wings

they are a pair
of unlikely butterflies
wings wide bright
cuddled in the night
one was blue
the other turns yellow by the light

as the clouds broke,
droplets of rain
dripped off their noses
collected in the gutters of their wings
one flew in a low temperance
one flew under a leaf

face sealed with grey dust
large eyes -
like pools of amber in a wasteland
he stared as the other fluttered
they were helpless
fall down to earth

as the other fell
the wet mud collected her
her blue wings forcedly opening
strugling, drowning.

from up north the other weeped
looked down below in disbelief
droplets turned to shower
and he couldn't bear it
any longer -

his yellow wings flung right through
diving... not caring...
but only thinking
of pulling up the other.
and so he tried, he dive
and in a split second
their eyes met

yellow wings covered the blue
they blended within the due
both their eyes now closed
both their eyes now dreaming
of that sunny summer day,
as they slowly melt away.

Night Light

night light
i beam
i stare
as i move about
one step
from yet another
counting all the pines
counting all the signs
in an aviary of shadows
a burst of stars
the crash of waves
the fading sun
a warrior going down
now all spirits take flight
and wander through the night

night lights
i hover
i spare
a second gone with you
the silk of your blanket
i wrap me with stars
as the wind flew about
another moondust
another dawn's dusk
through rooftops
i look down
and how your brilliance
shine
above everything else...
above everything.



-----
note: set the mood with *Death in Vegas - "Girls" (from lost in translation soundtrack)

Paralysed

Books, poetry, mythology, writing, composing, music, music, music, not sleeping, intellectual stimulating... is what I flood myself from day to day. I sweat, I dream, I freeze, I melt, I scream in silence. All senses in tune. All senses at work. Honey and tea to my lips, sweet crisp of sugary scent linger in the air of my room, mixed with what most do not consider fragrant but me, the smell of old paper, pages of books.

Time seems to pass so quickly, a day is not enough. And I wonder how hours of glancing seemed like a second. A weekend seemed like an hour. And now the sun is peeping by the window in my room again. Another day has passed, another day is about to start.

Someone feared my unsleeping and sudden jumps into the shower will paralyse me. But am I not yet? Am I still going to be?

Confined to a handcuff in my room, there's so much to know, so much to go to, so much to explore. And so little time. It frightens me to even step out. But in a glance outside I see a wide open field touching the sky. The end where it all begins. And a faint green shadow waves by the distance. Is it me? Is it me that he seek?

Now writing down thoughts that no one dares to see nor read in between... would the green shadow catch me as I fall into another dream?



Catch me, in another dream, I'm pulled away,
Hold me, gently take me through another day.

However hard I try,
I crawl when I should fly.
I wander through my days,
Pulled a million ways.

Help me feel the forces I can't touch, I'm reaching out.
Help me learn, until I know too much, I'm still without.

These circles pulling me near,
Hold me in my fear.
And sleeping I can't hide,
I'm paralysed inside.
Paralysed

-----
note: first part was written by Velvet
second part is a song from Ride

red morning

by: Devics

streams of streets that seem to change you
but you know they'll always find you
know one ever really knows you
in light of the heart
that beats over your head

until you listen to it
until you run right to it
there's no right way to do it
it's the light of the heart
that beats over your head

turn up the stereo
I can't hear when you talk so loud
I want to go wherever it goes
I want to be there in the red red red red morning

you found places to stimulate you
but you know they'll never change you
you could run forever
and find that the heart
still beats over your head

turn up the stereo
I can't hear when you talk so loud
I want to go wherever it goes
I want to be there in the red
red morning

Lake

you shatter by every movement
you smile at the unknown
you follow off your shadow
you run as the wind blow

your innocence grasp
a beautiful world you paint
as you run and scream and giggle
a sun shiny day you cuddle

a tainted society may not understand
how your eyes see what we not
it must have been a wonderful view
to see the beauty that lies in you.

Floating in between dreams

golden


cloudless


far away


adrift

We're like a boat drifting
In a lonely sea
And the stars and moon shine
Down on me

Down, down the river we go
Holding on for dear life
To the last stick of the raft
For we do love
And he tried to be brave
Through each and every tear
And the only warmth
Is the warmth of their bodies

We're like a boat drifting
In a lonely sea
And I start to cry
I need nothing but you
I wish I could be beautiful for you
But I feel as shallow as steel
No words are hollow enough
For how I feel


at sea

Addicted to Blogging, music downloads, headsets and the Green Ares

I should be off to work now. Tssk. I should. Eh, maybe im just jealous of the non-working friday of Government offices in this country.

