if you are there God, i want to believe.
fragile faith
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
falling for nothing
everything bled off this page into the stupid internal web error pit of a system!! now i gotta retype the sodden bloddy thing. in a dreary depressed mood today. took a walk home instead of the restrictive stifling shuttle bus. walks help to drain the turmoil in my head into the movement of my feet, and somehow, leave the chaos-caked tracks etched into my once-was footprint, trailing behind.
if you stand for nothing, you will fall for anything.
i'm falling on my knees, offering all my needs. Jesus You're all this heart is living for.
crumble. this will all fall down, like everything else that was, this too will pass. like all of the things you said, you cant take back.
now i'm the fool in town.
"When you have come to the edge Of all light that you know And are about to drop off into the darkness Of the unknown, Faith is knowing One of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on or You will be taught to fly" patrick overton
"Though my soul may set in darkness, It will rise in perfect light, I have loved the stars too fondly To be fearful of the night" sarah williams
if you stand for nothing, you will fall for anything.
i'm falling on my knees, offering all my needs. Jesus You're all this heart is living for.
crumble. this will all fall down, like everything else that was, this too will pass. like all of the things you said, you cant take back.
now i'm the fool in town.
"When you have come to the edge Of all light that you know And are about to drop off into the darkness Of the unknown, Faith is knowing One of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on or You will be taught to fly" patrick overton
"Though my soul may set in darkness, It will rise in perfect light, I have loved the stars too fondly To be fearful of the night" sarah williams
nothing counts toward anything.
if you stand for nothing, you will fall for anything.
i'm standing for too many things with too little time. polygamy is one wife too many. monogamy is the same.-oscar wilde. Art is a lie that makes us realise the truth; at least the truth that we are given to believe.- Pablo Picasso.
i'm falling on my knees, offering all my needs. Jesus you're all this heart is living for.
crumble this will all fall down, like everything else that was, this too will pass. like all of the things you said, you cant take back.
in this dreary and depressed mood today, took a walk home instead of the stupid shuttle bus. walks help to drain off the turmoil in my head into the movement of my feet and somehow, leave the chaos-caked tracks trailing behind my footsteps on the mortar road.
i'm standing for too many things with too little time. polygamy is one wife too many. monogamy is the same.-oscar wilde. Art is a lie that makes us realise the truth; at least the truth that we are given to believe.- Pablo Picasso.
i'm falling on my knees, offering all my needs. Jesus you're all this heart is living for.
crumble this will all fall down, like everything else that was, this too will pass. like all of the things you said, you cant take back.
in this dreary and depressed mood today, took a walk home instead of the stupid shuttle bus. walks help to drain off the turmoil in my head into the movement of my feet and somehow, leave the chaos-caked tracks trailing behind my footsteps on the mortar road.
Thursday, October 14, 2004
promos
the end has come!! but because it has been looked forward to so much so long, this dilute end seems almost anti-climatic. part of me wants to jump around in glee and relief, and the other part of me just stays down on the ground in case i fall too hard when the relief proves false. [results next week]
oh i am such a pessimistic soul. nah. i shall celebrate.
oh i am such a pessimistic soul. nah. i shall celebrate.
Friday, October 08, 2004
compensate him.
Compensation.
Ralph Waldo Emerson.
Why should I keep holiday,
When other men have none?
Why but because when these are gay,
I sit and mourn alone.
And why when mirth unseals all tongues
Should mine alone be dumb?
Ah! late I spoke to silent throngs,
And now their hour is come.
weekend. caught between the pre of fear and the post of dread, in sleepless uncertainty.
the ballerina tripped and
fell in
a ballooning
train,
over
pointed crushed toes.
mute but not dumb?
Ralph Waldo Emerson.
Why should I keep holiday,
When other men have none?
Why but because when these are gay,
I sit and mourn alone.
And why when mirth unseals all tongues
Should mine alone be dumb?
Ah! late I spoke to silent throngs,
And now their hour is come.
weekend. caught between the pre of fear and the post of dread, in sleepless uncertainty.
the ballerina tripped and
fell in
a ballooning
train,
over
pointed crushed toes.
mute but not dumb?
