A Page From My Blog
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Originally posted by DeadPoet:
wad is ur blog add by the way? We can also see it via ur blog ma.
[b]Our Son And The Water Shortage
When the water shortage comes along
heÂ’s been waiting all his life for it,
all nine years for something to need him as the
water needs him now. He becomes
its protector – he stops washing, till dirt
shines on the bones behind his ears
over his brain, and his hands blaze like
dark badges of love. He will not
flush the toilet, putting the life of the
water first, until the bowl
crusts with gold like the heartÂ’s riches and his
room stinks, and when I sneak in and
flush he almost weeps, holds his
hands a foot apart in the air and
says do I know there is only about
this much water left! He befriends it, he
sits by its bedside as if it is a dying
friend, a small figure of water
gleaming on the sheets. He keeps a tiny
jar to brush his teeth in, till green
bugs bathe in its scum, but talk about
germs and heÂ’s willing to sacrifice his health
to put the life of the water first, its
helplessness breaks his heart, the way it
waits at all the faucets in the city for the
cocks to be turned, and then it cannot
help itself, it has to spill
to the last drop. Weeks go by and
our son is glazed with grime, and every
cell of dirt upon his body is a
molecule of water saved and he
loves those tiny molecules
translucent as his own flesh in the spring, this
thin vivid liquid boy who has
given his heart to water, element
so much like a nine-year-old – you can
cut it, channel it, see through it and
watch it, then, a fifty-foot
tidal wave, approaching your house
and picking up speed as it comes.
By Sharon Olds
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Afterthought
I knew it.
They are coming back to haunt me – the souls of those ants and grasshoppers I had tortured and killed when I was a kid. I am not going into details regarding my heinous crimes. This is after all a poetry blog.
Unlike my friends for example dsnake1 and Gilbert, I find it difficult to write about my childhood. I’ve tried several times and all ended up was either too prosy or too sentimental. I seriously suspect I am trying to suppress certain episodes of my childhood’s memories. What could they be? Was it when I “accidentally” saw some village girls bathing along the river? Was it that time I “accidentally” played my uncle’s video tape assuming all tape labelled Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs must be, ahem, about the fairly tale?
Gosh, my childhood was indeed a dangerous phase where “accidents” happened frequently. It was also a dangerous phase for ants and grasshoppers. May their souls rest in peace.
Like the boy in the above poem, I do have certain obsessions when I was a kid. One particular obsession stood out from the rest, i.e. I was obsessed with comma. No kidding, I was obsessed with comma. Weird right?
I love to spend my free time counting commas in story books. Not only that, I organized competition for my story books and declared the book with the most commas wins. Yippee!
Come to think about it now maybe I was not weird, maybe I was bored.
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Somewhere out there.Originally posted by bryanseb:wad is ur blog add by the way? We can also see it via ur blog ma.
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Originally posted by DeadPoet:
1. village girls bathing along the river
Afterthought
I knew it.
They are coming back to haunt me – the souls of those ants and grasshoppers I had tortured and killed when I was a kid. I am not going into details regarding my heinous crimes. This is after all a poetry blog.
Unlike my friends for example dsnake1 and Gilbert, I find it difficult to write about my childhood. I’ve tried several times and all ended up either too prosy or too sentimental. I seriously suspect I am trying to suppress certain episodes of my childhood’s memories. What could they be? Was it when I “accidentally” saw some village girls bathing along the river? Was it that time I “accidentally” played my uncle’s video tape assuming all tape labelled Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs must be, ahem, about the fairly tale?
Gosh, my childhood was indeed a dangerous phase where “accidents” happened frequently. It was also a dangerous phase for ants and grasshoppers. May their souls rest in peace.
Like the boy in the above poem, I do have certain obsessions when I was a kid. One particular obsession stood out from the rest, i.e. I was obsessed with comma. No kidding, I was obsessed with comma. Weird right?
I love to spend my free time counting commas in story books. Not only that, I organized competition for my story books and declared the book with the most commas wins. Yippee!
Come to think about it now maybe I was not weird, maybe I was bored.
2. (NOT) Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
3. weird obsession with commas
4. torturing of insects.
that's enough material to write a poem. -
I am counting on you brother!Originally posted by dsnake1:1. village girls bathing along the river
2. (NOT) Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
3. weird obsession with commas
4. torturing of insects.
that's enough material to write a poem. 
