Can anyone say that they truly know themselves? The more i interact with the outside world, the more i find the need to portray a certain image, be it sensible, cool, fun-loving, shy, forth-right, and so on. The greatest irony is that i'm not sensible, cool, fun-loving, shy, forthright, etc all the time. Sometimes, i don't even know who i am, the face that i present to different people are according to the expectations they have of me, or how i want to be seen by them. I can be tactful, and tactless, noisy and quiet. I can be a crazy woman, crack lame jokes, and yet present a detached and confident front. Am I putting on an act, yes, I would think so, but that's also part of who I am. The crux of the whole matter is what kind of facade i am putting on for different people. I can feel excitement and apprehension, joy and jealousy- all these emotions are not isolated and alone. So who am I? I don't really know, only that i'm complicated enough to give myself a splitting headache if i try to dissect and reason why i feel what i feel. I'm past the stage of agonising about myself, it won't help matters if i moan about things without doing anything about it. so.. what am i gg to do abt it?

having prolonged holidays might sound like fun, but it's a dead bore if you haf absolutely nothing to do- or haf too much that you don't want to, good grief...

Monotony

Why do we do things
that we dislike,
all senses screaming at the futility
of action
even as our hands
are compelled to move
in endless monotony?

It is the notion
of something better
beyond that monotony
that drives me-
whether or not
that it really comes through-
is another matter.

Raindrops keep falling on my head.... hahahahah!

It's finally stopped raining, yipee!

not that it does any good to poor old mi still stuck at home... o well, hahas.

Sky still overcast, but it's not too bad, yeah;p

Reading 'The Heart is a lonely hunter' for now, it's a great book. Thanx Mrs Gan!

How can you so easily
say the words
that hurt me so much?
Why is it,
that my tears fall
unbidden,
uncontrolled,
so hatefully,
betraying my emotions?

There seems an eternity
between me
and relief
how much you hurt me
I want to hurt you back.
I am not perfect,
I cannot control this surge
of anger that threatens
to choke me,
wrangling my thoughts
making me worse than I
already am.

I have to leave,
to get away,
before I do something
I regret.

Misunderstandings

It happens
when we disagree,
when we cant seem to realize
how much we are hurting
each other
with words that we say
or leave unsaid.

I want to hurt you,
so that you'd understand
the pain that I'm
going through,
so that you'd come around to my view.

I don't want to hurt you,
so I keep my feelings trapped
screaming inside the empty vessel
of my heart,
so fiercely I cant even breathe.

I cant scream,
I want to cry,
I know I cant show any weakness
for you to hurt me;
I hide.

Where I hide I do not know,
I only feel the aching of my soul.
Cry, because I am hurt,
Cry, because I feel pain-
Cry, because you never understand-

My soul is torn in pieces,
pieces I never find.

Imprints

The crashing of the waves
against the jagged rocks below
beats steadily on my ear
as I leave my dripping footprints
deep in the sand,
stepping, doubly hard,
so that the imprints are clear,
although I know
they will be washed away,
as soon as the next wave comes
crashing, sinking my feet
in swirling particles of white and gold.

I try anyway, doubly hard,
to leave a part of me
on this beach,
even as I know,
all trace will be eventually erased,
just as I finally
leave this world, sinking my feet
in swirling white clouds reflected on golden paths.

Dying Again

I feel the tear from your weeping eye
that slides down the length of my pale cold arm,
it is warm, with the heat of your pain.

Do you know that you are killing me
all over again
my heart that is crying
crimson tears that tear my soul
into pieces.

I can feel the hotness of your palms
clenching my lifeless one-
do you know that you are suffocating
my soul that is still
alive and watching?

If you only know
the soft wind that is caressing your hair
the cool tremours on your hand-
that I am here,

right beside you,
dying once again
from the pain of your love.

I see the widening distance between us-
it is a rift that tears us into halves-
slowly, like the withering
of a peeled rose,
It is our hearts that are torn in two.

Is this Love?

Why do i feel this vague longing,
that tug in my heart,
when your face appears in my mind?

I am unable to stop
your smile that blossoms in my heart,
like the warm rays of an emerging rainbow.

It sends tingles into my soul,
that flutter in my breast
is both disconcerting and exhilarating.

It is both terror and laughter,
the joy of anticipation-
it is your presence that I long for, and yet dread.

How could I face rejection,
how could I face the shattering of
my perfect dream?

It is both need and denial-
I try to convince myself
that life can go on without you.

I hope that I am not wrong,
even as my heart still quickens at your smile-
I must yet, learn to live alone.

Madness

Madness is daring to be different from the majority:)

'Everyone is mad, indeed, the maddest are the ones who don't know they're mad, but keep repeating what others tell them to.

If people don't like it, they can complain. And if they don't have the courage to complain, that's their problem.

What's dignity? It's wanting everyone to think you're good, well-behaved, full of love for your fellow man. Have some respect for nature, watch a few films about animals and see how they fight for their own space.'

-extracts from Veronika Decides to Die

I feel that sometimes we are made to give way and be considerate so much that we lose a sense of self, so much so that we build up all our resentments inside because we want to be accepted as the 'correct' type of person, the caring, considerate type that the values of our society respect.

Yet, to what extent should we be obliging, considerate puppets who move at society's whims?

Granted, our characters are so developed that we naturally desire most of the things that society approves of- the effect of brainwashing from young, but do we give in to the incessant demands of a materialistic culture that threatens to reduce us to work ourselves to death buying useless, frivolous things that only serve to inflate our self-importance and soothe our growing egos?

And yet, on the other end of the spectrum, what if we become so selfish and inconsiderate, living for the betterment of ourselves, such we are reduced to animals, fighting, red in tooth and claw, heedless of the pain and suffering of those who are brainwashed by society to care about the detrimental effects of your actions- will we truly not be able to attain the care and concern that we crave and need when we are finally shunned by the majority?

Perhaps, hiding our madness is the best, because we live in this world. Would it be better to be labelled an eccentric, or be welcomed in every social circle that you come into, even as if you feel that your life is a never-ending act, and your true self is lost in the depths of your smiling facade, and your inner child is reduced from the loud-wailing at conception to tiny whimpers of sickness?

Realized tt i've not been thinking this past few days.. hope after the celebratory spirit has settled i'll be motivated to think again...

Yea...

You'll Be Safe Here

You'll Be Safe Here by rivermaya

Nobody knows why we're here
Could it be fate or random circumstance
At the right place at the right time
two roads intertwine
And if the unverse conspired
to meld our lives
to make us fuel and fire
Then know whereverer you will be
So too shall I be

Close your eyes dry your tears
'Cause when nothing seems clear
You'll be safe here
From the sheer weight of your doubts and tears
Weary heart
You'll be safe here

Remember how we laughed until we cried
At the most stupid things like we were so high
But love was all that we were on, we belong
And though the world would never understand
This unlikely union and why it stands
Someday we will be set free
Pray and believe

When the light disappears
And when this world's insincere
You'll be safe here
When nobody hears you scream
I'll scream with you
You'll be safe here

Save your eyes from your tears
When everything's unclear
You'll be safe here
From the sheer weight of your doubts and tears
Wounded heart
When the light disappears
And when the world's insincere
You'll be safe here

When nobody hears you scream
I'll scream with you
You'll be safe here
In my arms through the long cold night
Sleep tight
you'll be safe here
When no one understands
I'll believe

You'll be safe
you'll be safe
You'll be safe here

Put your heart in my hands
You'll be safe here


hahas, the lyrics relli spoke to me, think it's the best song in their album;p

One day after the As

It was a great ONE-DAY-AFTER-As, hahaz!

Went out shopping wif my mom, think I splurged on alot of stuff, hahz!

First, went out early to bishan library to return ALL the overdue books- that 5 plus of yuan wang money down the drain, thanx alot. Met wei lian to go there, cause she was also doing research for her trip to germany, envious, when can I go overseas too!

Next, met wif my mom and we went to sakae at borders to haf sushi, mmm... had unagi sushi and beef udon, yummilishious! then went to borders, where I found alison croggon's third book, cant wait for it to come out in the lib!

Then we walked over to taka, got some coloured paper from art fren, and the purple book that i've been wanting for like- forever. It's 11 plus, a real find from the 20 plus ones i saw at borders, and much beta looking. Here starts my journey of keeping a journal! Hopefully, the impetus of a nice notebook will keep me writing, heheh;p

We went to kino after that, where i got fruits basket 21! Great, it's like finally out la, after so long...I had to get it secretly though, when my mom wasn't looking hah, or she'll surely say me again:) relli looking forward to tsubasa and holic the chuang yi version, tsubasa the cover is chao nice, wif a goth look, sakura looks so cool;p

After, we went to cd rama, and yup, I finally got the rivermaya cd that i've been lusting after for so long, and i'm uploading my ipod as i type:P

Lastly, went to j8, where we had coffee at coffee bean, and a nice blueberry cheesecake, muakz! I got a new pair of pants, it's brown btw, the only brown one I haf, and although I felt guilty about the splurge, the cut is just too nice to resist... I'll just justify myself by saying it's the first new item of clothes that I've got since i dunno when, hahas.

Okies, so that's a rundown of my day, feeling the bliss of satisfaction. Hopefully, tomolo will be as eventful, cheers!

The tears that fall from your pale,
white cheeks,
like moisture from the blue blue ocean...
taste both salty- and sweet.

Unicorn

I spied a unicorn in the glade,
its horn shining an iridescent shade,
and when it saw me creeping near,
it shed a rainbow coloured tear.

I wondered why it cried,
I wondered what it had been denied,
when such a beautiful creature to behold,
would have something so daringly withhold.

