We are the night time flock
Raised by the moon.
We see the light in the dark
we see the color in shadow grey
Herd instinct
of celebration.
We see the gold star point pinpricks
the silent puffs
of comrades and brethren
We hear
The hot breath
of whispers in your ear
Compliments and promises
We see the red of lipstick
that glitter wet silver with anticipation
we feel the heat
that radiates, blossoms.
Sweat, streaming down faces,
backs, stomachs of tanned goddesses
that paint the dance floor vivid Technicolor
in every watcher's mind.
We are that wafting scent
of lavender or musk
Imprinting ourselves
upon the innocents we merely pass by,
Onwards! Our silent parade.
We are the night time flock
We pride ourselves
As we see the sun salute us.
-Paul
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
The Stone.
Went to carl junior's today. Don't really know why anyone would be interested to my trip there anyways...Unless you're a carl's junior surveyer. Or the Army's obese unit. Gah. Well anyways, met darren for the first time in eons.Had the best time talking the proverbial cock. My sis got me new Mp3 player for some reason. I don't know either. It's called the stone. Zen thingy. Should be called the pebble though. It's small and fits in the palm of your hand. Really teensy like. And it's shiny. That's the best part. They could do better advertising though.
Early Man thought that
Music comes from sticks and rocks.
But is came from Stone.
There. A nice way to market it doncha think?
Early Man thought that
Music comes from sticks and rocks.
But is came from Stone.
There. A nice way to market it doncha think?
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Now we wait
Never was a fan of waiting. But i guess it's a skill that we all need to learn. Waiting gives you time to think, and thinking might lead your mind places you don't want to go. Or places you don't ever want to leave. Nothing really changes does it? Nor does it stay the same. Funny thing, life.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Upwelling
Pain
So crude a word,
So apt.
That soft, silent bubble,
That expands within the chest,
Pushing away all other emotions
And creating the cursed upsurge of tears
Pain,
Crude it will remain
The retreating of a Waterfall
Of feelings gone that come,
Not in the little bits that reality fed me
Not like those tiny shocks that,
Realisation,
My soul was alive.
But as a whole, mangled wreckage.
But the beauty of it,
The fermentation of old old emotions
And now the sip
Of the potent draught
And the hallucination breaks
Mistakes! Mistakes!
And then regret,
Tears for the could have
Anger for the should
Hope, now
Strength,
For the Will (to) Be.
-Paul Victor
Dedicated to my brethren of 41B, Each with lips, capable of kissing scars.My apologies to Mr Sam la Rose.
So crude a word,
So apt.
That soft, silent bubble,
That expands within the chest,
Pushing away all other emotions
And creating the cursed upsurge of tears
Pain,
Crude it will remain
The retreating of a Waterfall
Of feelings gone that come,
Not in the little bits that reality fed me
Not like those tiny shocks that,
Realisation,
My soul was alive.
But as a whole, mangled wreckage.
But the beauty of it,
The fermentation of old old emotions
And now the sip
Of the potent draught
And the hallucination breaks
Mistakes! Mistakes!
And then regret,
Tears for the could have
Anger for the should
Hope, now
Strength,
For the Will (to) Be.
-Paul Victor
Dedicated to my brethren of 41B, Each with lips, capable of kissing scars.My apologies to Mr Sam la Rose.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Hoist Our Colors!
The morning after. I decide how to wake up i guess. Does waking up on the wrong side of the bed really mean anything? I guess it's a psychological comfort thing. Like how some people need a blankey. Or their lucky chainmail gauntlet or whatever. I guess you associate feeling in the morning as to which part of the bed you get up from. Maybe you subconsciously remember, and it has an impact on you all day. Are we just living the superstitions that we,ourselves make?
But i love those times in the morining. when you just wake up, and the world smells of Amortentia(Ref: Halfblood prince, harry potter and) and all your brain is in a pink bubble full of warmth and comfort. Then the world, like a really great pin, has to come and pop it. And you get out of bed. To live the life set out for you for the day. A guess, for the sad, competant people of singapore, it's nothing much. Yes, studies have shown we are a sad, competant people. Can there be anything worse? It's like getting stuck in a cycle of sadness, where by hereditory instinct, you're the best damn worker around. I hope the authorities are happy. Speaking of which, it's national day. Am getting afraid of the girlfriend's patriotism. She attempeted to stab me with a flag when i complimented a certain neighbouring country. Okay... My life is weird. But that's how i like it. It makes things interesting.
Remember the good people,forget the bad,possibly the jackhammer to get us out of the rut of sad competancy.
Have fun.
