A Certain Deadline

Looking down,
Cars moving,
People walking.
Every car has a destination, a location, a mission.
Every person has a thought, a goal, a dream.
To a certain deadline.

Life is a company.
For a company to function,
A certain deadline to all workers.
A certain deadline makes life function.
Different for each person, but same goal.
Division of labor.

Once the certain deadline is completed,
Another one comes in.
The paycheck? To live life.
Person without a certain deadline
Isn't really living.
The hobos, the beggers, the bums.
They are the unemployment of life.

A certain deadline.
What's your certain deadline?

Fight, Comrades.

Fight, comrades.

There's a time in life
Where we just got to fight.
This is the time.
This is why we are here.

Fight, comrades.

For our rights.
For our time.
For love.

Fight, comrades.

Let struggle drives us.
Every energy drain from your body.
Tears and sweats seem no different.
Headache and heartbreak are from one source.

Fight.

It's worth fighting for.
A light at the end of the tunnel.
A lesson to be learnt.

Fight.

With a spear in your hand
And hope in your mind.
That's what keep you going.
Tomorrow, that's where we are going.

Fight, comrades.

With a blunt spear,
And with no hope.
At least, we are fighting.
We are living.

Fight, comrades.

We gotten this far together.
Live or die, we are here.
Everything happens for a reason.
Don't give up.
God is not dead.

Fight, comrades.

This is our crossroad.
This is why we are here.

Win or loose,
We live.
We fight.

PCQE will remain immortal in us, so will him.

Do you realize sometimes you can't decide if you hate or like the person? It's a fucking hard decision because it's a roller-coaster ride of hate/like toward the person. The best part of it, it's mutual. Well, to me, that's love. It's like good people and Death Eaters. "Besides, the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters." (Sirius Black). Well, I believe that's what Mr. Mack and his students had. Mr. Mack was the most annoying, mean, tiny Scottish man my AIS friends and I had ever known. But without a doubt, he was the best teacher that we ever had.

He was an English teacher in Ashgabat International School (AIS) when I was in grade 10. He taught us only one school year, but boy, what an impact he had on our lives. He came to the school with a mission to revolutionize our English toward a better future. We were offended, of course. Most of us grew up speaking English. He invented  introduced a system called "Point Context Quote Explanation" (PCQE) to write short answer or essay questions. A single grammar or structure mistake, he would brutally failed us in his annoying Scottish accent and told us to redo again. As time passed, our writing got better and we got close to him: exchanging DVDs, goofing around, playing basketball. He even suggested me literature because he knew I was a book-worm. I remembered at the end of the school year, I cracked my pelvis and I was out of school for a week. When I got back to school, it was finals. I received an A+ from him, I thought it was a pity mark. But during the end-of-the-year assembly, he presented me an award for my hard-work and my A+ essay. During the assembly, he said something like this: "Azim was one of my worst students, constantly failing essays, really bad grammar, and no content. But he never gave up to improve. Today, he's one of my best student with no mistakes in grammar and writes a really good essay." I  was deeply touched. That year, he left AIS. It was a sad moment. After a few months, my family had to go back to Malaysia. I was sure I will meet-up with him in the future, having drinks, talking about life and the good old days.

I received this yesterday, from a friend:

‎"Dear jeren, I am Ians' mother and Elaine sent on yor messages to me. We are as you may imagine devastated at the loss of Ian, it was so tragic and so sudden. He was working in Brunei and very happy. His contract had only a few more weeks to run and he had decided to come home to us after nearly 10 years of working away. We are still not certain, but he either got caught in a rip tide or his surf board hit him on the head, either way he was found on the beach and it was already too late. Your messages and those of your f riends have brought us great comfort. Please will you pass on my sincere thanks. We brought Ian home and laid him to rest on a little hillside not far from where we live. If you or anyone else would like to keep in touch with us we would be only too delighted to hear from you . Yours truly Anne Mack (Mrs.)"

I was devastated. How can a great and talented man just died? He was young and had so much give to the world. After moments of thinking, smoking, pondering in confusion and sadness, at the balcony, I fell into a nap and had the dream of having the drink that I never had with him. 

