Saturday, February 28, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Happiness
Does one need pleasures of life to be happy? I was having a minor discussion about this the other day.
Army changes oneself. It used to be the warm and comfy bed or the sumptuous and delectable meal every once in a while. Now? I'm satisfied with just a slice of Bonjour's Chocolate Chip bread and a steaming cup of coffee. Or is that a cup of steaming coffee.
But happiness would come from within and not from out in right? So then why would actions or events on the external cause an outflow of happiness from the inside?
Yet, life is but strange and peculiar, and I admit, my mind is slowly angling towards intangible riches at the moment. Perhaps it is the numerous cultural changes that makes one hold on tight to memories in a world of changing surroundings.
Food is to live, and so is water. Sleep is but to nourish the body.
Happiness heals the heart, and makes it whole again.
You make me happy :)
Army changes oneself. It used to be the warm and comfy bed or the sumptuous and delectable meal every once in a while. Now? I'm satisfied with just a slice of Bonjour's Chocolate Chip bread and a steaming cup of coffee. Or is that a cup of steaming coffee.
But happiness would come from within and not from out in right? So then why would actions or events on the external cause an outflow of happiness from the inside?
Yet, life is but strange and peculiar, and I admit, my mind is slowly angling towards intangible riches at the moment. Perhaps it is the numerous cultural changes that makes one hold on tight to memories in a world of changing surroundings.
Food is to live, and so is water. Sleep is but to nourish the body.
Happiness heals the heart, and makes it whole again.
You make me happy :)
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
love
Many a person struggling to make their love last,
To love their 'target' over,
Some desperately clinging on to its tiny shreds,
like the minute fragments of a broken mirror.
Whoever said the world is lacking of love would be unfeeling.
Or hidden from sight.
For love is but abundant.
Only hidden from your eyes.
It wouldn't be fair for the girl who has pined for the guy
for two years over
and suffered loving him
betrayal distrust insecurities and perhaps
he might never be hers to keep.
It wouldn't be kind to the girl who has him in her mind
no matter their distance
knowing she will love him
despite the ring on finger.
Many a fools have died in love
and many more will live.
From love to love
from alive to live.
To love their 'target' over,
Some desperately clinging on to its tiny shreds,
like the minute fragments of a broken mirror.
Whoever said the world is lacking of love would be unfeeling.
Or hidden from sight.
For love is but abundant.
Only hidden from your eyes.
It wouldn't be fair for the girl who has pined for the guy
for two years over
and suffered loving him
betrayal distrust insecurities and perhaps
he might never be hers to keep.
It wouldn't be kind to the girl who has him in her mind
no matter their distance
knowing she will love him
despite the ring on finger.
Many a fools have died in love
and many more will live.
From love to love
from alive to live.
Life.
Bah. Memories.
They come like a flood.
Sparked by one's stupidity.
(Why did I go visit your blog I wonder)
A walk down memory lane
becomes one's desperate run against time and tide.
Day becomes night, and land becomes sea.
A surge of torrents,
they push forward unceasingly
Devouring everything in its path
Leaving no trace behind.
Except depressions.
Colors.
They fly.
They mix and entwine.
Like two lovebirds caught
In a kaleidoscope.
The heart races and stirs.
Like a slash off one's face.
Take a dagger and stab me twice
heh, no kidding
it doesn't matter if you're naughty or nice.
That which was healed after the hurt,
its wounds but tore open again
And over time it was healed
But superficially and not within.
Till now.
You played me, I would like to think.
Or perhaps we merely had just a fling.
That is but a bittersweet memory
Till the day that I'll say Blimey!
Let me hide in a corner but no I can't do that
lest I arouse the memories of my ex.
Let me go for a walk or a ride in the bus
but that would evoke you out of my mind
Try not to, I must.
Oh, if only we didn't had such an indepth insight into our character
That every new action or thought was treated with childlike curiosity.
Where we don't have to struggle to comprehend to try to understand
To find the right mix of words phrases and lines
That which would be befitting
to ourselves.
Oh, but there is, is there not.
It's called life.
And it goes on.
They come like a flood.
Sparked by one's stupidity.
(Why did I go visit your blog I wonder)
A walk down memory lane
becomes one's desperate run against time and tide.
Day becomes night, and land becomes sea.
A surge of torrents,
they push forward unceasingly
Devouring everything in its path
Leaving no trace behind.
Except depressions.
Colors.
They fly.
They mix and entwine.
Like two lovebirds caught
In a kaleidoscope.
The heart races and stirs.
Like a slash off one's face.
Take a dagger and stab me twice
heh, no kidding
it doesn't matter if you're naughty or nice.
That which was healed after the hurt,
its wounds but tore open again
And over time it was healed
But superficially and not within.
Till now.
You played me, I would like to think.
Or perhaps we merely had just a fling.
That is but a bittersweet memory
Till the day that I'll say Blimey!
Let me hide in a corner but no I can't do that
lest I arouse the memories of my ex.
Let me go for a walk or a ride in the bus
but that would evoke you out of my mind
Try not to, I must.
Oh, if only we didn't had such an indepth insight into our character
That every new action or thought was treated with childlike curiosity.
