BangBalls

Studium & Punctum

2010-12-11T00:55:00.006+08:00

Now, please tell me which is which.

Time's A Resource

2010-11-26T02:43:00.003+08:00

It has been awhile since I've felt this feeling of wanting to shoot.

Two doors, two paths, two alternatives.

But only one choice.

In Silence.

2010-11-20T17:56:00.003+08:00

The deafening silence hurts the ears but heals the soul.

160km/h was all it took.

2010-11-14T22:38:00.003+08:00

One of the many bends in Cameron Highlands. A great prelude to driving in European mountain ranges.

An amazing drive from Singapore to Penang to Cameron Highlands and back to Singapore.

Oh, not forgetting that Jas and I got lost in KL - without a map, GPS unit or any clue as to where we were or how we were going to get back home. But we did it, all thanks to her great note taking skills (we asked a nice Chinese golfer for directions at the KL Golf Country Club) and observant eyes.

I'm ready to conquer Thailand. Anyone with me?

The Railway.

2010-11-11T00:10:00.003+08:00

As trains come and go, the only thing that resists time are the tracks they speed on.

A million different experiences kept together with never-ending parallel steel bars.

On Photographs.

2010-10-28T02:33:00.002+08:00

A photo captures what the eyes see,
while a memory seals what the heart then feels.
In many photos does one reside,
just as how in many memories other ones are etched.

To All Who Work Alone.

2010-06-17T23:31:00.005+08:00

In a day of work and sorrow,
My mortal coil meets no tomorrow.

For work starts and ends,
With no finite stop,
It never truly ends.

So the hours and days go by,
On and on, just repeat.

But in every single day,
A sliver of hope remains.
A taste of sweet nectar on my lips, I long for it to stay.

It doesn't come when it's breakfast,
Nor does it come at lunch.
It doesn't come for tea,
Nor does it come at a smoke break.
It doesn't come when it's time to knock off,
Nor does it come when I get my pay.
It comes only when I see my love,
At the end of every single day.

6 mins to flat.

2010-05-12T23:27:00.001+08:00

I've got a mental block.

I did some writing this afternoon, so my juices have been expanded.

I'll update soon.

Good night!

2010-04-28T13:12:00.005+08:00

Jasmine: Have you updated your blog?

Mark: Errrr...yes.

Jasmine: (Checks) No, I don't see it. Your last blog entry is the cartoon I posted.

Mark: Look at the tagboard.

No, dear. That does not constitute an update.

Please try harder.

2010-04-24T21:21:00.001+08:00

In The Heat.

2010-02-07T23:53:00.004+08:00

In the heat of the sun,

Skin crackles; it burns.

In the heat of time,

Clocks tick; time runs.

In the heat of the moment,

Words fly; they blind.

So hot, so painful.

So scared, so tired.

So unnecessary, so sorry.

The Hole-y Matrimony.

2010-01-05T03:42:00.003+08:00

For marriage is nothing but paper, rings and flowers.

What's there to be bound when hearts breed suspicion even before commitment?

My Smokin' Girl.

2009-11-25T02:30:00.006+08:00

Love mimics an addiction to cigarettes.

Women are like cigarettes.

You buy a pack of cigarettes knowing that you have twenty sticks in it.

You date a girl knowing that there are just as many other girls out there.

If the pack doesn't suit you, you move on.

If the girl doesn't suit you, you too move on.

There's a certain amount of anticipation you have before you open each and every pack. Knowing that every stick will satisfy your craving whenever you have one.

Each cigarette can be alluded to a woman you fancy. Women are great company. Liking them is even better. They offer you a sense of elation, comfort and a warm fuzzy feel. Cigarettes like women offer the very same feeling.

Cigarettes are the best companion for a lonesome individual. And likewise, women are great companions for lonely men.

The lighting of a cigarette is much like courtship with a love interest. As you light the stick up, you have a sense of excitement. You know that you'll be satisfied with each and every puff you take. The first few puffs are so intense that they knock you off your feet. You get all oozy and light headed. You even smile to yourself. As with courtships, they too knock you off your feet at the very beginning. The excitement you have before each date is equivalent to that of craving a cigarette. You know you'll be happy with what's to come on the date. So you go through the routine inhalations and exhalations. And soon you come to the end of your stick. It's about time to stub it out. And like the dying cigarette, the fun and exciting dating game too comes to an end. All of a sudden, you're taken out of your magical world of love into cold hard reality.

So what happens after that?

You probably wait for your next craving for a stick. And when it comes, you repeat your standard operating procedure. Pack, open, remove, insert, light, inhale, exhale and extinguish.

As with smoking, you do the same with women. When your dates don't work out or you decide that things aren't working out, you leave and extinguish whatever flames there are between you and the other. Just as you crave a smoke, you too crave the company of a woman. And when that craving hits you, you repeat another set of standard operating procedures. Initiate, flirt, date, date some more, realise and leave.

This is how one goes through so many packs of cigarettes.

This is also how one goes through that many 'heartmakes' and heartbreaks.

But if you think about things carefully, there's a commonality between each and every cigarette/pack you smoke. That similarity is your trusty lighter. As packs and sticks go, the lighter is the only thing that stays. It gives you the most important element a smoker needs - fire. You can abandon your current pack for another newer/fresher pack. But you can never do without your lighter. You develop a special bond with it. You never leave home without it.

And as with your lighter, only a special someone can make you feel that way. When you eventually find her, nothing can make you abandon her. You're hers as she is yours. You develop a special bond with her - love. Your heart never leaves her behind.

Your lighter isn't perfect. There are times where it too runs out of gas. Or the times where the flint is worn out and won't light the wick. You get frustrated. Maybe even angry. But at the end of the day, you bring it home and you service it with some tender loving care. You top it up with some fluid, you change the flint so that it sparks - perfection yet again.

And as with your lighter, your lover can also make you irritated. There are bumps in the road of love. But each and every time you think it's just too much to take, all you have to do is to just put in more tender loving care. Things work out; they work out perfectly.

With a cigarette you may give up as and when you want, but with your lighter, you never give up without a fight.

And as with you a random girl you fancy, you move on when you have to, but with your lover, you too never give up without a fight.

I've found my lighter, have you?

Blood Lust.

2009-11-17T02:34:00.004+08:00

A twist of the torso

A twitch of the flesh

Each strike I take

Is better than the rest

The slamming of the fist

I know I've not missed

Again and again I let it flow

My knuckles now white and cold

I summon each punch

With zest and feel

Embedding them with a hit of steel

I see the blood

But I feel no pain

For with each strike I take

I see a face I hate

I hit and I hit

Till it's set on repeat

I learn to hit where it will kill

For I fight not to injure

But to draw blood

Blood not of my own

But the crimson of my foes

For their blood I lust

And will one day draw

I strengthen myself more and more

To keep them running

I turn to hate

With scorn and disgust

In them I soar

Their souls mine for the taking

For myself I will prepare this killing

I lust their blood

More than God's mighty floods

I compose myself

I take my aim

And once again

I start this cycle

Of hit, punch and restore

For their blood I seek

And will one day meet

I will keep this hatred aflame

With gusto and pain

I will make them pay

For sins they made on that day

For hatred is insufficient

To express what I feel

They will pay for their sins

For what they've in the past committed

Vengeance is what keeps me afloat

As I sail in solitude in this hateful boat.

All You Need Is Love.

2009-11-14T01:05:00.003+08:00

For everything has it's cycle

And in these cycles lie a purpose

We will never know of them

Until the very very end

So, we'll wait it out

To find what it's all about

For we already know where our road will lead

In that direction, its signs, together we will heed

When The Cold Wind Blows.

2009-10-29T02:39:00.003+08:00

It reads 2:40am on the clock.

0240hrs.

20 minutes before 3 in the morning.

40 minutes after 2 in the morning.

Time is told in so many ways, it's a wonder that man never gets confused with 'it'.

The weather is chilly. No, it isn't pouring. It isn't even drizzling. But it just is cold. Chilly to be exact. The temperature, rather, lack thereof sends a chill down the spine.

You'd think that switching off the fan or donning a sweater would help. But this cold, isn't a cold that can penetrate the skin. It's a cold that's emitted from what we scientifically call, cellular membrane.