But as I stepped forth to offer my aid,
it shied away, from nothing I said,
and it was then that I knew,
it was the loneliness of knowing too few.


hahas, on reading this poem, I find that I quite like it:P I had initially thought of ending it with one stanza, but perhaps that wouldn't have done it much justice, heh. Still... EVERYTHING IS OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!

hahas, it's great that I can just start slacking for a bit, and do whatever I want. It still feels unreal though, like the 3 hr paper is actually not over. What a difference a few hrs can make in terms of mindset, haha.

great, i can now start planning what I want to do... still feel a little lost, but i'll get used to it, i suppose, haz;p Graduation wan sui!!!!!

Innocence

If I could be innocent for a day,
not engage in life's bitter fray,
watch as clouds flitter by by day,
listening to that creaking swing of yesterday.

I wonder where the mists of dawn have gone,
I wonder why time for me has torn,
all memory of fond remembrance aborne
on clouds that soft breezes with me have borne.

How nostalgic when I think of the time,
when actions were not determined by dollar and dime,
when life was more than playing a deceptive mime,
when we were not all covered with reality's pragmatic grime.

To return to the time of unknowing kindness,
when self was not served by practicing wickedness,
to know that love for love's sake was not willful blindness,
to not feel that being loved was a state of perpetual presumptiousness.

Selfish Love

My Selfish Love
drowns all protest of other
kinds of love-
it takes precedence over
your feeble attempts
to reach out,
because I am not hesitant,
because my beloved knows
my yearning mind-
a mind that seeks only
to bring joy
at other's expense.
All my actions
are Justified,
for what greater power
over passions and intellect,
is there but Love?
So love ME,
just as I LOVE YOU,
and to hell with everything else.

Already feeling lost

Am I going to start screaming at myself for changing my blogskin at this time?

Probably not, haz.

A new skin, a new beginning. Think i'm going to feel relli lost after art pp2- then everything will be OVER, and all that's left is that dreaded piece of paper that's going to decide our fates. Not very reassuring, I assure you.

O well, a whole load of nothings, and alot of sianness. Great. Life Sux, so wad's new?

IT'S OVER!!!!!!!

hahas, all except art pp 2 that is.

haiz, feeling a great sense of relief already, although, well, feeling a little lost too, like dunno wad to do... think it's going to get worse also, after pp2 especially:p

still, looking forward to freedom, and the dreadful wait for results. there's like so much to do, and so much time to do it:))) happi, sha la la

kkz, that's all for now, will jia you for the drawings, hahz!!!

Your Bloodless Lips

Estella, Estella,
beautiful and cold-
the marble rose,
epitome of perfection.

How cruel it is,
to have crimson lips,
that are bloodless
and cold?

How adominable
that scarred creation,
that condescendingly says,
'I have no heart'!

'No- sympathy- sentiment- nonsense'
that comes from the warm
beat of an impassioned
heart.

Poor Estella, Estella,
child born of ruined pride.
Developed to be bent, broken,
into a better shape, and soul.


What is real love? by Ms Havisham:
It is blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter- as I did!
-words of a proud, embittered old woman

cant wait, at least, for wed to be over, then all my written papers will be done! hahaz;p

as for art... well, at least i can concentrate on it beta, hahas

tomolo will be the last paper for lit- cant believe how fast everything is gg.

As for the history ppl, congrats at ur liberation.

The time will come, eventually,

for FREEDOM.

haha...

...

wad crap am i writing?

Going crazy!!!! think the whole of As is CRAZYYYYYY, haiz... but at least i'm here at last, after the horrifying econs extravagenza with onli lit and art left.... which is alot of art, i guess. Art history is going to the dogs, wonder if i'll haf time to finish studying.... haven touched great expectation, that's on tues and i have art consultation tomolo... God, save me!

O well, enuf of the whining i guess, haf to do outline for tomolo's P2 and 3 consultation, ciao....

Guidelines for Analysing a Poem:

Subject Matter
Purpose
Emotion
Craftsmanship (see SLIMS)
Summary

Craftsmanship:
Structure
Language
Imagery
Movement
Sounds

onomatopoeia: words depicting sounds
assonance: group of words wif same vowels
sonnet: a poem with strict structure and rhyme: normally 14 lines and in iambic pentameter
diction: chioce of words/vocab

Always relate to poet's Intention, Effect, Impact/Effectiveness!
+it would help also to identify and classify Imagery

Hahas, okies, enuf of the last min revisions, heh heh... been looking thru all the past notes on doing pc, hopefully, all will go well later;p i didn't know alot of the terms on the worksheets, so all these are what i've found out just now- turns out that i've been identifying all the structures blindly- no wonder there didn't seen to be any structure for my essays, since I couldn't group the literary devices as I didn't know what they were! hahaz... (sheepish smile) okies, hope for the best later, praying for clearness of mind and concentration!

Econs sucked!!!!!!

Somebody start digging my grave... if tomolo's paper is as bad, I can kiss uni goodbye... urgh...

the quality of dead, dread and all the other negative d words-- i finally know the meaning of.

Never felt so bad about an exam in my whole life.... really... couldn't even crap a reasonable length...

God, save me...

It Works Bothways

One of the saddest questions in the world
is when she asks you:
'Do you love me?'
because she does not feel
the warmth and assurance
that love unknowingly emits
to those around them.
And when you feel
a sense of exasperation
at that question that seems to entail
so much unwanted
Responsibility-
stop and ponder
the reason that she says,
"Do You Love Me",
because love binds
bothways-
she is offering her heart to you.

A little bit of Lear- and self reflections

Everytime i read King Lear again, i'm continually struck by the depth of the play, and the level of intimacy in which it explores the human condition. It is classic, timeless, because the human condition- i dare say, the essence of being human, is encompassed within a range of emotions cumulative of events that, although through time might differ, does not change so drastically as to alter human reactions.

The innate tendency to sin, the assurance of pride and its inevitable disillusionment, the vain attempts to quantify, measure, and put into order what that cannot be logically deduced, are just some of the flaws of the human condition that King Lear portrays, in a way both dramatic and ultimately soul-baring.

Although I was initially drawn by the darkness of the play, (its ending derives so much power in the pathos of despair that I was struck by it, the possibility of such tragedy due to consequence quite fascinated me-ok, morbid, i know) I found in it many redeeming qualities, like in the faithful love of Cordelia, Edgar, Kent and Cornwall's servant. The greatness of love shows itself with greater prominence with contrast to adversity, and even as the play ends in despair, there is the hope that humans can find something worth living for in this 'cold' and unyielding earth.

'Unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! Come on, be true.'
The notion of being 'accommodated' is a very impactful one for me- it is true that from young we have been accommodated, by our parents, as well as people who love us. It has always struck me with wonder how people become friends- the Asian mentality, the more cold and aloof reason that I'd always held on to, was that it was only polite to be good to people, to hope to inspire a return of goodwill and a continual companion in that person. It has always filled me with gratitude at the thought of my friends- they don't have to talk with me, listen to me, esp when i'm cracking lame jokes, or just be with me. But the Western ideals seem to hold more attraction to me now- although they are more liberal in the sense that they offend people more easily, not being restrained by the bounds of propriety that Asians are (this is strictly a stereotype, i don't have any Western friends;p), they are nevertheless more true, to themselves as well as to their friends. If they do not seem to value friendships enough to keep from showing displeasure when something offends them, they are being true to their value systems and are sure of where they stand, and who they want to be with.

I guess it's up to me to find a balance. I'd always prided myself on being a tactful person, but that was in the past when I hardly spoke to people and stayed in my world of books. They can hardly shut their pages when i voice a tactless opinion regarding their contents! And so ignorance, and the fact that no one really seemed to dislike me, kept me in the dark of who I really am, which is, ahem, sadly, not a very nice and accepting character at all. In fact, I would classify being over-critical as one of my major faults any day- It's great for work but a little strained on the human relations department.

So, if I seem too overbearing at times, please forgive my ignorance and tell me to shut my mouth if you disagree (well, it'll be a bonus if u'd do it in a nice way of course), and if sometimes I irritate you by asking too many questions, humour my newfound wish to know the people ard me better, and to have deeper and more meaningful relationships than just a pat in the back or a wave when we pass;p kkz, think i'm getting lo so again, good luck to all the maths ppl, jia you for the As!

Note to Kim:P

hey kim, i cant seem to post my comments on ur blog, so gg to hail ya from here;p
here's the recent update-
Shan n yils wanna go, but it has to be next year, caue ALL of you are gg off one after the other dis dec, and i think it'll be more fun to go wif more ppl... so, i don mind gg next year;p I think i definitely prefer tai wan, hahas, i've never been there yet! it'd be so cool, just the 4 of us, heheh:))) So, yep, that shuld be all, and hope everything's gg fantastic at ur end, cant wait till u get back;p
Jia you x10000 for the exams!

Loves, cuiz

That porcelain vase

I feel
that i might explode
into a hundred thousand
broken pieces
as my head
strains
to squeeze through
the iron bars that lock
me, without escape
in that burning
room where demons
seem to gnaw everywhere-
my eyes, hands, legs, toes-
especially on the core
of my tired, weeping heart.
The bursts of flame
that might once be brilliant
are now hot with despair-
The heat,
which have once warmed
a frozen mind
numb with ignorance,
has grown to sear and
tear scars.
That smile has turned bitter,
the love neglected to resentment...
Is there nothing left;
the joy of innocence,
so carefully wrought,
and torn cruelly into shreds
like the maddened disillusionment
of an artist who knows,
of perfection never attained?

