with power comes responsibility..
how true can that be?
This last few days have been hectic..
my schedule is completely packed,
walking back from way beyond my borders from 12 to 1,
and sleeps around 2 to 4,
i have become numb
with doses of..
it's okay,
it's alright,
I can do it if i stop complaining;
instead to start to believe in my capabilities,
how all these are God sent answered for my prayer..
once in a while,
i wish to be love and to be love back,
to embrace loves one and to be embrace back,
yet to me all these are weaknesses,
so i turned away from them,
for fear of addictive dependency ,
of fake illusions blinding me from the ugly truth
at the end of the day,
the last thing i said to myself still is,
"It's okay. It's alright. "
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
GAME ON!!!!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
1
i'll rise higher..
nothing can come between me..
me or you?
it's me...
have faith.. have faith.. have faith...
nothing can come between me..
me or you?
it's me...
have faith.. have faith.. have faith...
Sunday, March 15, 2009
cLoud + sKy
Sunday, March 15, 2009
0
"It's strange that no matter how tired or how sad i am,
when ever i look up at the clouds and the sky,
with the soft passing-by wind,
with the right song,
-under the pleasant shade,
at the falling of the leaves or petals-
time seems to slow down,
and all those burdens and frustration,
if only for a moment was lifted,
i felt at ease with myself,
blended in with nature as one,
i get a taste of calmness,
and the feeling of being sheltered..
by the wHite fluffy cLouds and the big bLue sKy..."
cHristopher
when ever i look up at the clouds and the sky,
with the soft passing-by wind,
with the right song,
-under the pleasant shade,
at the falling of the leaves or petals-
time seems to slow down,
and all those burdens and frustration,
if only for a moment was lifted,
i felt at ease with myself,
blended in with nature as one,
i get a taste of calmness,
and the feeling of being sheltered..
by the wHite fluffy cLouds and the big bLue sKy..."
cHristopher
Saturday, March 14, 2009
wHere wEre yOu, rObert?
Saturday, March 14, 2009
0
Robert a-sitting on the kitchen tool,
was watching the tv screen..
which shows a winter scene of some grey city,
with trucks crawling along the broad, snow-covered streets,
women in headscarves shovelling the snow into great heaps,
people in thick coats and tall fur caps hurry by..
feeling tired and dizzy,
he rubs his eyes,
one,
two,
three,
everything goes dark before his eyes,
with the tv set still on,
with the slowly melting ice in the lemon tea,
with the kitchen clock saying its three minutes to nine,
while the sky outside rapidly darkens
and the first drops of the cloudburst patter against the window panes,
Robert isn't in the kitchen any more...
oh!
where is Robert?
"the cold wasn't the worst of it,
the wind was,
sharp as a needle..."
standing under icy shower..
Robert found himself in Russian, 1956
where Olga the kind pharmacist,
took him under her shelter.
Of his flight from the embassy,
with tails of guards behind him,
and into the cinema,
showing an English film..
"the camera roamed over a seaside scene,
the sea was inky blue,
the weather sunny,
a view of a rocky peninsula,
with children looking for treasure..
Robert cried,
he rubbed his eyes,
everything blacked out."
And lo behold..
Robert found himself in...
he saw light browned animals on two legs,
larger than rabbits but smaller than deer,
taking great leaps,
as they passed by..
he is in Australia.. 1946
where he met his first love, Caroline,
and the finding of the wonderful opal..
"Lea, Caroline's mother, showed him her photo album,
where Robert leafed though it until one particular photo,
of a girl in black bathing suit..
what had taken him by surprise,
is the swimming pool,
the changing rooms,
the church tower,
the photo blurred before his eyes,
he took out his handkerchief and rubbed his eyes.."
Lea was holding the teapot,
poured herself another cup of tea,
when she looked up,
Robert is..
back in Germany, 1930.
where he met his grandmother Magda,
his superstitious great-grandmother Wanda,
his bad-tempered great-grandfather Friedrich.
of how he was trapped in the throng of fighting men,
getting struck on the head,
crashing into a dark shop,
where he saw a painting of a bay swarming with little sailing ships,
small seaside town of little red and white wooden houses set among green hills..