It comes from within. No, you won't experience frostbite at your extremities. You experience it within your body. You heart seems to have been set in water that's slowly freezing to ice. Each beat is slower than the other, and it worries you. It's probably just mental - that's what we all want to think when we feel sick. Bodily aliments aren't really physical but psychological, you want to believe that; you will believe that.

It's a fine line between a real illness and one that's just concocted and executed in the mind.

You really can't tell what it is now. Cold, just so cold.

A hot cup of tea? Maybe milo or coffee. But no it doesn't help. It never does help with inward chills.

Maybe a stick? If one won't work magic, two just might. But no, the glowing ember still proves futile.

Hiding under the sheets? Pulling it right up to your neck, just below your chin. You're supposed to feel warm. Well, not warm per se; but warmer for sure?

You just don't. And you're starting to feel as though your life and soul are slipping away from you. You want to panic. You want to cry for help. But it's a sense of futility that tells you not to. No one can save you now. No drug can.

And so your body finally gives in to the chills. Your eyelids fall shut. Your breathing deepens. There's nothing else you can do. It's all in the stars, beyond you as all things are.

On nights as such, only love can work the miracle you want, crave and wish for.

A Priceless Game.

2009-10-14T02:10:00.000+08:00

When there's too much to be lost, You don't think of winning, You only fear losing.

The Exorcism of Demons within.

2009-10-13T00:03:00.003+08:00

In the Name of the Agape and of the Philia and of the Eros, Love.

Let Love arise and let its obstacles be scattered: and let them that hinder it flee from before its presence!

As smoke vanisheth, so let them vanish away: as wax melteth before the fire, so let the troubles perish at the Presence of Love. Judge Thou, O' Love, them that hinder me: overthrow them that prevent me.

Let these insecurities be confounded and ashamed as they make me doubt thee. Let them be turned back and be confounded that devise thoughts and worries against thee. Let them become as dust before the wind: and let the power of Love straighten them. Vanquish the way of their thoughts and presence: and let the power of Love protect we from all assaults.

For without cause they have blinded and clouded sane judgement and trust: without cause they have upbraided my heart for thee.

In the Name of the Agape and of the Philia and of the Eros, Love.

When Love Finds.

2009-09-19T03:02:00.003+08:00

Man searches for love as he does searching for food.

Like food, love too is a form of sustenance.

What is life without love? It's like the oceans without salt - full but tasteless and bland.

When we don't find it, we crave for it. We look for it in the weirdest of places, always failing to find what we had set out to seek.

But love, isn't found. Love finds. And when love finds you, you find love. In the oddest of situations, in the most unsuspecting parts of your life.

And that, is the beauty of true love, the fact that you can never find it when you search, until it chooses to find you when you least expect it.

If life was all about finding true love, I'd now die in peace and much happiness.

For what I've found,

I never expected.

Only daring to dream of,

Is now mine and genuinely reciprocated.

Girlfriend, I love you.

Complexed Perplex.

2009-09-06T03:08:00.003+08:00

I like the word perplex.

It makes you sound more sophisticated when you're trying to say you're confused.

I'm perplexed by this occurrence. Vs I'm confused by this occurrence.

When you say confused, you sound stupid. Perplexed makes you sound as if you've given things thought. It's a good way of deceiving people that you're a thinker, when actually, you're not.

Word choice, oh word choice.

Glory be to the word, and to the choice and to the holy perplexed.

Amen.

When in doubt.

2009-08-26T12:38:00.000+08:00

What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.

船到桥头自然直。

At times like these...

2009-08-25T23:11:00.002+08:00

Time isn't quantifiable. Qualitative in nature, things are in constant flux. What then is eternal?

All we know for certain are the truthfulies we keep deep down in our hearts.

Game.

2009-08-19T15:33:00.000+08:00

Does the hunt precede the trophy?

人生大道理。

2009-08-17T02:40:00.003+08:00

山不弯，路弯。

路不弯，人弯。

人不弯，心弯。

君子能屈能生。

Lucky Strikes a Zippo Light.

2009-08-16T01:32:00.005+08:00

As I sit alone in the stairwell with a pack of Luck Strikes and a red zippo, all that is before me is stationary. Nothing moves. Yet inside, everything is moving. The blood in the veins are pumping, the air molecules are whizzing to and fro, atoms in the walls are vibrating. All that's stationary actually moves.

The body may not move, but the mind does, the heart does too. Physical actions are restricted, forced to be held stationary by conditions not set and bound by itself. Externalities are always in control. Life is never about the oneself but the many around. Thoughts race through your mind. You are compelled to behave in manners only condoned by circumstance. What else is there to do but sit stationary? You are not yourself, you are society's self, you are her self. You can never do what you want. It's never about you, always about the other. And that's where the pain of life sets in. The restrictions you're bound and answerable to. Every action that you thought was permissible, never truly was.

To break free of the chains of life is a gamble I wish to take. Life cannot grab you by your balls. You grab life by its balls and lead it where you want it to go. You give it an occasional squeeze to let it know that you are in control. It shouldn't be allowed to squeeze yours. And when that mould you're trying to shape doesn't let you do what you want, you break it. You crush it and you leave. You don't say you're sorry. Sorry is overrated. I can murder and say I'm sorry, but it wouldn't resurrect the dead, would it? Brutality is all that counts. Once bitten twice as shy. What's broken can be mended, but it'll never be the same. Breakages are ephemeral while cracks are eternal. In life, what use is there for an imperfect object?

Emotion can be a God-sent. It too can be the Devil's greatest advocate. Is lust wrong? No, it isn't. The manifestation of lust is what determines its moral nature. Lust is just like anger. Getting angry is not wrong, but hitting someone out of anger is. As with lust, anger and all other emotions, the manifestation is all that counts. When man lives on emotion alone, he is bound for disaster.

To the millions in the world who sleep ever so soundly tonight, I wish you well when dawn breaks. For your period of stationary rest and solitude was met with my insatiable appetite for kinetics and revolution.

Goodnight.

When Strings Snap.

2009-08-15T00:40:00.002+08:00

They flick it on

As how they can flick it off.

They turn you over

Just to let you rot.

A massacre of hearts

They wallow in felicity.

Songs so sweet only they can sing

Only to hear later that it's a fling.

They guard themselves with Kevlar and steel

From your body the skin they'll peel.

As you coil in pain

They won't let you faint.

They'll wake you up with a little care

Just to strike you down when you're on your way up there.

And just as you think it'd end

It starts all over again.

Blood of a Different Ink.

2009-08-14T01:16:00.000+08:00

Writing is my catharsis. Some people drink, others slash themselves. I write to rid myself of pain. This is my catharsis and no one can take it away from me.

If I were to die painfully, I'd bleed words enough to write the whole Encyclopædia Britannica twice.

Transient Affair.

2009-08-12T15:03:00.000+08:00

And so the room was adorned with balloons. It reeked of happiness.
Something very much foreign to us all. It seemed so happy, so
pleasant. But deep inside, we all had a stabbing pain - one to call
ours, one to call our own. We all kept silent about it, we didn't want
to show our vulnerabilites, we had to be strong, we have to be
strong. Chatter permeated the room, conversations were made, what of,
I bet no one knew. It was sensless banter, just chatter. People kept
talking, others were laughing, some left whispering, only two sat
silent.

Alone in a corner, a perculiar face stood out. It was a look of
solitude, the look of fatigue. It reeked of despair, of hopes lost and
never found. She sat there alone, gentle and sweet. We made eye
contact. A small grin ensued, what that meant, neither of us knew. We
just knew of a mutual connection. Bashful as all strangers are at the
start, we tried avoiding getting caught in an exchange. Each stolen
glance spoke in a way words never could. That brief moment said so
much; Hello there sugar. How are you? What's your name? What are your
pains? Are you single? Are you available? These questions, they never
stopped, it soon became a conversation made up of just visual stares
and facial contractions. It was amazing. She signalled for me to go
closer, just like how all the other women have. And though it was the
very same game played, it just felt different. There was an air of
romance in this rendevous. That was the concern - my concern.

Women, they knew this game much better than their counterparts. They
knew their privillages, they knew their rights. We men were left to
guess their thoughts and to play the romantic fool. Some excelled at
the game while others only knew the bitter taste of rejection. Don
Juans were crowned and Romeos were lost, that was how brutal the game
of love really was. But the sweet rose, the object of romantic desire
never let them falter in their romantic cause.

