On Fire

I long for a touch
The light to put out the night
The whisper that lingers
Between me and the edge

I long for the mystery
A thought that would not leave
A fire burning up slowly
A heart, a willing captive

I pray for one more chance
To be on fire
To breathe this mystery
To be close to Love again

Cos everything I know now
Feels like everything I hate
There’s no truth that I can take
There’s no truce that I can make

I long for you, again
For all the nights you’re near me
For all your mysteries
For all the fire you brought me

I pray for one more chance
To be on fire
To make these verses more than
Empty sounds and empty words

Cos I finally know now
You’re the chance I want to see
You’re the times to truly live
You’re one last chance that I’d take

I’ve been burnt
But I’m still on fire
Whenever I think
When you come around

You and your mysteries
You’re a mystery…
I’m on fire…

---------------------------------------

Its's Valentines Day today, I'm longing to be on fire. Burn me again, won't you?

I know you're lighting up another night somewhere out there.

You're always crazy that way. You're always beautiful that way.

That's why you've always had a way. That's why you're a mystery, at the edge of me.

Burn me again, won't you?

A New Start

These points we’ve chosen
Along our lives
They form our destiny

One step with another
One point, one day
One breath by you and me

Across, over and beyond
We walk, step to fly
Away from mediocrity

With only truth to heart
We remain on these paths
And push on with tenacity

For each point we may choose
Shall lead to another
Arriving, a renewed destiny

Song For A Friend

Your skies have turned to grey
Fade to black
No more familiar sounds
To come home to

You have made me whole
And made me smile
When nothing was ever enough
But now you're gone

NOW THERE'S JUST A SPACE
WHERE YOU ONCE LAY
AND IT'S YOUR FACE I SEE
IN EVERY PLACE

You never knew just what
You've done for me
I've tried to carry you
And give you everything

Now that you're gone
Who'll break my fall?
Now that you're far away
Who'll help me carry on?

NOW THERE'S JUST A SPACE
WHERE YOU ONCE LAY
AND IT'S YOUR FACE I SEE
IN EVERY PLACE

They say that all dogs
Go to heaven
I say that of all dogs
You were my heaven

NOW THERE'S JUST A SPACE
WHERE YOU ONCE LAY
AND IT'S YOUR FACE I SEE
IN EVERY PLACE

NOW WHO IS GOING TO SAVE ME
WHEN YOU'RE GONE?
WHO'LL WATCH OVER ME
WHEN YOU'RE GONE?

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

Because loss was will never be easy to deal with. No, not for you.

Running Out

Should the world come crashing
When life itself seems spinning
Can no one set this right
Will we last this night

Cast it all into the sunrise
Watch the fire come to life
Breathe like you’ve got nothing to loose
Oh, this is a life we must choose

On the brink of another life
An enigmatic sign that it’s alright
We shall rise above today
To find it all, ready to go our way

Release

Behind the calm
Beneath the quiet breath
A spirit remains
Ready for the test

Within the silence
Behind the burning memory
A desire brews
Yearning for release

Let the winds open your heart
Let time guide your way
Believe in a brand new start
You've got to find a way

You will find a way

You suffer the burden
Of a persistent hopefulness
Though paths cross
And doors led to emptiness

Yesterday held little
Nothing was what it seemed
You had to find a way
To wake from this bad dream

So let the winds open your heart
Let time guide your way
You'll make a brand new start
Believe in a better day

Just when you stop believing
When it all seems to stop
When the dreams become faded
And your hands become jaded

You've got to find a way
To live another day

Let the winds open your heart
Let new dreams spread your wings
Today, to a new start
Hold on, pray and fly away

Hillsong

Oh hills,
You are our loyal chaperon.
How gentle you are,
To show us your rivers
Your lights and your people.

Oh sun,
You are our enigmatic guide.
How warm you are,
To come to wrap us for only hours
In your glow and your blessings.

Oh wind,
You are our lasting companion.
How constant you are,
Early to rise and last to sleep,
You never tire of whispers
Nor fail to go unoticed.

Oh Chiang Rai,
You are our loving parent.
How you have give us all,
From hills to sun and wind,
You've shown us your people
And through them, ourselves.


JKLM

Christmas Wind

Christmas Wind
'O Christmas Wind
What joy your whisper brings

We have no snow
Nor cosy glow
That fireplaces may bring

But we'll still bring joy
With carols and toys
And all our hearts shall sing

Wine Again

Let the night

Be our concierge.

Let the wine

Be our chaperon.

May our words

Be the threads

That bind us closer

Than time could ever do

You are no dreamer

With your eyes on me

And I am no fool

To know that we're one

At the toll of midnight

Alas we shall part

Like fairy tale lovers

Back to our savage gardens

We shall miss the night

The song and the words

That could have made us dance

Or made us complete

You're just a part of me

I can't let go

I'm just a part of you

That refused to leave

Dancer

I watched you move
Out of my desire
Glowing and defiant
An auburn fire

You stepped and jumped
In your stage sun
Audienced in darkness
You were second to none

As I melt away
Into the one and many
Would you know
That I had been one of your many?

Oh dancer,
You inspire so much
Yet give me so little
Without the slightest touch

When at last
The curtains call
When thunder erupts
And roses fall

Would you know
That I couldn't breathe
When you spun
That dance into a myth

Within your bow
Within your smile
There lies your answer
"It was for you, all this while,"

Given in love
Received in grace
Your dance is the sun
My bringer of days

Incidental Art #2

Me?

I'm tired of being me.

I'm lost in my crow's nest

Sick of giving my best

Only to have my mates

Give me a fiery rebate

Would you care to switch

Your days for my ditch

Away from safe harbours

Into the arms of thunder

Incidental Art #1

There was a quiet

A burden removed

From shoulders tired

For a while, soothed

In that passing

Within that peace

My eyes were willows

Sighing to the breeze

Joy! What I had found

Is a secret garden

Within stony fields

Like Hope beneath my burdens

A Book Returned

My pages are freckled
Worn by casual hands
My skin, it's endured
The breath of another land

My love still runs as deep
Unchanged as before
if I let you in
I'm sure you'll want more

I started out prestine
All crisp and brand new
Now I've turned vintage
From my time with you

Yes, you say I'm still lovely
Yes, you adore my new look
But so quickly returned
From whom I was took

It takes more than time
To scarr a clean look
What once was given
Shouldn't be returned, like this book

Rainy Night

In the wind-swept avenues
The rain-cleansed streets
A torrent of leaves crackle
Like a whip against my feet

The endless drops roll on
From above against our skin
Against the walls we hide
Begging for the warmth within

A sheet of rain came greeting
Cold silk of welcome for me
Each step I took within them
Brought kisses both wet and free

Years ago I used to love
To share my song with the rain
These days my old heart wonders
If these bones would protest in pain

Ah, rainy night, you ease my soul
You bring to me much joy
With playful wetness and quick carrasses
The night, she is your voice

Mountaineer's Song

Singing rock, O' singing rock
For whom do you song?
Why do I hear your glories
Long after I am gone?

I know that you are waiting
I hear your whispering winds
I miss your strong character
That bend my soul to a whim

How you have been patient
Teaching me in silent grace
That I may know your secrets
If only I pledge my days

Singing rock, O' singing rock
How I dream of your song
In my nights of engineered reality
I will return, it won't be long

I Already Love Her

She turned my chaos into light
When my days all feel like nights
Gave me another reason to fight
To seek, to find, to love this life


Oh how it stirred my weary soul
Sparked a desire to have and hold
She was the flame against my night
"But it cannot happen," I was told

Oh the bitterness I felt
The anguish my reality dealt
That I must bend like the others
And not follow what I felt

But these moments are wise
For possession has a great price
To be paid by captor and captive both
For love to be bound in its device

What is free must remain so
Lest we forbid love to grow
We cannot keep what we cannot hold
Much less fit pure love into a mould

After much deliberation,
I reconsidered the situation
I guess I already loved her
Without the meaningless posession

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

I've tried many times before to "love" so many people, only to end up temporarily elated by the illusions I chose to see and believe. But this peace is fragile, and indeed none of my previous "loves" lasted very long. Not to say that I wasn't serious about them, but I certainly didn't know what was truly wrong.

I'm only beginning to see that many of the things I've done in the past have stemmed from my obsessive pursuit of purpose and romance. They have undoubtedly shaped me and convinced me of some approaches in life, where some of my greatest mistakes involved trying to possess what was once free, and to force love to conform to my romantic ideals.

