El Meon Klahiko

I Wrote What I Write, I Write What I Like – With A Jeng!

Everything Falls into Place 1 March, 2012

Filed under: Poemjeng — meonjeng @ 3:32 pm

because everything
has its own pace
that we have to face

& though there are pieces cut out of myself,
or parts of me burn or turn into something else
change their shapes, voices or colors
melts, dissolve or dissapears
if it flys away or gets stolen
whether given away or taken

or added with different ones

We still fit perfectly
when I seek my lover
if only
i seek my lover


If we do not break, how then shall we be opened 1 December, 2011

Filed under: Poemjeng — meonjeng @ 5:37 pm

Your precious tears, washes nothing but the glimmer in your eyes
Not yet a year, but a thousand months is what it seems like

I waited for you to cry, to show that I was the one who could break you
But never did I pry, for your fists were clenched too

Let loose your fists, love
For you grip them till blood flows


reply to Neruda’s 5 August, 2011

Filed under: Poemjeng — meonjeng @ 4:12 pm

& struck me with arrows, upon hails of soft petals of pain
for my thoughts were my being was fertile for things to bloom;
but the waves washes me over and throws me asunder,
I thought I was seeking light but I was hiding in the gloom


I am illuminatingly blinded – for you are my sun,
far too bright, & too far away
casting black upon on which I stand
that my shadow’s darkness consume me
yet I stare even though I have no more sight
for your warmth is a haven – a personal heaven
you, through eyes I could not hope to see
I am lost, with only love as an inadequate guide

I yearn of you like breathing the summer heat; without fire in my veins, I feel barren
but your flame in my soul burns deep; It sears me – I am filled till I feel stricken
I love you like fields of grains of wheat; coarse and plain but warm as the land
tho I may look filling or taste sweet; I am dull & tired, my taste amazingly bland
& you, my poison, the ever refreshing breeze; 
I shall bow to you my harvest’s hand
its a poison I would gladly squeeze; for your presence is a sweet addiction I can’t stand

I love you, with all the words that love might endure
but the words are the only thing of which I’m sure
& when you say it, I know that I love you more
before it was lost, you never knew what it was for

all now I could ever but say
it was always, or its never
I wish eternity was but a day
then we would be, forever


Own 30 May, 2011

Filed under: Poemjeng — meonjeng @ 12:00 am

The love I own
it knows no boundaries
as it is sown
by those that’re around me
& it has shown
life’s a profound mystery
so I have grown
to accept & leave it be

but still
it doesn’t mean I’m forfeiting
not until
the last of my breath is leaving


celakalah 24 May, 2011

Filed under: Poemjeng — meonjeng @ 5:39 am

grass glades
ever green
bloody blades

shadows at noon
hide from the luminescence
battles in bloom
light up the abominations

we soil god’s beautiful soil with plagues of hate
of self-justified meals for selfish means
on barbaric, nefarious and heinous plates
then paint them with an obscure & concealing sheen

to those in power
and they who cower
the ignorant
the tyrants

we are all equal
what differs is our way
of good or evil;
to hold true, or sway


degil 18 May, 2011

Filed under: Poemjeng — meonjeng @ 5:39 am

I am always a fool, a hopeless romantic
my body’s a tool, consistently eccentric

for I follow me blindly, without reserve
crazily foolhardy, I get what I deserve

tis of little concern; of chance, choice or bloody coincidence
for in life – in the little dances – it makes no farkin difference


darkest light 1 March, 2011

Filed under: Poemjeng — meonjeng @ 12:00 am

we believe cos we believe that they believe, we believe what they believe,

they tell us left is left & right is right
& we believe
they tell us wrong is wrong & right is right
& we believe
they tell us that day is light & dark is the night
& we believe

who choses them? who are they?

pious philosophers that sit under the stars to dream of specious higher powers,
or soldiers that showcase battle scars & decide violence is always the answer,
or slick suits with hidden agendas that scheme of self-lucrative ventures,
or tree-hugging free-love enigmas who think that everyone is a brother?

the rage of the ages
the curse of the plagues,
an epidemic concocted by the malignant syndrome

the worst of life’s stages
the vague shadow of vices;
our accepted lies, & submission to the palindrome:

of what we are taught
we teach again in return
& when it is fought
we preach to be listened
but when we feel caught
we screech for a new turn
our nature is wrought
to reach without a reason

& then we blame
everything; all but by what we gain
then do the same
everything; everything all over again

we flee from those who chase us, & chase those who from us they flee
we set free what we should confine, & confine what we should set free
we flaunt examples of our powers, when we should lead with the power of example
& our principles easily we compromise, when we should compromise with principle

*insert oxymoronic paragraph*

we judge always by the same differences, but we demand our judges be different
we forget what needs our remembrance, & remember what needs be forgotten