Constructive Deconstruction

Rainbow

April 18, 2002 on 1:51 am | In Uncategorized | No Comments

Rainbow

A Rainbow,
I walk towards it.
Like the pot of gold beneath,
I never find.

A Leprechaun.
He awaits me.
He fools me.
He toys with me.
He holds my heart hostage.

The Hope.
It strangles my mind
It tortures my soul.
Blindly I move on,
Towards what?
I do not know.
I feel…and I move on…

The Pain.
The journey long.
The skin blisters.
The heart questions.
The mind toils.

Love?
I do not know.
Blind?
I do not know.
Do I love her?
That I know.

But Like a pot of gold.
It draws me.
It fools me.
The hope to find the unfound.

–Ridzuan Ashim(1984 - )

The Book

April 18, 2002 on 1:48 am | In Uncategorized | No Comments

The Book

Like a book on a grand dusty shelf,
I sit in silence waiting to be found,
Came along a lady, or was she an elf?
She came to me and stood her ground.

She picked me off the old damned rack,
Then schemed the pages of my life,
The contents I bared all to her,
Showed her my soul with all the strife.

Each day when sun would set,
She�d be with me listening to me fret.
My story told,
It was boring, but it was bold.

A favourite I think I was
Like a doll to girl,
or a gun to little boy
rather a toy to any child.

At times the pages proved hard to flip,
But it was her who bothered
And as she tried the truth uncovered.
Understood I was, as was I to understand.

One morning…

The sun refused to shine,
She browsed the shelf.
Passing me
Picking not me
Reading not me

My pages still proved hard to turn,
But now she looks; To turn she does not even try;
So I sit where I am, my heart does burn,
Inside, I begin to cry…

The lady seems gone,
Dying to be read, I am unread.
I guess I am but a book.
A book on a grand dusty shelf.

-Ridzuan Ashim(1984- )