Denial

Denial

The acknowledgement of the pain
of all things in life that are in vain,
to accept that grief is part of your life,
that life is just never-ending strife.
It is too difficult to do
what that seems so inevitable to you.
It is better to reject
what is so easy to neglect-
that pain which harbours deep in our soul,
the grief that is eye-piercing to behold.
The soothing balm that relieves
a wounded heart that so desperately believes-
that there is joy worth beating for,
that the darkness will not consume its bleeding core.

GP is OVER!!!!! hahaahahhass!!!!!

ok, granted that i feel that my compo was way off... like hell, i didn't even know what i was writing can... but i'm just glad that it's over. One paper down, 8 more to go...

sheesh, talk about the long month ahead..

I guess what i can bring away from gp in jc is the interest in world events- they're really interesting to know about and to write about, once you take the initiative to find out. Being put in a position to comment about these issues is fun, even if a little intimidating, there's so much that I don't know!

Hahaz, but it's been fun, it's the next best subject aside from art and lit- i just realised that i love all my subjects except... yep, you guessed it, econs, which is like a bummer... i'm like spending my time hiding from ms poh (and my own feelings of inaptitude) and trying furiously to read up... crossing my stupid fingers and hoping that i can get at least a c... hahas.. but it's not all gg to be luck i guess, i'm gg to try my best to read up and study;p

Yep, so that's about all for today... thought paper 2 compre's summary was a killer, wanna bet i won get past 5 marks? What's it upon, anyway? Even so, glad to have taken it, glad to haf known mr tong, who's been so supportive (I need to pay him soon!!!) of all of our troubles, gp wan sui!

For the rest of the papers, best of luck, and don't let stress get you down!!!!

anyone starting to panic? If you are, u're not alone... gp tomorrow, lets JIA YOU together, mina- san!!!!!

The soft, slow creak
of that dearly beloved swing,
lingers like an ever-present kiss
in my mind-
that wispy mist
that enshrouds the memory
in translucent haze
reminds me of
those childhood moments-
like the furtive peeks from behind
living room curtains.

It is soon lost
behind that blanket
of never-ending responsibilities
that seem to weigh
a thousand tonnes-
a sand dune that traps
the unwitting creature
that makes it its home.

Its laboured breath,
like the coughing wheezing
from a cranky old bellows
seem to fade with every passing
minute- it is a burden
that Nature bestows,
that Man in his weakness inevitably bows,
to sadness and grief,
to dark depths unknown.

Only when the rain that falls
from the heavens above-
like the blessed dew
that would raise life anew,
reach out to starving, thirsting hearts,
will our souls cry,
in anguish, pain, and relief,
in glory of the source
of all happiness and grief.

Yet who are we to curse
at the Fates that determine
our injuries and hurts
when Man in his weakness
have not the power to prevent
the chaos at which we are determined against to rant-
for in Nature there seems
no accomodation for logic-
no room for human justice
nor intellectual debate.

There is only what
that happens,
and what that does not
that determines our course and plight-
only what in our power
to cause and prevent
that is the ultimate concern in the end.

weird piece today... wonder wad's the transition of the subject from micro to macro.... argh, econs and gp are killing mi!!!!!

I think I'm going insane...

Nothing getting in....
my stupid head...

I can see stuff leaking out though...

fluff and stuff...

My life is but a dream, transcient and unreal.

The lives of others seem more rooted in reality than mine does- I am like an onlooker, aware yet ineffectual in affecting what is around me. The so-called passion that flames in the brief life of a human does not seem to burn in me- many times I have asked myself, what is it that has rendered me so cold, so unfeeling.

The longing for a different life- it has always been there, yet it does not seem to move me into concrete action. A passive onlooker- a comfortable one, I suppose, that should be the source of my inaction. I suppose it is laughable, this passive me, such that even I laugh at my compliant nature; that nature which accepts that which is presented before me, the absence of the sense of urgency and injustice that throws many into fierce struggles for survival.

There seems to be a call for blame- but to whom can I complain of my disdain of this passive me? Not my upbringing, that seems too convienient an excuse. Perhaps the matter that makes up this useless me- but that is too painful. Inherent nature or social conditioning, that age-old conflict again. Perhaps a little of both, perhaps none, just my current inclinations, or disinclination to act, that should be blamed. But even the act of blaming seems so insignificant, when all that is in existence, of me, seems an unchangeable truth.

I am searching, searching for something- that lingering dissatisfaction in my life that alerts me and discomfits me. Then maybe this is a sign that I am not truly comfortable, for I am made aware that there is a lack- whatever that is.

Weird contemplations at this time... will get back to this train of thought in the future....

HKHKHKHKHKHHKHKHKHKHKHKHK!!!!!!!!

hope i'll live to see it...hahs

Joy

Joy is so fleeting
an emotion,
yet so wonderous to behold-
a spark in damp shadowy corners,
a candle of hope in cold frosty dungeons.

How lovely that sun-born
blossom, that buds in the spring,
that soft caressing nurture
of the gently blowing wind.

It is the tinkling of that splashing stream,
that burst of feathers as the hummingbird leaps-
that Joy in Nature,
is something so precious and free.

I feel like
hiding somewhere
for a thousand years,
ignore everything for
at least that period of time-

arising from the moulds of dust
and decay
when my rest is
over- raising my skeletal hand
to claw my way
above...

only to find
that I am dead-
and know that
I was never even alive...

How do you feel
when there is nothing left to feel-
no more tears to cry
no more breath to breathe?

How do you face the sky,
when there are no more wings to fly,
no more legs to crawl,
no more strength to even move?

I try,
try to see a better place,
that shore beyond a limitless ocean
of grief and despair.

I cry,
choking on my sobs,
stifling the whimpers-
ignoring the tremours that wreck my weary body.

There is nothing-
nothing left to feel,
no trace of joy in my smile,
nor hint of pain in my grimace.


Nothing-- anti-existence. It is beautiful beyond words. It is nothing...

Songbird

Freedom
is like a golden songbird
that lifts its sweet throat
to the pale blue sky,
singing the sweet lament
of having clipped wings that do not fly.

Open that gilded cage,
watch as the first hesitant wingbeats,
turn into strong, steady
strokes, bearing
it's softly feathered form
like a miniature sun in the sky!

Like a rainbow,
it's glorious song spreads
like a wave of unstoppable tide,
to cover the sweet lush
surface of the earth.

Yet as the minutes pass,
the sun dims in glory,
its wearied form no longer
pierces through the air-
it is swimming against swelling tide-

Falling, eventually,
into the blue-green sea-
creeping arms that seek to embrace,
enclosing that small ball of glory,
bringing death into its watery grave.

Turmoil
The TURMOIL in my heart,
is but a dark, dark mass
or horrid snakes that threaten
to smother me in their
hissing venom-
I can hear the acid that
burns a deep hole
in the metal walls
of my cold and frozen
heart-
I am afraid, that it will touch
me, eating away at the
clotted arteries that
refuse to let the life-giving
wine coloured blood
flow-
I hear the onslaught of the rain
that hits the metal roof-
how it drums into my head
like the futile pounding
of bloodied palms on the
crimson walls, rivulets of
that red streams that seem like
abundant tears that fall from
a sky so corrupt
with pollution-
it threatens to consume with every
waking minute,
that crawls in eternity.

After writing this poem and looking at it, i guess my thoughts are quite random today. Haiz, feeling stressed. I don't know what's going on in my stupid head- it's quite irritating when so many things are gg on in it. Guess the As are getting more to me than I thought they would... My heart is numb, yet my mind is in turmoil... wonder why they say that the heart is the seat of all emotion, when the fluff in my head is making me feel unsettled. Gosh, cant even cheer myself up with the usual, just jia you! It's making me wonder what's there in life worth living for, but don think that's a safe path to thread, too depressing. No wonder they say we dont think nowadays, when i'm trying so hard not to think.:( Haiz, don't think i'm making sense, think i'll just go off and rot... Stupid blogskins! Attempted to find one to change today cause can't get the tagboard for this one functioning, but cant find a nice one...

Power-Play

How many of our actions
are the products of our innate
compassion, love and care
for others,
rather than the results of
the never-ceasing power-play
that we engage with one another?

I want
to leave a good impression,
to feel superior,
to make you feel indebted,
to feel accountable to my perfect image of myself...

It is hard... to delve past all the conflicting emotions,
to pierce through all the clouded feelings,
into the true motives of my actions.

It is difficult,
painful,
to accept this selfish, self-serving Me,
because I try, so hard,
to convince myself of a better Me.

To hide my true intents,
to deny the way that I react,
is but a meaningless rejection of myself.

It is true, that to persist in selfishness,
is but a sinking into deeper mud,
the dirty soil of human sin that threatens
to drive away acceptance of normal people-
the normality of presenting a smiling facade
of hidden daggers and elusive intents,
striving to preserve outward congeniality,
yet ever so frustrated by a lack of mutual understanding-

I wonder why no one understands me,
yet it is I who try so desperately to hide from others;
so I don't blame the world, unless I learn start accepting myself
for who I truly am,
an imperfect soul with holes of sin,
seeking to veil myself,
with robes stained with innocent blood-
from the wounds I inflict in order
to rise in power-play.

A collection of good-will-
there is nothing wrong, nothing sinful-
who does not covet,
an easy life of continous favours and showers
of beaming smiles that threaten to blind with their
glaring intensity?
But beware of the price of earning-
yes, earning,
those smirks of smug benevolence;
ever, to be fully truthful to yourself
of what you do or say,
and if the betterment of yourself,
comes at the expense of another's wounded dignity.

