Sadness is...
Running to win for your team, but teammates not interested in/unable to winning. And getting no recognition.
Constantly hounded by food problems.
Rejection by DSTA in the final interview.
Joy is...
When I finally exticate myself.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Wow...this was hot!
This fiery ball of nuclear reactor. God...Am I swimming in a tokamak's plasma or something I wonder! The deluge of cold water on my head after my "nap" definitely helped extinguished the raging flames! As my senses start returning, I'm wondering how poor kids in Africa and other water-deficient, drought suffering LDC endure their own hell, considering that I, a relatively rich person in a MDC, can't take this heat already!
Talking about my nap, this was no nap. Instead, it was probably one of the oddest and most painful heat-induced period of hallucinations/illusions I had. Within the that 1 hour of sleep, I experienced a few odd simultaneous dreams, awakening in between them. And in this hour, much as I wanted to wake, the ravenous firestorm was devouring my strength with unequivocal glee, turning me into a raged and wasted burnt log. I'm surprised I managed to master the strength to rush to the kitchen, sink my head into the sink, and let flow that gush of life from the taps. Because try as I might during this painful hour, I could not move my body much beyond a whimper. That throbbing pain in my head...! Argh!
Moving on to the "dreams", which on reflections were resembled more of hallucations. Why hallucinations? Cause I clearly remember being awake and still mumbling "fuck ronnie", somehow believing he was the cause of this pain! My perspective of reality was definitely in question then as I stradled the parallel worlds of illusion and reality. In THAT particular confused dream, I believed I was back in camp and ronnie had turned off the air con unit "in accordance to his religion". And he refused to turn on the aircon despite the draining heat drinking away at my strength. That moment, I was screaming away "What the hell! Fuck you ronnie, your re crazy man!", and other assortment of insults and curses even as I gradually collasped (in my dreams only I believe, coz my parents would prolly have been rendered stunned and called for an ambulance...). I believe I sort of woke up then, coz I saw my pillow. And started mumbling, "fuck you ronnie" even as my depleted body sunk into another dream...
So now in this dream, I was engaged in a "heated" discussion with some dark skinned people on "Free lunches in India". No surprises, the room we were in was a furnace. Yup. I remember the topic VERY vividly too. This was the dream I had just before I managed to break the chain of collaspe, dream, wake, and collaspe. Our discussion, barring the fact that the topic itself was very unusual, went about in circles, literally. I mean, when a person describes a speaker or discussion going about in circles, he is probably alluding to the fact that the speaker or discussion is not developing any new ideas. In MY discussion, we just went about nodding our heads going "no free lunches in india" and "no free lunches", with the heat beating down on us. In midst of this repetitive discussion, the tv in the room switched itself on to announce a title, "What is JK?", with Bill Clinton's face flashed across the screen. Apparently, it was an investigation in to a shadowy corporation called JK, which officials believed to be malicious and dangerous. The program then eventually revealed JK to be a gargantun pilantrophic organisation headed by Mr Clinton that was helping suffering children around the world, with emphasis on the Sub-saharan regions! The moment this was announced, I saw sand around me and started feel my skin burning.
Whence I opened my eyes, saw my pillow, heard my mum talking away loudly outside my room, and immediately dashed to the kitchen for that spring to return to me my life.
Talking about my nap, this was no nap. Instead, it was probably one of the oddest and most painful heat-induced period of hallucinations/illusions I had. Within the that 1 hour of sleep, I experienced a few odd simultaneous dreams, awakening in between them. And in this hour, much as I wanted to wake, the ravenous firestorm was devouring my strength with unequivocal glee, turning me into a raged and wasted burnt log. I'm surprised I managed to master the strength to rush to the kitchen, sink my head into the sink, and let flow that gush of life from the taps. Because try as I might during this painful hour, I could not move my body much beyond a whimper. That throbbing pain in my head...! Argh!
Moving on to the "dreams", which on reflections were resembled more of hallucations. Why hallucinations? Cause I clearly remember being awake and still mumbling "fuck ronnie", somehow believing he was the cause of this pain! My perspective of reality was definitely in question then as I stradled the parallel worlds of illusion and reality. In THAT particular confused dream, I believed I was back in camp and ronnie had turned off the air con unit "in accordance to his religion". And he refused to turn on the aircon despite the draining heat drinking away at my strength. That moment, I was screaming away "What the hell! Fuck you ronnie, your re crazy man!", and other assortment of insults and curses even as I gradually collasped (in my dreams only I believe, coz my parents would prolly have been rendered stunned and called for an ambulance...). I believe I sort of woke up then, coz I saw my pillow. And started mumbling, "fuck you ronnie" even as my depleted body sunk into another dream...
