.:: Ed ::. - favourites

'twas a cruel Russian winter night
on the notorious streets of Leningrad.
Carcasses and corpses, some breathe with life,
they smudge the boulevards so fair.

blood, spilled, sprinkled like stardust
on a canvas white as snow.
the quiet of artillery fire
cuts through the cruel Russian woe.

alexei and elizabeth stay huddled close,
two emaciated bodies warm and welcome.
he utters a cruel Russian lie
to this lady pure and dear.

T34s mow through crowds,
moan, groan and curse the sky.
some see their feet get cold or rot
some others watch their mothers die.

hidden in a spot of warmth,
in the cruel Russian winter night
was it the freezing air or the thin hay?
or their hasty breath so joined?
they melt into each other arms,
warmth succeeds the world cold and dry.
but to get this lady dear,
he uttered this cruel Russian lie.

the lady dear lay
atop our Russian hero,
loved and tainted,
a passion in flames below subzero.
he stops her, rolls over,
as cool as ice, this Russian lie.
our lady in tears as a few shots ring,
shiny metals lodged in his hapless spine.

a cruel loveless Russian boy,
and his cruel Russian lie.
our lady naked again, and cold,
in the Russian winter night.

pictures of a conversation

2007-01-15T22:40:00.000+08:00

pictures of a conversation

* friend says:
im sorry i sound pissy but i've been lied to ever since i was a child, so im not big on this whole trust/commitment thing

* friend says:
(THATS WHY I HAVE COMMITMENT ISSUES TOO)

* friend says:
they went oh we'll bring you to america
DIDNT HAPPEN

* friend says:
mother said she'll bring me to crocodile farm
DIDNT HAPPEN

* friend says:
said they'd buy me this for supper
DIDNT HAPPEN

* friend says:
said they'd bring me somewhere SOMEDAY
that fucking day NEVER CAME

* friend says:
you see a trend
now with this car they said they're buying me, IM NOT SURPRISED
pffft

* guy says:
we're told that there's a higher being since young, and scores of people all around the world (me included) would love to believe him. but tell that to all the dying people everyday. it's said he'll save them you know.

* guy says:
DIDNT HAPPEN.

* guy says:
people are told to study hard, then they'll get a good job and have a happy life.
DIDNT HAPPEN

* guy says:
world peace
DIDNT HAPPEN

* guy says:
we're told that money is not everything and that love is.
NOT GONNA HAPPEN

* guy says:
we're taught to trust. trust is good.
NOT GONNA HAPPEN.

* guy says:
"friends forever"
NOT GONNA HAPPEN

* guy says:
we live in one big lie.
we live to wait to die.
why care so much ?

* friend:
because we're taught to care?

*guy:
who cares ?
no one's gonna care. no one's gonna see you cry.

* guy says:
comfort, love, joy, strength, hope. these are things we're told that others will give us.
DIDNT HAPPEN

blue flower

2007-01-06T14:56:00.000+08:00

blue flower

spring wears a pastel-flavoured dress,
like bright colours of crayons bled into one.
the balmy warm winds caress the skin,
as the shepherds catch sight of the elusive sun.

upon them soon were clasps of thunder,
angry clouds survey the scene.
in the corner of the shed,
lay a rose, blue and serene.

the cottagers scrambled to the roofs of straw,
some of them had raincoats, though not all.
as the rain beat down on the hoods,
one solitary rose, still going strong.

summer sunshine soon usurped the land,
'twas a time, at least here, for the harvests and cheer.
young girls and boys fall happily in love,
the men of the house hunt for game and deer.

not to be left alone was humble rain,
even as young children were out to play.
peoples and cattle were carried away,
on the days where rain held sway.

autumn brought with it voices of wisdom
and an air of sobering truth and rest.
rustling leaves pile up along,
and a good many animals were gone.

yet in the same corner lay the good blue rose,
much ravaged and half-withered but still going strong.
as the bells of the season harbingers the sordid sound of death
for most of the others of its lot.
without much fanfare the first snow falls,
the white shroud of death that covers all.
and beneath that bitter ice,
was the rose standing not strong but tall.
a soldier trudged and fell upon his knees in tears,
on this road too winding and long.
the flower hangs on as it keeps,
a hope of spring, just one more swansong.

an old magician

2006-11-09T21:36:00.000+08:00

an old magician

a wistful look back at the store,
of simple wood and bricks of red.
the creaking of the door so strong,
the warm whiff of the fireplace.

'twas a place big enough for one,
away from all land, humans and shores.
a warm cloister, a hideaway,
a sanctuary, was this little toy store.

there, lived an old, plain-looking hermit,
and all his objects of love, so very sweet.
he wasn't one to catch the eye,
with his disheveled skin and all, his time appeared nigh.
but through the coughing, and a build that got more frail,
burnt a flame of passion that seemed to never fail.
his eyes would twinkle with a youthful glow
when the magic fingers are in full flow.

goblins that would jump and yell,
and dolls who could comb their own hair.
and dragons that would breathe fire and scream hell,
and laughing, dancing teddy bears.
his latest toy was the magnificent castle,
opulence oozing from the thrones and cells and gates.
lifelike princes and pirates and beautiful court-ladies,
damn, it could even levitate.

all he had ever known and loved,
were these offspring from his wrinkled hands.
he would hold his creations to his breast,
and proclaim with joy not many understand.
and wipe the dust off his prized creations
unfailingly each day with utmost affection.

it was thought that romance would prevail,
that this little cave-hole could rack up the big sales.
but as the poor man's health began to fail,
along came the conglomerates upon his trail.
awashed with visits and phone calls and mails,
all trying to hang upon the old man's coattails.

on his deathbed he still laid sobbing,
the tears had dimmed his eyes so far.
none to fear! for no one is near,
in this exclusive hospital ward in qatar.

his final moments were spent in a sorrowful reminiscence,
as he hummed to the tune little pony made.
the tv went on in a forlorn monologue,
as the machines became softer.
as the castle that the hermit made got
it's 120 seconds on air,
the man with the magic toys felt
his guts laid bare.

the cottage, the tree and me

2006-09-14T22:00:00.000+08:00

the cottage, the tree and me

running hard, but not feeling anything,
towards a pretty, peaceful, loving place.
where trees of pine stand with quiet strength,
where a cottage on the still lake is the human face.

