to the coward who flamed my sister's blog.

i came across this in my sister's blog.

9 Jul 09, 22:45
agirlandaboy.: * B I T C H
9 Jul 09, 22:44
agirlandaboy.: hey. u r a ***** la! same as ur fren!!! ur sis aso very ugly!! uhh!!

==============================

ah... the typical almost-anonymous cbox flamer. agirlandaboy, do take time to hear me out.

i still cannot believe you used the word "ugly". though you probably think it is a clever insult, don't you?

i know my sister well enough. she wouldn't retaliate. she'd refuse to stoop down to your level. in fact, she would simply ignore you. she wouldn't even bother to delete your cbox messages or the cbox, for it shall be testament to your unpolished self, for that is what you are... a low-browed coward who makes use of unintelligent and offensive words, for what purpose? to insult my sister?

oh but here's where realisation comes into play. do you really think that you are insulting my sister? do take time to ponder your actions... and your next words, though there should not be any. your actions have shamed no one but yourself. they also reflect upon your upbringing(not the nicest thing to say, but i pray you suck it up like the hero you imagine yourself to be). Joshua says he would like to teach you some manners. but that is clearly not his job, hence i will not let him. perhaps if you went home and consulted your parents, they would help you out.

next time you wish to say something, say it to her face. of course, it would still be as unintelligent(tho' we hope not), but at least you get points for bravery.

i hope you do not flame my blog after this. but, i am ready. though i'd usually "refuse to have a battle of wits with an unarmed opponent" firstly, because i am a gentleman. secondly, because you wouldn't understand half the insults that i'd be throwing at you. perhaps for you i would make an exception. be warned.
misbehaviour will not be tolerated. not by me, at least.

however, we do understand that you have your reasons for anonymous flaming. having so many things to say but having such low self-esteem, i bet it brings you so much comfort that your identity remains unknown while you let all your thoughts flow. It is okay. we understand =) don't do it again, yea? thanks and have a nice day.

hikikomori: avpd

i try to find the words to say
but they seem all too far away
far away beyond my reach
inspiration none could teach
would you hearken if i spake
that mere words be all it would take
to melt your stubborn heart

i try to reach my arms to you
but dreams seem too good to be true
true enough they scatter as dust
life seems almost too unjust
would you reach me through the haze
would you meet me if i gazed
into your dreamy eyes

i try to say a word or two
but one or two seems all too few
too few to draw attention here
to reach the comfort of your ear
would you listen if i tried
to say the words i never could
but think of everyday

each night i dream of seeing you
and hope that you would see me too
but to no avail does dreaming go
because you will never know..
each morning sings a symphony
every moment mocking me
i sit forlorn and hum a long
a nightingale without a song

note: the poet rolls his eyes at this poem. he thinks it was written by someone else.

musings of the angered muse

lo, we shall write forthwith
and forthwith i say
swiftly, make haste
do not delay
but she doth not heed
my tongue, not to-day
nor tomorrow
for she slumbers
... dreamless
my muse, she lies

oft clairvoyance-beckoned, she works
grunting o'er her prowess
begrudgingly doth she toil
scheming tomorrow's skullduggery
bellowing out all mortal coil

her woe, she makes evident
her anger, very well shown
gnashing teeth against each stroke quill'd
shall i regret when the hour is come
that scorned belle hath no fury like a muse half-kill'd

to the fairest

i remember the day i met you
i still think it is funny
how fate has its ways
of bringing people together
and tearing them apart
ripping open a broken heart
i scarce can say anymore

when the pain of writing
every verse
does not make the pain
of letting go any worse
than the pain of holding
on to you
and promises unkept

when tears drown out
whatever's left unsaid
when what's left of my heart
is but stippled flecks of red
excruciating pain seems but a joke
heartache seems a luxury
for now, to me...

the tiny fragments of my heart
lie over the ocean's floor
tho' the waters keep it safe
you cannot hurt it anymore
goodbye for now and tomorrow
perhaps if we see each other
i will smile at you when ready

goodbye for everyday i said hello
thinking i would never say goodbye
goodbye for every tear you shed
goodbye, my love, goodbye
goodbye til' my throat is sore
i will say this once, no more
goodbye, my love, goodbye

perhaps after all the pain
i will look back at myself and laugh
and reminisce about you and how
you were once a hand to hold,
somebody to love.


note: and so i split it, like a pair of eights.

Kallistēi

it was funny
you never called
never said goodbye
never said hi either
which was funnier

it was funny
you never cared
enough to care
tho' you tried
which was funnier

it was funny
how you lied
so many times
i believed you
which was funnier

really funny
how you brought hope
and took it back
...repeatedly
which was funnier

really funny
how you said
so many things
i refused to hear
so funny

so funny
how you blamed
your scars
for causing mine
at least i thought so

was funnier
how we turned out
how some things were
just not meant to be
...funny

it is funny
why no one is laughing
maybe it isn't funny anymore
maybe jokes grow cold
as do hearts.


note: this is supposed to be funny. read with a smile and laugh hysterically at the end of each stanza. short pause before each of every last two sentences for maximum effect.

maybe it hurts too much to laugh,
albeit it being so painfully funny.

once again.

from the same girl.