So now in this dream, I was engaged in a "heated" discussion with some dark skinned people on "Free lunches in India". No surprises, the room we were in was a furnace. Yup. I remember the topic VERY vividly too. This was the dream I had just before I managed to break the chain of collaspe, dream, wake, and collaspe. Our discussion, barring the fact that the topic itself was very unusual, went about in circles, literally. I mean, when a person describes a speaker or discussion going about in circles, he is probably alluding to the fact that the speaker or discussion is not developing any new ideas. In MY discussion, we just went about nodding our heads going "no free lunches in india" and "no free lunches", with the heat beating down on us. In midst of this repetitive discussion, the tv in the room switched itself on to announce a title, "What is JK?", with Bill Clinton's face flashed across the screen. Apparently, it was an investigation in to a shadowy corporation called JK, which officials believed to be malicious and dangerous. The program then eventually revealed JK to be a gargantun pilantrophic organisation headed by Mr Clinton that was helping suffering children around the world, with emphasis on the Sub-saharan regions! The moment this was announced, I saw sand around me and started feel my skin burning.
Whence I opened my eyes, saw my pillow, heard my mum talking away loudly outside my room, and immediately dashed to the kitchen for that spring to return to me my life.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Harvester of sorrow plows through me,
reaps my joy.
Seeder of misery plants its progeny,
progenitor of my anguish my pain.
Devoid,
desolation,
breeding ground
for the psyche's dilapidation.
But hold your scythe grim reaper,
for my soul is not your reward.
Your harvester seizes and breaks without pain for lubricant;
your seeder chokes when you push too far.
And I'll smother you
with my pounding heart.
reaps my joy.
Seeder of misery plants its progeny,
progenitor of my anguish my pain.
Devoid,
desolation,
breeding ground
for the psyche's dilapidation.
But hold your scythe grim reaper,
for my soul is not your reward.
Your harvester seizes and breaks without pain for lubricant;
your seeder chokes when you push too far.
And I'll smother you
with my pounding heart.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Needlework your way,
crumbling away,
like...pie crumbs?
lol...
I wanna play like Kirk, wanna play like Petrucci, wanna play like Slash, wanna play like a host of other shredders! Just tried playing master of puppets. Puppets felt tortured by me, and declared a leave of absence from me until I can learn to play bah bah black sheep, much less MOP.
Anger,
misery,
you suffer unto me.
Delirious figure wavering in the wind,
seeks pain, relieve.
Interwoven with optimism and pessimism,
mind of two worlds it vacillates.
The fall of the scythe,
or the arrival of the stork,
portentous clouds,
or wispy foam?
This life that I forsake?
Or forsaked?
This life that I regain?
Or regained?
Past and future converges and diverges,
present never stabalises.
crumbling away,
like...pie crumbs?
lol...
I wanna play like Kirk, wanna play like Petrucci, wanna play like Slash, wanna play like a host of other shredders! Just tried playing master of puppets. Puppets felt tortured by me, and declared a leave of absence from me until I can learn to play bah bah black sheep, much less MOP.
Anger,
misery,
you suffer unto me.
Delirious figure wavering in the wind,
seeks pain, relieve.
Interwoven with optimism and pessimism,
mind of two worlds it vacillates.
The fall of the scythe,
or the arrival of the stork,
portentous clouds,
or wispy foam?
This life that I forsake?
Or forsaked?
This life that I regain?
Or regained?
Past and future converges and diverges,
present never stabalises.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Bountiful harvest
Skies cleared,
rain ended,
we cheered,
and regreted.
Never seen,
never knew,
so feel
my pain.
Ignorance
breeds strength,
that whilst false,
stands stronger
than any cultivation.
Grant me resilience
and wisdom
and common sense.
And rouse me from my sleep.
rain ended,
we cheered,
and regreted.
Never seen,
never knew,
so feel
my pain.
Ignorance
breeds strength,
that whilst false,
stands stronger
than any cultivation.
Grant me resilience
and wisdom
and common sense.
And rouse me from my sleep.
Bountiful harvest
Skies cleared,
rain ended,
we cheered,
and regreted.
Never seen,
never knew,
so feel
my pain.
Ignorance
breeds strength,
that whilst false,
stands stronger
than any cultivation.
Grant me resilience
and wisdom
and common sense.
And rouse me from my sleep.
rain ended,
we cheered,
and regreted.
Never seen,
never knew,
so feel
my pain.
Ignorance
breeds strength,
that whilst false,
stands stronger
than any cultivation.
Grant me resilience
and wisdom
and common sense.
And rouse me from my sleep.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Act I
I'm begging you, from the bottom of my heart,
to find me beauty find me truth.
Because I need to lead a life,
I need to lead a life now.
Yes, I'm begging you.
From the bottom of a heart torn asunder.
Torn and putrified.
Almost.
Oh yes, I'm begging you.
To find me true beauty,
to find me truth.
So that I may have back my heart,
of eternal hope,
and not one,
of spiralling dread.
So please,
I'm begging you,
drag me out from this false reality,
return me to my true fantasy,
because I forgot why I lost you.
Prologue - Act I
Once,
when I wielded power,
I forgot what power was.
Holding it without consideration,
I lost it without consideration.
Anasthesized I was,
I sensed something,
but did nothing,
for the senses are thus immuned to triggers.
And thus began a slip from reality.
Prologue - Act II
Swarmed with walking men,
swarmed with talking humans,
swarmed with sentinent beings!
I felt a gaping hole within me!
Prologue - Act III
My novocaine wore off...