there on the bridge, charming and old,
stood my love who was waving at me.
she decided against collecting flowers,
so we'll just sit right there and sing.

in our tired voices we serenade,
cheesy love songs from so far away.
we've been up all night my dear,
but your voice keeps sleep at bay.
as the birds try to keep pace,
the scene was of oneness and glee.
smiling with its wrinkled brown eyes
was the biggest, oldest tree.
our laughs pierce the morning silence,
as we go off-key.
but nothing could mar a beautiful morning,
the cottage, the tree, my love and me.

and father time did go to rest,
the moment your lips danced around mine.
there was no distance between us on the cottage floor so sacred,
and we bathed in the gold rays of dawn uninhibited and naked.

running on alone and not feeling anything,
towards a pretty, peaceful, loving place.
where trees of pine stand with quiet strength,
where a cottage on the still lake is the human face.
where all things could be new again,
and i could tell you what i've always meant.
where the picture would finally be complete;
the picture of the cottage, the tree, my love and me.

steel plates

2006-07-22T23:41:00.000+08:00

steel plates

the shine and lustre of those plates,
steely and cold and with kisses of ice.
from which he gets his daily fill
of hope and fear and that could entice.
was gradually fading itself away,
much like a sickly child uncured.
and all that was left behind these doors
was all the affliction and torment that was endured.

the plates all fall from the kitchen sink,
that place that was so sacrosanct.
where fluids of life would wash away
bitterness and troubles, file and rank.
the sink itself turned to clay,
frozen and barren it had become.
just more and more unmovable,
to nothing else would it succumb.

the metal dishes slammed into
the greasy, deathly concrete floor.
it had morphed into something so fragile,
yet like a stone it moved no more.
the chef just could not bear to see
the potential destruction that could be.
with one finger he prodded his subjects,
ashes to ashes and some last respects.

like wind to dying candle

2006-07-16T01:19:00.000+08:00

like wind to dying candle

heavy metal door creaked open,
reveals an abyss deep in.
echoes reverberate, deafens,
when the floor contacts the feet.
groping his way he stilled to hear
the faint sound of wax drip.
hearts were lit by the candlelight
through which he could not peep.

only for a while.

the bloody sun hung burning,
but they all get shivering feet.
"let me go," they groan.
protests long as a hundred streets.

but when the door opens..
"was it all just imagined?"

as always

2006-06-30T15:23:00.000+08:00

as always

river. blood. honey. water.
stutters to a halt,
threatens to stop mighty life.

attempts to build bridges
across streams of consciousness,
can be swiftly and decisively broken.

halt! to arms!
bring on the shields and batons,
lest you suffer the scars of the lovely battle.

love it, getting down and dirty,
regardless of all the pain and antrophy.
not wanting to leave.

one more shot, two more shots,
at the artful dodger.
damn, i'd believe all that you say.

leaving, being left behind,
choosing between a rock and a soft place.
(i'd always take the rock)
as you scream under your stifled breath.

action, inaction, the line,
between whether what will be will be.
or just staying lost at sea.

i could have sworn

2006-06-04T00:48:00.000+08:00

i could have sworn

the evening drinks left,
in my mouth, of emotion bereft,
the lingering taste of smoke.
those eyes were heavy,
my head almost more weary,
sleep came, with peace.

but in my arms you were so beautiful,
like an apple of my eye.
and when you said those words.
and that smile, i could have sworn,
it was all a dream.

so we ran around the mall, i stumble.
it was just like a perfect fall.
'cause when i looked up into your eyes
it didn't hurt at all.

i could have sworn,
it was all a dream.

in pictures, in style

2006-04-29T22:47:00.000+08:00

in pictures, in style.

gallas powers home the opener in the fifth minute

captain fantastic injures himself. he is to continue playing till the end.

a moment of magical brilliance from joe cole, as he leaves three defenders in his wake with nifty footwork.

and he wheels away in delight as he rifles his shot past an exposed van der sar.

carvalho (a centreback) runs the whole length of the pitch after dispossessing van nistelrooy before hammering a thunderous strike, one which would put strikers to shame, past van der sar.

it was the sweetest way to round the season off.

the special one hurls his blazer and premiership medal into the crowd, sparking wild scrambles to collect the prized momentos.

i'd hate to see gallas go.

pictures courtesy of ChelseaFC.com

letter of apology

2006-04-22T16:44:00.000+08:00

letter of apology

no this is not a suicide note
but why has it got to be me?
i'm only entitled to a little bit of hope,
why can't they let me be?

i apologise, that i can't be perfect.
well i still don't want to die.
weak and useless, i guess at times,
but it's you who won't let the sleeping dogs lie.

a being, so tortured; the soul burns
as dry as desert sand.
yet i don't even ask for love
or someone to hold my hand.
in a place where free space and happiness
is all-so-rarified,
my tiny beacon of hope and joy
is crushed and crucified.

i'm sorry for a number of things,
including the way i am.
i'm sorry for being sorry,
on your pride i mar.
i'm sorry if i look like a quitter,
you would not in peace let me stay in this place.
how sorry that in this enclosure
there hardly lies a friendly face.

i'm sorry this is not a suicide note,
if you all want me dead but not gone.
'cause i'm entitled to the hope upon which i hang,
i wait, i hope, to be re-born.

the bus-driver boy

2006-03-08T22:17:00.000+08:00

the bus-driver boy

sat down not far away they saw
a half-sphere, in the skies so tall.
flushed with colours from the light,
that which resembled a rainbow so.

the viewers marvelled, the peasants rove,
about a sight so very rare.
for never a beautiful sight be seen,
in a place so cold and bare.
yet amidst the tension, amidst the pain,
there was laughter and chaos as they
tried to keep sane.

thunder-clouds take up positions,
preparing to pounce.
as they move in they cover,
the beauty the people had found.
choruses of groans enamate,
reverberating around.
mirages of silent screams
bringing the people back down.

so as they toiled and as they tolled
it mimicked the life of a boy.
he drove a half-broken bus
for some extra loose change
to get more cloth in winter.

and each day at work he'd see
the same faces, the same places.
in his concerns beauty has never
been at the races.

