trust

When i die, i want my tombstone to read:

Brother to many,
Trust they had.
Lover to none,
Lonely and sad.

The end.

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if

If a man does not lust,
Does that makes him less of a man?
Then what is man?
Or whom?

Men are usually described as visual creatures with raving sexual appetites. So if a man, sees but does not get excited , is the man less of a men?

How then do we define men and women? If a person should have the physical attributes of the former, but fits into the stereotypes of the latter, what do we term that person?

Now. What have i becomed.

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Can I take the risk?

The look in your eyes
The fall of your hair
The melody of your laughter
that is music to my ears.

What do you see when you look into my eyes?
When this clear path of communication between
the windows to our souls
converge?

Do you see the sadness within.
Or the affection for you?
Or do you not see anything at all?

I simply can't bring myself
to drop everything for you
just yet
cause to do that
means I have nothing left of myself

It would mean that I have yielded
all control of my heart and mind
to you.

Yet, of what good would it do to me?

I would give you my heart in a heartbeat
just so you can feel how fast it paces
when you cradle it within your palm

But.
I'm not accustomed to protecting myself.
Against myself.

Eh tu, brutus?

He sits on the chair
Bound and gagged
His eyes roam around him
Taking in the cold darkness

Then a spotlight shines.
He flinches and squints
Who's there, he screams
The gag serves its purpose.

He recoils in shock as she walks nearer
Her gaze cold and hard
She smiles and her laughter
resonates through the room

She sits astride him and caresses his cheek
Her fingers running down his chest
He squirms and struggles
The tape that bounds serves its purpose.

And then he heaves a sigh of relief
Or of pain.
As she slowly penetrates him
And the light reflects upon her face
Showing her vile side
The knife does its work.

Blood flows.
First the grief and the sadness
Next the anger jealousy lust goes
Then the love pumps out
Till nothing is left.

And he looks at her with glazed eyes
Something startles within her
Astonishment or maybe surprise
As if she is only just aware of what she has done
But it is too late.

She covers his eyes.

music

Bass. Lots of it.
And meaningless beats.
To drown out what that feels within.

The haunting tune, a flute emits
As he walks along the beach.
White fine sand alongside clear prestine waters
The cackle of a seagull.

The lone pair of footprints.
The wind gently blows the sand,
Covers another pair from the past.
The sun sets.

He walks off into the night.
He will be alright.
He lies in wait, till yonder breaks,
Till the first light.

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thoughts of workers.

Have you ever pondered what goes through the minds of construction workers?

Like when they lay the cement that forms a classroom in a school, do they ever consider the thought that they are shaping a future leader? Or the sports field that they plow will harvest a national soccer player?

What do they talk about when they go on walks with their loved ones? If they talk about work, do they talk about their achievements? 'Eh dear, i built that school.' ' see that lovely coat of paint on that housing block. I did that.'

Or do they talk about their own lives back in their hometown? Or compare stories of being frowned upon by local citizens?

Have you ever wondered?

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Observation

I was at the counter at the local supermart. A father dragging his slippers walked past me on the way out. He dropped his coins. He raised his feet, slid the coins behind and strode away. His mother, following along behind him, dutifully knelt down, scooped up the coins and followed after him.

Interesting relationship dynamic, wouldn't you think?

The space beside me was rather narrow, so I figured, perhaps it's not a permanent thing, so I followed them out of the store with my eye till they were out of the supermart. And the same thing again. The mother was standing behind her husband, tagging along.

Clearly this is a patriarch family system. I can only wonder how the son will grow up in the future. Whether history repeats itself, or his wife will be on par with him.

Paint that serves as a switch

Imagine turning on and off the light just by touching a portion of the wall coated with a special paint. No need to get up and turn on the light just to go to the bathroom, or drag yourself out of bed just to walk across the room to switch off the light and crawl back to bed again. Just touch the wall and darkness prevails.

Go to http://technabob.com/blog/2011/01/23/onoff-paint-touch-sensitive-wall-switch/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed:+TechnabobtechNewsBlog+(technabob) for more info.

Now, this probably wouldn't be practical for those of us who have numerous electric appliances. I can totally imagine the numerous barcodes on my wall coated with these paints. But I can see one practical use for this though. I wouldn't mind painting the bottom of my sink with this paint, and via my feet, turning the tap on or off, so I wouldn't have to worry about oily faucets or dirty knobs.

Restless so I shall perfect my craft of words.
And describe newly found people in my life.

Breathe.

A heavy burden she carries everyday.
She might hurt inside but on shows a strong front to every one around her.
You might think stick and stones won't hurt her
but you're wrong.
She gets pierced often, but she doesn't wallow in self pity.
She might sit in a corner and cry.
She might drink her sorrows away
and sing her heart out.
But she won't leap across the edge.
And it only makes me wonder what I'll view of life
through her eyes.


Inhale.