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Bad news! I've decided to post my old poems here. Back in those days I thought clichés and abstractions were cool & great. I thought as long as it rhymes, it is a poem. I thought all I need to do is to write a prose, breaks it into pieces and you have a poem. No sweat. Those were happy days.
Frankly, I am not really proud of them as poetry but I am sure proud of them as part of my learning process. Basically my poems can be classified into three categories; The Early Years (1990 – 1991), The Return (2004 – March 2005), and The Awakening (After March 2005).
So get your vomit-bag ready, sit tight and off we go!
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The Early Years (1990 – 1991)
Warning: This poem is full of clichés and abstractions. Do not try this at home.
The poem #01
Just for you
Life is full of Joys and Pains,
In every heart a dream remain,
Should sad memories ever your mind,
Always remember I'm by your side.
Believe in yourself, have Faith in God,
Over the mountains against all odds,
Every sunrise is a bright new day,
Yesterday's tears will never stay.
The story behind this poem
This is my first attempt at poetry. It is written for a very special girl, sorry wrong guess, not my wife. I was crazy about this girl during my pre-university days. She was like a goddess to me and I was like well a mere mortal. So I’ve decided to “immortalize” her. What was I thinking? Nothing much I guess, just madly in love with her. Crazy young man back then.
(Word of Wisdom: Do not tell your wife/girlfriend you have a blog especially if you've decided to post poems dedicated to other girls. Not good for your health/ear, not good at all)
Posted in Rest In Peace on Sunday, May 29, 2005 -
A short story taken from The Magic of Metaphor by Nick Owen.
One day there was an earthquake that shook the entire Zen temple. Parts of it even collapsed. Many of the monks were terrified. When the earthquake stopped the teacher said, “Now you have had the opportunity to see how Zen man behaves in a crisis situation. You may have noticed that I did not panic. I was quite aware of what was happening and what to do. I led you all to the kitchen, the strongest part of the temple. It was a good decision, because you see we have all survived without any injuries. However, despite my self-control and composure, I did feel a little bit tense, which you may have deduced from the fact that I drank a large glass of water, something I never do under ordinary circumstances.”
One of the monks smiled, but didnÂ’t say anything.
“What are you laughing at?” asked the teacher.
“That wasn’t water,” the monk replied, “it was a large glass of soy sauce.”
Posted in Rest In Peace on Monday, October 17, 2005 -
wow! really impressed!
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Thanks trendz, want to share some of your posts with us?Originally posted by trendz:wow! really impressed! -
The Return (February 2004 – March 2005)
Warning: This poem is full of clichés and abstractions. Do not try this at home.
The poem #07
The Last Ride
I will accompany you my love
For the roller coaster ride
Heights scare me to death my love
But for you I am willing to try
So forget me not my love
When the ride comes to an end
DonÂ’t cry for me my love
If I die at the coaster ride
The story behind this poem
Okay, I admit. I am afraid of height. I remember during one of our first few dates, my wife suggested taking the Viking Ride at East Coast Park (Is that damn thing still there?) In order to impress her, I agreed. Bad decision! Really, it was terrible, I thought I am going to die. Why me? I donÂ’t want to die a virgin!
*sob* *sob*
Inspiration
I was experimenting with repetition here. For some reasons, I like this poem very much.
The next step
Not going to change this poem. The next time my wife suggests “The fun-fair is here again, shall we try something really exciting?" Instead of replying “Crazy ah, you want me to die ah?” I am going to read this poem to her.
Who dare to say I am not romantic?!!
Posted in Rest In Peace on Tuesday, June 07, 2005 -
I hate those things too. I've been on the Viking once and once enough.
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12/4/07 - Thursday
"perceive love as coffee."
i see it this way:
coffee beans have to be sown, nurtured, developed, harvested and ground, and then prepared for drinking. comparing this to 'love'.
sown - the beginning of a wonderful friendship.
nurtured and developed - likes and dislikes, compatability, getting to know each other better.
harvested and ground - togetherness, love, going through hardships.
prepared for drinking - marriage, future, settling down and growing old together.
coffee, it keeps you awake. it keeps you going. same goes for love. whether positively or negatively.
a friend of mine sees it this way:
another sees it this way:
people who appreciate coffee finds sweetness in its bitterness.
people who don't, finds only bitterness.
likewise for love.
addictive and bittersweet.
interesting.
thoughts. perceptions. mindsets. opinions. comments. critiques. part and parcel of everyday life. it makes you, it breaks you.
belief, trust, loyalty, pride, possessiveness, arrogance. factors and aspects in life.
your choice, your call.
i am very happy, yet sad at the same time. could it be all this anger within me. i feel as if, i'm not being myself. projecting myself as a different persons to different people. what is, then, the real me? am i thinking too much about what people think about me? my outer shall exhumes happiness, people portray me as a happy kid. i go home. alone, looking around at people. looking at the expressions when they're quiet, alone. all i see is anger. do i feel the same way? am i filled with so much anger? or that crushing feeling of loneliness?
thoughts, thoughts, thoughts. interesting yet mind-boggling. i think too much. haha. -
Just be yourself my friend.
