Lately my sleep have been besieged by utterly bizzare and lengthy dreams.
The worst thing is I can hardly recall anything the next day, or sometimes just small parts of it (usually the weirdest parts). So i cannot really pinpoint the culprit who is responsible for these surreal escapades.
When I joust myself awake I feel exhausted. Yes. I feel exhausted after ten hours of sleep. So I go back to sleep and let the dreams continue.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Red Daisy
The city sleeps and leaves
behind a man trailing hopelessly behind the path of dreams.
The heart ruptured and love ebbs
slowly, along with all the tenderness in its bleeding veins.
The soldier felled at last and gasps
for his last breath as his blue sky fades into red.
Forgotten is the warmth of clutching his favorite ragdoll by his heart.
Arid is the landscape of a barren field whose white daisies withered.
behind a man trailing hopelessly behind the path of dreams.
The heart ruptured and love ebbs
slowly, along with all the tenderness in its bleeding veins.
The soldier felled at last and gasps
for his last breath as his blue sky fades into red.
Forgotten is the warmth of clutching his favorite ragdoll by his heart.
Arid is the landscape of a barren field whose white daisies withered.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Lovely tranquil week thus far.
Eating Camel peanuts. Lying in bed on my stomach for hours on end. Gawking at hardcore porn on my dusty laptop.
Without a care in the world (or i chose to believe so).
Ah the joys of being utterly lazy! Its like heroin, so easy to get totally hooked on. Just let the rest of this world move on while i sleep shirtless on my bed! Forget about me, I am an alien!
Afterall, its a nice little reprieve before being thrust headfirst into the deep end of the river again.
Eating Camel peanuts. Lying in bed on my stomach for hours on end. Gawking at hardcore porn on my dusty laptop.
Without a care in the world (or i chose to believe so).
Ah the joys of being utterly lazy! Its like heroin, so easy to get totally hooked on. Just let the rest of this world move on while i sleep shirtless on my bed! Forget about me, I am an alien!
Afterall, its a nice little reprieve before being thrust headfirst into the deep end of the river again.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
I love writing poetry, ever since I was a hormanal raging seventeen year old filled to the brim with unadulterated teenage angst in its most purest state.
Because you can write it whenever you want, wherever you are. You dont write for an audience, but you write it to soothe your state of mind like Tiger Balm to aching muscles. The best thing is that you dont have to make any fucking sense.
It is indeed the ultimate form of emotional diarrhoea.
Even though it has never failed to make me cringe when I read them the next morning.
Because you can write it whenever you want, wherever you are. You dont write for an audience, but you write it to soothe your state of mind like Tiger Balm to aching muscles. The best thing is that you dont have to make any fucking sense.
It is indeed the ultimate form of emotional diarrhoea.
Even though it has never failed to make me cringe when I read them the next morning.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Nonsense
Mother's love
Broken bridge
Tender embrace
Mangled limbs
Hearty laughter
Sweaty bodies
Empty glass
White cigarrette
Yellowed pages
Blowjob
Severed head
King of Wands
A broken man stalks amongst them all,
everything but nothing at all.
Broken bridge
Tender embrace
Mangled limbs
Karma
Red lipstickHearty laughter
Sweaty bodies
Empty glass
White cigarrette
Yellowed pages
Blowjob
Severed head
King of Wands
A broken man stalks amongst them all,
everything but nothing at all.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Black Prince
Never realised the passing hours of days and nights,
colourless dreams blotted by vanishing kisses and lights.
Sitting like a prince perched on an electric chair,
fading life signs, judging black and white,
is he still alright?
No one knows. Not me nor you.
Not for the life of him or you.
Not for the love of his life.
Altar-bound and hypnotised,
fed lies to quell hunger, with an insatiable appetite.
Light at the end of the deepest tunnels,
a kaleidoscope to marvel at in the darkest hours.
Whether a slip noose that hangs or a hand that strangles,
still the dreams beckon, the enemy haunts and laughs
shrilly in the deadest moments of the nights.
