Festive Mood

It's that time of the year again. What I dislike is this festive mood in the office, for you know that it's just a false front that doesn't last, yet I found myself sucked into it unwillingly. And I am not even a Christian! I know, I have said this more than once. Today, I noticed another reason for my cynicism: this is the perfect season for food lovers to stuff themselves silly, other than CNY.

And for me, the feast has already begun, way beyond my control.

Hush Now

Hush Now

When the wave breaks
Who puts it back together?
When the night falls
Who runs to its aid?
When the clouds part
Does no one feel sorry for them?

The wave breaks the wind moans
The night falls The clouds part.
Hush now,
Sometimes words are dangerous things
Inventing chaos
Where none was intended.

- Brian Patten

Link

Reading Brian Patten's poems gives me some of the greatest joy.

Retro: 萧亚轩 - 最熟悉的陌生人

This was like what, a century ago? Still, I have this song in my MP3 player permanently. Call it nostalgia, but it takes nothing away, as only a genuine gem stands the test of time.

About That Afternoon

The granite-grey sky gaps,
the landscape in a blurry screen,
as pins cold as winter
pierce the pool's blue-green -
a zillion ants boiling.

- Saturday, 1451 hrs

A bit of the afternoon relished at the poolside amidst the relentless downpour. After all of four laps, I took out my little black book and began writing and listening to Joi Chua's songs. The rain was no recourse in the matter of options. And it continued to be so, until hunger struck.

A young lad in bright orange shorts seated near, glanced at me. Maybe I was incautious with my MP3 player and such in my unzipped bag, making him a potential thief. Anyhow, I was alerted. Minutes later, while taking a shower, he sauntered in with absolutely no intention of doing the same - his hands were empty. I had left my cubicle's door ajar just in case. He must have seen me, for he walked past my belongings twice, the second time perhaps hoping to catch me unaware. I guess one must be a easy target when the pool isn't teeming with people. There was nobody else in the shower room.

After that, I had KFC for lunch. From my little black book:

I am pretty sure when the Colonel first cooked up the recipe for his chicken, the last thing on his mind was our dietary wellness. Of course, to some, there is a certain mental wellness attached to eating the chicken, an illusion gifted by the brain-washing coloured screen.

P.S.: I have broken my vow to swear off fast food. And I regretted not running the Singapore Marathon.

Like a Butterfly

Like a butterfly sitting
on your abundant heart,
silky-soft, feathery-light,
your love flutters each time
I slip into your eyes.

When the morning listens
to you sleeping,
your butterfly leaps in bliss
into the arms
of the lavish light.

P.S.: It's finished. Or is it?

But yet, I am not finished.

Looking back, it seems an eternity since I last posted, which is probably what it is in the blogsphere.

So here I am, in a fastfood restaurant, wondering how I get here, what am I doing here looking at people - mostly youngsters, this being the school holidays. I am thinking, how time flies, but yet, I am not finished

I wrote one poem or two, unfinished. But yet, I am not finished. Still, my book review is going nowhere. But yet, I am not finished.

Today is Friday, the weekdays are ending. But yet, I am not finished.

I have loads to write, to tell, but still the thoughts run dry. But yet, I am not finished.

Sometimes I wonder, what have I to offer that this world does not already have? But yet, I am not finished.

P.S.: Written rather randomly, don't you think?

Angel

Where you walk I follow a few steps behind,
tripping over your silence as you absorb
scenes of solitude in your pulp of a heart,
allowing the wind to pick up your sorrow
to faraway places, never to settle.

So I wait, hoping to watch you grow wings
of angel, and just before taking off and stripping
your mortal's skin for a halo in ascension,
I need to learn what makes you tear so coldly
even as you last laid in my arms.

In a Babbling Mood...

Went for a run on the road and up the stairs - all of thirteen floors, twice. I thought my right knee would give way - I was ready to stop, but miraculously it didn't. Now back in my room, the body couldn't feel better.

I will be on leave tomorrow. No plan yet, but will think of something. Most probably it involves reading. Something is brewing in the office, something scandalous, but age must be catching up, for I don't really give a hoot how young people these days live. They follow their heart which is good, but their values are sacrificed in the pursue of outward happiness all ephermal. Now I have said too much, and perhaps too soon.

Happiness found too easily in this age of instant gratification seldom lasts. The flower of love would fade before one learns to truly appreciate it.

Now to sleep, just can't seem to finish my book review anyway, such is my babbling mood.

When Light Floods The Room

When light floods the room,
lying in my ocean of ruffled bedding,
still floating, the mind scrambled,
wings of the eyes beat for the horizon,
bound off dreamy clouds
congregated from last night's tears,
aches sweetly for the room to pass
back to familiar places
so dip into darkness
to forget I live or am asleep.

Have I missed the beauty of the morn?

Rain, Rain, Go Away

If you were to step into my workplace today, you wouldn't be blamed for thinking that you have somehow reached the north pole in one leap. My hands shivered for gloves, and I thought my breath would have steamed my glasses. Thus, as the rain roared outside the window, I took the most numbers of visit to the toilet in one afternoon.

Finally, the rain stopped with night closing and blessed me with the respite of a run. A good one I had indeed, in the chilly wind, though some water puddles I failed to notice till too late, wet my shoes as my feet tingled.