to gather me,
pieces of me shattered about...
of blown up thoughts,
of grown up plots,
I'm thrown off guard…
Oh! The woes of packing a life into a box


-Ub M©apr2008

Mortality

Bubbles borne
hopes incarnate
Say Valediction,
and new journeys begin
waits;
lives;
kicks;
births;
to a cycle that might soon bore
too soon, becomes a lifestyle
soon, the weight of joys
drowns the tears
soon, the wake of dreams
crowns the years.


-Ub. M©170408

Shallow Mind

The mind, the Mine, a journey full of miles
Traffic of thoughts crawling on life’s freeway
The loudness of quiet
In a noise infected street
Much so, tranquility drowns
An ocean of commuters
The quiet gets louder
Even so, a distance ring of cell is heard

The mind, the Mine, a closet full of lies
Mirage of illusions creating highways in the sky
The struggle of freedom
Principalities scurrying away
Confusions, Deceptions
Congested delusions
Custom made Conventions,
Only the undiscerning face rejections

The mind, the Mine a chest full of mimes
Actors and crew rehearsing on a live set
‘Lights’ and ‘Actions’ now,
Murder!
Alter ego just killed
They say it's a crime of passion
He shouldn’t have started a faction
Now, no one dares to be out of fashion



©2008, 06Feb, Ub

Dry Spell

The dryness of me
The foulness of moist air
Several trips to the earth
Each time with sectional dislodges of calm
Quaking in surrender
Yielding to restrain
Like I will waste if I wait
Maybe it’s a test if I take.
But in seven days, new weeks birth
Counts,
Patiently incarnates into months.
It’s a trivia,
Sections of me that seek for reprise
How far I must have wandered in fright
Crouching, chasing
The silhouette of my shadow
Footsteps of the sun briskly approaching
Then, Hush! The air breathes swiftly
Now, Hurriedly I must retreat to solace
To where the light can hide me
So at night I am a star.

©jan2008-Ub m.

Prologue
Stanley (http://un-coded.blogspot.com/2007/12/un-coded.html) literally pushed me to do this one even though I was dry like the pre-rainfall air. I barely chat with him about anything and don’t have the inspiration to scribble things, sometime absolutely un-related to what we are chatting about. Eventually I’ll only need dedication.
I have gone out of my shell to write materials that surprise me when I go through it again. This crazy man is the devil, the good one; he absolutely has no idea what he means to me.

RUSH HOUR

A Calvary of sword-wielding thoughts

In droves, closing in on a wounded soul

Excited by fear, by fear of fairy tales

That night lived young

And tears flowed only when she died old.

Told a story of redeeming grace

Dressed in linen, the cloth of beginning end

Soldiers, battalions, the musical sound of war

Must be twisted melodies the hear

The off-beat dance of dreams suggest.

The morning that wakes to noise of an empty street

To claim the spoils of a bloodless war

Alas! It’s only red leaves falling

Hence, one again she is gravely fooled,

By the resident pandemonium in my head.

©jan2008 Ub M.