The mustering of sufficient courage to approach the sweet botanical
creation was a Herculean feat, a feat far more insurmountable by the
mortal man. As love creates, love too destroys. It breaks the
individual down to become the epicenter of something more powerful
than the lone entity of a person. It takes the good, the bad, the ugly
and the sad; mixing it all into a concoction of love. Love is
something so mystical and powerful that even the great philosophers of
Greek antiquity could never actually understand. The ability to feel a
myraid of confliciting emotions leaves us at a lost. The question of
love, on love was: how real and true can this feeling be?

Contact was made. Words were exchanged. Interests were shared. Sweet
nothings whispered. But all of it amounted to nothing, for fate wasn't
on either of their sides.

Drag Race Romance.

2009-08-07T01:20:00.002+08:00

Too fast

Too furious

Not knowing

Possibly assuming

Rushing madness

Irrational foolishness

Lacking patience

Too impatient

'Sordid' crush

Both blush

Shockingly sudden

Love's garden

But whoever said that falling in love

Couldn't be any of the above?

Love - a car shopping affair.

2009-08-02T12:10:00.004+08:00

Buying a car's no easy task, and that, as with love, is very much the same.

Everyone steps into a showroom looking for his individual Ferrari. Some might want a F430, others an Enzo. Choosing your dream car is as relative as Einstein's concept of space and time. To some, a 0-100km under 3.9s might be that one deciding factor; to others, it might just be the simple elegance of an oak finished console, topped off with luxurious seats made out of a young calf's skin.

Right from the start, you might have gone out searching for that Ferrari, but a sudden pop into the Lamborghini showroom might just prove to be an eye opener. You feel the car, you floor the throttle. Everything seems just so sweet. Soon, the iconic bull has engulfed the prancing horse. Whatever happened to that sweet sweet love for red?

And when you eventually find your true love of an automobile, you hesitate not. You fall head over heels in love with her four wheels, her chassis, her purr and her curves. What more can a man ask for? You sign the papers readily and without doubts. You take her home. You caress her ever so gently; caring for every scratch, bruise and dent she would ever sustain. You become one with her, never independent, forever reliant.

Then comes the puzzling thought of changing yourself a new ride. What happens to your Lady? Yes, newer and faster models will emerge. With better specifications; quad-turbos, super-duper chargers and TSG (Triple Shift Gears), who says you're not to be tempted? But know that temptation is not a sin, falling for it - that is.

As quoted from Blake's My Pretty Rose Tree;

But I said, 'I've a pretty rose tree,'

And I passed the sweet flower o'er.

You stand by your Lady for eternity. And just in case you're wondering, that's how vintage cars come about.

Buying a car is like falling in love, it's a feeling that one must first possess before pleasure and satisfaction can set in.

TO ALL WHO READ MY BALLS.

2009-07-05T18:00:00.003+08:00

I'M AT FOC FOR THE WHOLE OF THIS WEEK, WHEN I COULD HAVE GONE TO VIETNAM TO BACKPACK (FOR FREE!)

KNNCCB. ENOUGH SAID.

DON'T MISS ME PEOPLE. I KNOW YOU ALL WILL.

AHHH. FUCK THIS SHIT.

EDIT

CAMP WAS MOTHER AWESOME!

NO REGRETS.

LET'S GO PAVERTS, LET'S GO!!!!!!!

PS, we'll be back to proper expression after this. All these narrative posts are distasteful and boring!!!!!!!! hehehe.

WHO ARE, WHO ARE, WHO ARE WE?

WE ARE, WE ARE, WEE KIM WEE. WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

WHEEEEEEEEEE!!!

2009-06-17T02:18:00.003+08:00

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!! Today was a fun and eventful day. I woke up with only 3 hours of sleep and headed down to SGH for my physio session. Good news, it's 80% recovered, or so says my physiotherapist, gosh, I don't even know her name. HAHAHA. After physio, I met mich for lunch at Maxwell. Driving into town is a killer. All the ERPs and parking charges can really make you go broke. Lunch was good. Damn filling. And rather reasonable! After which, we had a departure stick and I headed off to Liang Seah street to meet Ashley and Majella. While waiting for them to arrive, I texted M asking what the place they were lunching at was called. She replied: SOME STEAKHOUSE. I stupidly assumed that the shop's name was SOME STEAKHOUSE, and proceeded to hunt for it. Thank god I wasn't foolish enough to approach a random stranger to ask for directions. When she arrived, I realised that she too didn't know what it was called, and hence the SOME steakhouse. Brilliance of a cousin. We had a slow and leisurely lunch (which lasted till 4pm). I dropped M home and Ash went down to East Coast to do WHAT HE NEEDED TO DO. I got home to find that WKWSCI had left me a hand sent envelope containing details of FOC'09. Damn touching. To think of all the effort they must have put in to just get it sent out. OHHHH. AND THEY GOT APB AND ZOUK AND PARTY WORLD KTV TO BE SPONSORS. I GUESS OUT OF 4 DAYS, WE'LL BE GETTING SLOSHED FOR 5. AWESOME. HEHEHEHEHE. LOLXXXX. WHEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! I took a nap which was supposed to last for 30mins. And being the lazy ass I am, it turned into a 2 hour long visit to lalaland. I got up at 8 when I was supposed to meet Joshua and Eileen at 730 at Paulaners to watch Zsa and Claire perform. PAISEH, I WAS SOOOO LATE. 2 beers down and 5 sticks burnt, Timmy came to meet us. He donned a smart blazer and a sexy purple shirt, WOOT! And we took 36 to Mas Ayu near Eileen's place. We had our really late dinner, which was really good, and more happies. After which, we parted ways and cabbed home. WHEEEEEEEEEE!!! WHAT AN AWESOME DAY. hehehehehehe. :))))

FUCK THIS SHIT.

HOW DO PEOPLE ACTUALLY BLOG LIKE THAT?!

(This entry was purely experimental, though, all events quoted did actually happen.)

This was the intended post:

Could you be full of absolute honesty if you told only truthful lies?

To Celia; From AA

2009-06-16T04:56:00.002+08:00

I hate ripping stuff off people. But this is just awesome! An alcoholic's expression of love, to his love, Celia.

To Celia:

Drink to me, only, with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine ;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine :
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.

I sent thee, late, a rosy wreath,
Not so much honoring thee,
As giving it a hope, that there
It could not wither'd be.
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
And sent'st it back to me :
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee.

From Alcoholics Anonymous

Now now, you would have loved if I had done this, yes?

Man of flesh, Heart of steel.

2009-06-09T04:04:00.004+08:00

I'm no spare tyre

I'm no spare wheel

Cause I'm

Man of flesh

Heart of steel.

I'm no romantic

I'm a cynic

Cause I'm

Man of flesh

Heart of steel.

I'm here for play

I'm not to stay

Cause I'm

Man of flesh

Heart of steel.

I'm not easy

I'm never queasy

Cause I'm

Man of flesh

Heart of steel.

I'm no sensitive

I'm no nice-y

Cause I'm

Man of flesh

Heart of steel.

BUT

I'm in love

I'm in pain

Cause even if I'm

Man of flesh

Heart of steel

Robots too can feel.

Lighting Up.

2009-05-31T06:03:00.002+08:00

It all starts with a plant
From some far-off tobacco farm
Where only the finest are grown and cultivated

(Where yoga gurus are also levitated)

Dried, packed and treated

Tar, chemicals and poisons are then added

Rolled into quaint white rolls

Straight, no creases, no folds

Packed into boxes of twenty

Sealed with silvery foils ever so pretty

Garnished with images of gore

We HAPPY-ers all know they're all mythical lores

We pay a premium price

When we should be paying that much only for rice

We pack it on the back of our hands

Or palms or the tables' straightened bends

Unwrap the plastic

Open the foil

Fish out that one stick

And you're ready to yourself spoil

The flick of the Zippo

Suck it in like a Hippo

Blow out the first puff

Suck in the next

Soon you'll huff

And you'll puff

Dreaming of the river Styx

Suck it in, suck it up

Close your eyes and let yourself drop

Into a world of outerspace

Filled with pink and frilly lace

Savour that moment

Ever so pleasant

You start a pattern of lifting it to the lips

Sucking it, letting the smoke slip

Shadowing you from the realities of the world

Withdrawing you into the center of a pearl

Where all's shimmery and gold

You'll always be warm and never cold

But you do know, that they too do end

As it draws nearer to the face

You feel the warmth from the ember

And the stark reality of life slowly enters

The transient respite now over

Till you light up the next, another.

