It's been 2 weeks since I humped the bike. 2 weeks passed - I'm supposed to take her home tonite. Rumbling Balls of Fire pestered that I take it back immediately, as someone was eying my C50.
KL Sentral, Dayabumi & the river stinks
Without further delay, the time was booked on a Friday,
Thot that it might be an easy day,
not like Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday.
As these times it can be a bit of a mêlée.
Oh, on what a wrong side I could be.
28 km of road morons barking up my tree.
Roads were congested beyond compare.
So much that I regretted, I just could not repair
Every junctions & turns I had to beware.
My life & limbs were at stake, that rose my hair.
Damaged done, I just had to accept the fact.
That I would never ever ride that route again.
Unless I wanna end up in a box - compact!
Route: Plaza Sentral - Bandar Baru Bangi
Google route
Mêlée - Encounter or to struggle amongst something/people. = Confusion
"The mêlée of Hari Raya shopping..."
A confused tumultuous mingling, as noisy of a crowd: the rush-hour melee.
[French mêlée , from Old French meslee , past participle of mesler , to mix ; see meddle .]
Origin: 1910–15
Confusion - Not be confused with Confucius "孔夫子"
CONFUSION
A poem by: Alphonsus
I watch the morning sun arise
and bring forth new that day
a sense of hopeless loss and fear
and watching all that lay
about my mind in tangled mess
and muddy thoughts profound.
No simple loss of innocence
could ease that scentless hound.
The morning sun, it never changes
yet never is the same.
The ice of frozen memories
melt little with its flame.
How, and who, and why, and what
the questions all abound–
the rock tied to the rope of thought
tossed random all around.
No home in thee. No home for me.
My unbound thoughts no rest.
No glassy lake of mirrored sheen
to help my mind do best.
The morning sun now in the noon.
The time goes back and forth.
Scrambled eggs of lunchtime sup
and Eastward goes the North.
And so my face goes upside-down
to match my state of brain,
and the morning sun now rise to night
to fall up-down again.
A poem by: Alphonsus
I watch the morning sun arise
and bring forth new that day
a sense of hopeless loss and fear
and watching all that lay
about my mind in tangled mess
and muddy thoughts profound.
No simple loss of innocence
could ease that scentless hound.
The morning sun, it never changes
yet never is the same.
The ice of frozen memories
melt little with its flame.
How, and who, and why, and what
the questions all abound–
the rock tied to the rope of thought
tossed random all around.
No home in thee. No home for me.
My unbound thoughts no rest.
No glassy lake of mirrored sheen
to help my mind do best.
The morning sun now in the noon.
The time goes back and forth.
Scrambled eggs of lunchtime sup
and Eastward goes the North.
And so my face goes upside-down
to match my state of brain,
and the morning sun now rise to night
to fall up-down again.
Confucius "孔夫子"
Teacher & Philosopher - Values & philosophies that emphasized personal and governmental morality, correctness of social relationships, justice and sincerity.
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