giving up on life and what it had to offer,
the bus boy turned his back on life,
one characterised by struggle and pain,
but he did not lay down and die.

he yearns for the day he'd see the light,
the half-sphere with seven colours.
no matter it be beneath the clouds
it would still be present nevertheless.
he turns his back on reality,
feeding his hunger of everything unreal:
he refuses to let anyone tell him about love,
only by himself would be be healed.

missing the sight he has yet to see,
loving the tale he has yet to hear.

for in the cold chambers of his malnourished soul,
laid a faint flame of hope which he holds so dear.

be gone

2006-01-04T02:56:00.000+08:00

be gone

looking back at me i saw
what i had now become,
the leaves are dry, the soul almost dead and
all the deeds are done.
the river meanders, then stranded at a standstill,
loses all direction.
seismic activity moves it off its course until
it swerves, shakes off all emotion.
dark nights beckon where all there would be
are the sunless skies without stars,
where dreams of home and all those loved ones
cut me open and leave scars.
throats as dry as the Gobi desert,
plough through the days of dread.
hearts as dry, and drier still
trod the paths of pains and regret.

what the mind believes, the eyes would see,
oh what great love is out there.
always let the flame of hope,
burn ever so fair.

keep up, i won't be down,
photograph those tears, as they hit the ground.
batter and burn me, i may almost die,
but i'll be back, to the cheers of the crowd.

plastic rain

2005-11-23T22:37:00.000+08:00

plastic rain

it was cold but it was dry and
all i need to see,
was for the sky to rain on me
and drown my soul, to cease.

but it was dry and all i could
was to look upwards and cry;
but dry it was and still it was
to do something i'd try.

i opened my eyes, to try to take
in every sight and sound.
the air was still, the skies were fake
i knew i'd lost all ground.

my heart called for rain, but 'twas clear,
i had to find a way.
sprinklers, showers for contrived salvation,
pretending it's nothing close to aggravation and
i kept those tears at bay;
even if they could be the only thing that's real in
a place otherwise inane,
trying to find sense in you in a world
that seemed otherwise insane.

the rain threshed down upon
my flesh, which cared not if it was unreal.
as i clamoured for penance i found
what was still and surreal.
the rainbeats came in a rhythm that
had nothing varied or new.
mechanical manifestations of a force of nature,
which now served like
a masturbatory measure.

to sit and wait and wish and wait it
wrings my soul alive.
as my mortal self bleeds, i want you to know,
for you i'd bleed and die.
but all i ask of you would be to bring
the rain back here;
'cause you alone and nothing else,
could make me to be real.

the night i saw beauty

2005-10-17T22:12:00.000+08:00

the night i saw beauty

'twas night, i gazed at beauty,
like stars, her eyes and face.
count to one! i knew,
at once that i was out of place.

could barely manage a little smile,
heck, i did the best i could.
but all of its friends pointed and laughed at me,
like i knew they would.

so i spent my time on end,
trying to find my voice.
i tried to smile, i tried
to wave and still it to my dismay
was moving away,
i knew not, nothing of choice.

staggered to my senses it seemed,
a poignant scene of sadness.
i opened my eyes
i knew not if it was real,
whichever, a sweet madness.

near where the black rose blooms

2005-09-26T22:09:00.000+08:00

near where the black rose blooms

near where the black rose blooms,
alarm bells sound,
like heartbeats.
cacophony of noise and the thumping of drums.
slain beasts strewn across magnificent boulevards,
on the rot, and vengeful relations remain, trampling.

on escort he,
much of the scenes did see.
in relative peace and calm, was he,
blind to the sights of visions of death,
snuffed, not sniffing the air of rampage.

to a monastery, the party led,
a monument of silence and solace.
young maidens in spirits gay,
running across, making game. out rushed
an abbot, as how one would look, and with him came
cacophony of noise and thumping of canes.
much tears on the ground it paves,
the lovely taste of those not slain.
come forth, indignant tears of virgins we'd taste,
come, come, for the gang would have to make haste.

relentless sun, red, punishing.
a calm face of a little angel,
an indiscriminating smile, from young life,
drops of mercy gush from the day sky.
barren fields of desolute produce,
in isolation, near where the black rose blooms.

dusk to dust

2005-08-22T21:01:00.000+08:00

dusk to dust

in consummate misery he lies,
tears fill the eyes but there's no strength to cry.
dust the dust off the heavy tome,
not a page to guide him home.

visions of visions of visages and lies,
painting a picture of madness and sighs.
the venom permeates, permeates and paralyses,
the toxins blurring the real and the disguises.

he sees the mirage on the far side,
a thousand and one drops of water in a tide.
his heart the desert, dry and wasted,
not a single drop of liquid tasted.

let us become silhouettes when our bodies finally go.
let the shackles in our eyes reflect what we really know.
let the imprisoned people forever stay unfree.
let the sands of time flow by and still it'd be here and me.

27 minutes

2005-08-18T22:48:00.000+08:00

27 minutes

27 minutes,
parts tear like leaves.
spirits fly like birds as time creeps by.

flash in and out,
the light comes on.
i turn to scream but there's not a sound.

17 minutes,
remain still, unmoved.
but the locks within crying for the keys.

how would i have known,
and seen,
the uplifting winds that were to entrace me.

7 minutes,
the bell beckons,
that raging fire caresses me gently.

that engulfs, i sign my surrender.
consumed by all the hopes and fears,
i turn to scream but there's not a sound.

the clock strikes 7,
the heartbeat stops as
this has to be some kind of heaven.

ghouls drift by and
brought me down,
as i crash without a sound.

the candlelight flickers,
it struggles, in its weakness finding strength.
just not to let it die.

and all that was left,
when all has left,
were 27 minutes of secrets and death.

peel my eyes away

2005-08-17T23:40:00.000+08:00

peel my eyes away

peel my eyes away

they,
that were drenched in beauty.
that flash that drags; that brought a spark,
over and over it plays.

not an inch of space between us,
yet far and wide apart.
running wild, imprisoned,
smiles at being stuck in a rut.

read a book,
from the top of the first page.
or to find,
the same processes of fear and rage.

or to make,
a book out of a singular page.
or to fake,
and forever keep that image.

peel my eyes away.