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I was trying to act "cool" in front of my wife, so no choice.Originally posted by Bluesky_Liz:I hate those things too. I've been on the Viking once and once is enough. -
My country is currently under attack by these flying monsters!
The dengue figures have been on the rise. So far the figure has gone beyond 9,000 and is fast approaching the 10, 000 mark. Although my area isnÂ’t affected yet, but mosquitoes have wings you know. I am quite worried with the current tread.
In fact I am so worried that I had a bad dream yesterday night.
I dreamt that somewhere in Singapore, someone was mass breeding infected aedes mosquitoes. Just as I was about to call the police he spotted me and wasted no time sending his blood-sucking pets after my arse. Of course, I woke up just in time to escape their kisses of death. Phew.
Seriously, is it possible to mass breed infected aedes mosquitoes and used them as biological weapon? Just look at the figures, one mosquito needs only a drop of water to produce hundred of eggs. One bite from this miniature vampire transmits thousands of dengue viruses in your blood. And most frightening of all, one in fifty dengue cases may be fatal. Based on the latest figure i.e. 9, 000 cases, 180 Singaporean might be dying. In fact, eight people had dead since this year from the epidemic. The whole nation might soon come to a standstill! Gosh!
Terrorists breeding mosquitoes in Singapore? Nay impossible.
One mean flying blood-sucking son-of-a-bitch at work!
Posted in Rest In Peace on September 14, 2005. -
We all seek the meaning of life, don't we?
Philosophers across the ages has cracked their poor heads over this. What is life? What is the meaning of life? Are we just meaningless specks in the wide universe?
Unfortunately, yes. We're born into this world with a void in purpose. We're like a blank cheque, with the Creator of Life's (not necessarily God) signature.
It is up to us, to fill our own value of our life.
What is your life's purpose? Waste your life away in arcades, in violence? Or inspire thousands and save lives? It's entirely your call.
No one can live your life, except yourself. Like Jack Neo's "Just Follow Law", have you been so distracted in your life, that you forget about the minor details? Like kinship? Friendship? Love? There are more things to life, than money.
Indeed, if you find satisfaction in what you're doing, you'll never feel bored. I love writing. Despite having to write many articles at times, I'm happy. I love to write. I update my blog almost daily, despite me being very busy, or otherwise. You can say I'm just idling around.
But I've found the purpose of my life. Show people snapshots of the world. Write to inspire, and to inform.
Do you know how much the impact of a photograph can be? A photograph of a modernised urban city, can give hope to a poor girl in a rural, third-world country. It can give her the spark to ignite her flame, to work hard, and to improve herself. A photograph captures memories. It captures emotions.
I can write. I don't think I write very well, but at least I can write fluently. And I want to use this, to tell others - Don't give up on yourself, even when you find yourself talentless.
Life is not about how much talent you have. Life is about how you choose to live it.
Life is the noblest gift ever given. It's a gift which surprises and rewards know no boundaries.
http://hexakosioihexekontahexa-phobia.blogspot.com/ -
Hello binarynwitz, I think we have quite a few things in common. HmmÂ… the problem is any forms of photo-taking are banned in MPC coffee session.
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Sure.Originally posted by DeadPoet:Hello binarynwitz, I think we have quite a few things in common. HmmÂ… the problem is any forms of photo-taking are banned in MPC coffee session.
Upskirts are also banned. Many still found a way.
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Originally posted by binarynwitz:Sure.
Upskirts are also banned. Many still found a way. 
I just don't like having my photos taken.
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When getting too hard may not be a good thing
Doctor: Well, whatÂ’s the problem?
Me: ErÂ… this (pointing to it), it is swelling.
Doctor: Let me take a closer look.
Me: Okay Â… Ouch! Not so hard. It is quite painful.
Doctor: How long have you been having this problem?
Me: Since last Thursday I guess.
Doctor: So recently have you taken any medications for it?
Me: ErÂ… no but I did apply some oil lotion to ease the pain.