Revelation
That spark of startling wonder
that bursts
silently in my heart,
like the petals of a budding
fire rose-
It is an explosion
that renders me
half-blind-
A sense of bewilderment,
Confusion abounds,
Yet in my heart of hearts
it acknowledges the loss,
accepts the pain,
and welcomes the revelation-
For a moment,
the doors of light
are flung open
for me-
a frail silhouette framed
by an enormous rectangle of glory,
and I feel closer
to the rest of the world
than now I do,
watching it slowly perish, along with you.

Run
Flip-flop, flip-flop...
my footsteps
slap against the cold
hard ground.

Slip-splash, splash-skid...
my slippers
slither through puddles-
I almost fall.

I have been running,
flip-flop-splash-skid-
running God knows where,
searching-
for that elusive
shadow that I want to be.

Don't look,
flip-flop, skid-dash,
don't stop,
never stop.
Don't look,
never see.

What I will find,
I might not like.
What I will see,
will cause me to howl,
scream, rage, shout, wail-
and make me want to run away.

That shadow
does not want light-
that silhouette,
needs no exposure-
for it is afraid-
too afraid,
of being ugly,
a monster that lurks,
unbidden,
never wanted.

Yet I run, scamper,
always adapting,
like a dreaded chameleon,
trying to be that cool graphite stone,
that flexible branch,
that invisible reflection-
of what is admired,
yet can never be.

can't believe it- slept at 2 am today, woke up at 3... hey, that's one hr later... wonder why i'm not tired? n wonder why my upset stomach still refuses to quiet itself... dots...

i believe i haven written much of my personal reflections before this, so will take this time to complain, and celebrate! after today, coursework will be officially over!!!! provided i get thru today... just want to take this opp to say a huge SORRY and THANK YOU to all the people who have witheld comment at my crazy and totally irresponsible behaviour this past.... i dunno, 6 weeks? n no, i did not just win an emmy, hahaz;p

n most of all, I HAVEN'T played since prelim ended, n i'm DYING to go out!!!! As soon as my pernicious flu heals anyway...

So it's 6 plus now, hope i won fall asleep in class later...

What is guilt,
but an indulgence
in self-pity,
an affirmation
of your own
superiority
over others?

Why do we find it
easier
to forgive
another but
ourselves,
unable to accept
flaw
in our minds?

It is perfection
that drives
our dissatisfied
minds-
the contented
simply
accept
who they are-
is it better to be the wise,
or the fool?

My head
is like
a huge rubber
balloon
that hangs,
limp-
it is
leaking,
wheezing,
then-
BANG!
How I wish
it would
explode
spewing bits
of red
fluff,
leaving
a balloon-shaped
hole
in the air,
an extinct
space
where
a head once was
there now is
emptiness.
The scarecrow falls
into the girl-shaped
grave-
without a head.

18 Sept. 2006

Ever felt like the end of the world is here, and just wanting to sit back and ignore everything, even the rubble that falls from the stupid, white-washed ceiling? Yep, that just about sums up how i'm feeling, just plain bored, and dissatisfied with my stupid life, and my stupid exams and my stupid everything. haiz. Just think it's my stupid headache ba, and the fact that lit is tomolo and art hist, and i haven studied for both. Yea, should pop the champagne, i've just slept the day away........... dots!@@!!!!!@!@!!!!

I am cold
I do not feel
Your warmth beside me.
The sharp, jagged
edges
of ice
all around
freeze
my cold
black
heart.
It moves
and stills,
threatening
to stop
at any minute.
If it
dies
and I am
gone-
will you still remember
the cold,
cold
ME,
the girl
with
the black heart?

Anyway, now she thinks of Estha and Rahel as Them, because separately, the two of them are no longer what They were or ever thought They'd be.

Ever.

Their lives have a size and a shape now. Estha has his and Rahel hers.

Edges, Borders, Boundaries, Brinks and Limits have appeared like a team of trolls on their separate horizons. Short creatures with long shadows, patrolling the Blurry End. Gentle half-moons have gathered under their eyes and they are as old as *Ammu was when she died. Thirty-one.

Not old.

Not young.

But a viable die-able age.

-The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy

*Ammu- mother

I really think that Roy's imagery is so rich- I wonder what inspires Indian and Japanese imagery- they're always so colourful, so different, so exotic. Estha and Rahel are twins btw. I've always wondered what bonded twins together. What does it feel like to have someone so close to you at birth, where a special bond exists beyond that of a normal sibling's?

Then again, i might just be romanticizing the notion, and the other 'part of you' might just be as annoying and irritating as a spoilt brat, hahaz. No offense to all twins out there! Haven't met a pair of identical twins yet though, wonder how it'll be like...

The day she died,
she died alone,
Out alone,
in cold winter snow.

The day she fell,
she fell and broke,
She fell and broke
where no one could tell.

The day she drowned
in crystal clear waters,
She bloodied those waters,
with mermaids around.

The day she lost
her soul to the river,
with her lover she drowned,
in waterlogged armour.

The day she left,
the tears unheeded,
Away from land so lovingly seeded,
with pain and death, and grief bereft.

How do I quiet
a restless spirit-
a silent voice
that writhes
like a dark, oily
serpent
in the deepest recesses
of my tired,
weary
heart?
I feel the weight
of an avalanche-
the waves that crash
in the ocean that traps me
beneath.
Wailing,
screaming,
fighting,
crying-
only to struggle
against invisible,
intangible walls
that bind me-
A Me shaped hole in
the earth
where I am supposed to be
there now is
Nothing
but black,
black space-
And Fear.

Distance

Distance
You sit quietly beside me
yet i feel a gaping, bleeding canyon between
Us.
I long to jump down
I long to reach the other shore
where you are lying
alone and in pain.
When you turn those sightless eyes
towards some point behind me-
When you clench your fists
to still the tremours in your soul
My heart cries-
It is ripped out, exposed to the frigid winter,
stabbed with a hundred icicles of words you do not say.
Cannot say.
Will not say.
Cannot trust.
Will not trust.
I am afraid.
Will I say something-
Wrong,
to make you hate me?
I am cowardly,
so I try to say the things you want to hear,
wondering if,
you'll hate me just the same.
All I can do, is wait for some move.
Of that corpse lying on the other shore
to raise the head that i so adore.
I will plunge willingly into bloody waters
to carry that umbrella that lovingly shelters
your ravaged soul-
and pray that you will know
that I am there
that you are not alone.

Help Me to Listen

Help Me to Listen
I cried when nobody understood me
but it was I who did not understand
the pain that I was causing
the pain I could not bear.

I tried to find a reason
I tried to shift the blame-
it was I who did not listen
it was I who did not care.

There it is again-
how fond I am of using 'I',
I never think of others,
thinking it was they who sought to hurt.

I ask why I think so negatively,
why I dwell so much on my own pain,
when there are others who are ailing,
from my unwillingness to lend a hand.

I reach out my hand,
only to snatch back from the heat
the heat that comes from heaven's light,
the glare that exposes me.

The fear only gets greater,
the more unwilling I am to give,
because i cannot put aside my selfish pride,
of looking worse than Me.

I wish I can forgo Me,
there is only one truth worth holding to.
I don't want to lie to myself
I want to make Him proud of me.

09 sept 2006

You Held Me Close

No words can ever be enough
to describe the welling up of tears,
the tightness in my heart,
the aching of my soul,
and the trembling under my heavy burden.

The gratefulness that I feel
is a petal in a gale
a droplet that falls into an ocean
a grain of sand on the beach,
in the face of Your mighty love!

It is dismissed,
because I am healed
bandages unwound from my aching eyes,
so that tears can fall freely down my face.
The light that I see,
is painful yet clear-
it is better to be wise than the fool.

I thank You for staying on the path,
even as i jumped down the ravine.
I thank You for never being away,
always calling from above,
just in sight of my unseeing eyes.

I thank You for You have held me close,
never letting me go,
even as i tried to push away Your hands that try only to protect me.

2 Sept 2006

Blind

My eyes were bound
when I thought I could see-

I thought I could see everything
that even God was within reach-

But I saw only the pureness of snow-white gauze
peeking through the thousand little holes-

It was my eyes that were blind,
and only I did not know.

31 August 2006

I needed you more
than i ever did realise..
in my arrogance and my pride
in my selfishness and pain.
You were the one that stood beside me,
holding on to my hand.
You taught me the true meaning of Faith;
how to search and see the truth.
I could not see,
yet you stayed to be my guiding light.
I could not walk,
yet you stayed to be my guiding hand.
I thank God for your steadfast patience,
I thank you for your loving kindness
to search and hold me when I was lost,
to act as spring's warmth to melt a winter's bitter frost.

-wl, if you see this, i just want to thank you from the bottom of my heart, for you have made me see the LIGHT, literally;)

I need your shoulder
to cry on, to hold
when i feel that the wind is colder,
and darkness enfold.

I need your presence
to sit by, to sense
my bitterness in its essence,
my sadness too dense.

I cry at my weakness,
I rage at my helplessness.

It is too hard,
too hard,
to be alone.

An Itch

Why don't we treasure
all that we have?
Why do we yearn
for more than we need?
Three meals and a bed
that's all that we should ever seek.

But that insidious little voice
that rings inside our heads
tells of wonders beyond end
that in our restless state
drives us to contemplate
and let dissatisfaction rule our empty heads.

Is it human nature
to seek release
from the normality of contentment
and plunge off into the abyss of writhing desire?
Or are we trying to satisfy that irritating itch
of wanting that we can't naturally have?

Follow your heart

The start of national day hols, and the 76 hr carving session... ok, it's gg to be much less than that cause of my procrastinating nature and need of sleep. Just want to wish myself luck here, as well as all the j2s good luck with coursework!