Ah such mistakes do not reveal themselves easily or quickly, because we would surely have been blind in our pursuits; our mental gaze tunneled by our personal histories and past baggages. A continuous and thorough evaluation of one's life would be necessary to begin the journey of self-discovery -- for it is only after finding yourself, that you can truly find, and love, someone else.

Save Your Dreams For Another Day

Catcher, oh dear catcher
Can you hear me?
Do you know my heart?
For you hold my dreams

Do you save them
In those precious gems
That wink at me
In the night wind

I see in your eye
The promise of truth
A reason for my sigh
A hope for the missing

Catcher, oh dear catcher
How dear you are to me
I wish for your magic
To keep my heart

You'd guard my secrets
You'd stop the tears
You'd help me learn to save
My dreams for another day

Black Wings In The Night

You gave me a chance
To know how it feels
To fly upon wings
A freedom so real


I could have been Hermes
Through these night moments
When your precious gifts
Sailed me on streetlamp oceans


These black wings
Though are old
Their strong sweeps
Lend a power so real


Oh if only I could
Keep this up
But I've much to learn
Of this new art


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



Thank you for the rollerblades :)

Dreaming

I had a dream last night
You were in my arms
And it felt right

It was unexpected
I didn't dare consume
The grace of your affection

Your shoulders nuzzled me
Your hair whispered scents
But your face I couldn't see

I knew your shape
I had seen it before
Burned into my head

I knew your smell
And that soothing warmth
You were like a spell

Alas, who you my dear are
I may never know
Only to guess by far

For now I'm left
With your lingering love
And the sigh of your breath

Beautifully Broken

These streets
They are filthy
These rags
They don't fit me

My life
It's here for all to see
I'm poor
Born into your destiny

I have no name
They say I'm a son-of-a-bitch
It's all the same
Another name from their lips

My mom
She might as well be dead
My father
He's got drugs in his head

Someone said
That I look like a angel
Someone said
That I would soon be legal

Red lights
These walls, my home, cold
These men
At night they come, bold

I live here
In the backstreets of Calcutta
I'll be free
But all I've known is here

I Wish You Love

I have no excuse,
And there's no use,
To hide the love
I see in your eyes.

A love you gave
The love I saved
Inside this heart
Afraid yet enslaved

We've both had our truths,
We've both had to choose
This wine became vintage
Its full bouquet bloomed

We've lived these years
With our romantic fears
Too old for this philosophy,
Too young to stay clear

I'm a fool to have longed
To have waited wrong
When you wished me love
All along.

Confessions Over Tea

We'll lay it bare
In her cozy care
We'll fight the tears
Share out these fears

With creased smiles
And endearing frowns,
Like a mellow flame
We're warm with pain

Time will be our mistress
Tonight she keeps our secrets,
Our shattered pieces
And dearest misses.

We will surrender,
Quietly confess to her
While speaking of clouds
Like dreams and doubts.

Learning Compassion

FOR IAN:

Since I've learned to fight
I've been told that I
Should understand this rule
Marked in black and white

Live well and give your best
But there will come a test
Nothing is beyond its grasp
Nothing can teach death

But I was young
And I was stubborn
Too darn quick
With my sleek wit

Too soon your eyes grew shut
Against my late compassion
Upon your marble altar
I wished I hadn't judged

A loss is still a loss
In your wake come many
We offer our late praise
For life's greatest lesson

the queen

rule the earth
rule the seasons
regardless

bring the wine
bring her flowers
endless

there she rules
on jewel throne
graceful

but she cries
those opal eyes
inside

there's so much pain
from here
there's no one close
deep inside
all she gives is not
enough
and it can get really
silent

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

Beauty in darkness
darkness in beauty,
One's perspective
Another's prejudice

One For The Twilights

Feel the burn

Taste the morning in her kiss.

Feed the beast,

Steal it from her blushing lips.


One by one,
Whispers sing of giving in
Yearn for more
Taking can be such sweet sin


Because when morning comes
This bliss shall die
With the coming of life
We must run and fight

So I shed my skin
My fears and all my years
You strip me down
And take me in

Then we breathe in the stars
And with molten souls
The bliss it sings
In silent choir

For just a while
There is no fear
Feel it melt away
And leave us here

In the silence
In each other's silence

So much is in vain
My dear
There was so much pain
That we forget

We come alive before
The mornings come
Before we're silenced
And it's really silent

Most of The Time

We live and we breathe
We think and make believe
Most of the time

You fill these empty spaces
With the grace of angel faces
Most of the time

You give all that I can take
You give yourself away
Most of the time

I've tried so hard to stop
Against the hands of clocks
To buy some time

To hope in time
That this would all be fine
Most of the time

Now I live and breathe
With all my memories
I make believe
Most of the time

Tribute

A tribute to my fate
Weaved of love and beauty
Framed in such irony

Like a dreamers' love
Spun in gold and glitter
Thrown like wind blown cinder

I've found a truth
A truth about my loves
Two enchanting, ironic loves

Your free and lively natures
I fear to live and leave about
But cannot live without

I'd chase after your halos
To chase but not to steal
To seek that secret thrill

I crave to hold but just a while
Your tender brilliance
Your fragile spark

But alas I will lose you
For you cannot be owned
Not by my choice alone

For you see the question is
Not if I could love you
For I surely do

And not if you could love me
But if you
Would choose to

I guess I'm finally happier now
Knowing what I did not
But still ignorant about a whole lot!

The Hardest Things

"Love the heart that hurts you, but never hurt the heart that loves you"

"The only way to navigate Love
Is to be lost within it
It is neither a beast to be conquered
Nor a thought to be cornered
You are a guest in its presence
A voyeur in the dark
So feast not
Rather be the feast
Worthy of legends
For there is no sweeter ecstasy
Than the nectar
That is the yearning of your heart"


I received these blessed words from an old friend.

These words are simple, but I don't know what they mean. I read them over and over again, only to find myself lost in their dreamy rhyme.

I feel so jaded. Won't you come back and save me?

Sunshine

I could be happy
Just watching you glow,
Your glorious orange crown
Warms up my soul.

From a humble afterglow
A hint of the night,
Your brilliance comes burning
In molten light.

Like a match burning backwards
You burst into day
From a shy blushing amber
To a bright bold gold

I could be happy
Just watching you rise
All your golden caresses
They kiss my eyes.

Don't you ever stop smiling
You give me life,
If you ever stop coming,
I'd surely die...

Altar

On these steps I lay
Thinking 'bout your face
I feel it
Draw your curtains close
Against this cold

Just moments ago
We were dancing in
The twilight
Rising with the sun
Our souls unfold

In time you could be
All that I would know
My dreams are waking
And I'm loosing hold
Who's to say I'm coming round to you?


Upon these knees I've fallen
I've prayed for so long,
The thought of you
It's feeding this fire inside.
Won't you descend and save me
With the grace of your song,
Upon this altar I'm kneeling
In search of a sign.


Candles burn true
My lies they are these shadows hiding
From my eyes
From my life

In search of a truth
I look upon each altar I pass
From dreams I run
In search of you.


Upon these knees I've fallen
I've prayed for so long,
Your touch I feel it feeding
This fire inside.
Won't you descend and save me
With the grace of your song,
Upon your altar I'm kneeling
I'm waiting for your sign.

Disclosure

Tonight is a night unlike many I’ve had. It is rare, for I find myself wanting to write and rhyme but blessed with far more cords than I can weave. As if a whisper from the moon had smoothed its way past the clouds, my heart is cooled by reality yet warmed by its sudden recollections.

In the night sky lie my answers. This night sky, this full moon is to blame for a great many things that have chanced me so far. Aren’t you, my old friend?

I have had the pleasure of three great loves in my life so far: the stars, the moon and the clouds. Of course, I am constantly invited and ticked by the winds, with whom I gratefully converse and share my wisdom, but I don't fancy them. Allow me now, to share with you these precious pieces of my heart.

O' Stars, celestial but unreachable; glorious in your heavenly throne, I think you exotic. Because I can never have you, I think our distance fated and made all the more charming by your winking smiles. Such vivid romanticism you offer me.

Dearest moon, for so long, so many have loved your presence. I too was not spared your omnipresence; your silver gown brought my senses to their knees and inspired these reckless poets to adorn you with mysticisms as witness to your beauty. My kingdom’s was fragile, but I was too proud to think otherwise.

Lovely clouds; oh, how limitless you seem – shapeless and giving, urging myths of your own from the many scattered souls that you shower. You are earth-bound; though my floating soul craves for moon and star, you inspire its youthful imagination as you exist seamlessly with gold and silver, day and night. You were always there, after the moon was gone.

