Twilight Tunes & Nighttime Rap

What, now in the nighttime?
When the day is past prime?
Sneaking away like a crime
Just getting into my pasttime
As the corporate ladder we climb
Dragging us through mud and slime
And you wonder where all the time
Has come and gone…
Nah to truly rap you gotta rhyme.

And all our days we slave away
So that our fears we can allay
But as we sleep our minds betray
Our well-laid plans begin to decay
Hurts and shame our heads replay
Angry things that we can’t unsay
Our parent’s dreams we must obey
No this ain’t no jolly reggae
It’s all just another workday.

As my aircon gently blows
The tropical air swirls and slows
And mosquitoes poke their nose
In places where anything goes
Deep down we all know
That like our wabi-sabi shows
And as our ice creams unfroze
We just want to wiggle our toes
And forget tomorrow’s throes.

Ok, maybe some of this rap rhymes.

Vestiges of Summer

Under my eyelids still reside
The vestiges of summer,
And as I drift across the fields
Upon warm toasted butter
Of the beaming golden sun
In its waning light I wonder
What summer is like where you are.

We used to hold hands upon the pier
As the waves caressed the break,
Sea breeze brings back the memories
As my heart begins to ache,
The clouds fall away to black
And the sun begins to forsake
Reminding me I am standing alone.

And though I know that you go
To a place far better than here,
Inside I can’t help but feel a
Void of terror and fear,
That nothing else and no one
Can ever make me feel this dear,
This poor and shattered upon the pier.

So now I embark on the road
Back the way we came
Back down the pier I go
But it is no longer the same.
I awaken to the fact
That there is no longer the flame
To light the way in the dark of night.

Now the sun has plummeted
Beneath the deep blue sea
Plunged into the depths
Of some aquatic revelry
Like the beat that sways
From within my chest
For freedom does it plea.

As the stars begin to dance
Across the navy waves
And I recall your face
My soul that I thought was saved
Comes crashing down hard
Churned into a ragged foam
Into a million salty graves.

Under my eyelids still reside
The vestiges of summer
That warm and gentle breath
With you in that billowing dress
I know you won’t be back
But still I can’t let go
As my heart yearns for swift death.

Gazing Upon the Prospect

And as I gaze upon the sunset,
The soft pastels burning in the sky;
I recall the prospects of my life,
Thoughts surely doomed to die.

The exciting prospect of adventure,
The placid prospect of a nap at noon;
The prospect of finding a few friends,
Of catching a maiden in mid-swoon.

The prospect of having no regrets,
Of living and experiencing to the max;
A life of luxuries and hardships,
Of never turning back.

The lofty notion of prosperity,
The dream of being financially free;
Of having more than you could spend,
Like money falling from the tree.

Waking up to the hope of sunrise,
Of watching it beam over the land;
Over windswept wastes and silence,
Over sunken scars and sand.

The prospect of seeing sprouts spawn,
New life springing strongly forth;
From the ruins of their forefathers,
Who ravaged and polluted this earth.

Our prospect of creating a world,
Many worlds that we could call our own;
And yet in the end all we would reap,
Is the destruction that we have sown.

Building imaginary empires of stone,
Our entire lives we slave;
For a generation that will never come,
One only destined for the grave.

And as our hope evaporates,
Rising upon the cursed wind;
Of creating a better world,
Of atoning for our sin.

We sit in solace at the prospect,
That life is but a game;
What of all that guilt we felt?
All the hurt and shame?

We play with each other’s feelings,
We speak and curse and shout;
And when it comes time to depart,
Leave no clue as to what it’s about.

And that is all life is,
A joke we tell our friends;
A temporal tick of the clock,
The variety of spice we blend.

In the end are we not just a tiny ember,
A withered frond that burned briefly?
A silly sentiment gone swiftly,
As the fire in our eyes goes out.

We are the dream of the butterfly,
The wild chimera that Lao Tze saw;
With wings so we could soar,
And defy the gravitational law.

And as the butterfly dreams,
So too are our prospects imaginary;
Frazzled figments of our best minds,
In our little bodies we will carry.

To our imaginary friends,
And loved ones we bring;
That imaginary notion of love,
That we all endlessly sing.

For what prospect does love have,
What purpose does it bring?
Merely a tool for survival,
Or for the lost and lonely to cling?