the last leaf

2005-07-27T21:38:00.000+08:00

the last leaf

the roses cry,
in agony they dry;
a weary smile ever so wry.

take me on now,
i'm hardly afraid;
he tells me that i've got it made.

i glance across the plains,
in the wilderness;
and all i sense is the loneliness.

i see the image,
through my mind like water it gushes;
take me through from ashes to ashes.

say one thing,
then mean another;
hang me out like heat to butter.

daffodils sing,
in warped chorus;
tell me that it's not really humourous.

lights flashing right,
that ray that blinds;
the decisive moment that worlds collide and bind.

from grey to white,
ghastly visuals play again;
those facades and that face and the cold winter rain.

rhetorical rhetoric

2005-07-26T21:43:00.000+08:00

rhetorical rhetoric

if you had one wish that would come true, unconditionally, and you wished for true love, how true would it be anyway?

can one ever learn to love another?

does fate precede action, or does action manifest itself in fate?

is ignorance a good excuse for being oblivious?

is it okay to think that it's all okay?

is good karma accumulated whenever you do something that won't result in bad karma?

would the world be worse off if everyone says what they feel and feel what they say?

you wished it was real

2005-07-13T20:18:00.000+08:00

you wished it was real

it's easy to look upon a painting,
in all its grandeur and splendour,
and its picture-perfectness;
and say you wished it was real

stop, deep breath,
feel the atmosphere so surreal.
the warm winds so embracing,
the stars stud your sky.

tiny drops of rain like shooting stars,
trickles down that face,
like rainfall down the soul.

and you say you wished it was real.

dear idiot:

2005-07-04T02:12:00.000+08:00

dear idiot:

why? are you such a bloody fool.
why? you never learn from your mistakes?
hey man you just messed up.
couldn't have been higher, the stakes.

xoxo

dear xoxo:

i'm sorry. i never asked for anything.
i said what i feel. if that's wrong then, guilty as charged.
right content, wrong bad timing.
then again it might never be right.
i'm genuinely just happy for you. that you're happy.
all i'm saying, is that you should enjoy yourself and that's all i want you to do.
i'm still not asking for anything,
let's just be what we are now; i know why
they say the next step you take, could be your biggest mistake.
not back to square one, i hope.
if we're running in circles, please brake,
smile, i'll be your best friend; the best idiot you ever had.

idiot

how beyond normal feels

2005-06-26T19:31:00.000+08:00

how beyond normal feels

it pains to see those glistening eyes.
a nature so unspoilt,
innocence so sadly rare.

for this i find is more than just
the ordinary want, need, thirst.
and all i ask is to see for always,
that smile plastered on the pretty face.

everywhere i turn
it's there. i find
myself looking and comparing,
glancing but not staring,
for something remotely like this.

it kills me to see me
looking at me, looking out for you.
uniquely you.

again, not sure if you'll see this. but anyway.

i ask not for possession. i ask not for reciprocation. a silent bliss, just for us to stay like this. i'll be anything you want me to be. the times we had i miss. that fatal message really did sting. people will come and go in our lives but it is this place within me you'll always be. it's funny, that i can feel so much and still smile, and genuinely feel happy for you when you say you're going to be with someone else. for all of this while all i wanted was for you to be happy. nothing changes now. maybe it's just out of the moon stupidity. maybe that's what "beyond normal" feels like. maybe.

untitled poem VI

2005-06-26T04:45:00.000+08:00

untitled poem VI

dim the blinding light,
scars strewn across my bloody face.
hearts and souls take flight,
away from this pretty place.

in and out the candlelight flickers,
a warmth to make the hearts smile.
a flash to make the flame snuff out,
come get high, just for a while.

that imperfect face on a pedestal,
that was loved just the same.
that familar place where we had all been,
that quizzical puzzling pain.

dim the blinding light,
i yearn for a taste of what's beyond.
that thirst that consumes all of me,
that love that you might have never seen.

traveller's hymn

2005-05-30T00:04:00.000+08:00

traveller's hymn

the solitary star shines in the sky tonight,
there was a reason to believe we almost got it right.
when the flame snuffs out we just might,
have gone on to see more rays of light.

why, the soulful pain,
encapsulated in those eyes.
at least he knew it was a gamble,
a more-than-nonchalant throw of the dice.

estrangled along the streets of life,
where bazaars and stalls abuzz.
a traveller, smiles in his heart with content,
pleased at the knowledge he had finally found his place;
yet voices from within tell him to leave,
one too many a strange face.

given a choice, manic proportions.
he knows not which voice to listen to.
every moment the hotel walls whisper,
and grafts his skull so tight.
oh, he finds himself locked in too.

the dark shimmers, glows.
the light flirts with the unknown,
with a naughtly occsasional flicker.
two elements conflict,
unable to establish a signal.
all they do is to go around each other,
interacting, but not intertwining;
refusing to discuss, avoiding all bicker.

the line between success and failure,
often dismissed as 'thin'.
the traveller realises its inexistence,
depleted reserves and hardly a grin.

tiresome. addictive.

let it peter out.

the lyrist

2005-05-09T22:15:00.000+08:00

the lyrist

the enchanted lyrist gathered her thoughts,
though little a word she could write.
never a time could she find a sentence,
that would end in a rhyme.

the lyrist, too used to woe and lachrymose,
mired in melancholy;
tasked with stringing a happy tune,
never a hint of glee.

she looked up upon the heavens upon,
for divine gifts she asked.
once too many times she had seen,
how people around are masked.

the skies were blue,
the plains were full, and the forests burst with life.
once more the lyrist made herself believe,
for once more, on empty she'll drive.

for a cause that she envisages,
for the song never sang.
for every dark rhyme that saw the light,
onto all hope she'll hang.