Where we don't have to struggle to comprehend to try to understand
To find the right mix of words phrases and lines
That which would be befitting
to ourselves.
Oh, but there is, is there not.
It's called life.
And it goes on.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Darkness.
Darkness.
Its comforts.
Knowing that you don't know the unknown.
That one cannot fathom the mysteries and powers that lurk within.
Darkness.
That which is devoid of light.
Lack of warmth, lack of heart.
Lack of wisdom impart.
Darkness.
Knowing that one does not know what is out there.
Is that knowledge? Or the lack of it?
But if one were to profess to know what one does not know
would be enlightening or disheartening?
Its comforts.
Knowing that you don't know the unknown.
That one cannot fathom the mysteries and powers that lurk within.
Darkness.
That which is devoid of light.
Lack of warmth, lack of heart.
Lack of wisdom impart.
Darkness.
Knowing that one does not know what is out there.
Is that knowledge? Or the lack of it?
But if one were to profess to know what one does not know
would be enlightening or disheartening?
Her First Time
The man asks the girl if she's afraid and she shakes her head bravely. He has had more experience, but it's the first time his finger has found the right place.
He probes deeply and she shivers; her body tenses; but he's gentle like he promised he'd be.
He looks deeply within her eyes and tells her to trust him-he's done this many times before.
His cool smile relaxes her and she opens wider to give him more room for an easy entrance. She begins to plead and begs him to hurry, but he slowly takes his time, wanting to cause her as little pain as possible.
As he presses closer, going deeper, she feels the tissue gives way; pain surges throughout her body and she feels the slight trickle of blood as he continues.
He looks at her concerned and asks her if it's too painful. Her eyes are filled with tears but she shakes your head and nods for him to go on. He begins going in and out with skill but she is now too numb to feel him within her.
After a few moments, she feels something bursting within her and he pulls it out of her, she lays panting, glad to have it over. He looks at her and smiling warmly, tells her, with a chuckle; that she has been his most stubborn yet most rewarding experience.
She smiles and thanks him. After all, it was her first time to have a tooth pulled.
He probes deeply and she shivers; her body tenses; but he's gentle like he promised he'd be.
He looks deeply within her eyes and tells her to trust him-he's done this many times before.
His cool smile relaxes her and she opens wider to give him more room for an easy entrance. She begins to plead and begs him to hurry, but he slowly takes his time, wanting to cause her as little pain as possible.
As he presses closer, going deeper, she feels the tissue gives way; pain surges throughout her body and she feels the slight trickle of blood as he continues.
He looks at her concerned and asks her if it's too painful. Her eyes are filled with tears but she shakes your head and nods for him to go on. He begins going in and out with skill but she is now too numb to feel him within her.
After a few moments, she feels something bursting within her and he pulls it out of her, she lays panting, glad to have it over. He looks at her and smiling warmly, tells her, with a chuckle; that she has been his most stubborn yet most rewarding experience.
She smiles and thanks him. After all, it was her first time to have a tooth pulled.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Perplexed.
He raises the pen over the paper, poised and ready to strike.
The eagle swoops down upon the helpless prey.
Swift. Decisive.
One, two, three four
He steps onto the dance floor
Swirls and twirls
Step forward and then back
Attraction and repel.
Obedience and rebel.
He closes his eyes and the world turns black. Darkness.
Then words of light spin round and round.
A word here, a phrase there.
A note here, a song there.
A color here, a memory there.
A patty here, a burger there.
And who knows what tomorrow would bring.
Rank. Does it mean a lot? Can it denote experience?
Or mental intelligence?
Volume. Can it denote power or strength?
Or highlight the amount of passion?
For which there is no standard measurement.
Is deviance genetic or a mishap of the child learning program?
Yet there is truth in that
A deviant calling another deviance and both living in a deviant world.
Perplexed.
The eagle swoops down upon the helpless prey.
Swift. Decisive.
One, two, three four
He steps onto the dance floor
Swirls and twirls
Step forward and then back
Attraction and repel.
Obedience and rebel.
He closes his eyes and the world turns black. Darkness.
Then words of light spin round and round.
A word here, a phrase there.
A note here, a song there.
A color here, a memory there.
A patty here, a burger there.
And who knows what tomorrow would bring.
Rank. Does it mean a lot? Can it denote experience?
Or mental intelligence?
Volume. Can it denote power or strength?
Or highlight the amount of passion?
For which there is no standard measurement.
Is deviance genetic or a mishap of the child learning program?
Yet there is truth in that
A deviant calling another deviance and both living in a deviant world.
Perplexed.
Acapella
A nice video I came across. Good to pass the time away, and make you marvel at how interesting music and humor can be entwined together.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
on second thought.
Nah, who am I kidding? A piano rendition would be so much nicer. and let me rest in peace better. :)
The Final Countdown
I just love this video.
The quickening of the spirit and elevated beating of the heart.
The deteriorating pace of time and surrounding elements.
The environment that fades away.
The beauty of music.
This would be a splendid song to be played for my funeral. :)
The quickening of the spirit and elevated beating of the heart.