“I miss you all, oh so very much.” I think, making love to this night scene with my eyes. “You are all so beautiful,” I admitted, “and deserve more than the pathetic private worship of this madman who burns his words the way he does himself.”

This cauldron of ink, silver, diamond and silk returns my stares; it offers me silence, and echoes of my desperation. I find myself wondering again why I still feel as if nothing could anchor my sleepless soul, as if I once had everything, but now can only want everything.

No matter my disposition, my loves have always lived and changed with the night sky on their own decision. I bid goodnight to them: to the stars, for whom I will always smile and wonder, but know in secret that I may never be with, if I may only dream. The moon, who still curls my lips with her silver fingers, and make me sigh because I once dreamt.

And of course, and perhaps most lovingly, to the clouds for whom I now give all that’s left of my love, gingerly exploring her silken broadways in search for her cheerful and light kisses. With the clouds, the winds are common-folk, and oh, do they love to dance and cheer. They make me smile, even if only for a while.

“I guess it makes sense to say this here then,” I smiled to myself.

“I love you, you know I do.”

Finally.

Woman

What is it
About the shape of a lady
That whispers
To me a quiet story
Of love, of fear
Of dreams and fragility

What is it
About the geography
Of a woman
That sings
A bittersweet melody,
A gentle garmet
That reins in any stallion


(Incomplete, but this poem came to my mind some time ago while I wandered the streets of Manila. I'm sure I can do a better job, but I just liked the way this half-baked fantasy waylaid my thoughts.)

Before Sleep Took Me Under

When my mind is drugged
When my eyes are haunted
By ghosts
And dreams departed,

Through nostalgia thick
I bargain soul and will
For something other
Than thoughts of you.

You are there,
But I can't care,
For nothing else
Cos I want you here.

Adrift on melancholy
A sigh heavy with old love,
These ghosts
Still test my worth.

In light I walk
In darkness I sleep
When will you
Leave my jaded lips?

Unbelievale

Could it be
That I'm finally free,
Given the chance
Again to dance
In the sunshine
That you have made mine?

Slowly these vines
That grew my lines,
Stopped to creep
And went to sleep.

Thus I woke
In the golden yoke
Of shunshine and moonlight
And the comforting sight
Of your smile
And our idle sighs.

Gifts

Said a gentleman,
To a lady fair
‘In and with tradition
I bring thee grandé fare.’

‘From the Orient Pearl
I bring forth spices
I bring forth jewels
For m’lady’s devices.

Perhaps most of all
I bring thee wisdom
No stories tall
Nor thoughts random

What is happiness
But a bad memory,
In times of forgetfulness
We know that pain is temporary.’

Evolution

Beauty begets beauty
Your painted reality
Versus my wounded dignity

How your words evolve
Slow but with resolve

From yesterday’s gloom
To today’s bloom
Your light still fills my room

Metro Mayhem

This modern shack
This urban sprawl
This is Manila
Sunset, nightlife and all.

On a pushcart
One sells art
On another
Lies a family in parts.

Someone’s daughter
Cradling her baby sister
By the roadside
Invisible to passers.

Someone’s mother
Busy touting flowers
To highway pilots
Who don’t seem to bother.

Someone’s brother
Hunched like a scholar
Atop his trash bag chair
A book he devours.

In my clothes I feel rich
In my dignity I feel sick
I can’t think
When she came to me
Palm open
And a look so deep
I felt a kick

She had long ago learnt
Not to yearn
But to live
And wait her turn

A Hot Night On the Cold Sidewalk

Have you slept
Under the stars?
Would you sleep
Unafraid on grass
Under a moon
A tungsten bloom.
Could you dream alone
Stay warm in a cupboard dome.
Could you do without a home?
Could you even live without your phone?

Manila!

In one piece,
Hotel room finally at ease.
To the mambo of MTV,
A mirror of her sister [V].
Diverse and divided,
Night lights excite a soul, uninvited.
Foreign.

Revival

From casual conversation
A jewelled inspiration
Bore a fragile twinkle
A drop and ripple.

A simple gift
Of words and myth
Of song so sweet
Soundless from these lips.

Enjoy, for
This revival,
Unexpected
Is jaded.



BROWN PENNY

I WHISPERED, 'I am too young,'
And then, 'I am old enough';
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.

'Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair.'
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.

O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.

Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.

~ William Butler Yeats

Shutting Down

I've been contemplating this for some time.

Perhaps I should shut down this blog and move on out. Away from all this.

I love to write, to rhyme, to carry on this comfortable madness. But I have found nothing but sadness so far. While sadness is beautiful and beauty is priceless wine, I find that I can stomach little more.

I'm sick of its taste. Oh, the bittersweet nectar that flows through my senses and nuzzles my soul. I've been intoxicated, and now, hungover.

This time, I have perhaps been truely left with nothing. Because I have to build up so many things again from scratch, at work and at home. I find myself stretched, and wanting.

Wanting healing more than anything else. Because my wounds are old, and beginning to stink.

I feel like a fizzling sparkler left in the dark after the celebrations are over...

I'm shutting down this woozy nausea of rhyme and rhythm, and moving on to a harder skined beast to hide my soft underbelly. My words will poison another heart no more.

More updates on my new digital canvas coming soon.



JKLM

My New Baby

http://www.rp.sg/osg/sports/ivp.asp

http://www.rp.sg/osg/republic/index.asp

My new baby; my new muse.

My new want-it-all focus of my life.

Check it out. Comments are welcomed.

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

I'm moving from one obsession to another in my life. Now isn't that healthy?

I'm finally happy. And that's why I've stopped rhyming for a while. Music and poetry is at their sweetest for me when it's dark.

Oh don't worry. They'll be back. They're already a part of me.

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

Thank you for being there with me through it all.

I guess we both just need more time. For now.

Who knows what else will happen tomorrow?



JKLM

Article #04

Here's a sample of one of the articles that I've worked on for my department. Darn... this one sure took a long time. Too much info, too many inspirations and ideas, not to mention too many noteworthy gold-dust moments.

I'm trying to polish up my writing as well as work towards establishing a sports publication for my department. Simply because the kids deserve it. And once you've seen them perform on their personal battlefields, you're sure that they will be able to surprise you again.

This site will change too, hopefully, into a sort of periodical layout. Just for kicks...

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

3RD NATIONAL INTER-GRASIO PENCAK SILAT CHAMPIONSHIPS 2006:
Beyond A Sport; Into Pesilat


What do you know about Silat? A soldier’s conviction is best communicated through his unyielding stance, but how much deeper is the true extent of a warrior’s soul, and the cause for which he fights?

Pencak Silat has made its presence felt in Singapore since its humble beginnings at Masjid Al-Khair mosque in 1977, and it has since then grown and evolved to become a modern interpretation of chivalry for the local Malay/Muslim community. With about 3000 students, over 60 instructors and many more supporters rallied behind the flag of this sport, Pencak Silat has pervaded Singapore through its training centre at Residents’ Committees and Community Centre, and made an undeniable impact in the region during the Asian and Commonwealth Games.

Locally, Pencak Silat is taught and managed through the traditional hierarchy system of a National Sports Association (Singapore Silat Federation), its constituent clubs and affiliates. The Grasio Association is Singapore’s largest Silat club, with an active membership of over 2000 from over 70 constituent grass-roots groups. And it is this mammoth club that took the initiative to organize this explosive national event.

From 22nd to 25th December 2006, RP’s familiar AGORA Halls were converted into the modern battle grounds for Singapore’s Pencak Silat practitioners. Regardless of age, skill and race, over 1000 warriors clashed in close to 20 events to pursue the ideals of Pesilat and bring glory to their Grasio group. Never mind that the event stole Santa’s limelight, as it turns out, the participants received their fair share of goodies this Christmas and had plenty to cheer about.

Over 1000 members put aside their holiday plans and devoted their time tirelessly under the leadership of their Grandmaster and local Silat hero, Mr. Sheik Alau’ddin Bin Yacoob Marican, PBM. Mr. Sheik’s experience as a Silat practitioner and coach is undeniable: as a two-time World Silat Champion, multiple SEA Games gold medalist as well as a multiple award-winning coach, his presence immediately commanded the respect and attention of all who were present. The success of this event was a clear testament to team spirit of the Grasio Sports Silat School, and Mr. Sheik’s experienced guidance.

The energy exhibited at this event was cumulated at the opening and closing ceremonies. Like a great mythical monkey, the spirit of camaraderie and anticipation of competition rose steadily with the excited chatter and eager shifting feet in the AGORA Halls. Once the GOH arrived on-site, traditional Malay musical percussions thundered in a synchronized heartbeat through the halls;. Like a jungle tune of raw energy, kompangs and rebanas singing proudly their praises for the gregarious spirit of Pesilat and the unity of the local Malay / Muslim unity.