Whoever who gets tagged has to write 10 things about the person who tagged him/her:
1.) She cries easily
2.) She's sensitive
3.) She's pleasant
4.) She's usually quite jovial
5.) She has her sad moments
6.) She falls, picks herself up, and smiles.
7.) She's a little girl, despite the fact that she could watch PG-13 movies
8.) But she's pretty tall
9.) She's still little though.
10.) She likes Liverpool

The person who got tagged has to write 10 things about himself/herself:
The author of this blog
1.) refuses to reveal himself, though the pictures are already doing a pretty good job at that..
2.) thinks that the world is actually flat with infinite exact replicas of itself placed side by side on one plane, like a giant jigsaw puzzle... it is only due to the bending of light and such, that the earth looks spherical from out there, space, where the little brown box called "sun" is.
3.) needs aspirin
4.) needs more aspirin
5.) wonders... if you sleep in the morning and wake up at night, will breakfast still be considered breakfast?
6.) likes abstract paintings
7.) thinks too much, apparently... due to overthinking, he sometimes finds it hard to sleep. on such occasion, the immediate consumption of essence of chicken on the very next day is in order.
8.) as of now, his inspiration is on holiday in timbuktu or chernobyl... or so he thinks.
9.) perhaps he will write more when his inspiration decides that it's being an idiot and comes back home... provided that tests and exams are scarce
10.) needs aspirin.

Here's the twist, if I tagged you, and when you must write something about me, you can only take 5 or less from the above. the other 5 or more will have to be from you.

At the end you need to choose 10 people to be tagged and list their names:
1.) juju
2.) jiang may
3.) janna
4.) japhia
5.) anyone who wants to do this.

supposedly impersonal.

there's this girl... and she really wants me to do this. =(


A Picture of You at the Place You Dislike


A Picture of People Who Mean A lot to You (decided to go with the family picture. those of you who mean a lot to me. you know who you are.)


A Picture of You With The Lamest Pose (can't believe i'm actually doing this.)





A Picture of Someone Who Stands On Top of Your Heart


A Picture of You With Stuffed Toy (the closest i get to "stuffed toy")



A Picture of You in a White Shirt

fire, chagrin, darkness and love

so much uncertainty holds the future
so take two steps back for each one forward
take time to ponder, retrace your steps
take time to think before you relapse
to settle the vagueness or settle for vague
to do without, or to make do with

look both ways before dashing through fire
for life, tho' filled with wonders, withholds no fury
be watchful, resilient and ready
for the hour is at hand
the time is pledged to come
where for the sake of addressing matters deep
one forsakes all needs and wants
hesitant, he chooses which one to keep

love is indeed blind, so much
it knows not whom it smites
the smit, blinded by love
see the beauty of it all
not a care in the world
they laugh as they fall
to their own tragic deaths
almost righteous

the pain is bearable
but the confusion is not
the swarms are coming
they devour you as you rot
and your mind wonders
into the swirling pit
you've dug for yourself
a perfect fit
you are going nowhere

then from nowhere the sun emerges
the light is shed upon your head
all is aglimmer, and you find
the pit two, three feet tall
it was all in your mind
the lunacy of it all
you smile as your body fades away
a delicate flower by the sea
the soil tells each passerby
he loved again
in sin did he die

and such is the price for all to pay
for the sin of loving is great
no one escapes from judgment day
not he, not they, not today.

pas de deux: perplexité

the moment, 'tis dusk
over you i fawn
you are difficult
falsely withdrawn

ever i wait
tho' ever worn
anticipation...
still, left forlorn

i pine, i beg
i win no mercy
oh the suspense
is draining me

i wilt, i wane
and fade away
oh do make haste
oh do i pray

i die inside
but i stand strong
tho' i doubt i could last
'til night is gone

message after message
reply is the same
i'd very much like
to stop playing this game

so why don't you just
listen here, baby
just shut up
and kiss me already

The Poet Forsakes The Quill.

After much consideration, the poet decides to go on a month's hiatus.


p/s: on a personal note... i don't see the difference.

meine heimat.

the door is left ajar
without a thief in sight
silent music from a star
plays throughout the night

half a pint of ale
candle wax on the floor
broth, almost stale
from the night before

the stairs skreigh in rhyme
with the ticking of the clock
which strikes out of time
without a well-timed knock

the bed is woven thin
hence the sores upon my back
still i wake with a grin
for i am without lack

though i wander into space
wherever i may roam
there still is no other place
no other place like home


note: imperfection intended.