Anyway, i used 20 bux of the prize i won for lit yest on The Alchemist. Yup, u can prob guess i've been spending my numerous breaks reading it, and i know why it's paulo coelho's most famous book, as well as his debut, it's fantastic! Just want to share the most inspirational part that i've read till...

"Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams, because every second of the search is a second's encounter with God and with eternity."

Paulo Coelho writes about the heart as if it were a sentient creature in one's body, and I find that concept beautiful, even if scientifically dubious. However, how else can you account for how your heart jumps when you get frightened, and how heavy it is under the weight of distress, if it does not feel? Perhaps it is our lost link with God; our reliance on our brain has led us to forget the most basic nature of being human, that need to follow our dreams, as Coelho suggests. I think that's what endears me to The Alchemist, because it has served to remind me that the fears that i feel over my future are groundless, that even a simple shepherd can live a rich, fulfilling life in pursuit of his dreams. 'When a person goes in serach of his dreams, the whole universe conspires to help him achieve his goal', now how's that for an encouraging message?

You lift my Soul

I plunge from the edge of steep canyons,
only to be borne gently through the air.
I dive headlong into salty oceans,
only to feel soothing currents sweeping me on.

There is nothing that i don't dare,
nothing that i am afraid of,
because You are with me-
there is no place You have not been, nothing You do not know.

I feel You in my mind,
You are the atoms of my body,
the coursing of my blood,
the essence of my soul.

You are in my every movement,
my every thought- there is nothing You cannot foresee.
How I long to feel the exhilaration of flight,
with snow white wings like a dove's!

How I long to see pearly clouds that swirl me by,
to hear the sweet strum of heavenly harps,
to taste the honey of endless meadows,
and feel the comfort of a Father's loving arms.

30th july 2006

ok, ok, i know i haven updated in like decades. Ha, so i'm lazy, wad else's new?

Anyways, just to update, i've sort of confirmed my composition- a thousand thanks to yy;p, and hopefully, i'll be able to start cutting the lino soon. And, i've decided to be happy, and stay that way despite anything that happens- i've yet to not weather anything out, so why give myself so much stress? hahaz. Hey wait, maybe i need it, he sense of urgency is... well, not there. Hopefully, i'll feel as focused as today everyday, so jia you!

My Secret Dream

When I was young,
when naivete was pardoned,
I told my obliging mother,
that I wanted to keep a star.

I said," Look, Mummy,
they're so shiny and pretty!"
And my mother said with a smile,
'Yes, just like diamonds.'

When I was a little older,
and a little more realistic,
I confided to my best friend,
that I wanted to live in the clouds.

I said," Look,
the clouds are so dreamy and soft!"
And my best friend agreed enthusiastically,
'Yes, it's just like being on a plane.'

When I got yet older now,
and saw too much of the world,
I never did make more unachievable goals,
nor did I forget them.

I said to myself," Look,
the diamond on my ring shines more constant than the star,
and sitting on a plane is drier than living in the clouds,
with the same view to boot!"

I laughed at my childhood aspirations,
with a tinge of bitterness that I never noticed,
until I realised that compromise was never as
Satisfying, as the real thing.

But I suppose there was never more purpose in dreaming,
because the dream was impossible, or close to.
So now I look out the large glass window every night,
gazing at the stars I can never reach.

I peer at blue skies in the day,
accessing the clouds like a property agent.
There was never much joy in having dreams fulfilled,
for there would be new desires, and more corrupt wishes.

It is the Hope that I enjoyed,
and the mystery of having a secret dream.
And now that I have already fulfilled that,
I should have no reason to desire more.

20 July 2006

Glimpses of You

The thin wispery mist
veils your face like gauze;
It obscures my view,
who are you?

The cold wind
turns your face pale and blue;
I smell the tang of sea-blown hair,
do you know the lady of the Sea?

You melt away from my sight,
receding into cool waters;
I try to follow,
but fear keeps me back.

You beckon with your white scarf
which floats through the air like a ragged flag;
do you wish for me to see all of you,
when you try so hard to hide in moist and mist?

Or do you wish to be remembered,
haunting my mind with fleeting glimpses,
leading me closer with your soft song,
dissipating into cloud as they die slowly away?

16 July 2006

I do believe that my blog is really rotting away, the number of times i'm posting. It's partly to show yong hong that a person can CHOOSE not to touch the computer at all if she wants, and partly, well, it's been a hectic week. Next week is going to be worse, so i'll be thankful for the time i have left to relax(not much though, haf to gan prep).

Btw, yesterday was the most fun ever, it's our first shopping trip man, and how did u guys like the opera gallery? Must extend my deepest apologies to wei lian here for such a rushed dinner, i'll make it up to you somehow! And to my greatest bro, Pirates was fantastic! On a side note, thanx for footing the bill- sat not cheap;p

Yeps, thnk i'll go work more on my prep, going to church later for the first time in 3 weeks, argh, feel so sinful.... but will jia you de!

Hope for Your Presence

There was a girl
who sat, day and night,
at her tall glass window,
gazing at the grey, cobbled streets below.

There was a woman
who stood, through all weathers,
at her lofty balcony,
staring at the rugged path that disappeared round the corner.

There was an old lady
who leant, whenever she could,
against her long ebony cane,
willing the sound of footsteps to her lonely door.

There was only waiting,
a longing for someone to arrive
to whisk them from their stagnant state
into Life in the sun.

There was a cold affirmation
of their desire being one day assuaged,
that drew them to look, a search
that would lead them to blessed warmth, and more.

6 July 2006

I think the worst state of life is that of hope being crushed, that utter knowledge that your desire is not and will never be possible. Hope... what does it entail? A wish... a dream... something that is dear to you? There is so much that we don't know, that can go wrong. So many different possibilities and outcomes, so little of which we can control. So does it make it right for us to pursue what we want? Just because our inclinations draw us on that path? What is right, and what wrong? Or is life just full of wants, desires and dislikes, and justice is just a nice name for what the majority wishes?

alot of nothing, and alot of thanks;p

The exams are just over, Yipee! hahaz.. I smell mould on my blog, how weird is that....

Feeling beta after the headache, popped panadol and guess wad, it works, hahaz, so i'm as good as new, or almost. Wonder why I go through every paper 2 feeling sick, must be stress.

So here i am, crapping about myself and feeling at peace... as if.

Ya, i feel relieved, but still cant shake the sneaky feeling that i could be doing something constructive.

Like read a book, write a bit of a story, surf net, blog...

I tried the first, rejected the second(dunno where to start, and afraid i'll get caught in writing more than ten pages of rubbish), disliked the third (checked my mail though) and am doing the latter.

so that leaves schoolwork(like coursework- urgh) or comics(so bored of rereading)...

Mind, just let me enjoy the peace of no work, no stress and absolute stoning... great, that sounds negative.

now, for people who are reading this and wondering who kidnapped cui and is writing nonsense on her blog, it's just mi, toking to myself. Think people who know me shouldn't be surprised. I've got my crazy days, you know.

You know! hahaz... I think i'm officially crazy, will attempt to write something worthy of your precious time, sacrificed to read this humble blog... hey, that sounds weird...

ok, here goes:

I think i've been obsessed with flaws, like wondering why people criticize, why people feel negative things, and that we can never truly say how we feel. I mean all this is true, but it just shows how myopic and depressed I am. There shouldn't be a need to think about all these flaws, I mean, I can't change them, and no one dwells on negative feelings all the time, and i certainly don't. When i'm with people, I want them to feel happy being with me, and that gives me the greatest feeling ever.

I really want to thank everyone i noe for withstanding my nonsense(and no, I did not just win an award, thanx;p) and making me feel appreciated. I think it's a miracle to have friends, people who are willing to listen and talk to me, even though they are in no way obligated to do so. To all the people who listen to me rant (on and off this blog), THANK YOU!!!! I really love you all, because you make me feel that my existence means something. No, it's not in a negative way;p Although i might dwell to much in depression and make people who read my stuff sad (I hope not too much though) but I really want to thank u, all of you, for taking the time. Arigatou!!!!

Must there be a Reason?

There are philosophers contemplating the cosmos,
the devout who follow into faith.
There are scientists who analyze evolution,
there are idle people like me who're too busy searching for a purpose.

But I suppose that in one thing we are alike,
that is that ignorance of the meaning of Life.

Some people think they've got it,
most people don't.

Perhaps when we've realised that there doesn't need to be a purpose,
it is already too late to begin living.

My life is weird, or perhaps, normal for the average modern person.

I start out in life unthinking,
my actions dictated by the expectations of others.
Parents, teachers, friends, relatives... yes, and even God.
I begin, after some time, like all teenagers, to search for self-identity.

What am I guided by?
The morals that I have been brought up on?
Or the rejection of all the rules forced upon me?

I grow sick and tired,
because I cannot find the reason that I am alive,
that mindless plodding of mind and muscle.

But what if there does not need a reason,
to prove my existence?

Is it a crime to simply exist?
Must there be a noble reason to justify my right to breathe air and take up space?

Or am I searching for some lofty ideal to satisfy that I am worth living,
that I am needed, mourned for when I pass away?

Do I have a right to enjoy the joy of living,
when selfish and reluctant I am to assert my value?

Why I Live

I remember a phrase that kim mentioned about this blog, that i only post poems here. I also remember what shi wei said about what a person can say on a blog and what she will not feel comfortable with sharing. So why bother writing, huh? I also read something that faith said about being totally honest in her blog, and how it does not mean that we know her just because we read it.