Wrestle free of bondage, rip clean the chains of fate,
sprout wings and glide above the clouded skies.
Faraway, an outplayed pawn dominates the fleeting queen,
like how Caesar stabbed Brutus in his trecherous heart.
Something no one ever wrote or foreseen.
colourless dreams blotted by vanishing kisses and lights.
Sitting like a prince perched on an electric chair,
fading life signs, judging black and white,
is he still alright?
No one knows. Not me nor you.
Not for the life of him or you.
Not for the love of his life.
Altar-bound and hypnotised,
fed lies to quell hunger, with an insatiable appetite.
Light at the end of the deepest tunnels,
a kaleidoscope to marvel at in the darkest hours.
Whether a slip noose that hangs or a hand that strangles,
still the dreams beckon, the enemy haunts and laughs
shrilly in the deadest moments of the nights.
Wrestle free of bondage, rip clean the chains of fate,
sprout wings and glide above the clouded skies.
Faraway, an outplayed pawn dominates the fleeting queen,
like how Caesar stabbed Brutus in his trecherous heart.
Something no one ever wrote or foreseen.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Of Dogs who are NOT Man's Best Friends
Definitions of dog on the Web:
- a member of the genus Canis (probably descended from the common wolf) that has been domesticated by man since prehistoric times; occurs in many ...
- frump: a dull unattractive unpleasant girl or woman; "she got a reputation as a frump"; "she's a real dog"
- informal term for a man; "you lucky dog"
- cad: someone who is morally reprehensible; "you dirty dog"
I enter a state of catharsis whenever I use 'dog' to brand someone who is a morally reprehensible slice of excrement. It is the sound of it, the way the alphabets just burst forth from your parted lips a single powerful syllable like a magnum bullet. The way your tongue separates itself from your palate with powerful force, like a a floodgate opening itself to herald the coming of a torrent of hate.
No offense to dog lovers, I do not flatter the abusee by picturing him as a member of the genus Canus as indicated by the first definition. Its is simply because 'god' is often conceptually regarded as the highest lifeform transcending all dimensions and defying the laws of physics. So going by this notion, a 'dog' in spelling is the invert, hence I see it as a total inversion of meaning as well, the abusee being the lowest lifeform ever transcending all dimensions with such indignity that even a fucking unicell amoeba deserves more respect as an organism.
You are a fucking DOG. Wow, that felt good.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Being an atheist, I never heed notions of supernatural forces interfering with my life. But sometimes, I cannot help but wonder if someone is playing cruel sick joke on me.
Sometimes, my life feels like a scripted act. I cannot help but muse upon the idea that some divine audience is watching the show sitting on plush seats and eating popcorn, at the same time laughing and chuckling at the sardonic comedy that is my life.
Did you laugh when I cried? Did you cry when I laughed?
Have I played my part well? How about a good review? An Oscar or two?
Comedy? Tragedy?
Are you entertained? Are you not?
ARE YOU FUCKING ENTERTAINED?
From the throne of heaven to the belly of hell you can all go fuck yourselves, my dear faithful audience.
Sometimes, my life feels like a scripted act. I cannot help but muse upon the idea that some divine audience is watching the show sitting on plush seats and eating popcorn, at the same time laughing and chuckling at the sardonic comedy that is my life.
Did you laugh when I cried? Did you cry when I laughed?
Have I played my part well? How about a good review? An Oscar or two?
Comedy? Tragedy?
Are you entertained? Are you not?
ARE YOU FUCKING ENTERTAINED?
From the throne of heaven to the belly of hell you can all go fuck yourselves, my dear faithful audience.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
My First Cyber Rant
Today, I lost all my respect for a person.
Mind you, respect is an enormous word in my vocabulary. A person's worth is measured upon certain criteria, and personal respect for them undoubtably ranks among the most important of them in my eyes.
I always find it deeply tragic when a complete and total loss of respect for a fellow human being happens. When a man chooses to exorcise all traces of respect from his being through utterly asinine actions or words. In my psyche, a man whom I do not respect is no different from an animal.