Champions! (officially)

2005-05-08T18:23:00.000+08:00

Champions! (officially)

they say a picture paints a thousand words. i know my blog has been very football-centric these few days. pardon me. you can't really blame me can you.

makelele mobbed after he scores in d 91st minute. his first goal for SIX years and what a fairytale end to the year.

it's finally in our hands. the real thing.

drogba and cole lead the lap of honour.

cole gets into the swing of things. in his own inimitable style.

time of their lives. and surely (i hope) not the last of such scenes of joy.

john terry. captain fantastic. Chelsea through and through.

in The special one's programme notes he chose to list the names of all 102 players and backroom staff. "These are my champions," he said.

sing "we are the champions!"

pictures courtesy of BBC sport.

strange ballad

2005-04-19T20:27:00.000+08:00

strange ballad

those weary eyes,
a laboured smile;
i've let the seconds pass me by.

a brush of the shoulders,
the times we were closer;
leave my senses behind.

if they would give the gift of sight,
just so the blind can see; they would
see hope, rising above all else.

a long and winding road awaits,
never easy; but we would do great i believe,
with good company.

and i'll pray,
that you would flash a smile and promise,
to take this walk with me.

don't wake me

2005-04-11T17:41:00.000+08:00

don't wake me

if i must wake up,
let me be numb.
for i find no solace in emotion,
to pain i succumb.
i'll raise my hands up,
and i will cry.
i'll scream, i relinquish,
and walk away i'll try.
tides that i tried to swim against,
waters that went too high.
a valiant fight, none else,
i'll look to the skies and sigh.

to smell blood is to feel alive,
how to be dead? i hide and i run.
i find no solace in emotion,
to pain i succumb.

this place is a prison

2005-04-04T13:57:00.000+08:00

this place is a prison

the heavy iron
shackles break,
and shady imaginary
barriers fade.
as fate turns
sinner into saint,
the innocent guilty
follows a light so faint.
a hope he sees
but doesn't show,
he believes in the sign
that he may yet know.
this novel written
like a pompous tale,
feels wholly like fiction
'cept 'tis for real.

our world

2005-03-15T23:11:00.000+08:00

our world

of bitterness and checkered pasts,
of enjoyment and pleasures, while the moment lasts.
when daylight fades and all else goes,
the sendiments of sentiment, who else knows?

of false pretensions and masked men,
of psychological warfare and common sense.
why the medleys of guessing games,
would the means justify the aims?

of treasuring the times and righting the wrongs,
of loving the people whom never belonged.
when perverseness pervades into our times,
is that a reason for loving the wrong kinds?

of all the faults we find in this world,
of everything else that we've yet to unfurl.
will you let me take your hand, and let me walk with thee?
will you promise to be around, in this place of no guarantees?

untitled poem V

2005-03-12T01:02:00.000+08:00

untitled poem V

when night comes and darkness falls
and the blaseness that life brings appalls
secure in the knowledge that loneliness brings
the emptiness and coldness of it all

then one night i dreamt
of a fictitious image sorting my life so unkempt
with funky glasses and a perfect smile
she took my hand and away we went

mind not the glasses or the smile
or the face i saw for a while
for when you appeared in my life
you put the truth into that lie

the melody that fits the notes
the pages that fit the bind
i believe we were meant to be
pray you'd never leave me behind

Carling Cup Final: In Pictures

2005-02-28T23:39:00.000+08:00

Carling Cup Final: In Pictures

riise puts one past cech in the 44th second

Chelsea crank up the pressure

gerrard looks on in dismay as he scores a decisive own goal. are you a Chelsea player already stevie??

Drogba squeezes the ball past a hapless dudek in extra time. 2-1 to Chelsea!

it's been a long, hard and mostly fruitless season for kezman. but he rejoices after scoring what was to be the goal that won the cup for Chelsea.

paulo ferreira and drogba celebrate

champions!

pictures courtesy of soccernet and BBC sport.

untitled poem IV

2005-02-26T13:33:00.000+08:00

untitled poem IV

within me
where there still had left, some feeling
laid a seed of uncertainty
that threatens to grow, to leave me reeling
and the clock ticks by
and to pretend, to look unfeeling
dark light of day breaks
for nightfall, i begin steeling
rather like an orange
my heart, in layers peeling
yet i still dream of the sun
where away in joy, i'd be wheeling

and you'd know there'd be more than it seems
for you it is, lay me down here kneeling

the robot

2005-02-11T21:06:00.000+08:00

the robot

i chanced upon this poem. it was not written by me. it is long yes. but if you read it you'll find it's extraordinary. as someone who loves writing stuff like that it hurts to know i would hardly ever be able to write like this

Upon the stairway of despair,
Complete with broken love affairs
And promises that never came,
But faded with a touch of shame,
A pretty girl with golden hair
And innocence so sadly rare,
Strove to keep her head above
A way of life devoid of love.

Feeling pinned against Life's wall,
She chanced upon a robot tall
And said, "Please come and share with me
Whatever Fate has deemed to be.
I'm through with love, done with chances
Spirit crushed by past romances,
Just be a friend in word and deed.
That's all that I shall ever need."

"There's not too much from me to learn,"
Remarked the robot, in return.
"Emotions do not form a part
of my cold, solid-steel heart.
Whatever maker fashioned me
Did not permit my circuitry
Responsiveness to love or pain -
You're thoughts for me would be in vain."

"No matter", spoke the maid. "No more
Do I wish passion to explore.
Be someone I can come home to
When my exhausting day is through.
Count yourself a well-worn shoe -
A friend that I can slip into . . .
Protection from a stone cold floor . . .
For this I ask and nothing more."

Agreement made, he took her hand
And lived the life that she had planned,
Always willing, not demanding,
Aiding her with understanding
He made her smile with humorous wit
(As his restrictions would permit)
And, bit by bit, she came to feel
That he was more than iron and steel.

"I love you, robot", she at last
Replied when several months had passed.
"You're strength and quiet dignity
Have brought a wondrous change in me.
No more do I feel all alone,
And pray you must be flesh and bone.
Deep-set emotions you MUST feel
Within that outer coat of steel!"

"If I were able, I would say
I'm sorry I was made this way
But my design and programmation
Does not provide for that creation
Of feelings normal men may feel
That were not born of iron and steel.
I told you all this once before.
You have no right expecting more."

"Go, then!" cried she. "I will not live
Beside a fiend who cannot give!
Though I be battered by misuse,
Misguided trust and strong abuse,
At least the men I chose were real
And had the power to love and feel.
Of all the lovers I recall,
You are the cruelest one of all!"

The robot, indestructible,
Continues freely and at will.
Emotionless, apparently,
But, bearing closer scrutiny,
One can see a small tear streak
Down that cold, metallic cheek
As I reflect upon my life . . .
That lovely lady was my wife.