She cuddles her furry pig, savoring its comfort.
Through the storms of her life,
the ebbs and flows of the tide lapping against the beach of life,
it has always been with her.
She hugs it as she lies asleep on her bed
A smile on her face, content she is.
Life is simple.
Work. Mingle. Laugh.
None of life's extremities have taken its toll on her.
Deep down she has a few insecurities.
If only she were taller.
If only people took her more seriously.
If only she could grow up and be an adult.
Yet she's unaware of the potential within her.
That she already has the talents and skills necessary
And her own limitation is herself.

Exhale.

Like pollen to bees is her voice to my ears.
Her eyes full of warmth and trust.
Security is but a state of mind.
Conscious of what people think of her.
Sensitive, but when hurt, she's like a deer wounded with an arrow.
Like a lamb, she needs to be mothered and fussed over.
She sleeps elated, and dreams pass her by.
I love her.

Release.

Unveiling layer upon layer is not an easy feat.
She's built up a self-protective mechanism
Because she's been hurt before.
And she doesn't want to do it again.
She's yearning for something in life, what could it be?
Acceptance or companionship or love or trust or sincere honesty?
She aims, she leaps, the ball's in the hoop.
But she walks away dejected.
Guilt drags her feet down.
At times she struggles to surface,
to breathe as the waters engulf her.
As the seas refuse to break and to swallow its next prey
Some call it the sea of love.
Others call it the sea of eternal sacrifice.
She calls it the sea of life.
Will she flounder or will she sink?
She guards herself, and her heart even deeper.
Her eyes are glazed and hide much.
Oh, but to take a peek within.

The corner

He stands at the corner of the crossroads
Contemplating his fate.
But what fate is there to contemplate
Since he has not chosen yet which road to travel.

Deep down in us, we all have sadness.
We all grieve.
Regrets, past decisions gone bad.
Rash actions, intolerable utterances.
Harsh words.

A kiss here, a hug there,
Emotions riding on caresses.

But what do you care?
Oh look what you've done,
You made a fool of every one.

Why do i detest you so?
Let me count the ways.

Im soaring skywards,
But falling earthwards.
I need.
You.

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He lurks within the shadows

He lurks within the shadows
Looking on, gazing in the distance
Hoping, wishing, yearning, dreaming.

He stands beneath the sun
but no one scorns him
A red rubber ball attached to his nose
The joker he is

And everyone likes him
laughter, who can deny?
But no one loves him
love, who can buy?

She runs to him for advice
for a listening ear
for a massage on the back
for someone to wipe off her tear

Does she know
Does she care
But he retreats into the shadows
When she needs him, he will surface.
He will rise.

She dances into oblivion.
And he watches from the distance.
Ready to catch her if she falls.

But what if she falls into the arms of another?
What will he do?

life and its humor

Sometimes life pokes you in the ribs.

You're listening to music on your inner-ear headphones, and a scene unfolds in front of you, that is somewhat appropriate and complements the piece of music you're listening to.

Like watching a live music video. Only there's no singer belting out the woeful lyrics. Or dancers breaking.

But a live music video, nevertheless.

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Tick tock tick tock

The weight within her.
Thrown into the river,
A stone is tied to her feet.
Her hands flail
She gasps for breath
And swallow water
Her eyes turn white
She resists
No more.

A flash.

The father figure she never had
The brother she always wanted
The constant companion she always needed.
He was there by her side
When she needed him
To dance, to drink.
To rise, to sink.
To laugh and live life.

He is whom she compares her suitors to.
He is whom she falls back on.
He is whom she goes to without fail.
And now he is going to leave her.

Not permanently, but every second without
feels like a year
An aching of the heart that cannot be soothed
by music or booze.

But she cannot promise to wait.
Cause a dam that has a leak
and says it is solid
Its statement does not hold water.
And leaks are easy to spot.
And easy for people to manipulate.

A flash.

She's in a train
Chugging along full speed ahead
A deep ravine looms near
Tracks run to the end
But they can only survive for a little while longer
What is she going to do?
Tick tock tick tock.
Will she jump off the train
and onto solid ground
Or stay on and plunge into the unknown
Where there might be bristles and thorns
Beasts lurking in the shadows
Or plunge into a flowing river
of love that supports her
and sustains her
till she reaches the beach and stands on her
two own feet.

Tick tock tick tock.

The Sing-Offs

There's this show that I just caught.
And I would definitely recommend you to watch.
It's called the Sing-Offs.
It's a cross between Glee and American Idol.
A singing competition for singing groups only.
I actually like the content so far, because you know, most singing competitions are solo
and humorous.
This show, being based on group singing, allows the different talents of individual members to merge and collaborate together resulting in awesome performances.

Please go watch it, if you have the time.

bellow indeed.

I just came across a post in Stomp about a student offering to do other people's homework for $5. And who says youths aren't creative and lack entrepreneurship skills?

And, I will not go into the discussion as to whether this is good or bad, what struck me at first sight is that I will definitely not want her to be doing my english homework for me.

She posted: "Anyone needs homework services? All homework at 5$! (: Any subject. Sec1 and bellow. :/"