But i love those times in the morining. when you just wake up, and the world smells of Amortentia(Ref: Halfblood prince, harry potter and) and all your brain is in a pink bubble full of warmth and comfort. Then the world, like a really great pin, has to come and pop it. And you get out of bed. To live the life set out for you for the day. A guess, for the sad, competant people of singapore, it's nothing much. Yes, studies have shown we are a sad, competant people. Can there be anything worse? It's like getting stuck in a cycle of sadness, where by hereditory instinct, you're the best damn worker around. I hope the authorities are happy. Speaking of which, it's national day. Am getting afraid of the girlfriend's patriotism. She attempeted to stab me with a flag when i complimented a certain neighbouring country. Okay... My life is weird. But that's how i like it. It makes things interesting.
Remember the good people,forget the bad,possibly the jackhammer to get us out of the rut of sad competancy.
Have fun.
Catharsis
The purging.And now i wonder if ever i should slip back into the old old tiresome habit of updating this blog with blog posts. Well, i think i should. Get a few links up, and hey, maybe i'll be back in that old spotlight that my older blog had. Maybe i should, i've got a little extra time on my hands now. Free as a bird, and twice as free in the bowels. Indeed, after this ordeal, my i feel purged. Though if you ask me, authority figures could be a LITTLE more professional in their work.Hey, we're the one paying you yeah? I would not like to be explicit, but the webster has taught me that sycophants exist. Always the little peter pettigrew clinging to the hem of the greater one. And always, always, the abuse of power, no matter how small the sphere. Some people make the world a better place, others just don't. I still believe in the noble savage.
Thank you my dearest class, Be nice to your teacher. Up to you decide which.
:3
Thank you my dearest class, Be nice to your teacher. Up to you decide which.
:3
Saturday, June 09, 2007
V for Vyc-
V for Vendetta
A well known fact,
A cloak, a shuffle,
A stab in the back.
V for Valor,
In a Kahii charge
The death of all spells
A lone linker at large.
But now, the humble letter V
Can mean many other things
Open your eyes,
and now just See.
V for D-C
The sudden cessation
Failing to move
Leaving trails of floating conversation.
V for Experience,
And holding enlightened mass
Knowledge of stats and skills
Now, those auras are Class.
V for love,
Hon and dearie
/kisses and Lvs
Showing affection was never so easy.
Yet V will mean a singular thing,
Rebellious Graffiti in AcRo’s wall
V will mean Vicious
And its glorious rise and fall.
And as we bid the wily white clown
Bon voyage to serve his country
Always remember, in our time
He exemplified,
Veni,Vidi,Vici.
-Talie/paul.
V for Vycious- good luck in the army man,remeber to have fun! Most people will be wondering what the hell i'm saying in this piece, well, it's a tribute, to the greatest guild on earth.Born to be Wild!
A well known fact,
A cloak, a shuffle,
A stab in the back.
V for Valor,
In a Kahii charge
The death of all spells
A lone linker at large.
But now, the humble letter V
Can mean many other things
Open your eyes,
and now just See.
V for D-C
The sudden cessation
Failing to move
Leaving trails of floating conversation.
V for Experience,
And holding enlightened mass
Knowledge of stats and skills
Now, those auras are Class.
V for love,
Hon and dearie
/kisses and Lvs
Showing affection was never so easy.
Yet V will mean a singular thing,
Rebellious Graffiti in AcRo’s wall
V will mean Vicious
And its glorious rise and fall.
And as we bid the wily white clown
Bon voyage to serve his country
Always remember, in our time
He exemplified,
Veni,Vidi,Vici.
-Talie/paul.
V for Vycious- good luck in the army man,remeber to have fun! Most people will be wondering what the hell i'm saying in this piece, well, it's a tribute, to the greatest guild on earth.Born to be Wild!
Monday, May 14, 2007
Alleycat
Bow,
To the pug faced monarch
Of the city streets.
A scepter of fishbone and a cloak of black
The adorning emerald eyes
Under the synonym of Cat
Reigning Thirteen O’clock, Witchcraft’s Familiar
Chalk and pentagrams
Manifesting Rodent fear.
The first was lost, Midnight battle
Torn ears and broken tail
Now a meow with wheezing rattle.
Young squires had to test their surety of feet,
Lives two and three,
Rushing ground had come to meet.
Having disproved such fallacy,
Life four was taken
Being disbelieving in magnanimity.
Five,Death himself had come to collect.
Having eaten the rat,
upon which the Plague had been set.
Six was a stormy night high wire act
That proved that lightning conductors
Could be made of cat.