Wisdom From Beyond.

2009-05-31T05:54:00.000+08:00

Well sometimes, the reality is emotion. And thought is what blinds us.

DAMN SEX.

Desolation.

2009-05-06T04:18:00.003+08:00

The nights are hardest when you spend them alone. Some company, you think to yourself, would be great right now. Just that little cuddle; maybe a warm snuggle. Some form of a touch; that might just be the remedy to this whole fiasco.

The days have turned to night. Darkness of the night is now personified with the brilliance of the rising sun. Shine Jesus Shine! That's what they used to sing. It used to have that little bit of hope - that last sliver one could hang on to. But now, even that has been snatched away.

The moon of craters, might very well be the heart of sorrow one carries. Defaced with craters, what an apt allusion to the scarred heart that beats within. The heart's a symbol of vitality, the elan vital of life. But now, what's left? How can something as dead and tragic as such, be motivation one craves for? What really went wrong? Well, what even went right?

The emotions, they well up inside. All ready to burst through the floodgates. Wait, you need to hold them in. It's weak to appear frail. Or is it not? Even the strongest fall. Maybe I too should try falling once. Suicide? Death? Would that be the answer that would satisfy you? Maybe. But dying a nobody is death by a loser. No no, this can't happen; not to me, at least. You don't want to be a statistic, nobody does. But face it, someone in this world has to be THAT unsightly obtuse statistic. It might just have to be me. Is there anything worth holding on to? Happiness - that's it!

The departure to greener pastures. Grass is always greener on the other side. What you fail to do is to look down at where you're standing. The grass beneath your feet, they may very well be the lushest green the meadows have seen. Maybe, you just haven't opened your eyes. What you seek is rarely found. And what is found is rarely seeked. Retrospect, introspect. That might just be it.

The thoughts, these emotions. They drive you insane. A throbbing pain, both in the heart and brain. It strikes that chord - that chord of pain. An awesomely numbing sensation, craved for, desired. But after that initial orgasm and release, you start to see darkness engulfing your world.

Some say it's depression. I say, it's a psychosis.

Secrecy,

2009-05-05T17:27:00.001+08:00

is a state of mind where paranoia and denial have great roles to play.

The Room of White.

2009-05-04T23:24:00.003+08:00

As all rooms have, this room too had - an entrance, a portal to the other parallel universe we always dreamed of. A place where little prancing ponies grazed the green pastures, of rainbows and pots of gold. And. That ephemeral and divine belief that a heaven of some sort (where purity and innocence resides) actually exists.

The entrance to this haven of purity, it almost served to comfort the mind clouded with the darkness of an eternal abyss.

The walls of the room; they reflected all the rays and beams of incandescence the room held into your sight perceptors. It was a blinding image. One of light so bright, you almost forgot the existence of black. It was mind numbing.

He took a seat right in the center of the square room. Equidistance from the four right-angled corners, right where that imaginary X marked the center of the room.

He sat facing a corner.

He stared.

He started to paint his mind a blank.

This blank, it wasn't empty. It was hard to describe. It was a pseudo emptiness that served as a vacuum for his emotions. His mind started to spin, the room of light was now a spinning whirl. Very much like a washing machine switched on to full power, where soapy, foamy bubbles formed. It seemed snow like, almost.

He started to wonder if the lack of colour was actually black, or if it wasn't, would it have been the other end of the spectrum? The other hue at the other end of the colour slider. The paleness of this room. Well, he concluded that if light were made up of seven separate colours. The lack of colours must be black. But now, he wasn't convinced. You see, if you mixed any colour to a point of saturation, it would turn black. So was the lack of colour still black? Darkness could be compared to black; and light to the paleness of paper.

He couldn't resolve this problem either.

This room that he was in, it was meant to make him feel hopeful. But now, as everything else in the world had done to him, this room too has imposed darkness on his mind.

To think that an asylum would have helped.

Possible Inkings

2009-03-04T02:14:00.001+08:00

Know thyself.
Live life as play.
Not all who wander are lost.
...

Of Darkness & Light.

2009-02-27T03:40:00.003+08:00

night skies red

a sign of falling rain

of passing showers, infinite powers

oh, there's no moon

no moonshine

no starlight

just clouds and a tinge of scarlet.

silence!

hear that sound

crickets, they doing their thing

leaves, rustling in the wind

and pause,

what's that you hear, your heart

with it's thump.

thump! thump! thump!

inhale.

that breadth of freshly forming dew

the early scents of dawn's pastel hue

this scent, it disappears with the day

which fleets so fast

never to last.

soft gentle blows,

of night air

so cold

against the skin.

the skin of complexity,

in it encloses a heart of perplexity.

of emptiness, and sudden bursts of loneliness

what's left but one's passiveness?

and so i light it up

to burn it out

to inhale

to watch that red ember smolder

to feel hot ash burn closer

towards the heart with that cold center

to just keep it warm for this night of my harshest emotional winter.

now, who says that the night has nothing to tell?

Poverty Leaves Much to be Desired of the Human Spirit.

2008-12-27T03:25:00.004+08:00

A life of luxury

So very cosy

Curled up warm in our beds

On our pillows, our gentle heads

Clothes to wear

Food to eat

And pretty shoes don our feet

Bulbs a light

Roofs above

Definitely, we've no lack of love

We surf the net

We see the world

We learn of poverty from a television set

We see unrest

We know starvation

We learn of hunger without a test

Someday we must

Take that step

Out of comfort

Into unrest

To feel the anguish and pain forlorn

Of the millions of others

Who only have their clothes ever so torn

Here's what I saw

And my heart tore

I'll tell you of the misery

All that was left, a lesser me

Kids running freely

No parents caring

Children begging

For a dollar, for a chance

For a pencil, for a bun

Starved to the bone

Their next meal unknown

But in spite of these conditions

You could see their resilience

Their desire for life

It could make you cry

The smiles on their faces

Cheerful and chirpy

Waving friendly hellos

And solemn goodbyes

I turned them down

We turned them down

But these kids, they didn't frown!

They kept their smiles

And innocence too

And deep down inside

In their hearts, a crown of gold slowly grew

It made me wonder

How they're not bitter

Living in slumps

Foraging through rubbish dumps

These kids, they grew

And soon out of their nests they flew

To start new colonies of their own

With the eternal cycle ever continuing

They were trapped

In the unforgiving webs of society

Where castes systems separated

And glass ceilings divided

And still, they persisted

And resisted

We the learned man

Postulate theories of hierarchy

Maslow's theory

The Malthusian spaceship

The need for poverty (for our selfish society)

We decide to grade the quality of life

By the cost of living, calories burnt

More appalling, how much schooling

We tend to forget, that we are deal with the simple man

Who knows not of demand-and-supply,

Who knows not of elasticity,

Who knows not of society / the economy

But the very simple next meal he desires

In which, his prayers remain ever so pious

Poverty doesn't just make the poor any poorer

But he can and will take away the riches from the rich man's heart

His Epitaph.

2008-11-30T14:23:00.003+08:00

This is what was written on his tombstone:

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause.

Prophetic.

2008-11-27T00:47:00.001+08:00

This feel of melancholy is fast fading. As lights twinkled along the busy road, rays of dazzle enticed me. My vision was blurred - a whirl. It was all a starry daze. I stopped, momentarily and pondered if it was light that blinded or enlightened. Light had the power to show man his path, his road of life. But at the same time, light had this duality to it. It could bedazzle for a second and then stun for the next. A myriad of consequences from just a small ray of light. I chose to believe that the lights gave man freedom, the freedom to know that they will never have to live in darkness again. Awfully optimistic, sweetly pessimistic the failure of light, will give man more to hope for. My thoughts flashed by, like bolts of lightning; claps of thunder and the sweet patter of the rain. The rhythmic beat of the falling droplets, gave the silent surrounding a melody, a beat that everything hung to. It was the musical staffs for the notes; without it, music could never be made. In the midst of the storm, all the surrounding went dark. It was terrifying. The unknowingness and anticipation of the subsequent clap of thunder or bolt of lightning left many weary. Just like the heart, who awaits results from the beautify of flowers adorned on young maidens, the splendor of nature; of love, cannot be known. The desire and passion through fiery prove futile in time of awe and penance.

