El Meon Klahiko

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

Let Me Pull Out a Chair 22 December, 2008

Filed under: Poemjeng — meonjeng @ 3:40 am

Ah~! I am feeling heady
Now what is this
that which makes my heart swell?
It is but yet a story
A dream, yes
but still a dream I cannot quell

I’m reaching for bliss
a tall tale that I yearn to tell
but I shan’t yet worry
& I won’t guess
but I sure hope that all goes well


Senyum 15 December, 2008

Filed under: Poemjeng — meonjeng @ 8:58 pm

Ia lahir mudah asal usulnya
terbit dari dasar, perlahan tanpa suara
kembang mekar memeriahkan suasana

Lahir zahir
mudah ia tumpah
sukar ia keluar

Kerana hati tidak suci?
Jiwa berselut kemelut?
Minda berat berselirat?

Jangan dikira yang kekurangan
sedang yang lebih berlimpahan
kan dirimu cukup sempurna
nikmat Illahi penuh diterima

Disimpan diri menderita
diluah mengundang gembira
maka kenapa disembunyikan
biarkanlah ia kelihatan


Ukirkan sekuntum untuk keluarga, diri dan teman. Untuk rakan taulan, sahabat dan juga kenalan . Bahkan hadiahkan jua kepada sesiapa berdekatan.

Riang ria ruang rautmu
indah manis menawan
bila dihiasi senyuman

[Nikmat diterima – (dugaan + cubaan + halangan) > apa yg perlu dan apa yg diidamkan]


Don’t cry anymore – But Don’t stop crying

Filed under: Storyjeng — meonjeng @ 11:38 am

She curled up tighter under the bed. It made no difference, she knew. If he remembered about her, he’d still find her. No matter how tightly she hugged herself.
But it made a difference to her.
Yesterday’s bruises was still biting the back of her thighs. And her arms. It hurts.
It didn’t hurt as much as the bat. No, not nearly as much. But the belt stings stays long after it’d made its mark.
Hugging herself tight like this felt safer, made the sharp lines on her calloused skin throb less.
It made her smaller. Less of her to beat.

She balled up tighter. She could close her ears, but muffled scream sounded worse.
She convinced herself long ago that hearing mom’s pleadings shared the pain. She’d do anything if it meant mom felt a little less of his beatings.
She’d rather do anything then doing nothing, which was she felt could do.
Nothing. Nothing at all.
She flinched when she heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh. That’s the back of a hand hitting a face.
She could tell. She could even tell the sound of a head slammed into a couch from a punch to the chest.
Sometimes she would wake up hearing those thuds  in her nightmares – ringing in her mind louder then the shrillest screams.

Some people say they cried so much their tears went dry; that they couldn’t cry no more.
She thought it was a big pile of pigeon poo. Rita used to say that. Pigeon poo – it’s just crap, no matter what you do.
Rita used to say it to Mrs. Wagner, the fat fussy homeroom teacher. Rita said it a lot, back when she still went to school.
Back when she didn’t have to stay home because the teachers reported the black & blue she wore everyday to school to the police.

You can only stop crying if you’ve lost your humanity. Even blind people cry. She read that somewhere.
People only stop crying because they accepted their life. Got used to whatever it is that made them cry.
But you can’t get used to this. Never. She’d never accept any of this. She’d die first.
And she knew that this was possibly going to be the case.


It’s Time For Change 14 December, 2008

Filed under: Poemjeng — meonjeng @ 6:50 pm

Leaden steps of a burning burdened soul
Desperately searching for his own true goal

Indeed Life is bountifully beautiful & fair
But only to those who themselves they share

Simple & easy if that is what you desire
‘Cept to him who his self he has not discover

Deadened he is by deafening silent whispers
Incessantly pouring poison into his own ears

And tho’ he claims he invokes thought & emotions
His actions seemed inverted to what he has spoken

So here-n-now God I pledge my prayer
Bequeath upon me thine true answer…


21st of June 10 December, 2008

Filed under: Poemjeng — meonjeng @ 7:25 pm

Remember remember
the tale from forever
Of youth n naivety I was fraught,
You might think it nothing
but for me t’was haunting,
The first to steal my heart.

Her hand moves funny. Funnily enough, it moved something inside me.