Throughout the rest of the event, competitors contested in a range of contact and non-contact forms of Silat. Some of the highlights included contact sparring between contestants as young as 5 years old, as well as an all-stars sparring match between 5 of Gasio Sports Silat School’s representatives and a rival local school. A first in this national Silat championship is also the All-Styles Open Championships, which feature full contact sparring and a no-styles –barred. Due to the rigorous demands of this segment, strict requirements and rules were imposed to ensure fair play and healthy competition.

There was plenty to see and cheer about in this championship. Confident and powerful stances displayed by experienced Silat practitioners inspired their younger apprentices, while precisely synchronized movements from youths in the Group Sparring Art Form segments earned thumbs-up from even some of the strictest instructors. I was inspired by what I had the priviledge to witness, but even more so intrigued by this art-sport that was Pencak Silat.

As I had come to understand, Pencak Silat in Singapore today was first conceived through the warring cultures of feudal Indonesia, in the Nusantara archipelago. This art of self-defense was subsequently forged through the ages by a mix of tradition and modernity, eventually giving rise to the dynamic art-sport we see today. Pencak Silat is still taught in Singapore with a style that respects and honours its traditional emphasis on honesty, justice, respect, discipline and loyalty, yet acknowledging our changing way of life through the accommodation of personal style and alternative training methods.

The purpose of Grasio Association (Singapore), as intended by its founder Mr. Sheik Alau’ddin, was not only to reach out Malay community, but also to other races, focusing on the promotion of self-development and improvement through self-discipline and learning the technical aspects of the sport. Indeed, it must demand much self-discipline of individuals to learn the skills of fighting and to gain the knowledge of mental training while controlling the desire to misuse of abuse it.

This understanding and respect for the old-world values of justice and honour can perhaps be best summarized in the Pesilat Pledge. This pledge is a symbolic representation of Pencak Silat’s warrior roots, and more significantly stays throughout the ages to remind all practitioners of its timeless and true values. I like to think of these as the modern knights, and the re-discovered oaths of their round-table.

Pencak Silat is a sport based on fitness, built on technique and refined through its values. Above that, Silat is a way of life, for its passionate practitioners and for the lives which they have changed. Many youths found their way around their teenage problems through healthy engagement in this sport, while many other found their higher calling in pursuing the physical limits and achievements in the national and regional sports scene. For many years now, Pencak Silat has touched and affected lives of its practitioners, and it will continue to do so, much thanks to the efforts and wisdom of its celebrated leader and local hero, Mr. Sheik Alau’ddin.

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

Pesilat Pledge
Pesilat is an individual who has noble mind and character.
A Pesilat is a man who honors his fellow man and loves friendship and peace.
A Pesilat is a man who always thinks and acts positively, creatively and dynamic.
A Pesilat is a knight who upholds truth honesty and justice, and is always resilient in facing any ordeal and temptation.
A Pesilat is a knight who is always responsible for his words and deeds.

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

This just so characteristic of my style. I'm now desperate to evolve and grow; in writing, in appetite and in senses I'm hungry, oh yes once again, for more. And that's exactly what I'm gonna get -- one way or another.

Comments?

Get me at limjunekiat@gmail.com


JKLM

Sliding

I've been sliding off the communications grid for some good reasons.

1) Work is a relentless tide of deadlines, responsiblities and ideas. Especially so when my manager is all about the job, the perfect role model -- efficient, smart and without an extremely diversed social life.

I'm just the new maverick in the deck. "You do too much. You're still new, that's why you try to do everything; I was once like that," I was told. I don't believe in that bullsit. For someone like me, it takes a fair bit to make me regret my decisions -- I'm way too romantic for that.

I love my job, though. Can't say the same for some of the colleagues, but I guess you'll get used to their habits after a while.

2) I've been racing. Adventure races are my new muse. There's just something about having the official excuse to monkey about on a forest trail, tearing through gravel patches on a bicycle and commanding your gear to help you achieve a common objective that makes me so happy.

Yes, I don't mind getting dirty too. It's just a part of the journey, and an essential part of a racer's ultimate image.

3) Observing things and people. Oh, the sweet tireless roaming and romantic eye -- it never sleeps.

I still love to look at people and watch the world around me. With a fair amount of certainty, I dare say that "everything" is getting prettier by the days. The evolution of packaging, promotions and presentation have surpassed my previously cynical curiosity of the flesh and material. If I weren't so shy, I'm sure I'd now be a bit of a shark in these shirts I wear.

Needless to say, I have at times wondered if I'm one of the several unfortunate drop-outs from evolution. Every cycle needs them -- every wave of popular culture needs people to push aside.

Then again, with a tan that makes me look like I've been holidaying in the bahamas could also mean that I've just stepped out onto an alternate image path. Ah, but for something classy...

4) I'm about to embark on a very big personal project. A cross between publicity efforts for sports and sports journalism, I'm championing a campaign to develop my school's sports identity. I've got a plan; now let's see if I've got the brains to make it happen.

My blog will change in its format too, to suit this new direction. You, my reader, will get a first-hand experience of what it is that I'm working on. Soon.

5) I'm still searching for answers. I really ought to stop, but it's like asking me not to think about you.

I typically start off wondering about how you're doing, and then I remember things I really ought to forget. And just as suddenly, stop myself with just a simple answer: it doesn't matter now -- you're happier.

Between the gaps in deadlines and personal spaces, I don't always mope about these hopeless pursuits. I'm, shall we say, colder now; shutting down and shutting out anything that seems to stem from inside.

Oh, it would be easy to avoid feeling; not stop altogether, for that would be improbable and unproductive. Perhaps with time I will really become the Leo I truely am -- hearless killer when I want, a family animal when I am needed. We'll see.

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

Merry Christmas, everyone.



JKLM

Run

I went on a run today.

Plugged into my portable disco, the first few steps felt effortless. Pretty soon, the smooth blend of vinyl and electronica eased its way into my step, and nudged my still-lively steps into a synchronised prance. I had this faint recollection of myself sitting in a pub somewhere, my lungs panting slightly in the dank blend of machine and tobacco smoke and my eyes squinted against the incoming neon arrows. I was chillin' then, but that's exactly how I feel now -- on the run.

My music was an easy chillout mix from the Ministry of Sound. And how fluid this electronic whisper was, always giving in easily to the demanding rigidity of the run yet nudging my mind to disengage from the physical experience. Come hither to a universe of bubbled tranquility. Oh I was in my own world, breathing with and to this intimate electronic heartbeat. Step upon step, the fragile bubble of peace reinforced itself and reassured my mind of its continued existence. But all it takes is for a familiar sound, one that synapses with emergency, anxiety and danger -- any sound. The bubble is burst, and my peace is assasinated. Within a few scattered steps and panicky glances, I regain my form. Within those few scattered steps, my ears are captive to the hypnosis of my chillout mistress.

The music, she is like my guide.

As the run wears on, I become accustomed the enveloped tranquility and grow more aware of my body. I noticed that I run with a perculiar emphasis on my right side -- only a slightest hint of over-exerting on the master-limbs. Ah, the traitor is in the swinging napsack strap. The right strap appears to have a life of its own and clings to my right sleeve on each upswing of my arm. My left is expectedly indifferent.

The music, she is like my lover.

She is fickle, but she has my attention. She plays a tune to me just long enough for me to begin appreciating its exoticness; then she leads me on with a trailing rhythm, only to coax me into a different song, so that I would miss the one just past. She knows how to stir my blood with a simple and subtle change in tune and rhythm. She holds her pace just long enough for my breathing to catch on. She lets me work my body with one she throws to me. Then subtly, I am at her mercy, because I cannot move to another; she works me now, to a different beat. And she makes my heart want to race, with this subtle change.

With and for my music, I run faster.

Then, she leaves.

And I am where I started. Home.

I went for a run today.

I returned from a journey instead.


JKLM

Only A Feeling

Love is perhaps the greatest of all illusions.

It appears unnecessary at times, even unwanted. At others, it can bring a man or even a nation to its knees. Legions of tough-nailed soldiers have shed more blood than gained glory in the name of their enamored ideals, be it in a person, a hope, or an abstract concept of a preferred way of life.