This was written in-between consciousness and unconsciousness. All grammatical and strucutral errors were made UNKNOWINGLY. In the spirit of freewriting, I christen this as sleepwriting.

I never knew that I had the gift of prophesy. Bless thee for thou hath sinned.

Game for Two.

2008-11-15T12:54:00.001+08:00

While two can play a game,

The two can also play the same game.

Mr Jacket & Dr Hide.

2008-11-10T23:20:00.004+08:00

We all know the timeless tale of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. We know the deceptiveness of man, and his ability to mask potential evil.

Prudes know this as hypocrisy, while I, choose to acknowledge it as Emotional or Social Quotients.

Honesty is the best policy.

But, would you jeopardize your very own security and stability just to be honest? The self-righteous often preach so. And the morally decadent usually fall into reclusion at the slightest mention of being truthful. Don't get me wrong, lying is morally unacceptable, but at times, there are some things that we need to keep secret to ourselves - is this lying?

Man is a creature made to survive in a society of others. From birth, he is to conform to the stereotypes and perceptions of culture – which very possibly, is historically influenced. Oldwife tales and senseless superstitions are evidence of history’s illogical grasp on the modern mans’ intelligence. We conform not because we want to, but because we have to. It is not a choice that we make, but an option that has no alternative. The societies we live in form taboos and laws that are unique and indigenous to our communities and us. When we fail to toll the line (their line), we are ridiculed, prodded and even punished. We start to crave for an avenue where our innermost demons can be unleashed; where our socially-perceived-wrongs maybe accepted.

This desire grows and we soon start to lapse into a state of deception – first to ourselves, and slowly, the others around us. We convince ourselves that our minor differences and preferences are actually acceptable. Initially, we start to experience the feeling of guilt. It is this guilt that prevents and somewhat restraints us – not the laws or taboos which society binds us with, for it is this guilt we truly fear. It is a tragedy that we can only ever manage to convince ourselves. The Herculean task of changing the perceptions of the others around us often fail upon the shoulders of us mere mortal man. Because we cannot shape and shift their thoughts and beliefs, we start to discover us escaping from reality to do-the-deed.

We build a façade where no one can penetrate. We flout the rules and break the laws. We knowingly do what is wrong. We no longer feel guilt. Soon, we are engulfed by this inability to feel what the conscience speaks. Right is not wrong, and wrong probably right. Our moral compasses start to get confused and we fall prey to these failings of man. We shroud our darkest secrets and perversions in the darkness of our shadows. We tell no one of it. It is our little secret, a secret between myself and I. Nobody knows, and nobody should.

We start to form another persona, our very own Mr Hyde (feel free to call him whatever you want, he is after all, your very own Frankenstein). Our community knows us as Dr Jekyll, and we work to preserve such a perception of ourselves. We put up a front that concurs with what is expected of us. We do good and refrain from evil. But when the world has its’ back turned, we unknowingly unleash the tyranny of our Mr Hyde. These small bouts of Mr Hyde remain invisible to the watchful eye of society. Our potion that catalyses this change is our desire for difference and unconformity.

Should you embrace Mr Hyde? No.

Should you fear Mr Hyde? No.

Mr Hyde is something we all have in us. We have dark secrets we want to keep exclusive to ourselves. There are little bits of private information and fetishes we want kept hidden in mystery. It is perfectly acceptable to want privacy. It is when Mr Hyde starts to overgrow and overshadow the Dr Jekyll in you, should you start to worry.

Self-restraint is something Dr Jekyll has, and Mr Hyde, an obvious lack of.

There is always a Mr Jacket in our closet. Don it when necessary, but never fall prey to its’ prowess for it will lead you to corners where Dr Hide will devour your soul.

Hokus Polkus.

2008-10-23T01:01:00.003+08:00

Of skies so high

And clouds so blue

I look up

And see what's true.

Green clumps

Red lumps

Purple stumps

Life start to slump.

Bump! Bump

Bump.

The swirls and pearls

From the waters so deep

Leap up with a silent beep

Stars rise

Suns fall

Moonshine

What's thine?

Of sticks and stones

And caves and cones

What can break the wafer

Something cold and nothing later

'Oh what pain which befalls the humble mortal

For his design was not to bear such suffering

But with emotions a plenty and that he must feel

He too must pay a price, a price a plenty'

As petals whittle

And children whistle

The air of christmas

Comes to pass.

Mistletoe and holly wreaths

With poinsettias on our chest we breathe

Luscious green and scarlet red

Hues of the time of white

Where merry is made

And sherry never fades

Memories forever a plenty.

And as the night comes

As it always does

The day breaks

With solemn regret.

Allegory of the Cookie Tin.

2008-10-18T02:06:00.003+08:00

A simple analogy for you to mull over.

Marriage is like buying a tin of cookies.

You want a cookie tin that's not dented; we all want something perfect. But we all also know that nothing's perfect, and it's really the same with marriage. Searching for perfection doesn't leave you anywhere, but it leaves you with something - dissatisfaction.

And so, we decide and choose the least dented tin, or in this case, the most perfect partner.

After buying the tin of cookies, we have no idea what lies inside. Likewise, it's the same with marriage. You never truly know who, or what the person you're marrying is like deep down inside. All we had to make that decision was the best guess you had, based on what you know or you think you knew.

So what's bought is bought, and what's signed is law.

We eat the cookies. Never did we know that we were lactose intolerant, till we had a bite of the milk cookie that was in the tin. Same with marriage. You never knew that you were THAT allergic to her. But since we've started on the tin, we'll have to finish it. We start to get use to the frequent trips to the toilet and the uncomfortable rumble in the tummy.

And we're finally cured of our lactose intolerance - we start to live with her peacefully.

Along the way the tin gets dented and maybe even scratched. We start to develop a trusting relationship with our cookie tin. It gives us that extra reassurance when we start to get hungry, knowing that the good ol' tin would always be there to fill the tummy when the ride gets bumpy. Likewise, our partners start to lose their physical appeal. Women start to sag and men start to droop. But we grow to love the inner person and not the externals - marriage is now about reliance and support not the passion that happens at night.

Nostalgia fills the air in the tin while memories fill the heart with warmth.

By now, the once-filled tin of cookies has been fully consumed. There's no more left! But no, we choose not to discard the tin. With time, we have started to develop a bond with it. We use the tin to keep little bits of treasure - our treasure (not of riches but of memories; remember the little postcards we wrote to one another? the movies stubs we keep? the little toys from our childhood day?). The tin starts to hold the littlest of things which are dearest to our hearts. And likewise, our partners start to become our cookie tins. We share and keep memories in each other. When we talk about the yesteryears, it's like opening our cookie tin and pouring all the contents out. We look at the bits - some make us laugh, others make us cry, but nonetheless they all mean something to us.

And so, our dented tin and vintage partners become a part of us - an inseparable part of you and me.

Socratic Wisdom.

2008-08-18T01:38:00.005+08:00

As they crack their whips

We cower in fear.

They shout, they command

and demand

And so we have thus learnt to subscribe.

They have learnt how to bribe

At the most opportune of times

As purposeful as a well thought crime;

Constitutions amended, laws adjusted

Just to have men arrested.

As brave men sacrifice

(they often forget the thin margin between

bravery and stupidity)

they often pay a hefty price

Leaving behind not their legacy,

But many, a fallacy.

They preach and teach

calling those in power a leech

While forgetting to look in the mirror

they soon digress.

A noble and worthy cause - was once their cause

Degenerate into that of slander, defamation

and all personal vendetta.

Not all men were made to be revolutionists,

And certainly not all men were made to lead.

Melancholy is what the state is

in a form of stasis

What different are we from Vladi or Estragon?

We still await our political Godot.

For what we have now is Pozzo

(both the blind and arrogant)

The cycle of recurrence continues.

A fine line exists between a freedom fighter

and a terrorist; likewise a dictator

and an effective leader -

Was Che Guevara intrinsically evil?

Was Sadam really bad?

Now we should ask how Lee or Chee would fair.