I confess that I do make that assumption that I know her, at least a little, from what I read, because I feel that whatever a person writes is really a window to his/her soul. Be it from the satirical wit or brainless chatter, there's something you gather about the person from the style of writing and all. There are times when I sit with a pen or in front of the com and i try to squeeze something out- the words I write are mostly a reflection of my emotions though, which is why you realise that I post poems all the time. Poetry is an outlet which I try to synthesize all my emotions into imagery that I find most apt at that time. Which means it's not a thinking exercise, it's a reacting exercise. I don't think much, just react.

I guess that's why my poems lament the fact that 'I don't think when I live'- I think I know deep down that i'm living a meaningless existence of studying day by day. Writing requires brain I guess, not just an emotive source- although it makes it more impactful to write when u feel for what you are writing. I remember when I was young when there never seemed to be enough time- I hated to sleep because that would take time away from something constructive that I could do. Now I leap at the chance to shut down, and textbooks and notes don't make up for much brainwork, just mindless memorization. How I long for the time when I did'nt seem to sleep- my brain undergoes an 8 hr thinking exercise in which my subconscious runs through the things that I'm thinking about before i sleep. Now I'm so wiped out that I blank out every night.

I don't think anymore.

I guess I'm just not into living anymore, because there is no meaning. I'm more interested in Death and what it holds, because it would be a change. But I think it's because I've stopped stimulating my brain- I hardly read anymore, I find- there's just not enough time. But that's an excuse. There's always time, time when i lament the fact that i'm tired, or that life's meaningless. I need constant reminder that there's some things worth living for, and books did that for me. I guess I should read more now, even if i don't haf time. Reading is the only thing that lifts my spirits, I find- well, except reading skool stuff, haz.

Anyway, just a last thought: I've always wondered why satire is so popular, the genre I mean. I like reading it, but it's a critical commentary; do people like criticizing each other that much? Ya, I mean to write a good, logical and interesting satire there has to be a certain level of wit and humour- the ability to laugh at others, but isn't that just an exercise to put down others? It shows how clever you are, how good ur language and how astute you are, but it's not very nice to laugh at others. Is it because we need people to remind us of our human weaknesses that we have such critical commentaries? Yes, we do gain from the ideas, i suppose, and we learn from other's mistakes, to be more perceptive. But I can't help but wonder if there is an undercurrent of smug superiority, that "I know more than you and I'm smarter than you so take the criticisms quietly" mentality. If that's so, then I don't wonder why we can't live as peacefully as before, when all of us are jumping to criticize the faults of others.

haiz, dreary thought, ain't it?

Ps, sometimes I look at the stuff I write and realise how naive I am- why should people care about hurting others through their remarks? It's a mark of achievement to spot the errors of others- they're just trying to help others improve right? I guess my sense of right and wrong is just too naive. I tend to see things in black and white, even when there's so many shades of grey. And they call mi an art student, hahs...

Running- but Where to?

My legs are weary
screaming-
when can I stop
drawing long and
ragged
breaths
from my diseased
heart?

The path continues
beyond sight;
and the pace is
relentless-
Footfalls pound
on hard pavement
and the cold air
pressing too close.

The cold air
is not dispelled
by my faint
body heat
because the body
of air
is so much
greater.

There seems no end to
the Path,
I can only get off
the smooth even ground-
what I might step on
next I don't know,
praying that it is not
darkness that I slip into.

One and Alone

What is Life
that yearns for joy
that seeks for
self-gratification
that strives for
utmost enjoyment?

What is Life
that torments a soul
that dangles
fragile hopes
that keeps from
utter despair?

What is Time
that seeps soundlessly away
that ends
all dreams
that grieves
in eternal parting?

What is Time
that offers the illusion
of Life
never-ending
leaving deceit
and bitter regret?

What is Death
that severes the
tenuous bonds
of lonely individuals
casting us to a long, winding
path, forever alone?

What is Death
that offers
eternal serenity
of peace with One alone
as we were made, separate,
One and alone.

21 June 2006

You who is Ignored

You are the crimson rivulets
that flow, ceaseless into great rivers.

You are the rocks in an avalanche,
that crush, helpless into dirt.

You are the colour of dancing auroras,
that awe, with silence and beauty.

You are the Eyed Hawkmoth,
that stares, unnoticed in shadow.

For you who is most Precious,
Yet most Ignored,
Is most silent-
beautiful yet helpless.

For you that looks in vain,
for the old crone we find
when it is too late,
and all turns inevitably to dead.

I wish I can throw myself into
the freezer
and hibernate for a thousand years-
I hate the sense of utter
uselessness
that I am feeling now;
How I wish I could
bury myself 6 feet beneath
Hell
and stay there for at least
a century
before someone digs my
rotten body from the ground-
my frustration that shrieks
from the holes in my
head
can be heard all the way
in Atlantica-
seeping from gaping wounds
and infested innards.

16 June 2006

AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!! I cant study, I HATE MYSELF.... urgh...

Foam Bath

The splash of water fades
as I sink slowly into
snow-white froth,
crowning my hair with sparkling
butterflies.

I flick bubbles into the air
watching as they float
so lazily, reflecting distorted,
Bloated images of myself,
against convex surfaces.

I witness the deaths
of lifeless circumferences,
bursting
just as they touch
reality.

I wonder if I
am like a bubble
floating through the air
aimlessly, without
direction.

Will I shatter
into countless pieces
until there is no longer any
trace of myself
on the slippery floor?

14 June 2006

Girlfriend

Do you love
me more
than your girlfriend?

Do you love
the way she dresses
in chic skirts and necklaces?

Do you love
the way she pouts
like all girls in love?

Do you hate
the way I choose
jeans and plain turtlenecks?

Do you hate
the way I prefer
practicality over fantasy?

Do you hate
the way I think
and refuse to humour you?

Do you love
me for myself,
or me the girlfriend?

14 June 2006

Who Am I?

I try
not to live a lie
but it is so difficult
to find myself
where there are so many mirrors
all reflecting distorted truths.

I try
not to stray
too far away from day
to keep to the well-worn
Path, where I will not
seem out of the way.

I try
to seek for a purpose
when I cannot find a meaning
to simple existence,
Hating my own ungrateful disatisfactions
lost in my own human imperfections.

13 June 2006

Phoenix

Death holds no eternal state for me
as I lie in soft smouldering ashes,
streaked with dark coal,
crooning a soft song of love.

Fire that burns
does not hurt me-
It sears the pattern of Life
on my immortal soul.

I am rendered alive,
no matter how I die-
for the fire will keep me,
for I am its slave.

My feathers glow against cold clouds
as I fly through unending night-
there is no pain greater
that of Life relentless, refusing rest.

I cannot close my flaming red eyes
for the fire that burns
burns within- I cannot cry,
for my tears are dry.

I yearn to end this persistent existence
of flapping tired brilliant wings,
yet even as I cry my dying song
I emerge whole, from beneath ashes stained with gold.

12 June 2006

Grief

As I sit by my seaside window,
listening to the stricken cries of gulls above,
I hear not the sobbing of my own heart
for it is broken;

The strings that tie
my mind to my heart
have been severed
by a cold white hand-

It is Grief's heartless action
that renders my mind unfeeling.
I barely feel the wetness that falls
from my tired, aching eyes-

I cannot turn it off,
to give them some relief-
I cannot stop the painful beating in my breast,
I cannot give myself release.

10 June 2006

Haiz, i'm so depressing that i'm sick of myself... is that even possible?

I have Forgotten

I have forgotten that childhood
hope
of baking you a thousand peach tarts
every cloudy day.

I have forgotten that childhood
promise
of bottling you a thousand kisses
every sunny day.

I have forgotten that childhood
dream
of writing you a thousand letters
everyday that rains.

I have forgotten that childhood
confidence
of loving you more than a thousand years
every single day.

08 June 06

My Whole Self

I hear the cracking of
that glass petal
that breaks past all
repair.

I see those pale
faces reflected in
that dark glassy lake,
solemnly watching.

I feel the soft, unyielding bind
of satin cloth that cuts
deeply into my wrists,
staining red on red.

I taste that bitterness
of a fruit gone rotten
yet forced to swallow in helpless
regret.

I smell the stench
of a dying hope,
yearning to revive agony,
forgoing cursed release in oblivion.

08 june 2006

Tears

The little tear of pain
that slid down the cold window
melted into the puddle of unfeeling rain-
its death unwitnessed, unmourned.

The little tear of regret
that sank into clouded depths of pollution-
the final poison to kill
that crying, withered rose.

The little tear of despair
that splashed on the worn wooden floorboards
laid unnoticed in the quiet gloom of abandonment-
alone till morning dew with it consumed.

All those little tears that cried
with essence of grief of hearts that died,
lie cold in sobbing hands without relief,
heedless in constant love and belief.

Forget

I see that petal drifting by,
I see that sail on the horizon lie.
I see the sky above so grey,
I see the flowers by your tomb so gay.

I wish the stars were not so bright,
I wish the rain were not so light.
I wish that briar would sink its thorn of grief,
I wish that its pain to me it'll give.

I long to once more believe,
I long for joyful magic found again in life.
I long to forever forget that grave,
I long to be finally free from your lingering gaze.

05 June 2006

Haiz, can relli tell that i'm not up to composing... feel like shit, haiz...

It is your Scent

I have never tried
this perfume before,
its scent that lingers lightly
on my clothes
and even in my long dark hair.

You say that it suits me
because it reminds you
of that meadow
of dancing wildflowers,
exotic and sweet.

Yet I can never
get used to the confusion
of honeyed tastes so cloying
that i feel tempted
to sneeze in exasperation.