We were at a local Scottish bar, drinking and talking. I can't remember most part, but we were having a good time. I told him about my life, studying medicine and all. He said, he is in a better place, now. He told me to study hard and thrive in life. He guess he did his part in the world since God has decided to end it. I believe he did. I came to a realization about the honor of being a teacher. In life, every great man's dream is to achieve immortality- Achilles, John Keats, Gregor Mendel and others. They are all immortal through their achievements in war, literature and science. We achieve immortality by making a mark in the world and touching life of others. Mr. Mack did. As long as PCQE is used by his students and people who knew him remembers him, Ian Mack will live on. Before saying goodbye, I asked him if any of this is real, he answered:

I woke up from my nap, and it started to drizzle. I knew, it was real.

Just like Dumbledore to Harry, Mr. Mack was one of my mentors. He lived his life to the fullest and had no regrets.


I won't let you down.

RIP Mr. Mack.

We Wait

I'm fucking immortal,
My name shall be forever imprinted in the heavens,
Beauty got nothing on me.
I fucking created it.
Let the devils speak,
Judgement got nothing on me,
When immortality is destined for me.

Achilles had his heels,
I have my secrets.
Life is meant to be shared.
Truth is non existent.
Where does love comes in?

We are slowly decaying.
Death has waited for us.
Since we were born.
I'm not dead, not technically.
Not on a Friday night.
Not when I felt love.
Death is not the enemy.
its back to where we belong.

Bitter has stared at us for too long.
We are the sons of sorrow.
Let the silence speaks.
Let the birds sing.
Let the brothers stand under the orange sky.
Then, let us reap what we sow.
Let us live. 

A Slug is Still A Slug

Every work he has done means something.
Every drawing he has drew is carefully drawn.
Every piece he has created is a portion of his life.

He has made art from the skeptic's scratches.
He has made art from the ground's garbage.
He has made art from nature's nourishment.
He has made art from the heavenly haywire.

It was always his goal:
To change the ordinary to extraordinary.
Something in the world's eyes, it is simple and plain.
But in his eyes, it is not.
To him, how can anything at all be simple and plain?
Everything in the universe, earth, and life is extraordinary.

His art piece has never failed.
Every showing, the audience applaud is the stomps of giants.
Every showing, their eyes open up so wide and amazed
As if they saw beauty for the first time.
His art piece has never failed.

Until one day, it did.

He learned that
You can never change who you are.
He tried to created something
By changing it's core.

He never believe anything was evil or bad.
Just misunderstood, by society.
Just like everything was plain and simple.

The element's past doesn't mind him
Because what is done can't be undone.
The artist focus on it's future.
His product.

This was his mistake.
Bad and evil do exist.
It's a characteristic.

A slug is still a slug.
He can't make it
A better, respected, and beautiful animal.
It is not who slug is.
And it can't change their natural core either.
How can a slug be attractive?
A slug can mate with two at the same time,
And it can also think it's attractive by doing that,
But it's just sad.
It's a self-proclaimed compliment.

He tried for months.
But no muse happened for this art.
He hasn't failed.
He just wished
He didn't spend more time than he should.

Mirrors

It's a hideous reflection.

He said:

This is why

He left us.

She said:

This is why

She doesn't love me.

They said:

This is why

I'm a failure.

It's a beautiful gift.

I say:

This is who

I am, today.

I say:

This is what

She is missing.

I say:

This is 

Godsend.

Fuck him, her, and them. 

Fuck them all.

I am who I am. 

God Within Us

Sometimes, I feel God is inside of us.
Like, a part of Him is embedded in us.
Since, we were born.
So, He's with us.
Every, single moment.

When you are
Hopeless.
Giving up.
Powerless.

Just
Concentrate,
Meditate,
Silence.

There's a small voice.
Part of us.

That pushes us
To keep going.
To believe.

Bad or good,
Sinners or saint,
Partyer or prayer.

The voice will be there.

That's Him.

His unconditional love. 

It's beautiful.

Thank you.

Insyaallah.