It is no doubt good friends with its dark neighbours, and enhanced both ways by romanticism. The great vehicle on which love rides is a royal mare, untarnished even in the damndest weather or unforgiving terrain. And on this mystical creature, even the most hollow of ideals will glow with a commanding halo, shining a truthful light and generously handing out gifts of its easy-going relative: hope. Ah... the right words and images at the right time can indeed work "miracles". Of course, they fool the eyes and mind too. The heart? Isn't it always a willing participant in these affairs?

Well, love is more than a feeling. That is, my opinion of course. I may have been hurt and bruised through my cursed quest for a receipient of my over-romanticised emotions; it is with the same obvious fragility and mystical strength that envelopes love, that I approach life. If I cannot love a person, I shall try to love life. Well, that may include selling my soul to the next higher bidder, but then again, I'm not one for flings. I'd love each turn I take along this road as if it were the last in my journey, for truely, I can't be sure. And it is only through such pain-staking extents of giving that I have little to regret.

And yes, happiness will find its way. She always has found a way of visiting her children after her darker relatives have swept by. Kiss time and make up. No, I don't have such a luxury at this point. I'll probably just settle for kissing life to make up. For surely, she will return this romantic gesture.

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

It was a good day today at work. I think I could live this life; I could live my work.

No, I'm not running away, not like last time. Perhaps I'm just running back, and running along with what I ought to have been doing in the first place.

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

Happiness is always around the corner.



JKLM

Thread

I'm disoriented, and hanging in the balance again. The familiar invisible thread holding my sanity and capabilities in the balance. My entire being seemed to be compressed into a haphazard package, bulging through gaps and spilling through nearly-torn seams. All this, from work alone.

So many times this week, I thought that I might have erupted; or melted down in an slow sickly manner, oozing into a fetal puddle on my carpetted hell not daring to move, because it would neither change anything nor make things any better. How and when did it get so difficult? Why didn't I see it coming? Damn...

These days, I don't even have time to fulfill my proper scope of work. Not that I haven't been working hard, my problem lay in the fact that I was not working smart, as always, ending up as the general office lollipop -- the official sucker. Too compassionate to say no, yet too meek to insist on being unreasonable, the frustration was inevitable. I failed to read between the lines because I had assumed that whatever damages would have been easily contained. And now, I'm stuck hanging on a thread again, struggling with problems that are not entirely mine.

I guess it's better than hanging because of problems that ARE mine. But that time will come sooner than I think, if I carry on like this. Gotta get back in focus, get back of track. Get back to some engaging fun -- get back to me. Recover the parts that this overloaded sum is made up of.

And stop all this nonsense that still hijacks my quiet in-between times -- a silent creeping poisoning of the raw spots, made all the more perversed with its personal feel. The wounds are still open, the nerves are still raw. And I'm too tired to fend them off constantly.

Not now, not now, please... At least you're BOTH still happy.

My turn now. With or without you.

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

Oh hazel eye in the lazy sky
Where do you roam
Why do you cry
Oh please don't cry

Ignore my questions
Ignore my whys
Remember your fashion
Remember your sky

Oh hazel eye in the lazy sky
As you quietly trail
Along your binding line
T'is slow, but you still fly



JKLM

Would You?

Watching movies and reading books stir my imagination, always. The resurrection of these restless electrical symphonies between periods of stifling routine persuade me to believe what I see. Yes, I'm a romantic. And I like it this way.

I guess that's why I'll keep on moving; keep on dancing even after the music stops.

If I asked you to dance again, would you? Would you dance with me, for the music? Would you dance for me, with the music? In that common hedonistic realm, we were not strangers.

Not much regrets.

I know that I still love you. But it'll be alright. This is your way, and this is mine.

There's a place I've developed a longing for. As with my search for answers, there is hope in evntuality. Oh, but the want, it makes me itch so. My eyes have opened a little more with each step in the journey, and my heart has discovered beauty everywhere.

I'll get there, eventually. I just hope that I will find you when I'm there.

Sleep for the dreamer
Pain for the poet
Blood for the fighter
In us all, they riot



JKLM

The Happy Knight

Meet Sir Knight
With armour bright
Rivaled by only his charm.

Not even the night
Can smother his light
His valour – the bane of harm.

Steed noble right
Sword ready to smite,
Any enemy within an arm.

T’is Sir Knight
Our hero who fights
To keep us safe from harm.

For King and land
He'll make his stand
Like glass, his loyalty clear.

Oh, but for Queen or land?
His heart a dent
For both are just as dear.

Like a letter wrongly sent
A gap that cannot mend
His love was what he feared.

The day a royal man
Came calling: The King has sent!
He hadn't the slightest idea.

Years of experience,
Of service, of patience
Told him praise was within reach.

With noble defiance
He strode to Her indifference
And found his heart at his feet.

Oh such a vision
Her regal appearance,
Disaster if she should ever weep!

Beyond any infatuation
Sir Knight's devotion
Transacted in one fell sweep.

So changed a story
That started out happy
About Sir Knight, a shining example.

Who became all sappy
In the name of love's glory
Because he made a Queen his temple.

T'was a tragic folly
To steal the royal cherry,
To taste a desire from the royal table.

But he couldn't see

Beyond perceived duty

To love and protect all that was valuable

He honoured his Queen

She humoured his whim

And wound his noble pride around her finger.

Though with the King

She looked at him

Sir Knight, like she did no other.

But doom's dreaded sting

Came one spring,

When the Queen insisted stopping this fever.

Oh what a royal fling

What a dramatic ending

Sir Knight was still in love with her (royal highness)

So back to his armour

As a chivalrous dreamer

Sir Knight tried to forget about her.

JKLM

Wiser -- A Purposeful Fool

I now believe that I am a little wiser, and see a little more clearly than I had before.

I now understand that there isn't very much reason to be upset about; much less stay upset at that. Because you're happy now, and that's what matters more to me.

I now understand that we're alike, even though we made different choices. I now understand that your "mistakes" were nothing that I would not / have not done when I was in your position. Only I had the blessing of learning my lessons before you did.

I now understand why I loved you in such poetic fashion; why everything you did seemed beautiful to me, and why I still think so. Perhaps our only mistakes were our youthful vanity and naive notions of making the temporary last longer; both you and I took that step, though one before the other.

I now understand that there is still beauty in what we shared, regardless in what we don't now. I now understand what love is to me, and what it could be to you. I also understand why you don't understand what I write so very often. It's not your fault.

I now understand what it is to forgive, and what it is to get in touch with myself again. This was a favour you did for me through your actions, albeit unintentionally. It is appreciated nonetheless.

I now understand that I think too much -- not for me, but for you.

I now understand better the mystic beauty of the printed word, and the sensual illusions of my incourigible imagination. I am a romantic at the worst possible times, and remain so even when I am obviously playing the fool. You are right -- I am a fool for love, but at other times, I am merely a fool. I'm happy in the knowledge that I'll never be alone.

I now understand that I have an unhealthy obsession with searching for answers, and in the process defining myself - for it is not just the process that I'm attached to, it's the insatiable desire for an unachievable end that drives me. In this search, I see, I learn and I get by. Of course, this is what the romantic do: we love the unlovable and see beauty where there is none.

I now understand that it is futile to live for one, but quite dull to simply live with another. A constant game and mystery is essential. Nothing destroys the fragile illusions of naivity and hope like truth and indifference.

I now know that I can be and am happy. Well, the best I can be, anyway. Thank You.



JKLM
the madpoet

D.N.A

I swear that if Mother Nature had plans for evolution and created each and every creature with love and care, I'd probably belong to the bunch that were adopted. Either that or during the conception of my breed of people, Her perfect womb must have rejected me as some sort of mutant -- a defect in the great DNA of life.

You see, my main flaw is my temper; the apparent short-lived nature of it, rather. I could never stay seriously mad at people for long. I'd sooner absorb the grieviances between two people and fill the resultant gap with a sort of hippie-tree-hugger-whee happiness. Not that I'm a fool at disregarding and considering the potential faults that people have, or the complications of human relationships; I'm just not one to hold onto anger. If anything, anger would probably be a means to a suitable or desired end. Ironic, but rational, if you took a look at my mutated logic.

Anger would and should never serve as a means to an end; the end would hardly be desirable in the first place. If it should so be desirable, then anger is not justified, but will simply cease to exist because it would become a form other than simply "anger". I guess you could interpret it as a form of wisdom and even a skill. However, this thin line is one I have tried to tread too often, loosing myself in many ways and stumbling over myself more often than not.

Anyway, this is my defective survival instinct: I get over and I move on; not before I pay for the incident with a piece of my naivity or idealism. You see, the dust can get kicked up and will soon settle down -- this I'd surely make certain of. However, the lessons are kept (burned, perhaps) inside, and that's where the damage is done. Anger, if any, is suffered and not externalised. Cynicism and doubt which would surely surface is turned upon my own beliefs instead of on other people. Foolish? Perhaps...