Thursday, October 07, 2004
rustic joints
tmr is the math paper. the last paper for this week. presently it feels like hell. gotta do with stupid banners that i have to edit. like stupid shirt designs on stupid paint. (the only graphic editing prog my kok computer operates on) argh. computers are an evil influence. exams are the plot of the evil one. wickedly coy. im sputtering rubbish already.
took a walk around school with jingo ytd. its surprisingly homey. just thinking about how the places around school have a distinct flavour. that just spells us. as in the school. instead of the publicly owned grossly populous junction 8 that will sustain us next year. funny to want to stay for a grimy but much loved ghim moh, for the funny ratty corners in school (we discovered a million discarded chairs, sofas and tables at numerous odd spots in school, during our trail) , for the bamboo garden and the canteen which is washed every wednesday, for the stinky ts with the droning aircons and rusting rotting walls.
and if our always is all that we gave, and we someday take that away, i'll be alright.
took a walk around school with jingo ytd. its surprisingly homey. just thinking about how the places around school have a distinct flavour. that just spells us. as in the school. instead of the publicly owned grossly populous junction 8 that will sustain us next year. funny to want to stay for a grimy but much loved ghim moh, for the funny ratty corners in school (we discovered a million discarded chairs, sofas and tables at numerous odd spots in school, during our trail) , for the bamboo garden and the canteen which is washed every wednesday, for the stinky ts with the droning aircons and rusting rotting walls.
and if our always is all that we gave, and we someday take that away, i'll be alright.
Saturday, September 25, 2004
death of a friendship
Death of a Friendship- Harry Guest.
I mourn, now that your house contains
such fractured shadows.
This wine you've handed metastes sour.
I joke and you do not laugh.
When you speak, assuming my approval,
I stare into discoloured
depths of my glass, longing
to get away.
Rain drives against your walls.
The few
shrubs you have planted shrink in the cold.
Where there was amity, questions
echo between us.
Tufts of dark
lilac branching from tall vases shed
minute dry flowers like grief
for a lost fragrance, leave
on the smooth piano scattered omens
neither of us can read.
The past is empty of romance,
its summers flecked with heartbreak
and its negatives destroyed-.
But weren't there moments when
the blue sea glittered, when the lithe
curve of a diver forged another
link between wave and cloud?
I wonder, though, in fear
were those young grinning faces always
plague-marred, was the fun a lie,
were dreams we've jettisoned
mere husks about this dirt,
dislike? One fiction may
have replaced another for
wherever I look with you I find,
instead of light, a slyness.
We could not name the truth.
What used to braglies in your cupboard under lock and key.
You care no more
for angels or the underdog,
translating all the terms we used
into intolerance.
Your world
now clusters round
the emulation of the rich.
I can't feel glad about old times
because I am afraid
that what I see here I suspected then
but shunned the knowing.
The tarnish of this has rubbed off on me.
The years we shared look counterfeit.
If so,
more than affection died today.
What hurts perhaps the most
is that in you as in a mirror shows
not only what I could have been
but what I was or am.
the ability of a poem is to speak from the vacuum, what is most absently apt.
I mourn, now that your house contains
such fractured shadows.
This wine you've handed metastes sour.
I joke and you do not laugh.
When you speak, assuming my approval,
I stare into discoloured
depths of my glass, longing
to get away.
Rain drives against your walls.
The few
shrubs you have planted shrink in the cold.
Where there was amity, questions
echo between us.
Tufts of dark
lilac branching from tall vases shed
minute dry flowers like grief
for a lost fragrance, leave
on the smooth piano scattered omens
neither of us can read.
The past is empty of romance,
its summers flecked with heartbreak
and its negatives destroyed-.
But weren't there moments when
the blue sea glittered, when the lithe
curve of a diver forged another
link between wave and cloud?
I wonder, though, in fear
were those young grinning faces always
plague-marred, was the fun a lie,
were dreams we've jettisoned
mere husks about this dirt,
dislike? One fiction may
have replaced another for
wherever I look with you I find,
instead of light, a slyness.
We could not name the truth.
What used to braglies in your cupboard under lock and key.
You care no more
for angels or the underdog,
translating all the terms we used
into intolerance.
Your world
now clusters round
the emulation of the rich.
I can't feel glad about old times
because I am afraid
that what I see here I suspected then
but shunned the knowing.
