It's The Little Things I Can't Remember

by E. Hellcat




Live the life you never regret
Don’t waste another day
Doing nothing meaningful
That it becomes a habit
To think nothing stressful.

Wake up with passion
Live the delusion of having a vision
About the days that would come
You assume would actually matter
That in the end you’ll hold on and eventually remember.

But now looking back in retrospect
It’s not always about what’s next.
Every time you walk out that door
Pass the park and through the alley,
Just as you would do daily.
Mindlessly and thoughtlessly
Making small decisions everyday
Little judgments every move
Without blinking an eye
Without seeing through the lines
Without having the thought
To ever cross in your mind
Why everybody say it to end their toast,

It’s the little things that matter the most.




The Super Scam

By Asjad Zulkefli




Is it a bird?
Is it a plane?
No, it's another scam,
forged by the super factory
located in the super country.

They say that heroes must be pretty,
That's why the ugly can never be.
but have you seen heroes in reality?
Like Malcolm, Madiba, Gandhi and your daddy?

Another scam,
another scam,
does whatever the others can,
catches crooks whom they like,
yet the filthiest still alive,
look out!
Here comes another scam.

Are we all too blind to see?
That superheroes are the shields,
for police, politicians and the authority,
you must obey, you must yield,
or another villain you will be.




Thought's Sanctuary

By Mr.B




Gone, forever gone,
One and only Love,
Detachment,

Highest pleasure,
Eternal knowledge,
lost without grace,
Pain without cure,

Miracle
Eternally gone.




Not from Heaven

By Mr.B



How to know God?
By His trace and grace,
Provides tales we embrace,
But when her face meet your face
is it still God's Grace?

Demanded servants, 
Yet love sometimes are forbidden,
As Women created as a maiden,
How really men can be obedient?

Those promise He gives,
None could guess what it is,
For God is perfect,
So does men try to be exact.

Find God through His grace,
You will never be erased.




Blinded by My Own Eyes

By S. Pessimist




Deceitful is such the nature a pair of eyes.

The widest smile may hold the heaviest heart.
The loudest and carefree may drag around the darkest thoughts.
The well built and strong may shake at the slightest.
The richest may dress in destitute,
and the deemed necessitous, may well be in contentment.

Judge not, for who am I to judge?




Chasing Dreams

by Abraham Slothface




The safest place for a ship is at harbor
but that's not where ships should be,

I've always wanted to begin it
with these lines, even though it's not mine-
but the one I had in mind was something different.
It's about how we should always
fight, live, and die for our dreams
even when we're already at peace with ourselves,
but this is not that poem. Not that one.

This one is to remind myself that I'm not dead yet, 
and the one before this is not the last one-
in case I'm dead before I could write another.
Make sense?
What time is it?

I don't mind
if this will be the last thing here.
Not because this will be fucking good,
which until now I know that it will only be
some shitty paragraphs that will be forgotten
seconds after you've stop reading,
and disappoint secret chasers
if you're one,
because there is none.

I'm just scared of knowing that our dreams
will always be laughing with us
and living life is just a lie we tell ourselves
before the real thing comes
and swallows everything into black.
Makes me grind my teeth till it bleeds
when I can't sleep. Wondering if this time
my eyes will stay shut forever.
Don't worry. That's not real.
I did not grind my teeth.
I just can't sleep.

And sometimes I hear myself counting days.
Maybe I'll keep doing that till I'm 40
and when I realized that it's always
an impossible task,
I will tell myself
that it is alright to dream
even to the end.
Hope dies on daily basis.
Every tap tap on their keyboards sounds
like they are typing their last will
but what came out are reports and excel files.
Funny, now that I'm one of them.
And they sleep early so maybe this act
of lying awake
is the best thing I could do tonight

before they lock me deep.
Again my dear.
The safest place for a ship is at harbor
but that's not where a ship should be,

now lets get back to sleep baby 
shall we?





Some Shit I Can Never Commit

by E. Hellcat




What's the point
Of waking up for class
And knowing you'll never last.

What’s the point
Of skimming through textbooks
And knowing you’re just another crook.

What’s the point
Of staying up all night
And knowing you’re doing it with spite.

What’s the point
Of acing all the exams
And knowing it’s all just a government scam.