Cling to the hope that someday,
They will be happy and content;
That all their problems will be solved,
And the haters will repent.

Just as the butterfly does not recall,
The dreams of its past;
So too should we let go of it all,
Let memories breathe their last.

As we stand in the face of our impending doom,
Of certain demise we live on;
And in our hearts of stone and gloom,
The prospects have all gone.

That long last prospect of being,
That final solitary one;
A craven figure upon the dry earth,
Staring into the harsh sun.

To witness the world as it falls apart,
As the mountains roll into the sea;
To watch with your own eyes,
As our empires cease to be.

To breathe in the ashes of the charred remains,
What is left of our paltry existence;
A bittersweet ending to the words,
To the short life that we were gifted.

In our quest to find meaning,
The purpose of our lives;
We discovered the wealth of learning,
We multiplied in our hives.

We grew beyond our boundaries,
And lived in many lands;
But in the end we didn’t understand,
The madness that was in our hands.

And in our bid to make meaning and sense,
Of our bleak bustling businesses;
We found out that the purpose,
Is that everything is meaningless.

And as I gaze upon the sunset,
The soft pastels burning in the sky;
I think back to the good times,
Memories surely doomed to die.

Feelings – A Haiku

Do I not speak of
My feelings because I am
Trying to be man?

Do I not speak of
My feelings because of my
Asian upbringing?

And so are feelings
Not manly or improper
For certain ethnics?

Do us men not feel
Not feel sadness or sorrow
Happiness and joy?

Do us Asian folk
Bottle up our guilt and hurt
Show no affection?

Do I not speak of
My feelings because I will
Be vulnerable?

Do I not speak of
My feelings because only
Rejection awaits?

Do I not speak of
My feelings because I am
Still empty inside?

How can I express
Say that which I cannot name
No labels for them?

How can I tell you
What I am feeling if I
Do not know myself?

Do I not speak of
My feelings because I fear
That you will hate me?

That you will lash out
With your tongue and mighty words
Of judgment and truth.

Or that my feelings
Mean absolutely nothing
Mean nothing to you.

Feelings are fleeting
They come and go like the wind
They fall like the rain.

As rain hits the earth
Teardrops perishing to mist
And forever gone.

So too do feelings
Strike and fade upon the skin
Gone in a moment.

But some feelings stay
They linger on deep inside
Churning in our gut.

Like raging hunger
They boil inside our belly
Consume from within.

And if we do not
Give them voice and let them out
Grow inside they will.

Like a seed without
Beautiful rays of sunshine
And warmth of a hug.

So too will the seeds
Inside us wither and die
Warping in the dark.

Perhaps there will come
A day when we can learn to
Talk about feelings.

To begin telling
Of the story from the heart
With two words: “I feel…”

There Once Was A Man From Seattle

There once was a man from Seattle,
Who crossed the Pacific to do battle,
With mozzies and heat,
And though he was 1337,
Couldn’t defeat the bureaucratic cattle.

Upon his bike he rode,
From Gurney to abode,
Bearing his grocery load,
Hopefully it won’t explode.

Strange signs along the road,
In words he could not decode,
But still with traffic he flowed,
Sticking to the penal code,
No signs of fatigue he showed.

At home he got to unload,
The groceries on the commode,
And so ends another episode,
Of David’s life in ode.

david fabritius
The man. The legend.

Like Snow In Winter

Gloomy and cold,
Both inside and out,
As snow fell where west winds blow.

Rain was falling,
Both inside and out,
As snow fell where west winds blow.

Where did you go,
O’ fair white sun?
Why did you depart our shores?

No sound as you left,
And you were gone,
Without a single warning.

I feel you still,
Where is your warmth?
Your coarse hair through my fingers.

Where did you go,
O’ fair white sun?
Whose shores will know your comfort?

I hope you stand,
Upon green grass,
Greener than you’ve ever had.

Where warm winds blow,
And children laugh,
And you run forevermore.

I hope you will,
Bring joy to those,
Whose shores you now shine upon.

That they also,
Cherish you now,
Just as we once did.

And though we may,
In time lose sight,
We will never forget you.

Rest well my friend,
Let sleep guide you,
Across the gentle plains and seas.

Snow is falling,
In the dessert,
Gently as the west wind blows.

White Sun
Fare thee well, my friend