The tarnish of this has rubbed off on me.
The years we shared look counterfeit.
If so,
more than affection died today.
What hurts perhaps the most
is that in you as in a mirror shows
not only what I could have been
but what I was or am.
the ability of a poem is to speak from the vacuum, what is most absently apt.
lodged in a peopled 20th century
Lodged- Robert Frost.
The rain to the wind said,"You push and I'll pelt.
"They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged -- though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.
Five Ways to Kill a Man- Edwin Brock.
There are many cumbersome ways to kill a man.
You can make him carry a plank of wood
To the top of a hill and nail him to it.
To do thisProperly you require a crowd of people
Wearing sandals, a cock that crows, a cloak
To dissect, a sponge, some vinegar and one
Man to hammer the nails home.
Or you can take a length of steel,
Shaped and chased in a traditional way
And attempt to pierce the metal cage he wears.
But for this you need white horses,
English trees, men with bows and arrows,
At least two flags, a prince and a
Castle to hold your banquet in.
Dispensing with nobility, you may, if the wind
Allows, blow gas at him.
But then you need
A mile of mud sliced through with ditches,
Not to mention black boots, bomb craters,
More mud, a plague of rats, a dozen songs
And some round hats made of steel.
In an age of aeroplanes, you may fly
Miles above your victim and dispose of him by
Pressing one small switch.
All you then
Require is an ocean to separate you, two
Systems of government, a nation's scientists,
Several factories, a psychopath and
Land that no one needs for several years.
These are, as I began, cumbersome ways
To kill a man.
Simpler, direct, and much more neat
Is to see that he lives somewhere in the middle
Of the twentieth century, and leave him there.
a homage to the history now reduced to a syllabus, and taught to armless children who were unparented.
Oh, their small bones.
The rain to the wind said,"You push and I'll pelt.
"They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged -- though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.
Five Ways to Kill a Man- Edwin Brock.
There are many cumbersome ways to kill a man.
You can make him carry a plank of wood
To the top of a hill and nail him to it.
To do thisProperly you require a crowd of people
Wearing sandals, a cock that crows, a cloak
To dissect, a sponge, some vinegar and one
Man to hammer the nails home.
Or you can take a length of steel,
Shaped and chased in a traditional way
And attempt to pierce the metal cage he wears.
But for this you need white horses,
English trees, men with bows and arrows,
At least two flags, a prince and a
Castle to hold your banquet in.
Dispensing with nobility, you may, if the wind
Allows, blow gas at him.
But then you need
A mile of mud sliced through with ditches,
Not to mention black boots, bomb craters,
More mud, a plague of rats, a dozen songs
And some round hats made of steel.
In an age of aeroplanes, you may fly
Miles above your victim and dispose of him by
Pressing one small switch.
All you then
Require is an ocean to separate you, two
Systems of government, a nation's scientists,
Several factories, a psychopath and
Land that no one needs for several years.
These are, as I began, cumbersome ways
To kill a man.
Simpler, direct, and much more neat
Is to see that he lives somewhere in the middle
Of the twentieth century, and leave him there.
a homage to the history now reduced to a syllabus, and taught to armless children who were unparented.
Oh, their small bones.
Thursday, September 23, 2004
carouse.l
woot. its 2:13 am on my computer clock. just finished a mellim antony & cleopatra essay. they suck the life from me, essays. from us all. promos is in a week and 3 days. its timely for a panic attack, dont u think? but my reaction to such things are always delayed. hmm. i have to study! come on. (trying very hard to psyche myself up here) think of all the things u can do after promos once u do well!!.. heh maybe going abit offtrack here. been studying in school til the evenings. its so much better, i think. than sitting at home and reaching for the fridge or the tv or the computer or the bed or the..everything else. in the canteen, its just the vending machine and occasionally the stalls. good enough. its sir's birthday tmr (: sirthday. ah, we made him a card in the shape of a phone. cos last time in ghim moh he saw our phones, den he looked at his nokia 3310, den he sighed profoundly and dramatically. 'eh. teachers' day coming. get new phone ah.' haha. oh i miss hockey. there're many things that make me sick just thinking about them.. like meetings and explanations and essays. groan. but not cca, at the moment. and the carousel jerk-revolves round and around, like bullets darting off pistols into the screaming metal air.