The robot, of course, was me.

i will

2005-02-07T23:04:00.000+08:00

i will

i will
walk away from this wreckage
with tears in eyes and heart in mouth
i will

i will
never wanna think of it again
not contemplate any further step
i will

i will
turn back to look once more
to wave and say goodbye with a smile on my face
i will

i will
still be your friend and laugh with you
and everything else if you want me to
i will

i will
fold the blueprints of the scene
down in my chest pocket near my heart beating
i will

i will
walk away from this wreckage
tears in eyes and heart in mouth
i will

this line

2005-02-04T22:51:00.000+08:00

this line

the melody that is in me
the shade of a sad guitar beside the fireplace
distorted, wound up with broken strings
this melody i cannot play

what was might never be anymore
that which i hold dear, impossible
the many things that i am waiting for
when the fears come true the heart dismembers

let the picture that painted be bleak
the sky splattered with shades of grey in blue
the sun not seen yet the rain not expected
i'm hanging about without clue

the thunder is silent
and the clouds gather
the lightning deafens
but you don't seem to hear

the song that right now plays in me
screams at me when i'm quiet
unable to sing this song for you
trenched in this place and mired

clearly demarcated, vaguely drawn
this line that is in between
i can't see this boundary
risk it all or stay within

How many chickens now?

2005-01-16T12:51:00.000+08:00

how many chickens?

ARSENAL lost to bolton. 10 point lead for Chelsea now. and i was quite tempted to head straight for the chicken coop.

BEING a fan of almost 10 years i've seen numerous horrendous cockups from my beloved Chelsea. but now it's 10 points clear with 15 games to go. (in d premiership)

LET'S take a look at Chelsea's next 11 opponents in d premiership. portsmouth, blackburn, man city, everton, west brom, norwich, crystal palace, southampton, birmingham and then manure and arsenal. 33 points up for grabs.

THERE are a few decent teams within there, not least manure and everton, and a potential banana skin in birmingham. man city is another one but i fully expect mourinho's men to dish out some good ol' revenge after dealing to us our only defeat of the season.

WITH all due respect to those teams, the first nine teams are quite the kind of teams we'd wanna be facing to rack up our points tally. from the 27 points possible in those 9 games, we shldn't drop more than 5. and if we can draw against both manure and arse, it'd be at least a 5 point gap with 4 games to go.

TAKING the analysis one step further provides even more cause for optimism. Chelsea face fulham, bolton, charlton and newcastle in d last 4 games. these are teams which would most likely be safe from relegation yet unable to gain a european place. ie. their seasons are over.

MANYOO and arsenal both haf to face relegation strugglers southampton and westbrom in their last 4 matches. we all know d damage relegated teams can do after they feel no more pressure and just wanna spoil some parties. arsenal will haf to face fierce rivals spurs, possibly chasing a uefa cup place, too.

I have my calculator. and abacus. and i'd be outside the chicken coop. but i'm won't be going in to start counting. not yet. =D

a moment like this

2005-01-10T20:57:00.000+08:00

a moment like this

the sunflower basks
in its glory today
much like how we stand
in each other's love each day
the weeks and months may pass
and so shall the sunflower
and much like most everything else
ever so transcient
take the photographs
and still frames in your mind
let us all cherish
this special moment in time
parting will be difficult
so get ourselves prepared
lest we forget this distinguished memory
remember the times we shared

incoherent afterthoughts of the disaster

2004-12-27T01:13:00.000+08:00

incoherent afterthoughts of the disaster

TURNING an eye on what's happening to our world, an 8.9-magnitude earthquake has smashed through southern and southeast asia. more than 7200 people have been confirmed dead.

WALLS of water reaching 20 feet high as a result of d tsunamis accounted for much of d damage. d quake even disturbed the earth's rotation, according to the italian geophysics institute.

AND a lil closer to home, the centre of the quake is actually west sumatra. meaning we here in singapore are not that safe. you'll never know.

WHY? children's bodies were found on trees. mothers and fathers of people were swept away. and would probably be seen again only when the tides wash their bodies back to shore.

ENTIRE villages wiped out. people's way of life, if not lives, destroyed.

SOMETIMES it's tempting to think about why can't we just live in a more normal world. where there isnt such disparity; whilst my thoughts are on the next phone that i'm gonna buy some other kid's thoughts would be on the next grain of rice he eats. where we wouldn't be at such mercy of nature's wrath. you can't just attribute such stuff to the metaphysical or even geography. and then leave it at that.

WHAT causes d quakes? movement of tectonic plates? then what causes the movement? then what causes the cause of the movement? i'm not a geog student. i've never taken geog. but u get my point. somewhere along this chain of questions there will be NO answer.

untitled poem III

2004-12-24T01:48:00.000+08:00

untitled poem III

i've got the message now
loud and clear
the door's been slammed shut
and i won't get near

waited in trepidation
thought it might come around
false anticipation
nothingness abound

the icy cold confines
of this claustrophobic place
ain't half as closed
nor half as cold

as my soul
in need of a raise

Dear Santa =)

2004-12-23T01:24:00.000+08:00

Thursday Dec 23, 12.24am: Dear Santa

Dear Santa,
please, please, please. can i have the premiership title for Chelsea this year? I've been a very good all year. I don't talk back to my mother anymore. And I haven't argued with my dad all year.
I have done most of my homework dutifully. I studied hard for my exam.
I've eaten all my greens, and I clear up all my toys after playing with them everytime before I go to bed.
It's not much to ask for, in fact it a comfortable thing for you to get, as I don't actually need it until may so you can have one person less to worry about on Christmas day. Actually, if you could deliver it sometime in april, that would be ideal and would save a lot of unnecessary stress.
I know you must get a lot of letters like this, but I really think this year you could deliver this one tiny thing. Please do not put this one on top of the 10 letter high pile you've received from me asking for the same thing since I've been watching Chelsea. I'm assuming that you have ignored me every year because I'd really hate to think you were actually on your way to me and somehow managed to get directed wrongly to north London, or round Islington to Manchester. It's to London SW6 that I'd like you to go. As I say early April would be ideal.
Don't worry about finding me specifically, in fact I would suggest if you go to the club office and ask for a Mr J. Mourinho, or a Mr J. Terry, either one will be happy to receive this gift on my behalf. They'll let me know it's arrived soon enough.
I'm sure you are getting other letters asking for other trophies as well, but I am not going to be greedy, this one thing will do for me. Of course if you could see yourself clear to making sure that Arsenal and Manchester United get nothing this year that would be good too. I know you wear a red and white suit, but I'm sure that is just a tradition and deep down you have no sympathy for these teams.
So Santa, Mr Claus, Father Christmas, Sir. Please can you do this one tiny little thing for me?
Love,
Edward, Singapore.

prophetic tsunami dream. :S

2004-12-14T14:41:00.000+08:00

Tuesday Dec 14. 2.41pm: off day!

