GRAN TORINO

by Clint Eastwood, Jamie cullum, Kyle Eastwood and Michael Stevens


So tenderly
Your story is
Nothing more
Than what you see
Or
What you've done
Or will become
Standing strong
Do you belong
In your skin
Just wondering

Gentle now
The tender breeze
Blows
Whispers through
My Gran Torino
Whistling another
Tired song

Engine humms
And bitter dreams
Grow heart locked
In a Gran Torino
It beats
A lonely rhythm
All night long
It beats
A lonely rhythm
All night long
It beats
A lonely rhythm
All night long

Realign all
The stars
Above my head
Warning signs
Travel far
I drink instead
On my own
Oh,how I've known
The battle scars
And worn out beds

Gentle now
A tender breeze
Blows
Whispers through
A Gran Torino
Whistling another
Tired song

Engines humm
And bitter dreams
Grow
Heart locked
In a Gran Torino
It beats
A lonely rhythm
All night long

These streets
Are old
They shine
With the things
I've known
And breaks
Through
The trees
Their sparkling

Your world
Is nothing more
Than all
The tiny things
You've left
Behind

So tenderly
Your story is
Nothing more
Than what you see
Or
What you've done
Or will become
Standing strong
Do you belong
In your skin
Just wondering

Gentle now
A tender breeze
Blows
Whispers through
The Gran Torino
Whistling another
Tired song
Engines humm
And bitter dreams
Grow
A heart locked
In a Gran Torino
It beats
A lonely rhythm
All night long

May I be
So bold and stay
I need someone
To hold
That shudders
My skin
Their sparkling

Your world
Is nothing more
Than all
The tiny things
You've left
Behind

So realign
All the stars
Above my head
Warning signs
Travel far
I drink instead
On my own
Oh
How i've known
The battle scars
And worn out beds

Gentle now
A tender breeze
Blows
Whispers through
The Gran Torino
Whistling another
Tired song
Engines humm
And better dreams
Grow
Heart locked
In a Gran Torino
It beats
A lonely rhythm
All night long
It beats
A lonely rhythm
All night long
It beats
A lonely rhythm
All night long

Jalan Ampang

When old memories, creep up
on you like that
and when dust filters
through the light
and the past is
captured.
in a tiny capsule

It follows you back
into the still repose
of sudden silences
and the dogs barking
The hours drawn out
against the day, washed-out
like an overexposed polaroid

The taste feeds back into
the heart;
into an eternal place that
the years passing
cannot touch

And the days are drawn over; a
papery wrapping; tightly spun
around
that unchanging reality
Called memory

Oh! time has flown by
and we've gone
Our separate ways,
scattered and dispersed
along the lines
we have walked;

lost in the distant places
we've dreamt of,
wandered far and wide with
all of our fragile strength

We've been broken and torn
In the sinewy fibers
of the heart,
worn to the bone
in the porcelain
quality
of our frames

But we've been glued back,
healed
and then secreted away
into the treasure trove
...of a tree-trunk.

A child's hideaway - hearts delight
mended, like broken toys, which will come out
to play again; tonight

Travels

What is it about traveling
that makes one
likely to capitulate

to warm fuzzy emotions
that makes everything else
pale in comparison
to the dream tinged moments
you shared together

With people u meet
on your travels?

Kitsch

Kitsch: art, objects, or design considered to be in poor taste because of excessive garishness or sentimentality, but sometimes appreciated in an ironic or knowing way.

recognition
that simple glance
a slight brush
against your skin

and you're reminded
of a time ... not too long ago
when you dreamt
deeply

Design
a fabric pattern; or
deliberate intention
the universe
... and a solitary ant
trudging,
morsel on its back
homeward bound

Hope
and mystery
weave in endless
minutes that meld
one into another;

Repetition and
metamorphosis
borne unto the days
like Siamese twins

Control
Tightrope walking
on an endless road
when will it end?

Sleep
beckons; dreams
to reckon with
it's a new day tomorrow
let me be transformed
in slumber

Psalms 131

This is the image i know so well, each time i walk from the 12th floor of my block to the 10th floor where I live. My home.

It's been quite a journey thus far, full to turns and twists and darkness. But here i am back home yet once more.

'Life is a long lesson in humility' - James Matthew Barrie

Psalm 131
Lord, my heart is not haughty
Nor my eyes lofty.
Neither do I concern myself
with great matters
Nor with things too
profound for me

Surely I have calmed and
quieted my soul,
like a weaned child is my soul within me.

O Israel, hope in the Lord
From this time forth and
forever.

Running Poetry

when i kick the bucket
what color will the sky be?
will there be sunshine on
my coffin
will quiet eyes
issue silent tears
and will
shrouded faces line
the edges of my light green grave?

when you died
and went away
what did you leave behind?
and why did you go
before i knew how to release you
and why did you leave
before I could bid you farewell

and when you died
did you think
of me
Did my face appear
in your mind's eye
the same way

i often see you now?

Thicket fences

I spy them in your eyes
although you never speak
the words outloud
i can tell

thicket fences to
shield you from
knowing looks
and prying eyes

from faith healers
and recondite shamans
who do not comprehend
with their righteous prescriptions
and ritual incantations.

thicket fences
quiet wanderer
when will you learn?
and when will you let the healing begin?

I spy it in your eyes
you're a tease
you're waiting for me
to start aren't you?

thicket fences
you hide behind
yeah,
i see you

thicket fences
where the healing begins.