Because deep inside I know,
That these are some shit I can never commit.




Truth About Lies

by Shauqi Shiro




People nowadays are not truthful,
They make deviation out of god's creation.
They tend to forget their purpose, trying to impress with different poses.
Lies become their truth, while truth has lost all its tooth.
Now truth is an empty shell, while lies stand on the front door ringing on the bell.
This is not right! There is no truth left!

People nowadays are not truthful.
They show half-truths; showing only what people want with a glass half full.
Its like an unfinished tale, told only to please.
While the old ones barely trying to appease.
A world where the end justifies the means.
It corrupts the minds of teens.

People nowadays should be truthful.
Life is trouble just like riding an angry bull.
It can turn like the past, if this lies becomes it's last.
But this generation prefers to live life a blast.
Lets change this mentality where people only tell about reality.
All people need to have fealty on the authenticity.

Truthful is how people should be, or we'll be damned for eternity.




Love

by Mr B



We say I love you,
It is hard to be true,
For none of us have the clue,
Yet love is what we all do.
It is easy to pronounce,
Because sometimes it can be a noun,
But, for those who has fallen down,
You know how deep you can drown.
All of us know the danger,
Sometimes it will lead to anger,
It starts only with a stranger,
Then come the whole pack of ranger.
Love is made by You,
For those who have cue,
It is a long way to get through,
Just hop on  and wish not to confuse.
Love I wish we get through



Dotting the i’s and Crossing the t’s (Part Two)

by Asjad Zulkefli





Why?
Why can’t i be with t?
Together in the same family.
Why should we separate them entirely?
If that would cause tragedy.

Why?
Why can’t i be with t?
Forming a jubilant harmony.
Isn’t that hypocrisy?
To defy the spirit of equality.

No,
i and t are not the problems
just because of their difference.
The crisis lies in their emblems
with race and blood as significance.

Innate,
They were born with it,
segregated
and segregation
are their main comprehension
of different complexions,
hence the explanation
for the contrasting divisions
of vowels and consonants.

Negligent,
only the tip of the iceberg
we have learned,
In the city of Johannesburg
it all happened,
with money and work
it’s often forgotten,
that we are going berserk
as fairness is dampened,
where i and t lurk
for no more discrimination.

Why?
Why can’t i be with t?
Together in the same sorority.
Why should we part them entirely?
If they have the same quality.

Why?
Why can’t i be with t?
Living together in unity.
Isn’t that duplicity?
To deny their rights of being free.

No,
nothing to do with being silly,
just a sign of insincerity,
if i can be with t,
wouldn’t that make everyone happy?




For You, yes You.

by Timber Tim





The stars align
perfect tonight,
Please do not keep me
out of your sight.
Since the day I set eyes
on that beauty,
I never thought
you could be that worthy.

Myriads of angels
looking down upon you,
So that they could spread
the loving hue.
My dear
you are the only one,
And I could never imagine
if you're gone.

You make this beating heart
beat faster,
Even when you’re not even near,
So please
hold on tight my dear,
Cause we’re in this
roller-coaster ride together.




Schoolboy

by Abraham Slothface 



A hole on the floor

in the middle of his bedroom.
He keeps on falling into it
every time he got up from his bed
and he can't go to school.

He spent years to fix it up himself, knowing that               
his dad can't afford the repair,
but every time he tried the hole gets deeper,
and deeper, and deeper,
and his mum keeps calling him
for lunch when he's at work.

He tried to fill it up with tears, and he can't,
everyone knows that he can't,
but he never asked for his mum's and dad's.
He figured out to think of all the time he failed them,
and after that every time he wake up
he fell into a salty pool, and blamed his parents
for never having enough for him
to take swimming lessons.

Until one day, the Devil himself
came dripping out of the hole and ask him

"Do you wanna trade your soul 
for swimming lessons?"

"No,
I wanna give my soul for a new home, a new room
with no hole in the middle of it. 
I'm sick and tired of falling into it every time
I wake up and I can't go to school!" 

"Well, that's easy.
In fact you'll not just get a new home
and a new room with perfect floor,
you'll get a new set of parents too!
A new mum and dad for free!"

During dinner
he look into his father's tired eyes,
and his mother's dull face,
and wonders if he could ever
replace them.

