Archive for the Poems Category

Save me.

Posted in Poems on May 17, 2008 by smoothcriminalmagic

Intense pressure of an unknown cause,

My sanity has been put on pause.

A time bomb with a few ticks set,

Have I exploded, or not just yet?

Would you dare?

Come close to this bomb,

on the verge of exploding?

To save me from myself?

To save me from hurting?

Would you?



Would you?


The Nerd

Posted in Funny, Islam, Poems on March 31, 2008 by smoothcriminalmagic


Howdy people (pronounced: beebol)!!

How’re you?

I’m pretty much half dead, but then again, I got my latte so I shant complain 🙂

Alhamdulillah, latte 🙂

Oh, before I continue.

This post was brought to you by:


*Coke Zero, because it being black, white and red are reason alone to buy it.*

Anyway, this isn’t going to be long because I have a presentation to get started on. That’s right, the life of a geo student! 🙂

*Sigh*, I love it but it’s alot of work.

Well, what isn’t, sah (‘right’ in Arabic)?

My cousin has retired to my brother’s room to play the PS2 and entertain himself since his ‘busy’ cousin has to work…but he’s busy practicing magic!


Oh boy.


I’ll get right on my presentation just after I post this…and watch a couple of Youtube videos on magic…

Hey, they’re loading already anyway!

Hehe 😉

Oh check this out!!!


*Stainless steel playing cards*

Is that WOW or what!?!?

They’d be lethal if you threw them!

Anyone got a spare £150??

* * *

Ok, so check it out, this is my philosophy:


*Hey, it’s true.*

And I wrote a poem about the nimrod below.

It was weird. I wrote half of this poem whilst studying for my animal test about a week or two ago, don’t ask me why or how, it just came to me.

So, I hope you enjoy it, it has some deep meaning to it. We’ve all had our encounters with the cunning Devil…but ultimately, it takes ‘two’ to tango…we can always say ‘no’.

It’s up to us, isn’t it? 😉

Whispers come in left and right,

Good ideas and some so bright,

A chance for you to get what you desire,

Blissfully forgetting about the hellfire.


You follow along,

the whispers don’t seem so bad,

what could possibly go wrong?

How could this end up sad?


Slowly but surely,

The whispers take effect,

He has thousands of years experience with this,

a science he has had time to perfect.


One whisper leads to another,

But you didn’t see it like that.

The evil was undercover,

What was innocent…was bad.


Then it happens,

and the whispers come to a halt.

For it is then that you realize,

that it was all your fault.


You then come to see the truth,

with full vision & clarity,

He does not force you to do these things specifically.


He merely whispers,


and encourages,

your stupidity.


Stay safe everyone,

And don’t let your stupidity get the better of you! 😉



Posted in Booga, Poems on March 26, 2008 by smoothcriminalmagic

I miss her.


I miss her alot.


I miss her smell.


I miss her softness.


I miss her cheeks.


I miss her warm embrace.


I miss her words of comfort.


That’s right ladies and gentlemen…be prepared to roll your eyes…


I miss my mummy 😦





I’ll admit it proudly just in case you are unaware, I am very much a Mama’s boy. Nothing warms my heart more than to see her smile.

And she’s so small!!


Alhamdulillah, she is alive and well, Alhamdulillah.

It’s just…

I miss her.

She’s in S’pore now, well, she was in KL a couple of hours ago to visit my grand aunty, so yeah.

She’s been gone since last Thursday…and she should be back this Friday Insha Allah.

Please pray she arrives home safe and sound!! 🙂

Actually, this time around, my missing her is not so bad, perhaps it’s cos I have alot of things on my mind, but I do feel an emptiness in the house. The lack of hugs and kisses is of course noticeable!

I remember how bad it used to be when I was younger, like when I was 7 or so and my mum had to leave, I’d always fall sick…somehow or another. It sucked because I was staying with family and it sort of troubled them, but yeah, can’t help it right?

It got really bad when I had to go to Singapore for my National Service. The first 2 months were the worst.