Saturday, September 18, 2004
Heimweh
FAR-OFF the lily-statues stand white-ranked in the garden at home.
Would God they were shattered quickly, the cattle would tread them out in the loam.
I wish the elder trees in flower could suddenly heave, and burst
The walls of the house, and nettles puff out from the hearth at which I was nursed.
It stands so still in the hush composed of trees and inviolate peace,
The home of my fathers, the place that is mine, my fate and my old increase.
And now that the skies are falling, the world is spouting in fountains of dirt,
I would give my soul for the homestead to fall with me, go with me, both in one hurt.
Heimweh, DH Lawrence, ah chaotic inactivity. i like the second verse. move,burst,. implode.!
drift and other things.
hello! this is what auden's tombstone reads: In the prison of his days/ Teach the free man how to praise.
this italics thing is going crazy. only if i italic everything the words appear upright. huh. today's a vague gray vanguard sheet that i need to pencil in. the last part is youth service, but til now and then.. i;m just drifting along. pointlessly?
The roses with the west wind rapping
Are torn away, and a splash
Of red goes down the billowing air.
a lovely excerpt from DH Lawrence's Love Storm. kinda corny title though, i must say.
lit's perfect for this sorta roamy listless feeling.. cos they can put things into words so succinctly, without all the frissles. not that i really experience what they're professing in verse, ah at least they can articulate what i never could if i did.
But when your countenance filled up his line,Then lacked I matter; that enfeebled mine.-86. shakespeare.
this italics thing is going crazy. only if i italic everything the words appear upright. huh. today's a vague gray vanguard sheet that i need to pencil in. the last part is youth service, but til now and then.. i;m just drifting along. pointlessly?
The roses with the west wind rapping
Are torn away, and a splash
Of red goes down the billowing air.
a lovely excerpt from DH Lawrence's Love Storm. kinda corny title though, i must say.
lit's perfect for this sorta roamy listless feeling.. cos they can put things into words so succinctly, without all the frissles. not that i really experience what they're professing in verse, ah at least they can articulate what i never could if i did.
But when your countenance filled up his line,Then lacked I matter; that enfeebled mine.-86. shakespeare.
Thursday, September 16, 2004
double everything
today is thursday and that says everything. thursdays are the days of 4 hours of lit- lecture and 2 double block tutorials for purvis n bachelor both to take the floor and wish for the door. just get the idea we bore them so much they just wanna bolt soon as they step in. esp bachelor. guess the feeling's mutual.. even though.. he's a really nice guy :) its just that we dont answer questions. my class has some dynamics malfunction. like we're afraid of each other. we're afraid to voice our thoughts to purvis cos he's so authoritative n commands so much respect, his standards seem so easy to flout and so out of grasp. n we dont want to say anything stupid. and bachelor asks really basic questions like what is the meaning of undid and noone really wants to answer cos it seems so obvious. pride. n we still dont want to say anything stupid.
he really is disappointed with our class' response (nil) and purvis told 1A: mr bachelor is really pleased with your (1a's) performance! well abt 1B..*dark chuckle* lets not get bitchy here.
to go or not to go? tmr shld i stay in sch to mug or go to bk with the hockers for mushroom swiss double *drool n neoprint *erk. if they want it that bad..
leaping lilacs.
he really is disappointed with our class' response (nil) and purvis told 1A: mr bachelor is really pleased with your (1a's) performance! well abt 1B..*dark chuckle* lets not get bitchy here.
to go or not to go? tmr shld i stay in sch to mug or go to bk with the hockers for mushroom swiss double *drool n neoprint *erk. if they want it that bad..
leaping lilacs.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
cloth frays but can be mended
mugged today with ahfoo n mun joined us for a while.. she was kinda upset. but the rain blew over and she was all happy again. the power of sms. haha. but while she was there we kept talking n kinda ignored jon.. feel abit bad. den saw the hockey girls at the 2nd level near the hall. aye i dunno, sometimes i feel we get abit too cliquish. and when we make noise together our presence seems too loud, too flamboyant, too in-your-face-offensive. almost. at least we dont resort to any illmeaning gansterism. hm. at least.