Yesterday, he's awake at midnight
and finally his foot hit the floor again.
He bent his fingers and it breaks,
and he smiled, and he thought of how tomorrow
he could wake up and go to school to read,
write and learn. And play with his friends until dark.
Then he could do it all again and again.
Again and again.
Again and again.
Again and again. 

Day by day

until he's old enough
to do things that a man would do,
to do things that fathers would do.
Things that makes mother's life worth the vow.
And he went back to sleep. Having it all planned well
for tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow.

When he opened his eyes in the morning
he raised his fist to the ceiling
and jumped out of his bed,
straight into the hole on the floor
in the middle of his bedroom.


Dotting the i's and Crossing the t's (Part One)

by Asjad Zulkefli




Oh i,
I've been wondering,
What if you don't have a dot
on top of your skinny body?
Would that makes you

a less of an i?

Oh t,
You intrigues me too,
What are you without the line
crossing your slender body?
Would that makes you
a less of a t?

Oh i,
May i know
who dictated that
you should look that way
or else you'd be
a little less gay?

Oh t,
Please tell me
who suggested that
by looking like that
you'll be accepted
to join the frat?

Sorry i,
They say that
this is correct,
Beauty is
no longer abstract,
Look like this
or they'll reject.

Sorry t,
What you see
is the ideal,
Beauty is
no longer territorial,
You'll be dissed
with a vertical.




Look Ahead

by E. Hellcat





This is not happening,
This shouldn’t be.
It’s not like it’s my first time
I’ve done this a million times.
Oh what is this feeling
To be at the end of my own mocking
To hear my hands trembling
As my heart becomes heavy
As my vision turns blurry
Along with hopes and dreams and faith and trust
Just as I’m about to burst.
No I never saw it coming,
When I woke up this morning
Only looking to survive till evening
And no interest in believing
That today wouldn’t be just another day of living.

But now I’ve crashed,
To the walls of warnings I used to bash.
Just to prove a point I will now lash
Although this may sound like it doesn’t jive,

That this is a reminder not to text and drive.




Stonesbury's Six- Yesterday We Said Tomorrow

1st Edition (March-June 2015)
by Abraham Slothface





When I started writing on 2013 it was a very lonely process. I spent hours on my bed with my laptop flat on my chest in the dark depth of my room, thinking of new ideas and shit to entertain my nonexistent readers. And also discussions with my nonexistent fellow writers was always intense, due to the fact that they are not actually there, and trying their best to run away every time. Just me, the night, and a laptop that sounds like a jet engine waiting to blow up in the dark.

Now I have nine writers with me, and hopefully more in the future. Promotions and publicity are actively happening in Twitter, Instagram and Facebook attracting more and more readers to know more about us. Never have I been so exited looking at tiny graph before, but the increase of readers coming to the blog and the positive feedback we received really makes me feels like "Wow I should've started this thing earlier," but anyway here we are.

Thanks to everyone Stonesbury is now officially alive and breathing bubbles, waiting to crash the surface and yeah, our baby is picking up its pace very quickly this few weeks. And he looks so freaking good in black and white after the new plastic surgery by one of our upcoming writer which I can't reveal his name yet. If you've heard of Stickybox you would know him for sure.

Also kudos to E. HellcatTimber Tim Atrocious Hogwash, and S. Pessimist for the new adition to our family. All are excellent writer/poet, with different style and charm on their own. Be sure not to fall for them because they might just break your heart (cewahh!!). We are expecting more works from them in the form of short stories and explore their diverse skills in the art of writing. Hogwash's short story was once published in IIUM Clairvoyance and we hope that we could publish it here soon. Muhd Muaz's and Shauqi Shiro's internet novel series also gonna be very big, so keep coming back to Stonesbury for more updates! Also shoutout to Zicko Adanan for his furious publicity on Instagram and to Shakesbo for the dope poems of all kinds. These are the men that gave birth to Stonesbury. Now lets imagine that in our head for few seconds, how we gave birth.

