amour amour

Friday, March 31, 2006

- 11:29 pm

and so i seek solace from the fact that writing, an otherwise seemingly meaningless activity, brings some respite to the discomfiture trailing me like a shadow. apart from the fact that as i write, the sky remains dark, and almost as grim as my prospects over the next few days.

wake me up inside

it is all futile; hopeless. there is nothing that can be done or will be done to break down the unassailable walls that despair has built around me, encasing, encapsulating my mind in solid grey, a monotony broken only on occasion by thoughts of my dearest beloved which float peripatetic through my mind, so close and still so far.

save me from the nothing ive become

just wait and see. it will all change in one huge burst of glory, and no, this is not some macabre soliloquy purposed on the definition, meaning or essence of the transition between life and death, or an almost seamless, surgical execution of life as it should be, but rather in some ways a monologue of mourning expressed by the pen in ways the sword never could, or will. make love, not war.

lets take a moment to think about the tsunami victims. you're still alive to read this. you're lucky. great. moment over.

look what you've done

take me back. to times more filled with joy, and relish for each passing day of life, days now almost non existent, time slowing to a weary halt, on occasion trudging aimlessly, pointlessly, but to what final destination. i will never know, because i still believe the bending of the fourth dimension, time, to be nothing more than a fantasy.

youve made a fool of everyone

is it all you really think about? what thoughts pick their way meticulously through your mind in the late hours of the night? and then during the day they suddenly become so strange, so stupid, so...wrong. on how things change, and the mind changes to meld itself into whatever form to reach denial, or acceptance, whichever is easier, no matter how hard you try to fight it after change, drastic change in environment, metaphysical and mental.

look for meaning in a whispered sentence, and see ever concealed emotion shout back at you. a whisper can convey so many emotions, anguish, fear, pain, sadness, all across the spectrum to joy. sheer uncontrollable euphoria as that whisper slowly gathers strengh and you scream; and then it all falls down. which is why the littlest things are the biggest, and why the meek will rule the world after man faces his biggest, most basal fears, loneliness and silence. an event as predictable as the apocalypse, yet just as likely to happen. i have no desire to explain myself further, i have nothing to say to you or anyone else. how it gnaws at night insidem how unquestionable predictability bears so much in common to 'and all their answers unquestioned', and how that has become the new perestroika, or openess of the new millenium. free speaking might be a great ideal, but like most ideals? it never suits society, or the government. too many skeletons in the closet.

amour amour

what world is it that we live in when openess and unquestionable predictability in words of authoritarian figures are synonymous, and great literary works have ceased production? culture was always a fad, and now it is dying, replaced instead by plastic gambling chips, and greenbacks carrying imagined value; lifeblood of the economy, jesus of economists and businessmen, ichor to democracy and governor of the world. so long as people are money minded, democracy will always be preferred, and influence of a certain democratic nation which considers its duty to the world to involuntary violent 'assisted' revolution to the aforementioned cause. how can we ever truly consider ourselves free, shackled as we are by that national economy, brainwashing an entire generation and in so doing creating a stigma towards what was always ours, tradition and culture, now relics of a previous age.

and indeed if words have the power to move, and to open eyes, let this writing be that Hup Seng moving pte ltd, or that big lasik surgery in the sky. failing which can it be at least rolled up to bat that pinata? ooh. pinata.

come here to where i stand, and look up, straight up into the sky and at the starrs.
skool is as skool is. nuff said.

i dont know. its very confusing, especially since these past 3 pages of writing have to be typed out in a number of days.

but i digress. such is the immediate changing swing of moods, that im becoming somewhat disturbed by my discomfitable, and on occasion perturbing behaviour. ill continue some other time. there are other things to attend to right now though, and baby we got to set things right. remember, i love you. and you. and you. all of you for boarding the rebelstarr. not really. after all, lying is a cardinal sin.

digressions, confessions and finally, interventions

bitte bitte, gib mir gift

i think RHCP are the best thing this world has had since sliced bread- and thats saying a lot.

breathe in.
breathe out.
breathe in.

sleep is good, although i dont want to sleep my life away, rather spend it doing exciting things and getting sufficient sleep.

sleep, king of gods and men,
master of all,
come to mine eyes again,
come as i call
sleep, who may loose and bind
each as his thrall,
come to the weary mind,
come at my call,
tamer of toil and woes,
healer of all,
sleep, whence our solace flows,
come as i call
brother of mankind,
softly you fall
leaving the world behind,
come at my call
sleep, lord of all things made,
sleep over all,
let your warm wings be laid,
came as i call

for what else will come when only sleep can provide any respite, any solace from the day.

perhaps we love the night so for it means that escape from the world is but a short while in coming, perhaps its because once again were free to dream - and we dream of lives how we wanted them, and how they couldve been-but never were.

walk on through the wind
walk on through the rain

reach out, touch me

you want commitment,
put on your best suit,
get your arms around me cos im goin down down down

and when we were good,
just close your eyes

the death of one is a tragedy

its one of those warm days the sun loves vaingloriously proclaiming his prescence by bathing the world in the glow of his resplendance, and we all dance, minds intoxicated by his radiance, awash with joy and a mixture of all sorts of sentiments. for the world is young on days like this, and the spirit free.

i want to be free.

such is the way of the world that the biggest and most accountable explanation of life is found in its more dimunitive beings, and the truth behind meaning is pointlessness, as we meander about our little worlds with our little minds being the centres of our own universes. that each cell of the body works specifically in tandem with other cells to perform specific functions is fascinating, although right as i write this on my lecture pad im having the heck bored out of me by that biology woman and her stupid cells. why am i here?

i walk out.

banned from partaking in its splendour for the magnitude of their sins. and so they weep, inconsolable

fin