While love can't keep us alive, it certainly can make a lot of things right. While to love is to risk getting hurt etc..., the former would soon loose its meaning without the latter. As Bon Jovi croons in Learning How To Fall, "... just like the poet needs the pain."

So many times, I have felt trapped in the cycle of my own flawed logic and reasoning. I know that it'll be a matter of time before I move on. I know that it'll be a matter of time before the inevitbale happens for her. I know that things will be alright, whatever it may entail.

I know that I would, for some reason, forgive her for all that she's done, in exchange for a fragment of what we had formerly. Heck, I'd forgive her for next to nothing at times. I know that my actions might stand for and achieve nothing, but there seems little that I can do otherwise. I know that I shouldn't go ahead and hurt myself. But I do anyway, because it's the logical thing to do, when you refuse to dishonour others.

What does the knight do when he gets upset with the politics and royal affairs?

Yeah, that's right. He goes to the tavern to drink, and maybe get into a fight or two with the local riff raffs. He'd sooner die than abuse his squire, best mates or princess.

Why do I work so hard now? Yeah, go figure.

I'm no knight or hero. I'm just trying to look for some form of truer love. Is it so bloody hard, seriously? I'm such a pathetic sucker for this notion that I always find myself playing the fool for it. Now all I have is an idea I can't get out of my head and a suggestion of what it may feel like.

Find another? Dare, I risk it all again? Dare I even risk waiting?

I'll just be saving up for it. Both Europe and New Zealand are pretty far away... But I'm sure it'll be worth it... It had always been worth it anyway.



JKLM

Good Bye

A good-bye. An end to a chapter; the unglamorous and unabridged end to the fairy tale that would never make it to the printers. Without lavish drama or emotionally-charged partings, the end came swift and firm. We both didn't want any of that. Not really.

There were no tears on my worn pillow. Its tattered corners, familiar smell and uneven surface spoke to me like an old friend, giving silent obliging council to my numb fingers. I marvelled at how much my pillow resembled the one on another bed, and its beating distant cousin -- my weary heart.

Hello, old friend.

Perhaps it is time I learnt to spend some time with myself again; not to shut out the world or to escape within. To be familiar with oneself again, and to be able to move on through life, whole again. I couldn't help but wonder about my tragic romanticism -- my eternal blind hope that we as wandering souls were like mysteries, and the answers to us were somewhere out there. Except this time, there was no enigma, no blurry clouded vision. If I were to have been charged as a fool for love, I would not possibly be one this time because it was real.

Sometimes you are a fool for love, and at others in love with a fool.

A cryptic warning; a scarlet passing. Another tear in the romantic fabric that shrouds my world. I am the fool. I am the mad rhyme. I was the lover. I was the crime.

Perhaps the inevitable tears will come some time. The proverbial storm lingers on my horizons, poised for my shores, full of melancholic intent. But I don't think so -- you are now happy, and I should weep for none but the stage death of my romantic character. You are now happier, and that's always worth giving and being happy for.

I will be happy. Eventually.



JKLM

Two Songs (Part 2)

Where'd You Go

(Where'd you go
I miss you so
Seems like it's been forever
Since you've been gone)

She said, some days I feel like shit
Some days I wanna quit
And just be normal for a bit.
I don't understand why
you always have to be gone
I get along but the trips
Always feel so long, and

I find myself trying to stay by the phone
Cos your voice always helps me
When I feel so alone.
But I feel like an idiot
Working my day around the call
But when I pick up
I don't have much to say, so

I want you to know
That it's a little fucked up
To be stuck here waiting
At times debating
Telling you that I've had it
With you and your career
Me and the rest of the family here, singing

Where'd you go
I miss you so
Seems like it's been forever
Since you've been gone
Please come back home

Home, you know the place you used to live?
Used to barbeque some burgers and ribs?
Used to have a little party every Halloween
With candy by the plow, but now
You only stop by every once in a while (shit)
I find myself just fillin' my time
With anything
To keep the thought of you from my mind
I'm doing fine
And I'm planning to keep it that way
You can call me if you find
That you have something to say
And I'll tell you

I want you to know
That it's a little fucked up
To be stuck here waiting
At times debating
Telling you that I've had it
With you and your career
Me and the rest of the family here, singing

Where'd you go
I miss you so
Seems like it's been forever
Since you've been gone
Please come back home

I want you to know
That it's a little fucked up
That I'm stuck here waiting
No longer debating
Tired of sitting, hating
And making these excuses
For why you're not around
And feeling so useless

It seems one thing
Has been true all along
You don't really know
What you got till it's gone
I guess I've had it
With you and your career
When you come back
I won't be here
And you can sing it.

Where'd you go
I miss you so
Seems like it's been forever
Since you've been gone
Please come back home

Surreal

I don't recognise any of this... I don't know what all these mean anymore...

You have no fucking idea...



JKLM

Wanted

"Have you seen these hands?"
My imagination inquired
At a crowded bus stand
Wearily inspired

A pair of hands
That played the ivories
That took a stand
Amongst binary keys

A pair of hands
That drank all they were given
That could help to mend
The mind tired from livin'

A set of supple digits
Little miracle workers
At times they fidgit
At times they turn drummers

At work or at play
Their undeniable presence
Could turn my day
Into effervesence

Have you seen these hands?
They've gone away
Perhaps to another land
To play and to stay

There's no reward
For their return
Nor any award
Because...
Only they are balm
For this burn



JKLM

Time

It is time to...

Seldom do the choices become this clear, when what you want and what you have are in such different light that you cannot ignore what you see.

When it becomes clear that you can't avoid being yourself -- that what you do is essentially self-centered, no matter how alturistic the motivation or outcome. When the questions of trying otherwise have dried up, because you realise that what you're not getting (or in return for your efforts) is what makes you insecure, and how you react is always in answer to those insecurity. All you need to do is to overcome these obstacles, and a new chapter will unfold itself. But you don't have the courage to start.

When you realise that you're guilty, of all the above, and will carry on being guilty. That self-blame is but a reflection of self-pity, which does nothing to resolve the situation. That you have received unconditional love all the while, but never thought of giving it back or paying it forward. That, yes, you have taken it all for granted. That it will only take some effort to turn things around, but you're so tired...

When you think that you can put it off to be resolved another time, or another day... that things will be better. That you were cheating yourself all along when you believed in that. You were merely wasting borrowed time.

When you realise that you don't need what you have, but still want it. When you realise that you don't know how to let a beautiful thing go until it has been wrenched out of your hands.

When you realise that too much wisdom can be a sad thing.

When you realise that good advice is hard to take.

When you realise that it's time to choose. That it truely takes two hands to clap -- the same plane, opposite directions, and a willingness to meet. Ability? Well, ability can be learnt, so long as the willingness is still there.

When you realise, that it's really just so difficult to do something simple, like love someone more than yourself. When you start to appreciate how beautiful unconditional love really is.
When you know that tomorrow will still come, reagardless. That if you see the sun rise, you will surely feel the heat from beyond the clouds. What you didn't do yesterday will still remain unfinished.

When you know that it's time to be frank with yourself. That while you want to settle down emotionally, conditions may not allow for that. That you can't always have what you want, or get what you give... especially not when you don't fully understand what you want or were doing in the first place.

When you know that reading things over once is not enough. That the true meaning of things are no longer hidden behind layers of words, but behind layers of ourselves. Frequently, we don't understand other people simply because we can't see beyond ourselves. Try and try again, then it will be easier the next time.

When you realise that writing something like this will make some people unhappy. But these are just reflections of a truth, and that by being "happy" just won't solve anything. Once you accept the truth, it's not that hard to be happy either. You could be even happier, in fact... But you'll definitely see things and do things with greater clarity.

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

Thank you for the advice, my friends. I have a long way to go in learning how to handle these issues of the heart and soul. I am glad that I have your ears and advice to rely on. I am thankful that through your patience, I have learnt slowly not to brood, but to think. Our conversations have always been fruitful.
For now, these words and thoughts are wise... A condensation of the truths that I had been trying to discover and appreciate, though at many times, I too was running away. Perhaps it is time for me to learn a new lesson -- courage, to choose.

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



JKLM

Time

It is time to...

Seldom do the choices become this clear, when what you want and what you have are in such different light that you cannot ignore what you see.