It is too varied,
unknown, unaccustomed,
that i am afraid of
its scent so unfamiliar
yet so endearing to you.

I try to like it
yet do not know why
it appeals more to you;
I feel that difference achingly,
reminded that you are unknown after all.

4 June 2006

Holidays slipping by again... haiz..

Yet something occurred to me today, that love does bring people totally unknown at birth, well, lets just say perhaps since young then, to be more realistic, together. For me, i believe it's a frightening experience, for you do not know that person very well.

Then again, how well do you know your family, even, well, your siblings? Not very much in my case, where we don't often talk about our feelings. Yet to be deprived of that regular contact, or situation in which to understand that person better is frightening- at least you can reasonably predict your siblings reactions towards certain issues, in the emotive sense, as well as in their basic natures i suppose.

But here i am, generalizing again. I do suppose that i am referring to new-found love and not relationships that have lasted for many years. I suppose with independence of the sexes, we are afforded more time and leisure to know your partner before you marry. However, the notion of going into a new relationship and finding out something truly horrible has always lingered in my mind. I suppose no one wants to know a truly bad person, and thus the danger of love comes in.

It leaves you open to the attacks of totally unknown, and possibly dangerous characters whom you have but a cursory knowledge of. I suppose it is very timid of me to be jumping at shadows, wondering or anticipating that possible hurt before it has happened, but i do believe that it is a reasonable fear, for no one likes to be hurt, do they?

Ok, found that i've crapped quite alot on a random idea. Why do i have the leisure? I must be insane, with art on tues.Save me from total ruin man...

Time

As i walk along your
winding path,
my skirts billow out behind me
from the cool north wind
that attacks mercilessly
whipping against my unprotected face.

I long to turn around
but i dare not.
I long to gaze backward,
but i cannot,
for i know
i will no longer walk forward
if i give myself to temptation
allowing the warmth of the sun
to fall on my closed lids.

How i long to stay
in memory forever,
sinking
into that warm quagmire
unable to extricate myself-
not that i would want to.
It is like sinking into warm chocolate;
so sweet, flowing richly.

But i am forced to travel against harsh wind
trudging along that winding path
where rocks dig into feet
and mud impedes my wretched journey.
It is because the path winds on
and i am compelled by the wind
to move,
even as it rages against me.

03 June 06

Going to pasir ris in a bit, will be back tomorrow nite. How I begrudge the time lost! But I really want to see my cousins and aunts, so i suppose it is inevitable. I am quite certain it will be fun, yeps;p

Death at Sea

The day i died
I felt most alive.

The sun-kissed beach
was soft, gritty gold between my toes.

The lull of the solemn sea
pulled me toward its turquoise depths.

Salty wind combed my hair
lashing my face laughingly.

It was a picturesque day,
a perfect day to die.

Coldness dragging at my ankles,
the sea drew me into her liquid embrace;

She wore a shining diamond dress
adorned by a jewelled shower from Heaven.

It was a doorgift from above,
telling me of the welcome that awaits.

I walked with steady stride
knowing my lover across will patiently bide.

Into my watery grave i willingly went
taking a deep breath that scented of sea and death.

02 June 06

It is Vanity

It is self-vanity
that leads me to yearn
for a recognition that is
unwonted.

Is there the need
to fight for a so-called
passion; when it would be less troublesome
to sink in annonymity?

What that inspires me to dream
must be sunk in practicality.
What that gives affirmation
I must suffer in my heart.

Perhaps it will all be nothing,
it is not joy that i feel
but emotinless calculation
that i show to unforgiving circumstance.

01 June 06

Yet another day has gone by, leaving me to gape uselessly in its wake. How helpless i feel, and not only about this. It seems that my love will not be satisfied, it is by a world too pragmatic for romance, or the notion of it. I must resign myself to Fate, and thank God for what i have. I hope this does not flavour of bitterness, for i do not feel it, only a small degree of resignation.

P.s. I have just gotten inhto the semi-finals of the poetry contest, they sent the letter yesterday.

Pride

Will Pride blind us
to false pretenses
just as the unseeing eye does
lower our hidden defenses?

I have been, yes, i won't deny it, obsessed with the movie pride and prejudice for the last few days, and it's such a great show!!!! There's nothing for it, i think it's better than even Phantom, hahaz. Probably because Austen's satirical style so appeals to my critical side. I so adore clever people, or at least, insightful ones. It's really a great joy when you speak with hidden volumes and people actually understand, hahas. I guess your minds must work on the same frequency to do that, and the fact that i can finally comprehend Austen's style and meaning- the chemistry is simply amazing! hahaz...

Ok, just took a look at the last paragraph of gushings and it seems like i'm crazy, so stop, haz. Yep, the intricate examination of the social system of her times is what separates Austen from the boring authors of her time, heh, though i can't really credit that remark, since i haven't done an extensive study of the literature then. But, i can say with perfect resolution that Austen is and will always hold a special place in my heart, as one of my FAVOURITE authors. Although I admire her greatly, i think, and quote from Lizzie, that such an accomplished lady would be 'fearsome to behold!' One might be accutely synthesized and disregarded even before one opens her mouth to start a conversation, which is by no means intelligeble unless liberally showered with extensive vocab... do you not agree?

Just another look at what i found on the webbie:

Moggach reflects: "I've emphasized it as being Lizzie's story. Unlike in the novel, she keeps her secrets to herself and they are a great burden to her. There are things she can't confide to her parents, her best friend Charlotte, or even her beloved sister Jane. Lizzie suffers alone. She sees her father neglecting her sisters- he ignores Lydia's follies, which facilitates her elopement- and she views her parnet's marriage as a tragicomedy. Lizzie sees Charlotte, for the sake of security, marry the odious Mr Collins, and sees her beloved sister sink into lovesick misery. She also wonders if her own chance of happiness is disappearing. As she keeps all this to herself, we feel for her more and more. The truest comedy, I believe, is born from pain."

Joe Wright concludes," I think that what Jane Austen wrote was a fairy tale on some levels. I believe that all the best fairy tales are based in social realism, have inherent emotional truths that remain relevant through the generations, and are worth telling over and over again. Today, people are still falling in love, people are still prejudiced against others, and people are still too proud on occasion. We like to be told that love exists, and this story is a joyful and satisfying affirmation of that. Pride and Prejudice is a love story about how to try to understand one another.

Yep, P and P rox!

Raptured Heart

I wish i could stop breath
from flowing
because the pain
that lives
leaves
too much
that i cannot bear.

I do not need the
blood
that courses in
my raptured
heart;
it is a swollen
pulsing fruit
gone rotten.

Will it ever
heal-
can i leave
it in the
icebox
to freeze,
Numb,
so that i do not
feel the agony?

I refuse
to break down
but it feels
that i am fighting
against myself
not to feel,
to stop the tears,
overwhelming feelings that
my body remembers-
even as my mind
tries to forget.

25 May 2006

really, it's amazing what a random thought can spin- this poem wasn't meant to be so dark i think, but hahaz, i guess i kinda like the imagery as it is.

Just a thought- i wonder how poems 'get born'? I actually have no idea what i'm going to write when i compose- i just start with a random feeling, and the details just spill out when i write- it's an impulse thing, that's why i like it so much. And another note- it's when i try to rhyme when you see that i'm not feeling in the mood to compose, hahaz, cause the words don't come as naturally and i need the rhyming scheme to help mi generate ideas. I find the rhymes help mi with the subject matter- trying to find rhymes will give me additional trains of thought, try it!

Elven Lady

Your eternal grief
lays bleakly ahead.;
The prospect of no relief,
leaves one better off dead.

How can you cling
to that which causes you so much pain,
rather than accepting Death's offered thing
tearing away from life's cheerful taint?

How can you withstand
never-ceasing misery
that leaves your heart slowly to rend
itself among brightly burning finery?

Are you afraid
of Death's inconstant nature
that to torment even the dead,
never to find love's constant feature?

Or it is to salve
the pain of living care
that to stop a life's beating valve
would earn added grief without compare?

May 23, 2006

it's been a long time since i was last here, am struggling thru the moulds of work now piling up. I'm not surprised i'm thinking of death at this time, and the relief it would bring... but that's a depressing thought. Surely there is more in life to cling to than simply seeking the embrace of death. Although it leads to heaven, where there is no misery.

Or is there?

I wonder how we would feel as we look upon loved ones from above. Do we become dispassionate, merely gazing at the futile lives of those below, with a bemused glance, or a righteous anger at a mortal's stupidity? Indeed, as i am reaing The Outstretched Shadow, one phrase caught my attention, that of an elf commenting that we humans die just as we begin to mature and comprehend life.

If this is true, i would believe that the purpose of life is to make us mature enough for heaven.

Will we then submit to practicality and learn to forgo our hot-headed impulses and reactions that make us so human? Or will we dwell in supposed serenity, turning a dispassionate gaze at our fellow mortal counterparts?

Is it true that time salves all wounds, by making our senses immune? To heal and become stronger, in a less humane manner?

Lady

Your yellow silken tresses
flow softly across your face
your finely porcelain features
hidden shyly from day.

You gaze wistfully
at the sky
through thin golden slits
in your softly shimmering mask.

Is there anything
that will turn your beautiful head
to acknowledge the pitiful
suitors behind?

21 May 2006

Thank you for Just being There

There are some things
you cannot share,
there are innocent flings
you do not dare.

When I feel so alone
you cannot bear
but speak in comforting tones,
hoping my troubles will better fare.

I thank you
with a cynic smile,
though my words are few
in your heart they dutifully file.

There are some memories
you cannot touch
but you recall all the gentle stories
that make love felt so much.