Stonesbury's Six is gonna be happening after a writer have completed a collection of six works (prose and poetry) and we're gonna be discussing our works in general. This is gonna be a magazine-like review with a bit of wild ranting, just like this one, aimed to generate discussions and second thoughts on our previously published works, clarifying extra details and such. Hope there's not much spoiler here for you guys to enjoy the six. For this first edition of Stonesbury Six, I'm gonna be talking about my 3 poems and 3 stories in the order of the publication dates and hope this would clarify few things on them and leave you enlightened.

4th Wall? Never Heard of It is a love letter to Asimov and his freaking amazing sci-fi short stories. His science fiction never fail to make me think of how having everything empirical can always cloud our mind from all that is unseen from the human eyes. My aim is to push the boundaries of human comprehension of whats possible and what is not, and how the world is sometimes just a set for some of us who could see beyond the fourth wall.

My first poem on Stonesbury, Empty Glass is one of my most beloved work until today. It captures the moment when a writer is unable to write anything while cursing himself, the night and the muses for the lack of inspirations. I always read it when I don't have anything to write, and most of the times I went back to sleep. Sometimes I am a grateful servant. Heh.

The Adventure of Inspector Wahab. I freaking love this short story for everything in it. Cyber bullying, revenge, conspiracy and murder, all packed into the fast-paced short story that will leave you gripping on your seats. Inspired by the movie Pulp Fiction in terms of style and structure, this short story might require you to connect the dots to find out what is really happening in the story. Or just sit back and let Inspector Wahab solve the mystery of dead schoolgirl for you, before he sells his lands in Kedah and retires for good.

Baseball Bat and Deadman's Denial are both new poems compared to Empty Glass, and I would say my voice as a poet is more refined as I write more and more, but I do realize that I'm slowly losing my creative side when it comes to poetry. Maybe I'm getting more rigid in terms of idea nowadays and unable to engage with the side of me which is more experimental. Nonetheless both poems are quite abstract and open for any interpretations. Baseball Bat is pure manifestation of anger and wrath towards everything that is wrong in life, and I love to hear how different readers find different things after reading it. Deadman's Denial was supposed to be some sort of posthumous love poem, but me being me, it's hard not to rip out baby's guts at the end of a poem heheh.

Sini Bukan Amerika not actually a love story. At first I was conflicted on whether I should really write this one in Bahasa, but due to some of the elements in the story that can't be executed using English I made up my mind and there you have it. As I said before it is not actually a love story and this is not America! And credit to Muhd Muaz for the Fixi-esque editing because my Bahasa sucks. No kidding.

Well that's all from me for the first edition of Stonesbury's Six. Hope you guys are enjoying Stonesbury as your favourite place to read and don't forget to follow us of Instagram, Facbook and Twitter and watch out for new works and hopefully another editions of Stonesbury's Six by other writers. Keep supporting us and don't forget that your feedback is precious to us like the ring to Gollum.

I'm Abraham Slothface and this is the Stonesbury's Six.




Apa Benda Do Semua Ni?

by Shakesbo




Apa benda do semua ni. Apa benda?

We did not ask to be this way,
Being measured by the way we look,
After all of the time that had been decayed,
Watch and observe the hearts that have been shook,

Apa benda do semua ni. Apa benda?

They say that old people are always right that they're always in might,
What they say what they claim cannot be blamed,
What if they're wrong what if a single thought could cause fright,
Surely things wouldn't be perfect as a picture frame,

Apa benda do semua ni. Apa benda?

Old may be gold but sometimes old can be sold,
Can it be measured by how many seconds you are alive,
Or is it measured by how many times you lied,
Fuck it we need to begone ourselves from this godforsaken mould,

Apa benda do semua ni. Apa benda?

Lemme raise two middle fingers to all the wrong people,
No matter what race what religion what age,
Indeed everyone have their own way of sinning,
But each and everyone of us has the same way of repenting.

What is this. What is this shit?




It's been a burden.

by Timber Tim



It's been a burden to myself,
to see those who do not have
any food on their shelves,

It's been a burden to myself,
to accept the fact of the people
who do not have anything left.

It's been a burden to myself,
to believe those who talk
without any sense of reason in themselves.

It's been a burden to myself,
to see the people in power
do not give a damn about anything else.

It's only just the beginning,
of a world
with no humanity in it.