When it becomes clear that you can't avoid being yourself -- that what you do is essentially self-centered, no matter how alturistic the motivation or outcome. When the questions of trying otherwise have dried up, because you realise that what you're not getting (or in return for your efforts) is what makes you insecure, and how you react is always in answer to those insecurity. All you need to do is to overcome these obstacles, and a new chapter will unfold itself. But you don't have the courage to start.

When you realise that you're guilty, of all the above, and will carry on being guilty. That self-blame is but a reflection of self-pity, which does nothing to resolve the situation. That you have received unconditional love all the while, but never thought of giving it back or paying it forward. That, yes, you have taken it all for granted.

When you think that you can put it off to be resolved another time, or another day... that things will be better. That you were cheating yourself all along when you believed in that. You were merely wasting borrowed time.

When you realise that you don't need what you have, but still want it. When you realise that you don't know how to let a beautiful thing go until it has been wrenched out of your hands.

When you realise that too much wisdom can be a sad thing.

When you realise that good advice is hard to take.

When you realise that it's time to choose. That it truely takes two hands to clap -- the same plane, opposite directions, and a willingness to meet. Ability? Well, ability can be learnt, so long as the willingness is still there.

When you realise, that it's really just so difficult to do something simple, like love someone more than yourself. When you start to appreciate how beautiful unconditional love really is.

When you know that tomorrow will still come, reagardless. That if you see the sun rise, you will surely feel the heat from beyond the clouds. What you didn't do yesterday will still remain unfinished.

When you know that it's time to be frank with yourself. That while you want to settle down emotionally, conditions may not allow for that. That you can't always have what you want, or get what you give... especially not when you don't fully understand what you want or were doing in the first place.

When you know that reading things over once is not enough. That the true meaning of things are no longer hidden behind layers of words, but behind layers of ourselves. Frequently, we don't understand other people simply because we can't see beyond ourselves. Try and try again, then it will be easier the next time.

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Thank you for the advice, my friends. I have a long way to go in learning how to handle these issues of the heart and soul. I am glad that I have your ears and advice to rely on. I am thankful that through your patience, I have learnt slowly not to brood, but to think. Our conversations have always been fruitful.

For now, these words and thoughts are wise... A condensation of the truths that I had been trying to discover and appreciate, though at many times, I too was running away. Perhaps it is time for me to learn a new lesson -- courage, to choose.

I just wanna do the right thing.



JKLM

Crave

I crave for too much, too often.

I crave for knowledge, to know all that I want to know, more than what I need to know.

I crave for answers that are simple and clear, to stop the questions in my head.

I crave for affection, to feel appreciated, to know that it was worth the while.

I crave for love, to know that I can trust and that I'm good enough.

I crave to play, to flutter another heart for just a moment and to invoke a playful smile.

I crave for money, to know that I don't need to cause or be burdened by worry.

I crave for salvation, out of these damned waves of darkness.

I crave for rhyme and rhythm, because they move me like no other.

I crave for a kiss, a most personal reckless abandon.

I crave for pain, to be sure that I am still alive and feeling.

I crave for a you, to know that there is somewhere that is home.

I crave for an enigma, to seduce me and always slip through my fingers. But catch me at unsuspecting moments only to steal my breath away.

Sometimes, I crave for lonliness, the hug of darkness and familiarity of cold.

Sometimes, I crave for a crowd, a distant warmth and an witness to my quiet rebellion.

I crave for change, to help me appreciate the present and to make the temporary precious.

Most of all, I crave for peace. That which I have only met at fleeting moments laced wtih gold.

I crave for too much, too often.



JKLM

The Paradox of Selfless Love

This occurred to me mid-way through my plate of green and brown at lunch: the paradox of "selfless" love.

"Selfless" love is a sort of self-perpetuating concept riddled with loop-holes and contradictions. This judgement sounds a bit harsh, but let's see how it works out...

Oftentimes, we find ourselves in situations when we have to make choices based on insufficient data, speculations or recollentions. This task is already difficult enough as it is, without the complications of emotions or love. Usually, we have a few of the following choices: ideals (or an ideal option given unlimited or unrestricted capability), reality (or a practical approach that we are sure we can take) and me (or personal preferences which we are most certain of, as compared to the other uncertainties of our situation).

Sounds familiar? Definitely... How many times have you been asked to spread your time between several commitments and tasks, either by your own doing or otherwise (some of us are popular and can't help it), only to have to choose between turning up for one and not the other. How many times have you thought that it was perhaps ideal to spread your afternoon evenly throughout all the activities, perhaps an hour at each location at most. Alternatively, you could also just pick and choose the series of activities that allows you to pack your afternoon to the maximum (most practical). Or lastly, you could always just pick and choose to turn up at the activities that you might enjoy most or suits your current mood the best.

Which is the best choice? No body will ever know, until a choice is made. That's why Murphy's Law comes into full swing and shows you that whatever you thouht "best" was only "better" in comparison to how things eventually worked out.

Without going into detailed analysis the merits or demerits of each option, I think it's safe to say that we frequently see in each situation only two types of approach -- the ideal and the practical (which is itself assessed based largely on "me"). We would then often find it difficult to make decisions involving people because being overly ideal would make us "selfless" but unhappy, but being practical often seems more "selfish" and would make others unhappy.

If we're not willing to take the risk of either approach, then we could simply choose to wait things out and react according to how the situation develops. In the case of outings, we could always wait for people to nag us and let the more "urgent" matters show themselves. In other matters, we could in fact wait for events to develop and respond accordingly, to the new priorities that surface.

This way, you would be at the mercy of the events around you, but whatever the outcome, it would surely seem less "your fault". However, to be proactive would also entail its own risk and demand for much more responsibility. Apply this to a relationship and you would soon see how ridiculous "selfless" love is. On one hand, you'd have to be either very idealistic or egocentric to offer "selfless" love, and you'd still be unhappy. But given that satisfction is only temporary and short-sighted in "selfish" pursuits, we'd sooner just choose to ignore the signs and let thigs "flow". Still, at some point, a choice needs to be made between several unhappy options, and guess what, we'd still be unhappy no matter what our decision is.

So what's the point? Our fuzzy emotional logic comes down to two camps: the people who believe in "why not try", and those who believe that "why bother" is a better way. And of course, there are people who "think too much", as I do. We believe in both, contemplate both types of approaches and constantly try to strike a balance between them.

Such is the tragedy of people like us -- we will never be happy, but we are one step closer to peace. This elusive peace is something our peers jump in and out of, but never settling in it long enough to understand it. This peace is what we move towards, for keeps.



JKLM

My Boss; Creation

My boss plays sports like a man, relishing challenges like one-of-the-boy and drives forward with equally macho daring. She holds nothing back as far as sports in concerned -- it's "try to win" or not at all. Out in the field, she's into floorball, running, cycling and adventure racing. In the office, she looks very much like a lioness perched on her sandstone boulder in the Serengeti grasslands. However, her face peels into a girlish smile everytime I ask her questions about the existing system and protocols at work.

She's been patient with me over the last few days at work. I know that she can be demanding, or quickly boiling with assertiveness when needed. She gets things done. She also surprised me at lunch today.

Just as she was starting on her plate of rice and vegetable, each neatly piled on one section of the plate, she received a phonecall. Pausing her meal to answer the call, she had the phone in her left hand and her head (which reminds me of a mop) cocked towards her electronic servant's demands. Her right hand was gingerly picking for granules of mince meat, shredded carrot and peas. For that 10 minutes she was on the phone, she looked like an total recall of how she might have been as a child, fussing over her meals and refusing to eat her greens. She must have read my inquisitive stare, because after hanging up the phone, a child-like whisper-of-a-giggle betrayed her.

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

I am amazed by the fluke that are my hands, and the lottery gold-fingers of my first creations. My first customised shirt was somewhat successful. Heck, with stencils and spray paint, it can't really go wrong. Perhaps a next step would be the addition of colours and materials.

I can't tell what spurred me to experiment with fashion -- was it the inspiration of a fellow artist, or the pressure of poorly managed finances, or simply the desperation of surprising the mellowed? Have you wondered what life would have been like for me without your presence, your careless playfulness, your reckless energy and your lady-like tantrums? It would have been simply functional, all but inspirational. You were the inspiration for many of my works. You still are. I can only hope that I have been a ripple in the vastness of your fluid life, in return for all that evolution you have started within me.

In my cubicle, I stare often at your ring on my finger, and appreciate soundlessly the familiar foreigness it provides. So much like us, this ring -- its shape, its make, its material... Before long, I am dozing in a daydream of memories or fantasy. What will I dream of today? Perhaps of you again.