sometimes cliques give you so much belonging n just hooking onto the niche of comfort makes u lazy n loathe to find other..uh..hooks. then sometimes the clothing gets dislodged, or the cloth frays, and you're just the odd piece of string sticking out, superficially apparently part of the wholesome clothed idea..but really and privately only hiding in its shadow. sometimes its like that. sometimes im part of the whole woven fabric.
drab grays spill over into the hollow expanse and invade the vacuum.
cant wait for promos to be over. i love life at the moment. i love God.
i want to want to want to love You more each day O Lord.
sometimes cliques give you so much belonging n just hooking onto the niche of comfort makes u lazy n loathe to find other..uh..hooks. then sometimes the clothing gets dislodged, or the cloth frays, and you're just the odd piece of string sticking out, superficially apparently part of the wholesome clothed idea..but really and privately only hiding in its shadow. sometimes its like that. sometimes im part of the whole woven fabric.
drab grays spill over into the hollow expanse and invade the vacuum.
cant wait for promos to be over. i love life at the moment. i love God.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
today is tuesday.
(: waves. today school was decent. there was rolly lecture on ancient russia (okayy not that old but 1890s is old enough.) n math lecture.. (where kong became a soi-disant (failed)joke-teller) n sowden went through our lecture case study test (as usual its more efficient if we all mark it ourselves, n so we did- he has never marked a single one of our test scripts.) had double break and sat in a horseshoe for bloatedbeerbellybooth while grps presented issues on education. then i mugged with jonfoo n was irritated the whole way by dearoldbuddy. *groan. glare. these 3 weeks are gonna be muggertude. where i start revising work dating back to the dusty shelves of the third week of school 2004. pw reports due on fri/mon, interview with tns on wed, sarah's bday on thurs. (: i miss hockey. it has been so long since i grappled with the stick- ive forgotten the reverse hit. uh oh. not good news. am gonna mug econs after this AHHH! dahsyat means terrible according to amii! hannibal i have another reason to skewer you!! blasphemy! oh man. am so gonna CHANGE it!
Monday, September 13, 2004
the discipline of movement
mmm surprisingly i am posting quite regularly these days. today was a good day God is Awesome (: [edit: DAHSYAT means horrible!..? ahh!!] we played ultimate frisbee during pe- good senseless fun even though our class lost every round there was to lose.. ahaha tmr im staying back in school to study. hrmp. and i found a co-ogl! :D thank God quite happy. hopefully this blissful state persists.
i kinda miss bio, and rgs, n home econs, n orientation. [pangs of remembrance] tomorrow is the day to mug. and so is the day after. the recce trip to malacca this sunday is cancelled, for better or worse. :/ went swimming today, cos i was kinda irritated. destress. swam 16 laps. hmm. so on top of the rounds on the track i did with belle [albeit at slowerthansnails'pace. could feel the earth move.] its a pretty decent record (:
ahh the bliss of physical labour- quoteunquote robbered frossed, and its coaxing ability to entangle my mind n lose the feel of my feet. how enchanting. there are many things to forget.
so i remember. ogle
i kinda miss bio, and rgs, n home econs, n orientation. [pangs of remembrance] tomorrow is the day to mug. and so is the day after. the recce trip to malacca this sunday is cancelled, for better or worse. :/ went swimming today, cos i was kinda irritated. destress. swam 16 laps. hmm. so on top of the rounds on the track i did with belle [albeit at slowerthansnails'pace. could feel the earth move.] its a pretty decent record (:
ahh the bliss of physical labour- quoteunquote robbered frossed, and its coaxing ability to entangle my mind n lose the feel of my feet. how enchanting. there are many things to forget.
so i remember. ogle
Sunday, September 12, 2004
garish
the blood flowers are frozen/ the fields empty and cold. no the children don't grow old, they dont.
the old man coughed spasmically behind me on the bus,
chortling cartfuls of coughs and sputters grinding into the air behind my head
if everything could stop once and end then
i want it to pause at that foolish mistake
so i can always revel
and never have to regret it.
the breeze is the smooth caress of a thousand whispers. blow by me.
chortling cartfuls of coughs and sputters grinding into the air behind my head
if everything could stop once and end then
i want it to pause at that foolish mistake
so i can always revel
and never have to regret it.
the breeze is the smooth caress of a thousand whispers. blow by me.
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