Or Is It Just Me

by E. Hellcat 




So this is how it’s like
To give your own verdict on what's right
To actually feel that slap crushing that face you hold
Because all your life you’ve been taught to be bold

This stupid truth that you bow to
Is just the same shit that everyone's going through 
The same shit they tell you in an indie movie or a pop song
Yes that's what makes you feel belong

Because everyone knows it kills to be lonely
But we never learn the wisdom of being in solitary
And everyone knows that they wanna be independent
But is it wrong to live a life that craves on depending

Is this how it’s like
To go to sleep every night
To pretend like what's ahead will always be right
But know it in your heart it will never turn bright.




Just never

by S. Pessimist.


Never, never fall out of character.
Even when in doubt and fear.

When you fall off the lever,
on your knees collecting your tear,
Never, never fall out of character.

When you have the honour to steer,
being in front instead of rear,
Never, never fall out of character.

When you lose the things you hold dear,
where everything seems unclear,
Never, never fall out of character.

When you have voices in your ear,
force you to go there or stay right here,
Never, never fall out of character.

When you can praise or smear,
to either build or shear,
Never, never fall out of character.

Never, never fall out of character,
Even when in doubt and fear.


Let's Make Life a Movie

by E. Hellcat




Let’s make life a romantic comedy,
Where the girl’s hairstyle was what made the guy let out an awkward smile.

Let’s make life a musical,
Where we sing our hearts out and dance like we’ve never felt any doubt.

Let’s make life a travelogue,
Where pieces of life comes together in well-crafted dialogues.

Let’s make life a horror flick,
Where the self-obsessed dick gets the ghost’s first pick.

Let’s make life an animation,
Where the dogs in London are like the ones in One Hundred and One Dalmatians.

Let’s make life a science fiction,
Where the obsession of an idea sets the world into motion.

Let’s make life a detective mystery,
Where backstories and plot twists are mere artistic ability instead of deep-rooted animosity.

Let’s make life a superhero story,
Where everyone’s rooting for the mask that has no interest in pride and glory.

Let’s make life a movie
Where all that it is, are just fantasies of what we think we should be.




Sini Bukan Amerika

by Abraham Slothface



“Angkatlah please, tolonglah angkat”
“Please angkat telefon please,”

Sudah berapa kali dia call tapi tak berangkat. Hari yang panas membuatkan badannya berpeluh-peluh, walhal, dia hanya memakai t-shirt dan seluar pendek. Hari yang panas membuatkan hatinya turut panas.

Penat sebenarnya, padahal tak jalan kaki pun. Sampai depan rumah bila call masih belum ada jawapan di talian penghujungnya, hal ini membuatkanya marah. Di fikiranya belum pernah terjadi lagi situasi telefon tidak berangkat seperti ini.

Terdetik di akalnya untuk menghubungi telefon rumah. Tetapi selalunya yang akan call dulu. Ika lah yang lazim akan memulakan perbicaraan di telefon mereka setiap malam, telefon rumah digunakan jika Ika mahu berjimat. Padahal, kalau Ika mahu mengunakan postpaid telefon, ibu-bapanya tidak pernah kisah untuk membayar bilnya. Tapi entah kenapa Ika memilih untuk mengunakan pelan prepaid.

Teragak-agak dia nak call rumah Ika, tapi terpaksa sebab malam ni dia kena kerja and mungkin tak dapat jumpa sampai  hari esok.

“Err, kakak tak adalah. Rasanya dia keluar,”

“Oh okay. Dengan siapa eh, dia tak bagitahu pun,”

“Dengan boyfriend dia rasanya. Nak pesan apa-apa tak?”




_________________________________________________________________________________





Situasi yang panas dihari yang panas membuatkan hati menjadi lebih panas,  jika disukat dengan thermometer jarumnya pasti habis angka untuk berpusing. Seperti mahu  pecah rasa jantungnya bila dibayangkan balik, ketika adik Ika memberitahu dia keluar dengan lelaki misteri. Hancur luluh pecah seribu hatinya dgn fakta yang baru saja dilemparkan tepat ke lohong telinganya. Dia memulas throttle Ego sampai ke hujungnya, dia menunggang dgn laju selaju air matanya yang mengalir membasahi pipinya.

