we cannot change the cards we are dealt,
just how we play the hand.
Friday, February 25, 2005
8:19 PM
Brunei
brunei, hail the land of oil
kingdom of plentiful soil
where farmers plough and soldiers toil
where muscles tummies go to spoil
days spent bashing hacking slashing
whilst in the jungles, we kept dashing
with scorpions arched and vipers slithering
and living leather's always lurking
but all good things must come to end
and in this midst we have to send
with a bow and a wave of the hand
the brunei soil back to its land
then comes time for R and R
but M and M it stood on par
Rest and Recreation was afar
Museums and Mosques aplenty void of bars
but all bad things too come to end
and in due time we packed our tent
heading back to our oil-free land
happy, beaming, and with a tan
and now us back to singapore
with SAFTI O.C.S no more
to signal institute, a whole new shore
a little new place we all look for
the voices in my head-
Sunday, February 13, 2005
9:02 AM
I went...
a little nut crazy last night and am flying off to the land of oil. will be back next wednesday.
the voices in my head-
Friday, February 11, 2005
2:20 AM
On Dreams
you know that little comprehension we embarked during that O level period? the one on that doctor rushing off to a patient on a late christmas night, only to discover this patient of 80 going through only a year of his life, aging a year physically in a biological week?
i shuddered when i awoke today. i dreamt that little dream today, and i got the worst of me as i stopped short in the middle of a breath, that little bubble of air stuck midway through my lungs.
i realised how true it were to my present sorry state.
just that this time, it weren't aging a year physically in a biological week, but a year mentally in a biological week. dreams are games without rules, and i like them as that, open and wild and fashionable and erasable.
but when you get an air freezing lung halting thought that runs parallel to your life, the game exists in some sort of vacuum where there is no beginning and no end, no space and no light.
and then you wish you would just get back to sleep again, where dreams rule your world, where you rule your dreams. as in a kingdom of one.
the voices in my head-
to whom it may concern
what were you thinking?!?
i can't love you not, my girl.
the voices in my head-
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
8:26 AM
Song of the Andúril
2:37am, feb 9th
prologue
each morn, the greygreen shadow of an old glassblower would rummage through the sands behind his yard, until the black speck would disappear into the whiteness of the foam that crash with a seeming gentleness.
for what search he, for whom search what, knows not whom. for there like jewels sunk in the deep shone glinting stars, though sunlight was in the sky above
till one day, one fine day of a 12th in a withering month, he picked a small (and beautiful) grain between the arms of a dale. the lesser grains were only essays in his craft before it was fullgrown, but this particular gem enticed him and his mastery, and every bit of lore he imbued into this gem, till one day he burst in song
the leaves were long, the grass was green
the hemlock-umbels tall and fair
and in the glade a light was seen
of stars in shadow shimmering
with that, he lifted the gem to the yard of a rising sun and the morn rays hit it at its apex, and without a stall of time the masterpiece blinded the old glass blower, cut his wrinkled index 7th half inch deep, and it so begins.
foreword
everyone needs that little bit of space. yes yes we all have commitments and responsibilities that squash us from our lefts and rights, but intangibles like these can be muscled out by a conceptual defiance.
but when it comes to people.
by the grace of God, such creatures may seem tangible, with cheeks pinchable and eyes fluttery, but within such tangibles lie a web of intangibilities that bemuse even the wisest. and thats why woe betide he who droops, slouches, doubled over the intangible tangibles that stress him from left and right, up and down. army and friends, lover and family.
companionship amidst schadenfreude und stressvolle entspannen sich
a fart to that
synopsis
i love you.
never before had i poured my heart so wholesomely over a single soul. never before had i teared over any with such kosher beads of salt. never before had i loved anyone, with such consummate passion.
but
you asked me, the last call, to love you
and i meant it when i said it
not with a jaded heart, or an aggrandising nature, but with that blueprint of the waikit that was torn apart beneath a void deck at clementi the days before my enlistment
girl
you deserve so much better. he who would be there every moment, he who would throw aside his all to be there by your side. he who would talk endlessly, about the littles and the alls of himself, and you could look into his eyes and for once, just be soothed by the trail of his voice. he who would exist just for you, for you to burrow and snuggle and hold, he who would travel half the world to see just that wisp of your hair
you deserve so much better, girl. for thats what you are
not me, a self consuming addict chained by self proclaimed addictions in the name of passions, and bounded by the parameters of my NS and social life.
for whatever little difference it quite made, for my inability to actually express what i had wished to portray, for the way it will never reach you quite the way i want it to, for the many moments of silence which only if i could string my words together in a song of Andúril, for the way i chucked you aside in times i needed you a tad less, and for all its apparent callousness, i loved you.
you told me once "one day when you grow up, you're gonna meet girls, and when you do, you treat them like princesses, cause that's what they are"
teach me, the next sorry person who would pick me off the shelf, to grow up
epilogue
bye, a limb to one of the coarsest profanity. and little wonder bye used in solitare, reflects a tame version of its root.
take a little moment and ponder. "bye, take care. bye, see you around. bye, love you." hardly would one ever dare use bye standing on its own
yet 2 byes we exchanged, and something turned in me. not a flicker of a flame in the heart, nor a spark of gleam that runs in my eyes, but something big. it didn't go black, or melted into a mist of lost love, rather, it just went. gone.
i felt empty, as though something died
why, i've never attended a funeral before. perhaps thats how mourners feel.
but its for the greater good, i say. in love the paradox occurs that two beings become one and yet remain two, and amidst this confusion i shall stay single till its solution bestow itself upon me
leaving for brunei this sunday mid, with an australia and taiwan heading my way. absence makes not the heart grow fonder, i rather not love than to be torn apart in this love. but perhaps its not even a matter of choice, i can't let my lover love a love as such. i can't
love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. love is a battle, love is a war, love is a growing up. and perhaps, just perhaps. one day, we would clasp our fingers once again, and i would say to you i've grown up
addendum
happy new year to one and all.
the voices in my head-
Friday, February 04, 2005
8:11 PM
Postings
something's obviously gone horribly wrong in the manpower branches of higher HQ, perhaps i'm one of those special personnel whose pink IC is chucked in an exclusive container dedicated to the SAF core of guinea pigs.
just when alpha wing was starting to grow on me, i have by the grace of God received yet another posting to another vocation. so now, if you were to continually track updates of the convivial little sergeant strolling about at sispec whilst now at ocs, one would have come to realise that i had been a recruit, private, coporal, sergeant, cadet and perhaps an officer in the near future. and walaa, just as i thought that rank was all which would be played about with me, my posting has now come along to toy about with my NS life too. been a trainee at bmtc, outfield galore at sispec bslc, then turned into a temporary clerk as my knees gave way, before returning to copious field exercises in foxtrot, passing out as a sergeant, instructing at sispec at a company in lull, then kicked off for ocs, deeper hell in alpha, and now.
i shall continue on the trek of my NS life, boundward for brunei and australia, with an antenna out of my head.
the voices in my head-
i love my girl. a love so beautiful, symmetrical, tangible
God loves me. a love so great, unconditional, real.
my life in a nutshell. working towards loves of sorts. beautiful, symmetrical, tangible, great, unconditional and real.
a page, deliberately left blank.
Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking.
It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.
I Corinthians 13:4-8
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