okays.

okay. this is just to say this blog isn't dead.

but i might be shifting to livejournal though. needa learn how to tweak their themes.

and i'm counting down. 5 more months. and no more green uniform for me! :)

sometimes it's not whether the business idea can work or not, but whether there're enough funds to start it up.

and soc sucks.

bye.

spark sparkle sparkling sparkled

I walked past you and you caught my eye.
Your eyes did, actually.
Your sparkling eyes.
All my life, I had assumed descriptions of people's eyes
that sparkled are mere exaggerations.
Till I met you.
For just a split second, I saw your eyes sparkle.
Maybe it was a reflection of light.
After all, it was raining and perhaps a beam of light
shot through a falling drop of rain and bounced
across the surface of your eye and towards me,
thus your eyes sparkled.
But maybe, it really did sparkle.
Maybe it sparkled with a spark of life.
No, with sparks of joy.
Nah, your sparkling eyes probably sparkled with the joyful sparkling of the sparks of life.
Yea, maybe it's that then. :)

Rain mozzies suck

Raindrops keep falling on my head.
Means mozzies will fly in when I'll be lying on my bed.
Sucking blood off every inch of my skin,
beware fat bugs from mosquitoes lean.

A nice blend

Throw in a pinch of love
A blast of air
Mix them together
Sizzling on a frying pan.

Add some salt and pepper
Add some hearts' desire
A bit of time, a bit of space,
And a whole pot full of haste.

Slowly and tenderly,
stroke the fire burning gently,
Use the wood to blow a little wind
Fan the flame from within

Some lust or secret seduction,
like melting chocolate over a hot furnace,
Some dreams or lofty aspiration
like glass roasting on an open fire.

The opening of a can
its bubbles of fizz floating upwards
like joy in a symphony
the emotions in its quivers
Though it does not waver.

A nice blend it is.
A nice band we are.
A nice blended band we'll be.

where has my muse gone.

What if your heart is with one
and your mind with another

What if the world ended now
and you dug through the rubble
and found a book
and you were told to bring it West.

But the world is round.
After some traveling, going West brings you back to where you started.
Then, would you gripe and bitch?
Or sit down and reflect upon experiences learned?

There's a man in the mirror.
But a mirror like no other.
For within are dozens of doors.
Some lead to calming streams with children playing pebbles
Others lead to raging storms and howling winds.

Some open to new frontiers
Others to impending doom.
And some to history.

One or two may lead to red roses
or a braying pony.
One or two might lead to a skeleton in the closet
Or open a can of worms.

And, what happens then?
To see, and be reminded of the past.
To be dismissed within the blink of an eye
But dismissed as what?
History; a chapter closed?
Or as a joke and to laugh about it and a new chapter begins?

I could have sworn I knew you.
And for a time we did too.
Yet there's a time to know, and a time to forget.

I can't forget you.
Each and every of you.
'Cause you forge and mould.
And I'll never let you go.