Tak sampai lima minit dia dah sampai depan rumah, dia terus ambil baju kerja, siap dan keluar. Biasanya dia salam mak dia dulu lepas lunch tapi nak makan pun tak selera.

Tak tahulah berapa traffic light dia langgar, tapi dia selamat sampai kat tempat kerja. Pergi stor, campak helmet dan jacket, dan dia sedia jadi hamba 7Eleven dari 1 tengahari  hingga 10 malam. Penat sebenarnya hidup macamni. Hari tak ada kelas kena kerja, hari cuti kena siapkan tugasan. Study lagi. Nak harapkan duit Ptptn memang tak cukup.

Dia memeriksa telefon mana tahu Ika ada call balik. Haram tak ada. Dia still fikir baik. Mana tahu kawan, ataupun classmates, ataupun mungkin adik Ika tersalah tengok. Penat fikir sebenarnya. Lagipun dia tahu Ika takkan buat macamtu dekat dia. Bukan baru sebulan mereka dalam perhubungan.

“Hoi Ami. Kerja main telefon je apahal. Orang lain ada awek jugak oi,”

“Haha lepak la Bob. Orang tak ramai. Bukan aku call pun,” padahal dia just tengok telefon yang tak ada apa-apa mesej pun. Tengah tahan air mata sebenarnya.

“Untunglah. Aku ni pun tak ada siapa orang nak. Nak ngorat awek macam mana entah pakai baju cashier. Sial,”

“ Alah mesti ada punya. Mesti ada punya awek minat orang chubby-chubby sikit macam kau,”

“Sial kau Ami. Hah awek kau macam mana, kau still kekasih gelap ke macam mana ni?”

Dua-dua terdiam sekejap.

“Wehhh janganlah nangis kat sini!”




_________________________________________________________________________________





Pukul 3 pagi baru Ika call balik. Dia balik kerja pukul sepuluh, terus pergi rumah Ika. Lelaki tu hantar dia balik, Ika macam tak terkejut pun melihat Ami ada menunggu di depan rumah. Lelaki tersebut tidak menegur langsung Ami, selepas itu mereka bertukar senyuman dan berpisah. Ami cuma mejadi penonton sambil duduk di atas motor. Lepas Ika habis lambai dekat kereta lelaki tu Ika terus berjalan ke arah Ami. 

“Lama tunggu?”

“Lama jugak. Sejam. Sekarang dah pukul sebelas,”

Ika meletakan tanganya di atas kepala Ami, mungusap-gusap rambutnya. Basah sikit. Mungkin dekat sini hujan baru berhenti, kata Ika dalam hati. Sejuk malam tu.

“Ami balikla dulu okay. Nanti malam Ika call. Bawak motor elok-elok tau,”

Banyak jugak dia nangis dalam perjalanan balik rumah. Walaupun dekat je sebenarnya, dia ambil jalan jauh. Takut emaknya melihat matanya yang merah berair kalau dia sampai rumah tak habis nangis lagi. Lapar gila balik kerja so dia pun makan dulu. Lepastu dia pun duduk dekat sofa depan tv, dengan telefon dekat tangan, sampai pukul 3 pagi barulah dia dapat bercakap dgn Ika.

“Ami, awak tahu kan kita tak boleh. Saya harap awak faham,”

Dia diam. Dia cuba ingat balik apa Ika cakap dekat dia sebelum ni.

“Saya harap kita masih boleh jadi kawan. Macam biasa. Macam dulu-dulu,”

“Tapi kita dah janji,”

“Ami, awak tahu kan. Saya dah bagitahu awak yang saya kena fikir dulu. Benda ni bukannya main-main,”

“Awak dah janji nak tunggu kan,”

“Ami, saya taknak pun. Awak tolonglah faham,” Ika pun terus letak telefon meninggalkan Ami. 

Diruang tamu rumah itu, bercampur-aduk bunyi tv dengan bunyi orang menangis. Tiba-tiba dengar bunyi orang turun dekat tangga, awal sangat mak dia turun sahur kalau nak puasa sunat pun. Dia terus tutup tv dan bergerak kearah bilik dia, masih dalam pakaian kerja.