I've really gotta get some rest... I'm tired in so many ways. Tired after trying to be strong for so long. Tired because you are tired. Tired because I can only do so much. Tired because tomorrow will come, and sometimes I don't look forward to it.

"Sleep is a good respite," you once said...

Sleep... with whom does peace rest tonight? With you and those who need it more, I pray. I can wait.



JKLM

Irony Makes The World Go Round

"Passion make good servants and bad masters."

"Anger keeps dull men witty, but it keeps them poor."

"When you dont' have any money, the problem is food. When you have money, it's sex. When you have both, it's health. If everything is simply jake, you're frightened of death."

"Without passion, fairness and balance have a chance to prevail. Yet without passion, there would be little desire for fairness in the first place."

Why is the world wired this way? I don't know... because it has been working on far more occasions than it has failed. Because our simple minds have yet come to terms with the incredible dynamics of the life that we sought so eagerly to create, and yet are drowning in right now. Perhaps our brains would one day be able to figure things out, evolve and come up to the speed of our fickle desires. Why is it that we always want choices, but when given them, we'd frequently rather not choose? What's gonna irritate us even more is the unreliable nature of our memories -- we frequently remember only those bad times when we were faced with tricky cirucumstances or tough choices. There were tonnes of other simple decisions, but we just don't remember them, for some reason.

Ah well, faced with the inevitability of this life we're in, I guess we'll just have to play the cards we've been dealt, as best as we can... Up till the time we get to shuffle and deal, I guess, it's not really possible that we have our cake and eat it. Not physically, anyway.


JKLM

The Science Behind Murphy's Law

That's my new muse -- another book. This time, it's about the quirkiness of life. You know, situations like when your nose starts to itch after your hands are tied. Or why a watched pot never boils. In a way, you could see it as someone's attempt at demystifying all those old wives' tales and cliches that people throw around effortlessly about the way things can turn out in life.

As with all books and (intelligent) fine products of the print industry, these humourous explanations got me thinking. There seems to be a logical explanation for just about everything that happens. Talk about thinking too much... This book just puts an interesting spin on just about everything that pertains to our perceptions -- it seems like our minds are the cause of all this inconvenience in our lives.

Bad timing, things happening too quickly or slowly, making the same mistakes again and again, bad luck... everything can be traced back to the brain in some way. From the sound of it, social life seems to have developed at such a neck-breaking pace over the last millenia that our evolved brain is having trouble keeping up. Our ancestorial reflexes and mental process 'loops' are still prepared for a life of jungle life and wandering in loin cloth.

Still, there's plenty in this book that could pass as being entertaining. Heck, I'm actually thankful that our brains aren't developed to such capacity that we couldn't be surprised by these things anymore. Life would indeed be very boring after that, and the concept of surprise may well just disappear. You could then say that we know that some things are beautiful simply because there are so many other imperfections around.

Some little notes that I've picked up after the first two chapters:

• What we see depends on our expectation, and expectations are depended on memory. We see to a degree what we want to. (With respects to optical illusions, but applicable to many other areas too)
• Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory. (With respects to our enduring memory of bad versus good experiences and how they are formed. Ah, ignorance is indeed bliss)
• Absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, as the wind blow out the candle and fans the bonfire. (With respects to the imperfect recall ability of the average brain, and how memories tend to be exaggerated over time)

On a separate note, I guess I've lightened up on my mood about where and how we are. It's sufficient to say that we are both important to one another, though perhaps to varying degrees. Attachment (or if you prefer possession), as with showing appreciation, is a one of the many paradoxes that we have to learn to handle -- too much or too little of either ain't good. We both deserve to be happy. Meeting in the middle can indeed be tricky sometimes, especially since we don't already start on the same platform.

I've become clear of the ghosts that haunt me (then and still now, occasionally); the exact things that caused me such pain on that faithful night. It was an unfortunate buildup, really, how all the frustrations rolled up into a giant bundle and exploded in my face in spite of the good intentions. I was just looking for some reassurance, while you were looking for some release. What seemed so wrong then was perhaps just a reckless placement of priorities coupled with bad timing.

As we have said before -- let's just put these things behind us and move on (refer to Quote 2, haha). But please, don't do that again; not because you can't have fun, but because it scares everyone who cares about you. Though we didn't celebrate on that night as I hoped, I guess we could always wait... Besides, it's always a celebration when we're out enjoying ourselves.

Looking forward to the next time.

JKLM

If my day were a TV commercial, it'd probably look something like this:

====================================
Entry Scene: The Bedroom
(that's me) Mornin'!
"mmm... mornin'"

Scene 1: The Food Place
".... (about this week's schedule)"
Cool... looking forward to it.
"Great, let's do lunch. I think we still have time."
Erm... why don't you pick something for me?
"Orange-mango, please."
Good choice!

Scene 2: Back Home
"... (about a change in the schedule"
... *runs screaming away like a spoilt brat*
"..."

Scene 3: Along The Road
Shall we take the long or short way?
"Let's take this run all the way."
"Wanna see Scruffy?"

Scene 4: Back Home
(Feeling fed up)
"Sigh..."
(Throws huge emotional tantrum) *Dude! Relax, will you*
"..."

Closing Scene: The Front Door
Don't worry about Wednesday and Thursday. It'll be alright.
"Yeah, I just don't like staying out too late, cos it makes me tired."
Yeah, you have a good session today. Watch those bruises!
"Sure thing. See you later."

Captions:
Gosh, i'm so sorry you had to go through all that, baby. What is wrong with me !? Why do you put up with me !? Haha... It's little wonder that I love you.
============================================



JKLM

Old Habits Die Hard

Bar None. Home to yappie runaways and the best live band I've had the pleasure of enjoying in years -- Jive Talkin'. Just last night, I had the company of two intoxicating ladies, two charming drinks and a throng of people who danced like they really needed it. Plenty of action, plenty of fun, plenty of dance; all impromptu, of course. What started out as a cuppa coffee at about 11pm quickly progressed (in unison) to a "now I feel like dancing" confession. Best snap decision yet, from 3 young people with some time on our hands.

I could have sworn that I looked positively juvenille next to these two fine products of the corperate world -- cut in black, sharp as the night. Still, once the electric beats plundered the dance floor after the band's first set, my feet were alive. Two drinks and two frustrating days later, the devil had a new place to play.

I was told that women like men who could dance. And then I was told that I was gorgeous. Where'd I learn to move like that? Nowhere, really. Because it's the sensual people around me that guide my feet.

Amusing flattery. The rapture of this nocturnal escape is undeniable. I'm addicted to moving, and the company just makes the deal sweeter. Flirting in the dark, dreaming under the strobe light, it's easy to see why and how we could just surrender ourselves to our next desire. I was the dreamer once again, dancing along a river of spirits and pleasure.

No matter how close I get, it's never close enough. No matter how much my hands roam, I still wish they were exploring you instead. No matter how large the crowd, I'm still on my island of ecstasy. When I feel hot, I begin to wish that I could just tear into the dank air unihibited, and be drenched in your rapture. My tormented hands still crave for the creative destruction that we shared. No matter how my feet flash and flutter under my body, I was still unsatisfied.

Perfection comes only in temporary flashes. It's here, now and it's gone. Everybody wants it, but no one is prepared to be it. Nobody really wants to dance with someone who can dance -- there's just not enough room. They're just moving between hugs, flirty dirty dances and clumsy complements. And by the end of the night, maybe you'll find your release -- whether it is in the bosom of a stranger who buys you drinks, the pulsing hips of another who passes you just in time, or in a new friend who could be your next meal.

Still, I always wish that it was you there. No one else would do. But you were in another's arms, for now.

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

I'm sure the dance would feel completely different on the vineyard.

What am I looking for? For hope and a sign that true love does exist, no matter how disguised it appears, and how tough life is.

Life has been an abusive bitch to you. I wish that you never had to pay for these debts, or that we could help you out in more ways than we already are now.



JKLM

Play It Like You Mean It

Glistening and thick
A beast so sleek
Purrs unabashed
But eyes me in a dare

Stroke me
Scratch me
Make me screech
It's all for you cos you want it

Slam me
Tickle me
Make me sing
With your fingers, my king

Weighted and smooth
She croons my groove
At once my dark secrets
Begin bleeding out my fingertips

She feels harmless
She accepts my carrasses
Urging me to squeeze tight
Willing my hand to bight

For thirty savage seconds
We were one
Burning like a sun
In our own consmic legend

My fingers melted
Her resistance yielded
In a swirling mercury pool
We embraced like fools

In parting, I promise
I would not miss
My next chance
For our next dance
For her electric sting
Her whine, her ring.


JKLM