...and the post-surgery truth struck mercilessly.
Dazed and confused I was.
I did not think it possible to worm my way back.
Yes, I would have been satisfied to crawl, to snake my way back like the spineless creature I have become,
For I was brought to my knees.
Prologue - Act IV
And crawl this worm did,
like a peripathetic traveller,
he migrated from point to point,
scavenging for lost pieces of crystals,
the shattered memories of his.
And astoundingly,
a map gradually emerged.
Prologue - Act V
The gaping wound recovered slightly;
entropy washed away some painful memories.
So for a moment in time,
this worm became conceited,
and believed he had learnt to walk.
Proudly he stood,
with no backbone.
But a worm is small,
and a vertically balanced worm has great resemblence to standing.
So the surrounding audience applauded him.
Awashed with pride as he basked in glory,
This worm felt it possible to be moses
to guide his fellow people to a new world.
Prologue - Act VI
A slight breeze,
the worm wavered,
but still stood.
"I definitely have reached a new milestone!' , thought the worm.
A gale followed,
the worm bent backwards,
but eventually maintained it vertical stance.
"Well, I have seen humans fall backwards too! What happened to me was normal!" , thought the worm, convincing himself.
Prologue - Act VII
The air started drying,
portendous of a simoon.
The worm knew but did not believe.
The worm then believed, but placed trust in a wall of sand.
The worm lost trust when the sand wall disintegrated and returned to hit its builder with maglinant vengence, but decided to wisely abandon reality.
The worm can stand!
Prologue - Act VIII (Conclusion)
A worm stood against the unbridled might of a thousand horses.
Stinging pain and acrid dryness the worm felt.
Unsurprisingly,
the worm lost its footing.
Of course,
it was not lost without a good fight,
and a good fight that worm sure made,
but just as 300 men could not stop an army,
a worm is still a worm,
and it cannot battle the merciless hunger of destructive nature.
The worm lost its grip finally,
but it still gripped hard,
the map it had painstackingly gather.
Unfortunately,
the storm did not have to be as painstacking in ripping apart that map.
Still, the worm saved a portion.
I'm begging you, from the bottom of my heart,
to find me beauty find me truth.
Because I need to lead a life,
I need to lead a life now.
Yes, I'm begging you.
From the bottom of a heart torn asunder.
Torn and putrified.
Almost.
Oh yes, I'm begging you.
To find me true beauty,
to find me truth.
So that I may have back my heart,
of eternal hope,
and not one,
of spiralling dread.
So please,
I'm begging you,
drag me out from this false reality,
return me to my true fantasy,
because I forgot why I lost you.
Prologue - Act I
Once,
when I wielded power,
I forgot what power was.
Holding it without consideration,
I lost it without consideration.
Anasthesized I was,
I sensed something,
but did nothing,
for the senses are thus immuned to triggers.
And thus began a slip from reality.
Prologue - Act II
Swarmed with walking men,
swarmed with talking humans,
swarmed with sentinent beings!
I felt a gaping hole within me!
Prologue - Act III
My novocaine wore off...
...and the post-surgery truth struck mercilessly.
Dazed and confused I was.
I did not think it possible to worm my way back.
Yes, I would have been satisfied to crawl, to snake my way back like the spineless creature I have become,
For I was brought to my knees.
Prologue - Act IV
And crawl this worm did,
like a peripathetic traveller,
he migrated from point to point,
scavenging for lost pieces of crystals,
the shattered memories of his.
And astoundingly,
a map gradually emerged.
Prologue - Act V
The gaping wound recovered slightly;
entropy washed away some painful memories.
So for a moment in time,
this worm became conceited,
and believed he had learnt to walk.
Proudly he stood,
with no backbone.
But a worm is small,
and a vertically balanced worm has great resemblence to standing.
So the surrounding audience applauded him.
Awashed with pride as he basked in glory,
This worm felt it possible to be moses
to guide his fellow people to a new world.
Prologue - Act VI
A slight breeze,
the worm wavered,
but still stood.
"I definitely have reached a new milestone!' , thought the worm.
A gale followed,
the worm bent backwards,
but eventually maintained it vertical stance.
"Well, I have seen humans fall backwards too! What happened to me was normal!" , thought the worm, convincing himself.
Prologue - Act VII
The air started drying,
portendous of a simoon.
The worm knew but did not believe.
The worm then believed, but placed trust in a wall of sand.
The worm lost trust when the sand wall disintegrated and returned to hit its builder with maglinant vengence, but decided to wisely abandon reality.
The worm can stand!
Prologue - Act VIII (Conclusion)
A worm stood against the unbridled might of a thousand horses.
Stinging pain and acrid dryness the worm felt.
Unsurprisingly,
the worm lost its footing.
Of course,
it was not lost without a good fight,
and a good fight that worm sure made,
but just as 300 men could not stop an army,
a worm is still a worm,
and it cannot battle the merciless hunger of destructive nature.
The worm lost its grip finally,
but it still gripped hard,
the map it had painstackingly gather.
Unfortunately,
the storm did not have to be as painstacking in ripping apart that map.
Still, the worm saved a portion.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
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