Macabre.

bloodstains on a tree.

killed by natural-unnatural courses.

If a tree fell in the forest
and no one heard the woman scream
Tell me, would the falling tree
have made a sound?

Or was maniacal laughter heard
under the rustling leaves?


On the Sad News.

Why did the girl decapitate
her poor mother's head?
Was she mentally ill.
Did she feel really bored,
Or was it God's will?

Why did the same girl
chop off her mother's arms,
but did not practice cannibalism
for them than decor for plants?
Or was it an offering?

Why does mother mine shiver with fear,
- feels a chill along a patch of her neck-
as she reads the news, as if
worried that I might -
out of naive human curiousity,
subject her to the same experience?

Is the Day of Judgement upon us.
Where every person shrieks in madness,
and amok runs around naked,
Or have we witnessed an isolated incident?

My current idol, local troubadour Leslie Low replied my questions regarding quality guitar shopping today.

I'm not only obliged to expand his bulletin on MYSPACE. But it has almost become my duty to share his music (what I'd do for friends too).

Late night musings.

(carry-forward post)

imagine you were on a hot air balloon, and that spherical expanse of air above, that vastness of space below you. how can it possibly be great? you don't know if you are simply floating, or riding on a current of air. reminds me of that feeling I get when playing FF12 in the mysterious landscape of the yellow Urutuan Yensa Sandsea.... (in Chinese, Yensa literally means salt sea)


Of course, it would be great, if you had a romantic companion with you. However. The. Feeling. Here. Is. Quite. Alone.

=

"Plunge in headlong - into the void - with me and take a look into my world," cries the artist. In fact, most humans want this above all. To be understood by fellow humans.


Artists are - unable to express themselves - adequately - through conventional means - they feel that - being creative - is their - our- birthright, and their ego manifests universally - into a superego - undeterred - not something everyone should take for granted.

I'm such a self-proclaimed person. but under close scrutiny, I could be reduced to nothing.

A blind man who thinks he can see. A pop artist hungry for commercial success.

Downwards is hellwards. Upwards is skywards. Yet, Ohh... don't forsake me (..God, for I am stating my own.. convictions - what I am led to believe; what you led me to believe)

Long fall's a hard fall.

The Gospel of Judas by Simon Mawer... The novel was very interesting - gave a real glimpse into the passions of humans (how a Catholic Priest lost faith in everything he yearned to believe in, and it was a sad story. the end.) The real Gospel of Judas however, simply states that there were conflicting ideas in the early church. In the former, was Judas stoned to death because he witnessed an entirely different aspect of history..? Biblical scholars debate over this speculation.

Will God save us all? There is altogether a possibility that we might not enjoy salvation. The sacrifice is too great. I.e. human sacrifice, rights & freedom sacrifice, social sacrifice, creativity sacrifice. I am a skeptic. who internally frowns @ such ideas. The kingdom of God. And why you must believe...

C'mon c'mon. "Happy the atheist who gives the poor man money enough for a meal without any other... thoughts of kingdom or salvation" (Cyril Wong) . He should be taken into heaven too - Is heaven's will not Justice? As happy as I can be, floating on the clouds like the illustrated Monkey King wielding my golden bamboo cane. If not, I think I would be even happier in a lukewarm hell - what we Chinese have traditionally believed in.

do (y)ourselves a favour

Sunday Times reported on the informative blogs
of a foodie-cum-clinician, Dr Leslie Tay.

makan sedap!!
http://ieatishootipost.blogspot.com/

the clinic
http://karrifamilyclinic.blogspot.com/

My Cousin the Newlywed

I came with my mother,
Shaked hands with my uncle and aunt;
the parents of the bride, my cousin,
on this joyous occassion.

The Swissotel Stamford.

At the reception, an icy sculpture,
on which hung green grapes - the ones with seeds,
(a tribute to a fertile marriage)
Red strawberries and cherries
which were savoured with relish.

A group gathered round the ice and
stared in wonder, making O-shaped
mouth sounds, in appraisal of the stylish offering.
We feasted on the ripe fruit; the baby was fed in morsels.
Time passed while everyone was talking
to fill the air with kind wishes.

We looked around for a glimpse of the star couple.
A sweet-looking young girl was playing a baby grand.
The music was -
"She's teaching music. Studying in Junior College."
"Oh really? She looks just about my age."
- unfamiliar -
a soft, soothing lounge music to my ears.

Time passed and we met with more relatives.

We went in and ate the 8-course Chinese dinner.
Fussed over the gifts and service.
Toasted beer, wine, and champagne to the couple.
Applauded to their speeches.
Tables of smiles were captured by
a photographer wielding a sleek black camera.
Looked around to fill our desires,
to be served and entertained.

The dessert - Black glutinous rice with vanilla ice-cream.
When the evening was over,
The well-wishers shaked hands with the couple.
Outside, we groped the melting ice sculpture.
Until it broke.

We got a ride home
from an uncle who
drank four glasses of (bitter-tasting)
Sherlot
Red wine and declared himself
sober.

==

ON my computer table is a pink rose from my cousin's wedding.
Still pink in freshness, and scented like two days ago.
Like some of my relatives, I picked up a bunch and took a whiff.
It was easy to understand, Girl's fascination for them.
Their divine geometry, their intoxicating fragance.
Sweet smelling roses, exuding youth and exuberance.

How I yearn, oh, to be closer with the rose.
If only they aren't so short-lived.

Anywhere the wind goes..

A TRIBUTE TO BACH

In the choir warm-ups,

I once experienced a wonderful sensation.

We were rehearsing at the Singapore Chinese Orchestra hall

And when the command was given for silence,

The flow of air was heard from the aircon on the ceiling.

I thought I heard the crisp notes of Bach's Air,

from on high, carried from the descending current.

sharpening my awareness, before I sang.