Seven by far was lost with most grace
Saving the pretty Persian
From the Baker’s wooden mace.
Poetic justice was the end of Eight
Choking on a fishbone
Karma was now a subject of hate.
Experience was mentor, to the wily ninth life
Ruling with passion and wisdom
Now a harem as wife.
Bow,
To the pugfaced ruler
Of the city streets.
Bow,
To the Alleycat king.
Paul
I saw one of those war veteran cats...So i was inspired to write this.
Something completely unrelated... Let me try something. INNOVA JC INNOVA INNOVA I@FUN INNOVA JUNIOR COLLEGE INNOVA AD ASTRA such and such. Now this blog should be monitored. Heh. Help me keep the copyright in check, my good man. :P
To the pug faced monarch
Of the city streets.
A scepter of fishbone and a cloak of black
The adorning emerald eyes
Under the synonym of Cat
Reigning Thirteen O’clock, Witchcraft’s Familiar
Chalk and pentagrams
Manifesting Rodent fear.
The first was lost, Midnight battle
Torn ears and broken tail
Now a meow with wheezing rattle.
Young squires had to test their surety of feet,
Lives two and three,
Rushing ground had come to meet.
Having disproved such fallacy,
Life four was taken
Being disbelieving in magnanimity.
Five,Death himself had come to collect.
Having eaten the rat,
upon which the Plague had been set.
Six was a stormy night high wire act
That proved that lightning conductors
Could be made of cat.
Seven by far was lost with most grace
Saving the pretty Persian
From the Baker’s wooden mace.
Poetic justice was the end of Eight
Choking on a fishbone
Karma was now a subject of hate.
Experience was mentor, to the wily ninth life
Ruling with passion and wisdom
Now a harem as wife.
Bow,
To the pugfaced ruler
Of the city streets.
Bow,
To the Alleycat king.
Paul
I saw one of those war veteran cats...So i was inspired to write this.
Something completely unrelated... Let me try something. INNOVA JC INNOVA INNOVA I@FUN INNOVA JUNIOR COLLEGE INNOVA AD ASTRA such and such. Now this blog should be monitored. Heh. Help me keep the copyright in check, my good man. :P
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Singing Sand
Remeniscent of the desert
Irony.
My Virgin lover,skin of brazen pottery
Half buried,amid shifting sand
Amorous.
As the waves flow,slide,mingle
Layer over minute boundless layer.
She is softer
than the sand itself,
The silent sinking
an anklet adorned foot
Barely,half an inch
Into the parched,giving
Sand.
She is greater
than the dunes
Streching into oscilloscopic
Reading
The dangerous curves
Lying on her side
Warmth
The blanket,her sky.
She is the intricacies
of some unknown reptillian
Shiny scaled,flickering
against the dawn
Ra!
Winding sidelong
Birthing,cold wisps
Settling shadows,
Anubis.
She is that single grain of sand
By itself, is silence
perfect and round
Incomplete.
The grain bushes past
Me.
The solitary dancing
Of blue-grey wind
We Sing
The hymn of Nomads.
-Me
Irony.
My Virgin lover,skin of brazen pottery
Half buried,amid shifting sand
Amorous.
As the waves flow,slide,mingle
Layer over minute boundless layer.
She is softer
than the sand itself,
The silent sinking
an anklet adorned foot
Barely,half an inch
Into the parched,giving
Sand.
She is greater
than the dunes
Streching into oscilloscopic
Reading
The dangerous curves
Lying on her side
Warmth
The blanket,her sky.
She is the intricacies
of some unknown reptillian
Shiny scaled,flickering
against the dawn
Ra!
Winding sidelong
Birthing,cold wisps
Settling shadows,
Anubis.
She is that single grain of sand
By itself, is silence
perfect and round
Incomplete.
The grain bushes past
Me.
The solitary dancing
Of blue-grey wind
We Sing
The hymn of Nomads.
-Me
Monday, March 05, 2007
Shellshock
And sometimes I would just think
and lay bare,
the moments that we've been through
like photographs,
on a wooden table
But every print,
would be alive,a film.
And sometimes I would think so hard
That the feeling of lost
would come over me,
a colossal wave
spanning the time and space,
Of every step we took
holding hands.
And i would,
At those times,
Look at that picture of you
Where you had your eyes closed
by complete accident
Yet looked,
So angelic.
I would kiss the lips,
Of that picture,
and feel
a diffrent memory of kisses
or lest create
a new one.
Like that time,
where you had mussels
and garlic,
and yet, your breath
smelt sweeter to me,
than the sun kissed straw
of a meadow bathed with
pristine mountain air.