MY off day today. and im gonna spend it alone. yes im sucha loner.

I need the time. i need to spend some time with myself. sort out my thoughts. of which there are a lot.

GONNA get a haircut soon. it's been long overdue.

HAD a terrible dream. dreamt tt i left my stuff on a train. and then when i went to d passenger service counter to ask if i could get my stuff back d guy told me that the people on that train had all died. don't really know what was going on. and then there was a huge gush of water coming towards us and we've had to duck. basically about a terrible train crash.

THEN had a stupid gunfighting dream. my mate who was supposed to cover me missed his shot. and i nearly died.

crash: unexpected change
train: connections. i hafta b aware of changes in my life
water: cleansing. life. emotions. what are my current feelings?
gunfight: violence. danger ahead
death: end of a cycle. something will come to an end.

I'M not sure if i'd b silly to believe in those dreams but somehow the meanings all point to the same sorta thing that i'm facing right now in my life. this is surreal.

UPDATE: jan 1 2005, 12:54am

THIS entry is actually not that significant. until you think about the tsunami that has happened. deja vu? or something more?

the Ghost of you

2004-12-06T00:51:00.000+08:00

the ghost of you

the ghost of you
still lingers in the air
trapping me in this prison
this rotten mental lair

in the stillness of the night
staring at the ceiling's crack
i try to make believe
that my life is back on track

yet the ghost of you is relentless
cutthroat in its pursuits
of sucking the love out of my soul
of blocking off my routes

the inhibitons that i show
the belief that no love is true
the conviction that i should remain alone
the merciless ghost of you

you

2004-12-04T12:16:00.000+08:00

you

a touch of luck
or perhaps illusions of grandeur
it's almost too good to be true
and too much to endure
a sweet little gesture
with a few select words
resonating through the mind
covering the hurt
while it may as always end up being lies
it's tempting to believe
more than band-aid to those wounds
more than temporary relief
everytime those eyes meet
it's thunder through the veins
all beauty around just fades away
to the beautiful soul and face

i'm free

2004-11-24T20:04:00.000+08:00

i'm free

i'm free
or so it seems
i no longer think
of that stupid scene
yet i awoke this morning
to a different ring
one of stupid imagination
like i was there, it was as if
the fateful scene replaying
but you were not the one i was kissing
i didn't think it possible
such washing down the sink
i think of you from time to time
but i'm slowly recovering
whereas this it all
it's perhaps amazing
how it never looked possible
or so my brain makes it to be
yet within this loveless soul that's me
apprehension and fear
with such debilitating things teeming

freaky dream

2004-10-28T23:18:00.000+08:00

freaky dreams

HOW scary can dreams get. was talkin to corde jez now. and remembered this dream. listen up.

ONE friday night i dreamt that adrian mutu died. in a game i was playing. if u guys probably did not know, players dun die in playstation2 games.

AND immediately that saturday, chelsea drew with spurs. and lost their 100% record.

NOW mutu is dead. not literally lar. but the guilty drug test. he's gonna be banned. his time at chelsea almost surely over.

FREAKY isnt it.

untitled poem II

2004-10-26T23:11:00.000+08:00

Untitled poem 2

you brought me to heaven
then put me through hell
sometimes my feelings from this sweet torture
i could never fathom or tell

but when we get warm and close
i feel your touch
just a brush of your shoulders
can be so too much

are you here?
or are you not?
sometimes i feel you are
sometimes it feels odd

and it'll never feel the same
each and every time
will you promise to care if i do?
will you just be mine?

why am i so mad?
it's all in the eye
simple, easy to perceive
but impossible to define

no, don't fall

2004-10-17T23:19:00.000+08:00

No, don't fall

the baby's chuckles
lit the house with warmth
on he struggles
baby steps on the floor
no, don't fal

lthe baby garbles
undecipherable words of joy
although he grapples
with one too many toy
no, don't fal

lthe young boy shivers as he
stared blankly at d pool, brilliant blue
all clothed and ready
but is he to be made a fool?
no, don't fall

21 steps

2004-10-01T22:50:00.001+08:00

21 steps

21 steps
marshes all around
leaves ruffle
as he tiptoes down

birds chirp
every pore on him
drink in the morning air
never knew it would flatter to deceive

he leaves the place
looking for more
hoping for more
settling for less

he knocks on the door
strange there was no sound
push the creaking doors open
'cause there was no one around

21 steps beckon
all that shone through
but a glimmer of light
dimmed with the descent

step into the place
down, darker
grey, grimmer
his heart screamed

he stays
hoping for more
never getting there
unsure of anything anymore

just let go

2004-09-13T23:37:00.000+08:00

just let go

nothing to hang onto
nothing to hold
nothing to get by with
don't. just let go.
it could have been mine to hold
to show
or so i dreamt
or so i was told
star-studded skies
ramosian hearts
midnight diamonds
tell me that i don't
all disintegrates
will i still be gone?
leave it.
don't. just let go.

the Chelsea dream (future reality)

2004-08-12T17:53:00.000+08:00

the Chelsea dream

OKAY u haf the right not to read this. do scroll down for my 2 other entries. remember u DON'T have to read this if u DON'T want to. okay la pls read. plspls.

July 12, 2007

"English and current European Champions Chelsea today announced their latest "Galacticos" signing, 18-year old American phenom Freddy Adu. He has agreed to a 5-year contract at Stamford Bridge. The fee of 20 million pounds Chelsea paid to the American MLS for the right to sign ADU, is far eclipsed by Real Madrid's bid of 50 million pounds. According to Adu himself, he chose Chelsea for "sporting reasons", not just for the money.