Possibly as bad as Blair?

For one is a megalomaniac and the other

a neurotic

What future is there to speak of?

Power does not fear rebellion

But apathy and disgust

That isn't met with opposition

But a silent deposition (found in the heart).

Altitude of Danger.

2008-08-11T01:51:00.003+08:00

As hope dangles from a string,

The slightest of winds

can bring it down

Peace disrupted

harmony put asunder

Under the terror

of a gust

The gust

- what disgust.

Life unfolds vertically

up into the clouds

Where the end is but just blue

But we see not that, in that hue lies

peril - infinity due

We climb and climb

to see that we ascend

with no eventual end.

But miss a rung and

woosh! - we go through.

On our bottoms we land

on the hard rocky land

Where sticks and stones

can't break my bones;

but words can

That simple word of torture - hope

Human Motivation.

2008-06-24T01:07:00.001+08:00

Man lives on two thoughts;

The fear of guilt,

And the guilt that haunts.

Reality has to Set In.

2008-06-20T00:04:00.002+08:00

If you can't have best,

Embrace the trade off

And take second best.

Vigilante of The Masses.

2008-06-13T21:46:00.001+08:00

I would do evil for good

But never good for evil.

What about you?

The Heart of Darkness.

2008-06-08T10:07:00.003+08:00

If a man cannot restraint himself,

then,

It will be the duty of others to do so.

The Verse.

2008-06-04T01:33:00.003+08:00

The measure is English heroic verse without rime, as that of Homer in Greek, and of Virgil in Latin - rime being no necessary adjunct or true ornament of poem or good verse, in longer works especially, but the invention of a barbarous age, to set off wretched matter and lame metre; graced indeed since by the use of some famous modern poets, carried away by custom, but much to their own vexation, hindrance, and constraint to express many things otherwise, and for the most part worse, than else they would have expressed them. Not without cause, therefore, some both Italian and Spanish poets of prime note have rejected rime both in longer and shorter works, as have also long since our best English tragedies, as a thing of itself, to all judicious ears, trivial and of no true musical delight; which consists only in apt numbers, fit quantity of syllables, and the sense variously drawn out from one verse into another, not in the jingling sound of like endings - a fault avoided by the learned ancients both in poetry and all good oratory. This neglect then of rime so little is to be taken for a defect, though it may seem so perhaps to vulgar readers, that it rather is to be esteemed an example set - the first in English - of ancient liberty recovered to heroic poem from the troublesome and modern bondage of riming.

-John Milton on Paradise Lost

I'm a modern poet vexed by my very own rime.

The Beauty Of Creativity.

2008-05-28T23:23:00.003+08:00

Wonderful advertising, don't you think?

durex performa; made to last, made for you to last.

HAHAHA. My own slogan for it.

AND, yes, sex sells. No matter how cheaply.

A Solution.

2008-05-10T18:38:00.003+08:00

Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none; be able for thine enemy rather in power than use; and keep thy friend under thine own life's key; be checked for silence, but never taxed for speech

-Shakespeare

The very first step to a worldly paradise.

Great Expectations.

2008-05-10T18:30:00.002+08:00

If my name were a John

Would I have been differently born?

If my name were a Tom

Would I have survived this storm?

If my name were a Bill

Would I have not been this kill?

If my name were a Phill

Would you, my hollow heart fill?

If my name were a Larry

Would you have not loved Harry?

If my name were a Happiness

Would you have had this road of loveliness?

For it is in a man's Name where his fate is written

Not in his stars.

With Great Expectations come Greater Lacerations.

Humming Hemingways.

2008-05-08T00:04:00.003+08:00

Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give us this nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada. Hail nothing full of nothing, nothing is with thee.

You know something when you know nada.

Eternal Recurrence.

2008-05-06T01:45:00.000+08:00

O! What immortal malaise,
That the humble mortal has to taste!

A Way To Save Humanity.

2008-04-30T02:13:00.001+08:00

Start World War III.

Now, don't get all self righteous and compassionate. People of the world, lend me your ears.

I present to you, WWIII.

This calamity will end the problem of the Malthusian Spaceship. Envisioning atomic and nuclear warfare, many lives will be lost. Issues of over population would cease to exist, in fact, we might just face UNDER population. Praise be, we'll all get to be stuffed!

Likewise, dilemmas of fast depleting resources such as coal, oil, fuel and anything-that-can-burn-but-not-be-replaced will be solved. With less demand, and the same supply (I sincerely hope that we don't lose everything during the war), abundance for those who survive! Less people to fight for the same quantity of resources will equate to happy and demand-content Earthlings; viola! The theory of demand and supply shows its prowess yet again.

Another spin off from the war would be vast and renewable economic growth. With every war that we fight, gargantuan amounts of resources are used. And through great demand comes great economic stimulation. Not only will weapon-making-nations flourish, nations engaged in the wars (usually the losers of the war) stand to benefit. Just look at Japan (the manufacturing and technology sectors started to thrive and boom after the Japanese surrender in 1945), Korea (Hyudai, Samsung, Kim Chi and etc are dominating cultures throughout the world), Iraq (think Oil, Oil, and more OIL) and anywhere else where blood was shed. Rebuilding an economy devastated and destroyed by the tyranny of war leaves many to desire. During war, wealth inevitably gets distributed. The rich lose everything overnight, allowing society to even out all problems caused by social hierarchy. And yet again, another glorious victory for WWIII.

Mankind loves stability and peace; only if it is sought and produced by any form of instability prior to that. Through the pages of history, we slowly but evidently see that peace rarely lasts for more than a century. The crusades, the periods of uniting Continents via battle (colonialism included), Revolutions, the First World War, the Second World War and finally, the Third World War. We only cherish and want what we have after we have lost it. And likewise, we only yearn and seek for peace and stability after we know how painful it is to survive under totally different conditions. This generation has to learn violence the hard way; history never teaches, it just guides us to make the exact same mistakes. Preferably, this period of peace will last, before some power hungry megalomaniac starts trying world domination once again. Violence has never been lost through the pages of history, only flourishing with each and every era. Praise be the Nukes of today, how painless it will be to die by them.

And finally, the diversion of attention on present day issues. Technology would be advanced via the war. Less red tape and attention will be placed on taboo issues such as cloning, same sex marriages and etc. When man is too free, he tends to be meddlesome and overly concern about trivial matters. However, with WWIII, all attention will be diverted to 'the end of the war', allowing people to do what they want without the extra eye watching. Finally, big brother bear is blind!

Wouldn't you agree that life would be so much better after WWIII? With all stated, we'll all have new lives and identities - but of course, that's if we make it through.

Desolation.

2008-04-30T01:27:00.003+08:00

Lightings suddenly flicker

Partners continuously bicker

Shouts of anger

Screams of hate

Slowly, all fades.

To solemn darkness

Light never reaches

In permanent desperation

Sudden transient reclusion

Of hermits hidden

Some remain guilt-ridden

Despite such darkness

A lark dances

Created in pain

A heaven despite

Created in joy

A hell's respite

Contract.

2008-04-30T01:20:00.003+08:00

Of love that blinds,

That love often binds.

To shutters of folly,

Comes the price boldly.

Of passion under persistence,

Lovers often face resistance.

Not of tumultuous violence,

But of eternal penance.

For sins once committed,

For eternity payment remitted.

Extra Terrestrial Divinity.

2008-04-28T23:45:00.004+08:00

Earthling.

You know not of time travel, for your myopia clouds true judgement and knowledge of time.

Time warps and with wormholes we transcend.

And you Earthling, are no where near Nirvana.

In a few light-years, may you find truth, wisdom and finally love - true love.

For what can a rose of such beauty do?

Does power of peace in it lie, are wars stopped with flowers?

No, flowers are shed on the tombs and coffins of those who pass, and of those who pass, many are lost with bloodshed.

Not shed with the body, but with the heart.

The soul dies before the body, and so only then will you know true love, true love that lasts for eternity.

Nirvana.

2008-04-15T01:33:00.000+08:00

T minus the moment, that's when it will be!

Eureka!

Dwindling Seconds.

2008-04-13T01:20:00.001+08:00

When we decide to wait

Time stands still

We quantify what we think is right

Making judgments without foresight

Stating a year, or two

Is simple to bear

But start to think

And notice how difficult it's not to care

Patience is a virtue

And procrastination, a thief of time

So what do we do? What can I do?