The deteriorating pace of time and surrounding elements.
The environment that fades away.
The beauty of music.
This would be a splendid song to be played for my funeral. :)
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Ben Butt.
A lone saxophone played in the background as she danced on stage.
Lady in red swaying to an inner rhythm as the moonlight beamed off her.
Illuminating her every step, accentuating every curve of her figure.
Benjamin Button's a nice movie.
Lady in red swaying to an inner rhythm as the moonlight beamed off her.
Illuminating her every step, accentuating every curve of her figure.
Benjamin Button's a nice movie.
Night
In every nook and cranny,
on every nickel and penny.
In the smallest of spaces,
and in the widest of distances.
Scrawlings on manuscripts and
inscriptions on parchments,
words just swirl swarm and swerve
all around beyond and above.
The unsettled mind and
a disturbed spirit
and the sound of impending thunder
and angry fire pounding rain.
on every nickel and penny.
In the smallest of spaces,
and in the widest of distances.
Scrawlings on manuscripts and
inscriptions on parchments,
words just swirl swarm and swerve
all around beyond and above.
The unsettled mind and
a disturbed spirit
and the sound of impending thunder
and angry fire pounding rain.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Sleep.
I lie there torn between
My loves and my lust.
The angel appears on a shoulder
With halo and wings and a nice angelic smile
As angels should be
The devil appears with much pride and fanfare
With a horn and a stick and a tail with a whip.
And the kids I love and hold to heart appear at one side
An imbalance of the scales.
Of lust and greed and selfish desires
Versus the weight of love.
And I fight within myself
Grasping with unseen forces
Till sleep overcomes
Till it falls down and forms a mist around me
And sleep lulls me to sleep.
My loves and my lust.
The angel appears on a shoulder
With halo and wings and a nice angelic smile
As angels should be
The devil appears with much pride and fanfare
With a horn and a stick and a tail with a whip.
And the kids I love and hold to heart appear at one side
An imbalance of the scales.
Of lust and greed and selfish desires
Versus the weight of love.
And I fight within myself
Grasping with unseen forces
Till sleep overcomes
Till it falls down and forms a mist around me
And sleep lulls me to sleep.
Bless.
Bless the sergeant for treating the Bible
with care and respect as it should be
The revered Word of God.
God bless him.
with care and respect as it should be
The revered Word of God.
God bless him.
musingly.
Sometimes the words come to me in a strange dreams
Plots, relationships, unorthodox story lines.
Sometimes sleep comes with such a rush
It catches me by surprise.
There's this dude in this bunk who's a little creepy.
He walks up and down the corridor and peers in through the windows,
and sometimes comes in and smiles at us.
Without saying a word.
Then there are other times where he simply does not run out of words.
And one can only wonder what goes on within his mind.
Do the bulbs go a flickering, every 19 of them?
Is there color or just monochrome, is there a rhythm or a monotone.
Is he trying to smile away his sorrows
How long can he rein it in.
But what good does it do me
If I try to speculate
As I struggle to fight against my own demons.
Inner as they may be.
Plots, relationships, unorthodox story lines.
Sometimes sleep comes with such a rush
It catches me by surprise.
There's this dude in this bunk who's a little creepy.
He walks up and down the corridor and peers in through the windows,
and sometimes comes in and smiles at us.
Without saying a word.
Then there are other times where he simply does not run out of words.
And one can only wonder what goes on within his mind.
Do the bulbs go a flickering, every 19 of them?
Is there color or just monochrome, is there a rhythm or a monotone.
Is he trying to smile away his sorrows
How long can he rein it in.
But what good does it do me
If I try to speculate
As I struggle to fight against my own demons.
Inner as they may be.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Ironical paragraphs.
Light from the setting sun lit up his room with white walls, turning it blood red, as he sat hunched over his desk, intently studying a map of sorts. Every few seconds, he would frown as if dissatisfied with what the coordinates brought to light.
Wind blew lightly across the desert floor as a scorpion scurried up a sandy mountain, on its own journey, immune to the daily shifting of the sands. If this scorpion had any foretelling of its imminent fate, it did little to change it. The hoof of a horse crushed it to death a minute later, before riding off into the wind.
Thunder bellowed in the distance as rain poured down unceasingly and mercilessly. Awakened by the rain hammering against the windows, she awoke from her sleep and gave a hearty yawn while scanning her surroundings lazily. Striding forward, she laid down beside the warm and cackling fire, and went back to sleep, unfazed by the sound of her stomach growling, that sounded to her ears, like thunder.
Wind blew lightly across the desert floor as a scorpion scurried up a sandy mountain, on its own journey, immune to the daily shifting of the sands. If this scorpion had any foretelling of its imminent fate, it did little to change it. The hoof of a horse crushed it to death a minute later, before riding off into the wind.
Thunder bellowed in the distance as rain poured down unceasingly and mercilessly. Awakened by the rain hammering against the windows, she awoke from her sleep and gave a hearty yawn while scanning her surroundings lazily. Striding forward, she laid down beside the warm and cackling fire, and went back to sleep, unfazed by the sound of her stomach growling, that sounded to her ears, like thunder.
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