Masuk ke bilik dia terus tanggalkan semuanya. Dia pun pandang kearah cermin, menangis lagi. Dia menangis sambil peluk bantal, sambil tengok bilik dia yang bersepah dengan baju-baju dekat lantai. Dia pun ambil baju kerja yang ada nametag dengan nama Ami dan campak ke dalam bakul baju kotor. Tiba-tiba dia terdengar bunyi pintu bilik dia diketuk.

"Ye mak. Kenapa," kata Ami sambil memerhatikan lekuk-lekuk badannya di depan cermin. 

"Dah sembahyang isyak Amirah? Sempat lagi ni sebelum tidur. Esok kalau bangun pergi ambil baju kurung dah siap, mak letak duit kat meja. Kalau bangunlah kan,"






Night Strike

by Zicko Adanan




That feeling
When night found
and woke you up.

Those tears
of a nightmarish sleep
came crawling,
Haunting.

And the pages
of your life
Reversed.

Hoping if someone
Somebody, would listen.

But no one would ever know
Such scripts in your life
When you're most
Vulnerable.




Tembak Dulu

by Shakesbo




The thing strangles you from behind,
It kills not only your body but also your mind,
Obstacles by obstacles,
Deep down inside, you're rooting for a miracle.

But even Troy could not survive,
Paris and Menelaus's desire,
Deep within the forte hive,
The city was laid to rest in fire.

Now people see it as a drug one must have,
Comparing, Disagreeing, Bahan-ing, unable to come up with a Mutual Understanding,
Don't act like you don't know what you're in for,
Cause Son, shit happens you already know.

Suck it up, Tembak Dulu,
Haa macamtu baru kira satu,
Tapi jangan lupa diri,
Kita semua pasti mati.

This thing can't be the biggest plot,
Or else, everyone will rot!




Daily basis

by S. Pessimist





Like the sun and the moon,
We rise and set, day in day out.

But not to each other.

But once in awhile, once in a blue,
We meet and embrace.

Once in awhile, once in a blue,
We forget the loneliness.

Once in awhile, once in a blue,
We are one not two.

Like the sun and the moon,
We rise and set, day in day out.




Eh Penat Lah Sial

by Shakesbo




Eh penat lah.
When you wake up in the morning,
When you've had your shower,
After you've had breakfast, before you go to class,

Eh penat do.
When you've finished class,
When you've reached your room,
When you start hitting it.

Eh penat lah sial.
Deep down inside, you're not tired,
not at all, you're just tired of the,
pain and suffering,
Trapped in your own conscious mind,
penat lah sial harini.

Tiredness is sadness vice versa,
Jangan sedih paling muka,
You know you're tired cause you aint got no one.
Sedih lah sial macam ni.



Deadman's Denial

by Abraham Slothface




If today's my last
and tight shut my eyes,

don't you dare cry my dear
but dance for I'm once here.

Waltz on me, press it-
stomp on the clay rigid,

or I will claw my way out
and rip out your babyy's gut.




Reminder for Malays

by Zicko Adanan





Wahai Melayu, cepat bertaubat
sebelum terlambat
Masa makin singkat
Tak banyak boleh buat
Orang lain dah banyak rembat
sampai Melayu rengkat
tak ada lagi tongkat
Ada yang patah semangat
dah naik meluat
Cakap tapi tak buat

Lihat ultra kiasu, hidup muafakat

duit berlipat lipat
Jangan terperanjat, itu hakikat
Kita pula penuh dendam kesumat

Justeru ambillah nasihat

Berhenti maksiat
sebelum dilaknat
Buat untuk rakyat
bebaskan dari melarat
Jadikan mereka bangsa hebat
berdarjat di bumi berdaulat

Ingat,

kuasa hanya alat bukan matlamat
Demi maslahat umat 
yang makin tenat
Ingat,
Allah akan tanya apa diperbuat
di dunia baik atau jahat
dapat jawab selamat
tak dapat tamatlah riwayat.

(Adaptation from an article by Dr Ridhuan Tee Abdullah)







Words to Say

by Zicko Adanan




Exaggerated thoughts often left tears
After all it's only fears
When all that's left are those that dears
Love and hate are the constant years
But please,
Seek for what's beneath us than theirs
For love is stronger than ever
when it's spread through the skies
Even forever may sound like lies
but for a believer I'd say we take as many tries!