Be virtuous, the thief of time?

To advance or to retreat

In tandem with the rhythmic clock's beat

Tick-Tock, Click-Clock

It all comes to a stop

The hour hand strikes

When the minute hand reaches

A full sixty minutes passed

And another sixty to go

Time revolves without remorse

Playing hearts,

Without a cause.

Only You Will Know.

2008-04-10T00:05:00.002+08:00

Am I too scared to fight,

Or is there no fight at all?

You tell me, please.

May this all not end in futility,

For if it does,

Faithless and hopeless you will render me.

Glass Shards.

2008-04-07T01:00:00.002+08:00

"You have a moral baseline, but sometimes you're just able to rationalise what most will perceive as immoral."

- Winnie The Pooh Stain-glass

I think I would make a great lawyer. Criminal lawyer.

I'm beginning to wonder if we were actually created with a conscience that worked. Or is mine just wonky?

Morality is too hard for me, a simple and mindless mortal.

Almighty forgive.

Patience.

2008-03-29T18:06:00.001+08:00

The best things in life are worth the wait.

Thinky Thinker Thinking Thoughtful Thoughts.

2008-03-18T08:20:00.004+08:00

People die, but memories live forever.

And because of that, it's just so much harder.

Nevertheless, you're still the best thing ever.

And one word to describe it all - special.

If We Kill Everyone Who Is Unhappy, We Can Make Paradise.

2008-03-18T01:33:00.005+08:00

Sour and a tad bitter

Is how this Sweet tastes

Which used to be creamy

And yummy

Now overwhelming

The senses

Smoldering the taste-buds

Simmering the soul

To the point of no return

Is this brand 'Nice Guy'

With a slogan 'Always finish last'

Alliteration.

2008-03-11T23:58:00.001+08:00

F For Fucker.

Oh the simple wonder of Literature, what fine art thou hath maketh!

Unrequited Love!

2008-02-05T00:44:00.001+08:00

O! What immortal malaise,
That the humble mortal has to taste!

Faint Pain of Paint.

2008-01-25T01:33:00.000+08:00

"We fear separation in love;

Be it a break up or death."

- Ms XXX

It's scary to not be able to know what another is thinking.

And worse when it plays on your mind.

Animalistic.

2008-01-18T00:36:00.000+08:00

No questions.
No Answers.
Pure happiness.

In simplicity we find virtue.

Inferno.

2008-01-10T02:01:00.000+08:00

As thoughts came to his mind, emotions were entwined.
His breathing deepened as he soon felt himself being suffocated. The question was - what or who was suffocating him? Was it an emotion or a person? He didn't know. His breaths quickened as he tried to find his elusive answer.
This suffocation was psychological and no where physical, but why did it feel so real? Reality had a cruel way of playing tricks on man and his heart. It was logic and circumstance that had led him to this ungodly path of one-sided romance.
Romancing with the she-devil? Probably.
But it was he who willingly chose to sell his soul to her, no coercing or obligations. He chose and so he alone should suffer. Maybe.
And so he stood alone in his empty room where nothing but pain and rejection resided. Ensnared and entrapped in his self made cell he slowly but surely watched her vanish into the abyss of darkness where she would again unknowingly entice and charm her unsuspecting victims into companionship.
Reality has a painful way of presenting itself to the fallen. Definitely.

Tales of A Confession.

2008-01-10T00:58:00.000+08:00

Happiness is not the absence of sadness;
It is the presence of God

God made man in his image;
Man makes God in his

Why Catholicism?
I was born a Catholic and never found anything better

Hairstyling; A Profession Worth Considering.

2007-12-29T00:13:00.000+08:00

"Girls treat guys and girls differently. With one another, they are sister-sister. And with you, you too are sister. You are like a David Gan."

-Mr XXX

SONNET 116:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

 Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come:

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

For the first time, I shall copy someone else's work.

Thank you Mr Shakespeare.

Ripped Off Another.

2007-12-24T15:12:00.000+08:00

Give me direction,

And I shall heed.

I'll give thee protection,

As a lover's deed.

Confusion as usual,

Heartbreak a common.

This feeling not unusual,

Love's yet again the felon.

Someday They'll Know.

2007-12-18T22:40:00.000+08:00

And what if the world weren't always what it seemed?

And what if things weren't always what they seemed?

Would things be different?

Would they be the same?

And what if people weren't always what they seemed?

Would judgments be different?

Would they be the same?

And what if feelings weren't always what they seemed?

Would emotions be different?

Would they be the same?

And what if conditions weren't always what they seemed?

Would consequences be different?

Would they be the same?

Now please tell me;

Sincerely, directly

If they'll be different or still the same.

As I Quote:

2007-12-10T01:36:00.000+08:00

BANG BALLS!

Fuck. It's happening yet again!

Ohhhhhh Noooooo!

A Question of Intellect.

2007-11-25T01:49:00.000+08:00

Some mistakes one can make,
Other mistakes none can be made.

Why do humans like to run into walls knowingly?

Lasses - A Perspective.

2007-11-11T23:38:00.000+08:00

"Girls can be very manipulative; they have a way with words, however words are easily said and mean very little when it's not sincere. The best judge of a girl's character - time."
- Mr XXX

Who says girls are those more hurt when hearts are broken.

Re: The Concept of Equality

2007-11-01T01:27:00.000+08:00

I refer to the post dated 19th July 2007, The Concept of Equality.

Fuck equality. Period.

Some people were made to be beneath, the others, above.

As much as we try to change, man's transcient and finite soul can never triumph over the infinite composition of society.

Now, our ascend to the top begins.

The Wandering Wonder of Wonder.

2007-10-13T12:41:00.000+08:00

The concept of wonder is not to be defined. Should it be explainable in definite terms, wonder in itself will be destroyed.

The simplest and most natural form of wonder is to be found in the innocence of a child. Without any from of knowledge, every occurrence to a child is fascinating. What is perceived is found to be natural and ordinary to the child. It is in this phenomenon that wonder is found – the child’s ability to not know and yet not question is true wonder.

As man grows from infancy to maturity, wonder is lost to the world that he lives in. Logos, Ethos and Pathos develop in the individual, eroding his sense of creativity as he begins to question life in general. It is when his innocence is lost to the world of logic and rationale that he transcends into a new being, a disbeliever. A more knowledgeable and sensible person is no longer able to look at a floating man and not question how or why he is suspended in the air. He starts to rationalize the happening and attributes it to a lack of gravity or a possible spiritual possession. Soon, he starts to perceive everything from a single dimension. All reasons that he formulates slowly and painfully remove him from his initial state of innocence; soon, the cynic is born and wonder is forever lost.

Though man can never escape the power of knowledge, he can retain his true being by occasionally detaching himself from reality. Reality the double-edged sword can lead man to both heaven and hell.

Wonder is intrinsically human centric – or is it not?

Catharsis.

2007-10-01T20:22:00.000+08:00

To fuckTo killTo spillTo fill
To spiteWithout respiteIs to adoreWith a flaw
A story startedIs a story endedJust like life givenWill be eventually taken
Don't run with hopeJust hang with a ropeIts simple reallyThis will leave you teary

And at once I fall into tranquilityJust as ice turns to senslesss liquidity.

Cocktail Curtails!

2007-08-29T22:48:00.000+08:00

The Absolut motherfucker had sex on the beach doing the screwdriver with his AK 47 in bloody Mary.

VESPA-LA-LA-LA!

2007-08-23T23:10:00.000+08:00

NOT MUCH LONGER.

HOW I PINE
FOR THINE.
WHEELS CARRYING PASSION
LET THIS BE MINE UNDYING FASHION.

NTU HAS A VESPA CLUB. WOO HOO!

The Concept Of Equality.

2007-07-19T23:48:00.000+08:00

Equality must first start from the personal willingness of experiencing inequality in one's 'should-have-been' equal rights.

To speak of generosity, you must first be sacrificial; equality holds the same logic.

Often, people speak of equality as the fairness of an issue/thing/object etc.

However, man fails to see that with every choice comes a trade off, and this trade off will always be at the expense of another's 'equal' right.