'This is another great day for Chelsea,' said long-serving Stamford Bridge Boss Jose Mourinho. Mourinho, who recently signed a five-year contract extension purported to be worth 8 million per year. (not counting the multi-million pound Tuscan villa given by Chelsea owner Roman Abromawich as a present for Chelsea's winning an uprecedented second consecutive quadruple), indicated that Adu would compete for a space in Chelsea's legendary strike force of Eidur Gudjohnson (28), Didier Drogba (29), and Mateja Kezman (27). "In Adu we have a young forward with the pace, flow and creativity to play as a target striker or on the wing. There is really no limit to his potential now that he has the right manager. Freddy is special, though not as special as me of course."

Team Captain John Terry, himself only 27 at this point despite seeming to be a fixture at Stamford Bridge for as long as anyone can remember, also hailed the move: "We're all excited at the prospect of playing with Freddy. Having defended against him when we beat the States in the 2006 World Cup final, I know he is a born goal scorer."

The only sour note came from the North, as Manchester United gaffer Sir Alex Ferguson bemoaned the Adu signing as yet another example of what he sees as Chelsea's negative impact on the Premiership: "When a team with a grand tradition hasn't won any silverware in three years and keeps losing to a bunch of foreign ****ers from West London, you know something's wrong. Chelsea is proving that all titles can be bought and at prices I just can't afford anymore." Manchester United, which just avoided relegation last year, had been following Adu as an acquisition target since his signing with DC United as a 14-year old. But United -- its cash reserves decimated by its failure to win any major competitions since Mourinho came to Stamford Bridge --could only manage to put together a 10 million package for Adu, which was not remotely competitive with bids from Chelsea and Real Madrid."

EH everyone is entitled to dream once in a while rite~

all i am

2004-07-21T11:50:00.000+08:00

all i am

all i am
probably
all i'll ever be
is who i don't want to be
all i know
all i show
it's probably never enough
and you'd never know
in the end
what i show
is short of what you know
could i ever get the chance to show
all you show
perhaps is not all that i know
where will my next step will take me
nobody knows

this road

2004-07-20T22:55:00.000+08:00

this road

this road
leadin me to nowhere
i need a sign
someone show me the way

this road
leads me to your door
or heck
does it?

this road
has left a pool of tears
i'm so weary, tired
going on for months, years?

this road
leaves me starry-eyed
discoveries
shades of happiness

this road
where does it lead me?
bring a torch someone
i need light
where will i finally be?

untitled poem I

2004-07-13T22:33:00.000+08:00

untitled poem

cloud of uncertainty looms
movin into my room
someone please
turn the grey skies blue

pulses
lightning streaks across the sky
like my heartbeat
with pace of scurrying mice

flickering lights
on and off they turn
just like my mind
it can't settle

please
someone save me
from this mediocrity
games of waiting and guessing

The King part II

2004-06-22T15:28:00.000+08:00

the King part II

the king stormed in
to the palace grounds
everyone seemed nervous
as he looked around

"WHERE IS THE CARDINAL?"
he thundered, shivering
"yes, sir" squeaked a voice in the crowd
he's never seen him so incensed, frightening.

"my loyal servant,
you wise man.
i thought you said
i would never see her again?"

"yes i did my lord.
but however did u?
it's true i know.
never see her again u will."

"for, my lord, she is all but
a passing face.
one that is without a heart
and all you get is the surface"

"what rubbish!
you maniac!" retorted the king
i had seen her with my
own royal eyes. wrong they will never be.
wrong i never am"

"MINISTERS!" the king yelled.
and streaming in they come.
"i want a search party in place
immediately to find for this lady"

"succeed each one of you shall,
or back to the palace you'll never come!"

"but Your Majesty" rose one voice
from the hushed silence
"there'll be certain things we need
like a picture, a name or at least
we should know if she is danish or swede"

"alright all of you" said the king,
dejectedly, sighing.
"go now. go.
except the cardinal, you stay"

the King sunk to his knees.
dabbling in this beautiful pain.
painful torture.
torturous beauty.

"my Lord, do be less sorrowful.
the more you find her,
the more you won't see her.
maybe it's best just to wait"

"what more can i do, wise man?
if fate is playing this game.
i'd wait but how long for?
one day? one thousand days?
or perhaps even more?"

"well, my Lord. maybe you shouldn't.
let it go and it will soon be forgot.
she's just a figment of your thoughts.
and hemmed in reality we are"

silence.

"how do you love someone
who isn't even there?"

silence.

The King part I

2004-06-11T18:10:00.000+08:00

the King part I

how do you love someone
who isn't even there?

"i would call you
if i could
write a letter
you know i would"

"HOW?" the king asked
and there was no reply
"perhaps there's no way
no way my lord."

"yes there would be!
why would there be not?
for i am the lord
have you forgot?"

"with all due respect, sir
it was just a passing face.
a nobody amongst everyday
it shall soon fade away"

"you're a man, sir
and married too
would you proclaim to love that face
if only for a while
just for the thrill of the chase?"

"no, my cardinal
you're no further away from the truth.
the queen is nothing but
the queen of my flesh."

"in less than 60 seconds i've found
the queen of my heart, may it seem unsound.
i know i'd forget her in time to come
but why should i if there's some love to be found?"

again there was silence which
deafeaned the hall it had befell
this man had absolute power
in all but one aspect for all to tell

"wise man,
i have nothing to lose, my pal
give me some answers you shall
tell me what can be done now"

"with all due respect, sir
absolutely nothing, i'm afraid.
you could love the face which isn't there
but that is all. it won't give you a heir."

the man who had everything stood
silenced
by the dawning of truth as much as his disappointment

"there will be another face, my lord.
another passing face
one that will be there at your command, sir
and this one will be forgotten, gone."

"there was realness in the words he spoke",
he thought

"someone would soon replace that face
and all this shall be forgot"

and yet the infallable man quaked
trembled
at the thought that
what he wanted most
he couldn't get

"take your leave"

"yes sir"

he came and went as he pleased
as do everyone else
but not that passing face. which went away
for now the pain seems too much to bear

how do you love someone
who isn't even there?