Now, choose your addiction, cyber humans. (ha!) Baudelaire said always be drunk. By alcohol, by poetry, by music, anything. And here's a blogger joke by Joi Ito, a Japanese venture capitalist with Silicon Valley, wrote on his blog, with a link found here, "You are addicted to blogging if you answer `yes' to 3 of the following questions:"

1. Do you think about everything in terms of whether it will make a good blog entry?
2. Do you keep your computer in standby mode beside your bed and wake up at 2 a.m. to blog?
3. Do you skip lunch and blog instead?"

Hmm....I wonder. Lol! well, one can re-phrase the questions, change some tiny details, maybe a word or two and still its all the same.

Blogging, clicking next link to next.. leaving a comment or two, I found mentaltech. First, I thought it's one of those spam blogs, but hey, it's not. What caught my eye was when I scanned down and found this interesting new word, Narcipost. I speculated some more here and found out that I am a blog addict, ow? haven't i known that before?

I confess, now tie up my hands and burn me to the stake! But don't forget to give me links to mp3s and vid music downloads. Eh, a scanner, a digital cam and adsl! (oh, cable will do, lalala...) And yes, let me kiss The Green Ares before I die. In person, that is!

-----
note: There's a recent survey about bloggers who worry about the effect of blogging in their lives. Read the news article.

Mars and Venus

Ares and Aphrodite

"Even the Sun whose light rules all the stars
Has known love's kingdom; we shall tell of it."

Who could forget about
...Vulcan's net, so light, so delicate
So thinly woven of fine-tempered bronze
the casual-glancing eye would never see it-
Less visible than the sleekest threds of wool
Or nets that spiders hang from tallest beams.
That was draped as a sheet on Venus' bed.

and who could forget about how
...One god remarked that he envied Mars,
while Vulcan's room was shook with godly laughter:
For many years this tale was told in heaven.


:: Metamorphoses, Book IV
: trans. by Horace Gregory, 1958

-----
note: A month of peace, reverie, abstracted musing, floating and serenity... *.*

Santo Subito!

...a candle lit by a Nation... a daydreaming nation.

Sonnet XXIV

by William Shakespeare

Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled
Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;
My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,
And perspective it is best painter's art.
For through the painter must you see his skill
To find where your true image pictured lies,
Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,
That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.
Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done:
Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me
Are windows to my breast, wherethrough the sun
Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee.

Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art:
They draw but what they see, know not the heart.


-----
note: Oh, and how Velvet Venus knows the heart of Green Ares...

Killing Time

I notice how most people couldn't stay long in one place without uttering a word, without scratching the itch to talk. Well, call me a non-people person (whatever that means). But after 50 pages or so of the novel I am reading, while waiting for my turn in an interview in this international company that is just starting in this country, I noticed, I'm the only one not talking.

Ok, it's required for the job position I am applying for, to have the ability to talk for hours to different kinds of people. (Erm, does web chatting for hours count?) Well, I'm still in the process of curing myself of my "aloofness". Oh, scrap that. That's too much of a word. Although, my next choice of word to describe myself is "eccentric" (Oops. That is a big word too). lol.

Anyway, here I am talking in my head, writing down my thoughts. While a dozen or so people chatter, whisper, murmur, and impress each other with their experiences in other companies such as this. Okay, if you are all so good, passed and all, why are you here, applying in another one? Oh, ok that's cruel of me. Tssk. Should I ask pardon from my dear readers?

I'm intentionally writing with a blurry disgruntled penmanship because the guy beside me is trying to read what I am writing. Like the way he glances at my book once in a while. As if trying to get interested too. Well, maybe he was just killing time like me.

Imagine, sitting on a chair for almost two hours, mouth shut, saliva dried, little cramps to a leg vein or two, shifting your butt in the same seat, and only time you move your arms is when you get your mobile phone from your pocket, pretending to sms or recieve one from an imaginary friend. Eh, why wouldn't I try to read the book of that eccentric girl beside me?

I've come to the end of the first half of my novel when I realized how gradually noisy the background is becoming. I suddenly mixed my imagination with the hero and heroin of the story to the blabby girl behind me's vocal story of her working in this so and so company with this so and so compensation that she finds so and so... Pff!

Anyway, the setting of the novel is in the 1700's. So, dear readers, just imagine what I could have just imagined. (lol) Ok, so this book is no longer suitable for an 'escape of tension' at the moment. Better be back to the real world now.

Slap my senses. Wake up! You're waiting to get interviewed, remember? I've been practicing in my head what best suits possible questions over and over till I found it a nuisance. Err, I might sound scripted already. But for now, I should stop my writing. Coz that guy beside me is really trying to read this now.

Ok. Close my little blue book.

Happy April Fools... lmao...

-----
note: Hey, this really did happen today. 8D