I remember the pain I would feel inside…being in a place I didn’t want to be…away from the people I loved and away from what I’m supposed to be doing…

I was so depressed and I felt so lost…eventhough Singapore is where I was born and the majority of my immediate family is there…I felt like a stranger in another country.

I grew up here, in good ol’ Brunei.

Brunei is home 🙂

Singapore was just…a mad rush poorly disguising itself as life.

Living there, I remember not a day went by that I didn’t miss her. As a result, I called her pretty much every day. That phone call, I reckon, was the only thing keeping my sanity in check.

Needless to say, my phone bill was close to $300 every month.

Money well spent, says I.

Living in S’pore drove me nuts…literally. To hear her soothing voice at the other end of the line was something I always looked forward to.

I remember not having a proper place to stay during my first few weeks there…the only ‘home’ I had initially was the Police Academy…sounds weird right?

My Dad wanted me to ‘stand on my own 2 feet’, something I rather appreciate now, looking back.

But such lessons aren’t learnt without costs.

It was really painful to be so alone and unloved, when just a week before you were surrounded by the people you love and got a warm embrace every time you left your room.

I remember sitting on top of my bunk bed in the barrack at night…writing this poem for my mum in my little notebook.


Throughout my life, you’ve been by my side to help me and hold my hand.

But now the time has come for me to go alone, to face life, its pains and joys, all by my own.

I love you more than any words could come close to describing and yet, I still feel that you need to be loved more.

Just like our Prophet, when God put you on this world, He not only did this world a favor, but mankind as well.

But to me, He gave me something so priceless and precious that I doubt I could eat, sleep, live or breathe without you.

I hope and pray that the time when we meet again will arrive sooner than we think, and the time we are together is as long as eternity itself.

I love you my dear mother and I want you to know that you are the air that fills my lungs, the substance that makes my heart beat, the life that flows through my veins.

Without you, for me, there is no life.

So lifeless I will be,

until we meet,


* * *


I remember weeping in the dark as I wrote that.

Melodramatic huh?

Well, when your parents divorced when you’re young and your mother brought you up single-handedly, teaching you everything you know…making you the man you are now…perhaps then you would understand, just how important she is to me.

Looking back at my writing in my little notebook…I still get a lump in my throat…I can see the pain in my handwriting…if that’s possible?

Heh, I remember typing all of this out when I got out of the Academy and sending it to my mum, after printing it on a fancy piece of paper.

4 years ago, I sent it to my mum.


4 years ago, my mum read it and loved it.


4 years ago, she pinned it on her board in front of her study desk.


4 years later…it’s still there.


Stay safe everybody,

And don’t worry…I’m calling her right now 🙂


You Don’t Know Me

Posted in Poems on March 15, 2008 by smoothcriminalmagic

Flames of fire licked the cauldron of his emotions,
Ever taunting the anger that lives in that potion,
Sad and alone, there’s nothing he can do,
To soothe this pain he feels so true.

Then one fine day, the fire licked too close,
Bursting the bubble of emotion, as if on purpose,
Heat comes off his chest, almost giving off a mist,
He clenches his teeth and tightens his fists,
All he sees is red, his blood is pumping so hard,
Everything he does now…is in total disregard.

The man recedes within in time to ponder,

“What’s happening to me?”

“What’s happening to me?”

And in response, a growling voice seemed to answer,

“The beast is free.”

“The beast is free.”

His roars fill the space of what used to be his home,
His blood boils so hot, he feels it in his bones,
His words form no sentences, just grunts and shouts,
His hands, once instruments of wonder, are ready for bouts.
He wants to see blood like a guttural instinct,
He wouldn’t think twice about it,
Not even for an instant.

A brave woman stands in front of what used to be this man,
She wanted to talk reason but he wouldn’t understand,
Only wild and bloodshot eyes stared back at her,
In it what was left of a man was starting to wither,
The only resonating thing he seemed to say,
As she looked into his bloodshot eyes that day,
Was something she thought she’d never ever see,

His eyes seemed to say,

“You don’t know me.”

You don’t know me.