19 May 2006

I have been abandoned
subject to the rude wind that blows
unceasingly, callously.

I feel the pressure
of a sea of waves
crashing down on me.

I cannot breathe
I feel so lost
yet i suffer in silence.

What is the point
of screaming,
knowing that no one will save you?

To live is to suffer,
to cower from pain;
would you not live at all?

16 May 2006

I haven't been updating on this blog, been feeling really busy, plus the fact that i get headaches from long exposure to the screen. Will try to keep up, though not very optimistic. Hardly had time to edit the dedications that i just put up.

Hope that it'll get better, and for the stress to go away. Benn in a daze for the past few days. Cao...

I'm in a frenzy to update for the past 3 days, so pls bear with it;p

Will you love
knowing that love does not last
eternally?

Will you bear
the pain, unheeding agony
alone?

Is the short-lived joy
enough to remedy a parting
forever?

Why do you plunge,
eager to impale yourself on
the sharp thorns of a rose withered and torn?

13 May 2006

What has robbed me of the joy
that delights in Your love?
Why have Your Words become
so tedious
that I have come
to detest knowing?

Your love so great
yet my heart so unwilling-
I have sinned
yet I did not know.

I pray for strength
and hope to find
forgiveness,
Your glory and my Faith revived.

14 May 06

A Moral Compass

What is good
that we yearn within
yet cannot reach?

Why does our nature
lead us into evil
temptation, instead of righteousness?

Does the forbidden
fruit attract us
such that we forget our humanity?

Or is it Humanity
that seeks to stumble us,
to fall from holy grace?

Is it true
that the Devil is
behind our devious thoughts?

Or is it
our frail attempts to justify
the evil within?

15 May 2006

Sacrifice

Its purpose
is to prevent
further pain and misery.

Yet it is not
that noble and
praiseworthy.

If
it causes more to be
damned, is it not futile?

To be selfish
to protect that which you
love- shall that be scorned?

13 May 2006

We Live- to Die

We live
to die
yet gain
from this
journey.

Is that
the sole
purpose
of Life,
that to
learn Death?

13 May 2006

Sian.

Was just reading the previous post. Found that the love i meant was the purer form of love, if it exists. The self-sacrificial type. Not the diluted love that is born of necessity or circumstance now. Do i make sense? I feel as if i don't...

Love, or Hate

I have loved you
till I hated you.

I hated that
you did not notice.

I hated that
you did not care.

I hated that
I loved enough,

To hate
that which is innocent.

12 May 06

Thought of that when i was reading a romance comic. I remembered that I had a crush on this guy before, though I've forgotten who he is(really, no kidding). It was like eons ago when i was still very affected by the fantasy stories that i read depicting happy endings and everything.

But what really stayed in my mind after that long and unrequited event was that it eventually became an emotion that i did not like. It was as if someone had to take the blame for that frustration, and it was always the other party, if not myself. In terms of self-accusation and hurt.

So it made me think, in terms of what dramas always say, that cliched line about there being only a thin line between love and hate. Is love really that pretty an emotion? The answer that i gave myself was- yes, only if you don't expect anything in return, which you almost always do. There are certain expectations, or desires, in the way you want things to turn out. And if it doesn't, that love turns into something ugly.

That's why i think people shouldn't fall in love until they can realise that love is not something that you can attach expectations to. No matter what anyone else assures you of.

Like a Child

We shy from sunlight
to hide in the shadowed darkness
of mighty trees
above us
because the light is-
blinding
and the heat is-
searing.

We seek reprieve
from what we are
from what is good.
We make excuses
to preserve our false
beauty,
ignoring the true
glory of God's light.

We know
yet don't act,
willing all to go away
to indulge in
selfish desires.
We are asking for judgement
just as an errant child
baits its forbearing father.

12 May 06

dont feel like writing today, but it was a normal, everyday day.

Daddy

I realise now,
that i never really knew
you,
what you liked
or otherwise.

I did not presume
your love was there,
because you were
reticent,
never speaking.

I never knew
that you cared;
that
I was the one who
did not love.

I took you
for granted,
thinking
that love seeks
to reveal itself.

I am sorry
that pride has
made
me blind to your
steadfast presence.

I will try
to express myself
first,
before I dare demand
an equivalent in return.

10 May 2006

Hmmm... what inspired this piece? I dont know. Normally I'm not relli close to my dad, cause I get put off whenever he talks to me and it's always about results and whether I'm studying and all.

It gets relli sian, and i always emerge from the 'confrontation' feeling that my only value to him was to make him look good.

But I was very surprised i guess, when i smsed him yesterday and he replied "Wen, u called Daddy?"

It was like, hello, did i eva call him daddy? Maybe it was his lack of vocab or that the phone did not support the chinese name that i always call him (he could always type papa though...), but i was struck by that childish use of name. I realised i never called him daddy, or anything that signalled a child's affection for her father. Heck, I never call him if i can help it, just try and stay out of sight of his bad temper, which i've not borne the full brunt of before. Yong En has, and it wasn't pretty. And of course, it was about his results, chinese to be exact, which my dad is pro in.

I realise i don't know my father, and likewise, he wouldn't know me now, would he?

I think the reason why he keeps harping about my results is because that's the only subject that he can relate to. He doesn't read the books (english and sci fi somemore...) and comics that i do, doesn't take the same subjects, and hell, not speak the language that i feel most comfortable in (english) most of the time. He tries to understand my art, and supports my interest wholeheartedly by telling mi he wants to send mi overseas to study art all the time, without knowing that it's conversely putting pressure on me. Maybe he does know, and wants to spur me on, i don't know...

thinking on all this, it's like all the reasons why my dad does what he does becomes clear- I detest his extra actions because i don't understand his intentions.

I don't know if that's how he feels, or that i'm trying to find excuses for his actions to make myself feel better. But I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I get the conficting notion that my dad's actually quite a cool(sauve?) and understanding guy, from the instances when he cares about yong li alot, but his bad temper scares me off, thinking he's a real scary guy.

Living with him so long, i really feel that i'm understanding my dad for the first time. He's so busy and i hardly see him, so i take his behaviour for granted, fitting him into the childish mould/impression i have of him.

But i think it's time to grow up, and find out who the people around me really are. Ever since i had a good talk with my mom, i think we're definitely closer, and we understand each other now. We even call each other to go out, something i would NEVER have done last time.

I think i've been living in my own world of fantasy for too long. It's time to wake up and think about my life and the people around me. More than time.

p.s. my dad says that he's buying brands for mi to drink, seeing that i'm studying so hard... how touching is that?

It is a Long day...

The Autistic Man

You sit beside me
willing my reluctant gaze
to fall upon you.

I do not know
how I can meet your forthright
stare, without pity or discomfort.

How can I understand
your inner thoughts so alien,
yet so human?

I have not the courage
to return your smile
that of innocence too compelling to refuse.

09 May 06

Trapped

I am trapped
in a warm and comforting place.

I warm my hands with a steaming cup,
while the dreaded storm rages outside.

Lightning strikes,
Thunder booms.

I am safe.
I am warm.

Yet I am trapped.
Yet I cannot leave.

Should I even try?

09 May 2006

The Rain Never Stops

It never does
stop,
those tears
that fall from above,
all those
drops like pats on my shoulder.

They remind me,
like guardian angels,
of those eyes above me,
reminding me of His presence
and of His never-ending love.

09 May 2006

It was a long day today.

Actually, let off from skool at 1245, went for lunch at Thompson plaza, and got Sunny's food. Then i went home, took a bath, went to Clarke Quay to take pics. It was overcast but i managed to walk ard quite a bit before it started pouring. It was the whole zoo, by the way, not just domestic animals.

I got stuck at Coffee Bean for more than an hour(total waste of time), but had a coffee, so am still very awake now. Wrote and thought quite alot during that period, but seemed to have made no headway on my coursework.

I dunno why, but I have a mental block around that subject, sheesh.
Oya, just thought of another poem...

The Ultimate Lie

What is a lie
but a murmur of possibility
an insinuation of probability
a flawed attempt to twist human sensibility?

What is a hope
but a glimmer of possibility
a belief in probability
a steadfast attempt to deny human sensibility?

To hope is to lie
for to hope is against logic
to lie is to preserve flawed rationality
but both salve the grief of human imperfection.

09 May 06

I Can Never Know You

My heart breaks into
a thousand pieces,
each reflecting
a different view of
your blood-red cloak.

It is a cloak of mystery,
one that hides
your body from
my view, a strange
enigma in plain sight.

I do not like
that part of you
that hides
away from me
that I can never touch.

I do not know
You,
the part that is
ashamed of
something I call light.

08 May 2006

I've just been looking thru all of the entries that i've put up recently. I think i'm obsessed with the truth. Yet it is a fact that no one can be truly truthful to another.

It takes a saint to not hide.

Perhaps even a saint has something he or she does not want to share.

Truth is elusive.

I might not think i'm hiding anything, yet the things i don't say leaves something unresolved.

Is there truth?

Or is it a futile search for the unattainable?

It takes Courage to say the Truth

Can I trust you
to tell me the truth
even if
it will hurt me?

Will you claim
that your noble love
excuses
all your lies and deceptions?

Do you think
you know me
enough
to justify your actions?

Is it presumed
that i am unable
to penetrate
all your false pretenses and knowing smiles?

Your intentions are unquestioned
your care taken for granted.
I don't know
if I am wrong to ask for more.

6 May 06

wrote this yesterday. But didn't feel like typing it in though. Feel so dead, especially for tomolo's econs test. Later I still haf to go take pic. feel like dying.

Where's my coffin?