And that was the kiss
that tingled
especially
for I was simply
allergic to shellfish.
It is at those times
when I need you most
Do my memories of you
seem to be
most gracious.
As every other thought
begins to clear away
I hear your voice
In concern
Damning
The blameless shellfish
Innocence.
and lay bare,
the moments that we've been through
like photographs,
on a wooden table
But every print,
would be alive,a film.
And sometimes I would think so hard
That the feeling of lost
would come over me,
a colossal wave
spanning the time and space,
Of every step we took
holding hands.
And i would,
At those times,
Look at that picture of you
Where you had your eyes closed
by complete accident
Yet looked,
So angelic.
I would kiss the lips,
Of that picture,
and feel
a diffrent memory of kisses
or lest create
a new one.
Like that time,
where you had mussels
and garlic,
and yet, your breath
smelt sweeter to me,
than the sun kissed straw
of a meadow bathed with
pristine mountain air.
And that was the kiss
that tingled
especially
for I was simply
allergic to shellfish.
It is at those times
when I need you most
Do my memories of you
seem to be
most gracious.
As every other thought
begins to clear away
I hear your voice
In concern
Damning
The blameless shellfish
Innocence.
The Frozen Clock
The ticking of the minute hand
silent,hardly noticed
Yet,
Every inching,
to complete the cycle,
A gong
In my mind,
Repeating,Deafening
How time flees,
From Man's grasp
Slipping through,
Elixer,
Ichor,
Much needed,
forever depleted
What should I do?
How should i stop it?
Like collecting the drip of a leaf,
Using nothing
But a broken seive.
Throw it away?
Allow Thought to consume it?
Like Wildfire
Upon a baked savannah?
For shame!
That is the coward's path!
Revel in it,
Become one
make it yours
For You are time,
And time is you.
-Me
I wrote this during the exams, on a macdonalds serviet.Is that how you spell it? Serveit? Whatever.Angst.
silent,hardly noticed
Yet,
Every inching,
to complete the cycle,
A gong
In my mind,
Repeating,Deafening
How time flees,
From Man's grasp
Slipping through,
Elixer,
Ichor,
Much needed,
forever depleted
What should I do?
How should i stop it?
Like collecting the drip of a leaf,
Using nothing
But a broken seive.
Throw it away?
Allow Thought to consume it?
Like Wildfire
Upon a baked savannah?
For shame!
That is the coward's path!
Revel in it,
Become one
make it yours
For You are time,
And time is you.
-Me
I wrote this during the exams, on a macdonalds serviet.Is that how you spell it? Serveit? Whatever.Angst.
Ode To The Ancient Hero
The breeze blows,
Bringing with it
hints of blood and woe,
Death walks with purpose,
Picking through his spoil,
Sword and shield cannot defend
When his scythe touches the soil.
Amid the raging chaos,
Valkyries fly on high,
And thus they shall pick the warrior
That falls,
but shall not die.
My love affair
with the battlefield,
I am no cynic,
I crave no blood,
It is the glory that comes
With courage and honour,
When Life is smeared in the mud.
My search continues,
To another meadow,
Tis where I shall cut down my foes
I will not stop,
Not until my memory
Has become Future's widow.
What I question
Is my purpose?
To journey to true strength?
The shadows that I overcome,
Will they answer me in the end?
Thus the warrior lives his life,
In an enigmatic hovel,
His soul,his power,
his very being,
Only contained in a paperback novel
-Me
I always loved war. I mean, every boy does. Well, most. Until i began focusing on the postives, I always dreamt of the sweat, and scent and rage of warfare. Then I saw the cunning and the silent mind games that pervaded every battle.And I fell in love with it more. The Shogunate of japan have always inspired me,this is one result.
Bringing with it
hints of blood and woe,
Death walks with purpose,
Picking through his spoil,
Sword and shield cannot defend
When his scythe touches the soil.
Amid the raging chaos,
Valkyries fly on high,
And thus they shall pick the warrior
That falls,
but shall not die.
My love affair
with the battlefield,
I am no cynic,
I crave no blood,
It is the glory that comes
With courage and honour,
When Life is smeared in the mud.
My search continues,
To another meadow,
Tis where I shall cut down my foes
I will not stop,
Not until my memory
Has become Future's widow.
What I question
Is my purpose?
To journey to true strength?
The shadows that I overcome,
Will they answer me in the end?
Thus the warrior lives his life,
In an enigmatic hovel,
His soul,his power,
his very being,
Only contained in a paperback novel
-Me
I always loved war. I mean, every boy does. Well, most. Until i began focusing on the postives, I always dreamt of the sweat, and scent and rage of warfare. Then I saw the cunning and the silent mind games that pervaded every battle.And I fell in love with it more. The Shogunate of japan have always inspired me,this is one result.