Assuming three people, A B and C are debating on an issue; ideal and utopic equality would occur when all three parties are satisfied with the terms and conditions agreed upon. However, with the above assumption having been made, this would not be possible. As such, one out of the three has to compromise, leaving two out of the three 'victors' and the other he himself a 'loser'. For example, a sum of money (let's say $12) is to be divided among the three people A B and C. Common logic would immediately give the figure four (as 12 ÷ 3 = 4). It would not be incorrect to say that the sum of money has been equally shared, for the division of the object was material. It is the following part that complicates the concept of true and pure equality.

In this given scenario, ceteris paribus, intangible factors such as income (A and B could be earning significantly less than C and hence they feel that getting $4 is 'unfair'), geography (B and C could be staying in a first world nation where living expenses are much higher as compared to A who lives in a third world country), and the list goes on.

So how should this $12 be divided? And what should equality be?

If we were to take into account the physical and metric unit of the dollar, we would have been able to 'divide' fairly. But because of intangible complications and 'human nature', our perception of equality is greatly undermined.

What was initially equal has now become un-equal!

WHY?

The fight for survival coupled with greed spurs man to become more competitive, always wanting more and better bargains for himself. In the given example, A B and C may have felt that only by getting $5 each would the deal be equal. However, the metric and physical nature of the $12 limits such a possibility. Hence, should all three of them insist on taking $5 each, all three parties would have (self-perceived) 'un-equal' terms.

However, such a phenomenon can be averted should one (C) out of the three step back and give in. Hence, both A and B's desire for equality can be satisfied. On the other hand, C's perception of ideal equality has been compromised. This brings us to the statement "Equality must first start from the personal willingness of experiencing inequality in one's 'should-have-been' equal rights."

Do not rejoice as of yet.

Just because the majority has achieved 'equality', has equality truly been met? This brings us to the issue of sacrificing the minority.

The sacrificial minority should only occur if he is willing to sacrifice his share of equality (in this case C, and bear in mind, if he was able to make this choice, both A and B too would have made this choice. Do you see where this is going?). Should C have been forced into sacrificing his share, such equality can be termed bastardised.

Ideally, should all three parties have been willing to sacrifice, no trade off would have been possible. (If you still can't see why, here is the simple break down:
1) A & B win, C loses
2) A & C win, B loses
3) B & C win, A loses;
When the above happens, because everyone is willing to lose, no one actually loses, it is the same as no one wins.)

Hence, it is evident that only when man chooses so hard NOT to lose, will there be an eventual loser and winner.

At this point of time, it is evident that conventional and rational division of a metric and physical unit is unequal (when other factors come into play, else, equality is possible). (1)
Similarly, the majority Vs minority concept of overall equality is also not truly equal. (2)
Lastly, the everyone is willing to lose notion just leads us back to the start of the whole dilemma. (3)

The Concept Of Equality hinges upon the purity of fairness. In many instances, this world has come to agree on the concept of overall equality, though tainted, it is the only viable working module that man can decide with. (2)
Not all is loss. Pure equality can be achieved, but sadly, only in inanimate, metric, physical and most importantly mechanical existences, for example the physical division of a twelve-meter string. (1)
The last concept of 'let's all lose!' will never occur - then again, maybe in paradise. And even if it does, it just brings us back to the bud of the problem. (3)

In all, the actual concept of equality really isn’t that equal.

Placidly Flaccid.

2007-07-16T22:17:00.000+08:00

The difference between man and woman is like that between animals and plants. Men correspond to animals, while women correspond to plants because their development is more placid and the principle that underlines it is the rather vague unity of feeling. When women hold the helm of government, the state is at once in jeopardy, because women regulate their actions not by the demands of universality but by the arbitrary inclinations and opinions. Women are educated – who knows how? – as it were by breathing in ideas, by living rather than by acquiring knowledge. The status of manhood, on the other hand, is attained only by the stress of thought and much technical exertion.
-Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel

Even great men make mistakes - or do they?

Verse

2007-06-05T00:44:00.000+08:00

I try,
Not to lie
To myself
Or to herself.

PS.
Love binds things together,
Strife separates them.

LPPL

HEART:

2007-06-03T02:49:00.001+08:00

Herein lies the question -
The issue of love
The answer always: None of the above

So man starts to ponder
And ever so often wonder
What is this power,
More charming than a flower,
And more vile than a fouler?

Some say it's a feeling
Others an inkling

Lovers say it's forever
Detractors: NEVER

Kids think it's all fun and games
Parents think puppy love has no aim

The heartbroken lament, TRAGEDY!
The loved rejoice, MARRY ME!

Jocks know it as lust
And sometimes bust

Sluts know it as cash
Their hopes soon to be dashed

I really don't know what it is
But should this
Be what love truly is,
I'd rather not know
This fancy little fairytale show.

Backdated.

2007-05-26T19:05:00.000+08:00

Drems, they come and go as people do
We say, go with the flow
Let the gentle wind blow
We shall find each other again
For now we can't remain
Why do we have to dependent,
Yet ever so different?
Different expectationsof the same thing
And thats when pain it will bring
They say to love is to love in the lover's sight
But how is that my love?
To deny and rebuke all these emotions
Its difficult, almost impossible
And,
If I did; it would be plausible
Weeks of constant dreams
Hoping to drift into the land of hope
There, I'll learn to cope
I hope.

Just Friends.

2007-05-20T01:08:00.000+08:00

The past does come to haunt, even the not-so-far-away ones.

Oh well.

10 years will be a long time but it will flash by.

We'll see.

I'll leave you with a quote,
'Moments like this have been ruining friendships for centuries.'

XOXO

The Begining of the End.

2007-04-07T22:52:00.000+08:00

IT GOES
AS IT CAME
IT FADES
AS WITH FATE
IT DIES
AS TO LIFE
IT DENIES
AS PAINFUL LIES

Back to the mortal realm.

2007-04-01T22:35:00.000+08:00

At some point or another, we have all asked this question. The irony, malaise and torment of it all. It makes you wonder how polar opposites can actually reside together right?

It’s got what it takes
So tell me why can’t this be love?
Straight from my heart
Oh, tell me why can’t this be love?
-Van Halen

Goodbye my love

2007-03-15T00:30:00.000+08:00

Do you know what it feels like to know yet not know a person at all?

Well, I do.

If only chances were given and made.

If only things were different.

If only if onlys weren't so difficult to happen.

If only.

Intoxication

2007-03-10T02:21:00.001+08:00

If God were to bear grudges, I'll be a fucking gone-er.

Of the divide
Lies two sides
One of passion
The other of less similar fashion
Passion equated to love
Is a mistake when seen from above
When you see what He sees
Its no longer about the merry birds and the bees
Instead
Its you who is to be slowly left dead

Love first enters the system
Just like how alcohol would
Without resistance or a problem
It flows just like water could
But its effects
Will affect
And mar in the moments to come
Leaving you like a dumb dumb

So you first sip the cocktail
Just like you do with her love
You taste you enjoy,
You giggle without knowing the ploy
Then you get high
And soon there are lies
About it being forever
And happily ever
After, after a few more gulps
The beer then foams up like pulp
Deep down in the abyss of the gullet
You feel like you're in the tummy of a mullet
You too big and it too small
And from grace you soon fall
You start spewing rubbish
About secrets you had, now all gibberish
Words incoherent
Sentences all truth ladden
Your secret crush
That always gave you that rush
And how you would blush
When she used to pass
Now we all know
About the secrets never told

And so like the words and truths thrown out
Puke is running up and about...
To explode, to fountain, to merlion
But its too late, you are now a vomit covered mountain
Your alcohol mixed with the meal
Of veal
Has turned stale
And you're now ever so pale

You proclaim that you're fine
I'm not drunk
Stop stopping me from my fun
Now fuck off,
Fuck off..

Just like love turned bad
Is getting drunk so sad
The fun and the puns
The love and the buns
Painful as hell
Only those cut, could if lucky, live to tell.

The Theory of the Caste

2007-02-19T00:23:00.000+08:00

Coming soon to a store near you.

Don Juan

2007-01-26T02:37:00.000+08:00

Like it or not, we all need love.
As i have once said, i'll say it again.

For what do we fight?
For what do we live?
For what do we spite?
For what do we give?

*drum roll...*
LOVE; L-O-Fucking-V-E

PS Being loved and feeling loved are two separate issues; vaguely different, differently vague.