Doctor: Hmm I see. So how often do you wash it?
Me: Huh? You mean I have to wash it?
Doctor: Of course you have to wash it but unfortunately usually people are simply too lazy.
Me: So is my condition bad?
Doctor: Not to worry, let me wash it for you now.
Me: You mean now? Here?
Doctor: DonÂ’t worry you may feel slightly uncomfortable at first but you will soon enjoy it.
Me: Well okay, you are the doc.
(The doctor proceeds to wash it for me)
Doctor: Are you feeling comfortable?
Me: ErÂ… okay I guessÂ….
Doctor: Right, now I am going to increase the pressure and if you feel uncomfortable you must let me know and IÂ’ll stop.
Me: Okay.
(After a few minutes of washing)
Doctor: AhÂ… they are coming out, all these white stuffs are the reason for your problem.
Me: Ohhhhhhh Â…Â… Ahhhhhhh Â….. Wow I am beginning to like this washing thing.
Doctor: Can you help me to hold the tray near it. I donÂ’t want to dirty the floor.
Doctor: Here take this towel and wipe yourself, your pant is wet.
(After more washing Â…)
Doctor: HmmÂ… there are still plenty of dead skin cells in your right ear. Your left ear looks fine to me but you right ear is in terrible shape. I suspect some of the dead skin cells have fungus growing on them and have hardened after years of negligent. The problem now is they have attached themselves firmly to your skin and are not responding well to my washing treatment.
Me: So what am I supposed to do now?
Doctor: DonÂ’t worry, I will give you some lotion to soften them and I will see you again this coming Friday.
Me: Okay, if you say so.
Doctor: That will be $50 for the treatment. Please collect your lotion at the counter.
Me: Huh? What? Sorry doc but I am having hearing problem but did you mention $20? Thanks doc, you are so kind. Bye bye. (Give him my sweetest smile)
Want to give it a try?
Posted in Rest In Peace on Wednesday, April 05, 2006 -
ok ....... will go dig my ears tonite
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You want to get wet too?Originally posted by InnoHippo:ok ....... will go dig my ears tonite -
shiok ......... i feel refreshedOriginally posted by DeadPoet:You want to get wet too? -
Posted in Age of Insanity on Friday, November 25, 2005
Your First Hunch is Your Best Hunch
Is it really true that ‘your first hunch is your best hunch?’ According to a study by Stoffer, Davis, and Brown (1977) this may not be the case. By examining the students’ answer sheets for evidence of changes such as erasures or crossing out the initial answers here is what they discovered,
From wrong answer to wrong answer --> 15%
From right answer to wrong answer --> 22%
From wrong answer to right answer --> 63%
Amazing! So when your teacher asks you to go through your answers again if you have the time, she knows what she is talking about.
Afterthought
This study was conducted back in 1977, i.e. almost 29 years ago. If we were to conduct the same study again, would we come to the same conclusions? I do not have the answers to this question but one thing is for sure, as humans we are generally unsatisfied with our first choice. We change our jobs for better prospects, better salaries, higher positions, etc. Our next girlfriend/boyfriend must be better looking, smarter, richer, etc. than the previous one. We must constantly reach for higher grounds, better living conditions, bigger TVs, bigger cars, etc.
Is your next choice really going to be a better one? Will your next revision improves your poem? Will you really be more successful in your next job? How do you measure success? How do you know there wonÂ’t be a better person coming along your way after this one? When will it end?
I know I am not making much sense here but let me tell you a secret (well now it is not a secret anymore); yesterday I turned down an opportunity to be promoted two grades above my current grade. Yes, a double promotion and I turned it down. Sounds crazy? Maybe. I have my reasons but I am not going to explain them here. I know what I am doing but to be on the safe side, will you pray for me?
Afterthought II
I have a friend, okay, had a friend whose philosophy towards life is very simple – always go for the better option. Whenever a better girl comes along he will dump his current girlfriend and go after the new one. When he completed his National Service, the same pattern repeated: always go for the better option. He bragged that he never remain in the same job for more than two years.
I have no idea where he is now, what he is doing, or whether if he is married or still single. Maybe he is right in his quest to constantly seek for better things in life. But sometimes it is good to settle down, take a look around you and be grateful of what you have. There is always a better choice, but are you sure it is the right one for you? -
everyday is about making choices.
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Same here. I used to be afraid of making the wrong recommendation for my clinets, but now I've gotten over this fear.Originally posted by dsnake1:everyday is about making choices.