Reflections On The Prata
Oh king of flour mountain!
Mighty in thy throne
Drenched in greasy saturated fat,
Your glory is reknown.
Lord of the breakfast table,
With your prince dark Kopi-O
of your fluffy emotions,
We the people of Singapore know.
Your birth in a turbulent uprising,
Tossed by the hands of fate,
Yet skilled the hands they are,
For your ancestral emperors
did they make.
Thy romance nay't be a secret,
With the savoury tanned curry
,A match made in heaven,
A marriage in a hurry.
And now glorious conquerer,
Prepare for the end
A rumbling deep within
Will signal the piercing,then the rend.
Yet phoenix like,
Thy nature is,with only a measely dollar
I raise my hand,
and one more time,
Pay fate to resume order
-Me
Hehe, who doesn't love prata? It's a type of indian bread thing, for those of you whom do not know, and have not lived, not tasting the full fathom of its dimensional goodness.Yeah....
Mighty in thy throne
Drenched in greasy saturated fat,
Your glory is reknown.
Lord of the breakfast table,
With your prince dark Kopi-O
of your fluffy emotions,
We the people of Singapore know.
Your birth in a turbulent uprising,
Tossed by the hands of fate,
Yet skilled the hands they are,
For your ancestral emperors
did they make.
Thy romance nay't be a secret,
With the savoury tanned curry
,A match made in heaven,
A marriage in a hurry.
And now glorious conquerer,
Prepare for the end
A rumbling deep within
Will signal the piercing,then the rend.
Yet phoenix like,
Thy nature is,with only a measely dollar
I raise my hand,
and one more time,
Pay fate to resume order
-Me
Hehe, who doesn't love prata? It's a type of indian bread thing, for those of you whom do not know, and have not lived, not tasting the full fathom of its dimensional goodness.Yeah....
Of The Windows I Have Seen
I have lived!
How i have tasted,
The sweetest scent,
Wafting,Strong,
sweet,overwhelming.
It takes me places,
My fingers touch,lightly
Upon paradise's door,
Notice, the intricate carvings,
Her soul at its core.
Her eyes that beckon,
Enigma in their right
Yet,i know,
I follow,She leads
Far away from blight
I have met,
One and only,
Mysterious light
With angel wings
and hypoallergenic rings
She sits,i behold,
Rapture,Sight.
-Me
The first birthday I spent with her, she gave me a hypoallergenic(wth) steel ring as a present.As I sat there, looking into her beautiful brown eyes, I realised that I would follow her anywhere. I realised, funnily, that I was in Love.Aha!
How i have tasted,
The sweetest scent,
Wafting,Strong,
sweet,overwhelming.
It takes me places,
My fingers touch,lightly
Upon paradise's door,
Notice, the intricate carvings,
Her soul at its core.
Her eyes that beckon,
Enigma in their right
Yet,i know,
I follow,She leads
Far away from blight
I have met,
One and only,
Mysterious light
With angel wings
and hypoallergenic rings
She sits,i behold,
Rapture,Sight.
-Me
The first birthday I spent with her, she gave me a hypoallergenic(wth) steel ring as a present.As I sat there, looking into her beautiful brown eyes, I realised that I would follow her anywhere. I realised, funnily, that I was in Love.Aha!
The First Post
Attended a recital tonight. It opened my eyes,taught me to be proud of what I do. Gave me the wings to do it better. Poetry is my life. I have chosen this path. Rather,the path has chosen me. Note the cliche. Rebirth. I want to start fresh. I want to be greener than that Subway ad. I want to start afresh. And I want you next to me.Always.
Well, this blog will be all about my collected work, mostly. Feel free to comment on them,but please don't steal them. My intellectual property.Mine.But seriously, it hurts. There'll be alot of stuff from my older blog,so don't worry.Sorry about the dry first post. Without any further ado, from my brain to the colored pixels on your comp, enjoy!
"Beauty is Truth,And Truth, Beauty.That's all you need to know, and ever will need to know."
-John Keats
Well, this blog will be all about my collected work, mostly. Feel free to comment on them,but please don't steal them. My intellectual property.Mine.But seriously, it hurts. There'll be alot of stuff from my older blog,so don't worry.Sorry about the dry first post. Without any further ado, from my brain to the colored pixels on your comp, enjoy!
"Beauty is Truth,And Truth, Beauty.That's all you need to know, and ever will need to know."
-John Keats
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