At this very moment, I have more respect for pornstars than that said person. At least they risk their lives(HIV, STDs) on a daily basis to make films that lonely men can masturbate to.
And you will think that for a man who has been conferred a doctorate and more than twice your age, a certain level of artistic intelligence and insight is guaranteed. It does not matter that much to me if you speak like an infant still nipping off a milk bottle, for I am not a shallow judge of character, having fallen victim to one too many. I am genuinely perturbed now, by the fact that how a person with seemingly zero sense of the liberal arts is able to secure a postion of an educator in liberal arts. I wonder what kind of damage has been inflicted through these years to more impressionable brethen of mine.
Nevermind the outright hypocrisy, nevermind shutting out insightful inputs, nevermind glossing over and evading genuine queries, nevermind pissing onto real contributing and legendary practioners of the art with seething retardation, nevermind insulting our artistic integrity with obstinate condescend, and nevermind the downright ridiculous hair. If all that were a performance to prove a point, if all that were a show to lead us to some new higher meaning or some form of artistic nirvana, I will understand. But no.
You truly believed in the nonsense you were spouting.
Like how a dear sane friend of mine put it across colourfully: "He is selling us his shit, and trying to convince us that his shit tastes good." Beautiful.
And this madness will continue for weeks to come, as I cannot afford to drop another module. Like a jaded prostitute, I will subject myself to a weekly ordeal of sorts to meet graduation criteria. I will continue to sit through these sessions where the artistic spirit has to be kept at bay to entertain bowel matter as our grades are being held at gunpoint by a delusional madman who speaks in infant tongue. Yes, even after all these ranting. Ha. What a fucking hypocritical sellout am I.
Afterall, I have better ways to spend my tuesday mornings, like watching leg hair grow.
Mind you, respect is an enormous word in my vocabulary. A person's worth is measured upon certain criteria, and personal respect for them undoubtably ranks among the most important of them in my eyes.
I always find it deeply tragic when a complete and total loss of respect for a fellow human being happens. When a man chooses to exorcise all traces of respect from his being through utterly asinine actions or words. In my psyche, a man whom I do not respect is no different from an animal.
At this very moment, I have more respect for pornstars than that said person. At least they risk their lives(HIV, STDs) on a daily basis to make films that lonely men can masturbate to.
And you will think that for a man who has been conferred a doctorate and more than twice your age, a certain level of artistic intelligence and insight is guaranteed. It does not matter that much to me if you speak like an infant still nipping off a milk bottle, for I am not a shallow judge of character, having fallen victim to one too many. I am genuinely perturbed now, by the fact that how a person with seemingly zero sense of the liberal arts is able to secure a postion of an educator in liberal arts. I wonder what kind of damage has been inflicted through these years to more impressionable brethen of mine.
Nevermind the outright hypocrisy, nevermind shutting out insightful inputs, nevermind glossing over and evading genuine queries, nevermind pissing onto real contributing and legendary practioners of the art with seething retardation, nevermind insulting our artistic integrity with obstinate condescend, and nevermind the downright ridiculous hair. If all that were a performance to prove a point, if all that were a show to lead us to some new higher meaning or some form of artistic nirvana, I will understand. But no.
You truly believed in the nonsense you were spouting.
Like how a dear sane friend of mine put it across colourfully: "He is selling us his shit, and trying to convince us that his shit tastes good." Beautiful.
And this madness will continue for weeks to come, as I cannot afford to drop another module. Like a jaded prostitute, I will subject myself to a weekly ordeal of sorts to meet graduation criteria. I will continue to sit through these sessions where the artistic spirit has to be kept at bay to entertain bowel matter as our grades are being held at gunpoint by a delusional madman who speaks in infant tongue. Yes, even after all these ranting. Ha. What a fucking hypocritical sellout am I.
Afterall, I have better ways to spend my tuesday mornings, like watching leg hair grow.
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