a W a k 3 n | n G *

Monday, February 27, 2006
3:25 AM

Heads or Tails

a long time ago..
i really
took the hand of a girl,
trembling and quivering.
i really
was an innocent boy
in an angelic relationship.
i really
fell for love
as love it was.

but of course, santa wouldn't drop by this year
i've been a really naughty boy

yes xiaowei, whoever said two heads were better than one?

the voices in my head-

Friday, February 24, 2006
11:49 PM

Small Things

do you notice the crimson sky
streaks of purple and patches of pink
fluffy clouds of an artist's wild strokes
the blossoming of a new day
the mark of a new beginning

light's most lovely at sparkling dawn
with the drip of dew and the rise of a cock
but then again, ain't it as beautiful
beneath the stars of wonder
at the dust of dusk

but as beauty beholds beauty goes
light after all, hasn't been tamed
so what say us about beauty and love
when the light has sizzled
when the passion has lost

love continues, as does pain
and i feel ever so more
crumbled.
but the girl holds on, as does her
patience
dedication
humility
tolerance.

Thank you for staying in my life.
How could I have ushered you away?
Another person might have made me pay,
Needing the sweet vengeance of my grief.
Kindness is in everything you do.
You must love me very much to stay.
Often now, some moment of each day,
Unbidden, I am grateful I have you.

the voices in my head-

Friday, February 17, 2006
11:36 AM

Bad Tempers and Such

today i crumbled like a danish cookie and my legs simply gave way. what folly to think there ain't limits to the human physique, only to learn it the hard way.
i am going to sleep,

for a long time.

the voices in my head-

Tuesday, February 14, 2006
11:26 PM

Valentine

i never quite cease to amaze myself
and to my valentine, i give you a conflagrant flicker of candles, a fiery display of my heart, and an impetuous wave of emotion.

and this is just plainly because, i could not love another girl.

the voices in my head-

Sunday, February 12, 2006
10:12 PM

What Matters

one dear friend is seeing some tough guy who's going to jail. to think she would have been that pampered thing all her life.
one extinct aquaintance is out from the bars, and a mysterious pub sprout up too. to think he would remain etched in my memory as a gang leader and a knife wielder.
one silly sergeant urines in a bottle, 8am sharp every morning. to think being an officer wouldn't involve starting each waking day fastening that wretched bottle with a little trace of pee slithering somewhere somehow.

so very complicated ain't it, the other side of the world.
and how tantalizingly close i've been and seen. each time i hear of such ones and tos i utter a little thank you, hands clasped in a dedicated moment to God and pray for merely, deliverance.

who ever really cares about your O levels?
do not despair dude.
and who ever really cares about your poly results?
do not despair babe.

it means naught, in this web of paths to cross and recross and intercross. it comes across to the same nut at the end of the day.

the voices in my head-

Friday, February 10, 2006
2:04 AM

A Most Tragic Tale

let me begin by saying it had been a most unfortunate accident
to have had a temporary madness.
a little quiver of the heart, followed by a fiery explosion
a shattering epi, and then just stillness.
like it had never been before.

two years less 4 days by a yarra
four years and thereabouts, of a veil and aisle
what promises we made
what love we shared
the bait well put,
come live with me, and be my love,
and we will some new pleasures prove
of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
with silken lines, and silver hooks.

i was all warm, and fuzzy
a little more like that cola
beneath a baking solar
for the midnight of a 12th it struck
so purposefully, so artlessly
a chord in my heart
for it was not into my ear you whispered,
but into my heart.
and it was not my lips you kissed,
but my soul

and so the prophet says
when love beckons to you,
follow him
though his ways are hard and steep.
and when his wings enfold
you yield to him,
though the sword hidden among his pinions
may wound you.
and when he speaks to you believe in him,
though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.
for even as love crowns you
so shall he crucify you.
even as he is for your growth
so is he for your pruning.
even as he ascends to your height and caresses
your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
so shall he descend to your roots and
shake them in their clinging to the earth.

the only unnatural sex is the inability to have sex
the only abnormality of men is the inability to love
but alas
the most natural and normal waikit is,
in love with no one.

but himself

the voices in my head-

Monday, February 06, 2006
1:12 AM

All Bait Albeit

i have developed a nasty habit these days.

i used to be that sentimental old thing, reminiscing about the blatantly stupid things we used to do in the past. mounting pizza crusts upon pizza crusts and training hamster acrobats in midday May and scribbling aWak3n|nG on fire extinguishers and measuring the amplitude of boobies with a curved ruler.. clichê as it goes, there is genuine pathos in the recollection of the past.

but now, such annals of the mind are suspended in coincidence, with a nasty habit on its rise. i now reminisce not only of the silly recounts of dances and chances, of amusement and bemusement, but of the little what ifs that could have happened beneath a cold night's blanket of drizzle. what if she had told me? i would ask myself so often these days. and what if i had told her?
to once have said that the ifs and buts are the thoughts of a fool. one has been born indeed.

forgive me girl, perhaps it had been just the afterthoughts of a little insanity. after all i've been humped by a pretty 12 year old thing this evening.

the voices in my head-

Thursday, February 02, 2006
2:32 AM

Fool of Treasures

there is precious little to treasure these days. sunny days of unadulterated basketball and nothing else fades into a little pocket of memory in the top left cranny of my otherwise quite exhausted mind. rainy days of getting cuddled in a once foreign NTU library, with ear plugs snugged shared between ears and stefanie sun blaring in the background amidst pelting rain has crept into a murky pool of history in the back bottom crevice of my ever wandering mind.

precious little that treasures what is fond these days. friends aplenty and friendships galore, brinks upon a memory that once hung on great times and nothing more. how long will my fort hold, how long will it last?
precious little that treasures what is loved these days. a little girl who gives her anything and everything but a little boy who takes her all, appreciative of naught and nothing.

in a nutshell, a fool is born.

the voices in my head-