"Robert rested his head on the glass,
the last thing he saw was the white church steeple high on top of the hill."
his fourth journey is the place where he mingles with Norwegians in 1860,
the painter Mogens,
the Kaspar Hauser addicted pastor Lorenskog and his family,
the schoolmaster Emanuel who believe in reincarnation,
then how he stowaway in a ship,
"as the ship rocked up and down,
his stomach churning with it,
he felt dizzy and everything went black before his eyes..."
he come to his senses in an oval hall with a high ceiling and pink marble pillars,
ladies with powdered hair,
wearing expensive dresses,
and gentlemen in tall, snow-white wigs were revolving like dolls on a shining dance floor...
here,
he became the page to Her Grace the Princess of Herrenlinden, "Serene Higness"..
meeting the philosopher Treibnitz,
and becoming his assistant..
all in 1702
one fatal mistake cause the life of the poor man,
"...the barber-surgeon bend over Robert,
muttering to himself.
"Aha, pressure of the blood,
reddened conjunctiva, swollen lids.
We'll soon deal with that."
Soon Robert found his temple filled with leeches,
as he watched the creatures slowly swell,
becoming plumber and plumber and taking on a reddish tinge.
Dizzy with revulsion,
He closed his eyes..."
"he saw an album bound in red morocco,
searched for the picture he like most,
when he found it he saw the scene with such exaggerated clarity
that the sunbeam on the spear of the robber wearing plumed dazzled him,
he thought he felt the breath of the wind stirring the foliage of the oak
under which a man in a helmet was sheltering.
It seemed to cast a flickering shade.
then he heard the shot."
he found himself joining a band of robbers,
trying to survive the Thirty Years' War of Germany in 1638,
saw his friend beheaded,
and how he became involved in a fight with his chance-met companions.
"trapped in the house with fire creaking and thick smoke around him,
Robert withdrew from the fight and into the main hall..
there was a bit of soot in his left eye,
he blinked,
rubbed his eyelid with his forefinger,
as he staggered towards the big painting on the wall,
with fire creeping up on him,
he press his hands on the frame,
as he saw the painting grew darker and darker until it charred..."
the next moment he was away from the war.
it was quiet and warm in the large room where he found himself,
a curious white light lay over the painter's studio,
Robert's glance fell on the tall window, and through the streaky bull's-eye panes he saw that it had been snowing.
the painter sat at his easel in his leek-green cloak,
just as he had been sitting in front of the tiny picture within the painting
that Robert had studied in the burning house.
Robert has dropped in at Amsterdam, 1621.
by becoming the painter's apprentice,
he joined the painter's guild,
learned how to prepare pigments,
prepare an oak panel,
the sketching,
and finally to partake in the painting process..
With that Robert secretly started painting his kitchen,
the bars of sunlight falling on the wall cupboards, the stove with the pan on it,
the Venetian blind over the balcony window,
the kitchen clock still saying its three minutes to nine,
he began painting the picture of his younger self,
how small he had been then.
A good thing it was only a back view; at least he didn't have to paint his past face,
the face he couldn't remember.
Suddenly it all came right.
He had caught the moment of his disappearance,
right down to the last curlicue cast by the sun on the toaster..
"What on earth are you doing?"
it was his master's voice, trembling with rage and indignation.
Robert was so alarmed that he couldn't move a finger.
Tears shot to his eyes..
"It's all over,
it' all over,
it's all over,
it's was all for nothing,
I'll never get away from here,
this is the end.."
edited by Christopher and taken from "Where Were You, Robert?" by Hans Magnus Enzensberger, translated by Anthea Bell. Published by Hamish Hamilton, London, 2000. First published in Germany as "Wo warst du, Robert?"
This book can be found at PERPUSTAKAAN HAMZAH SENDUT DUA, UNIVERSITI MALAYSIA, PULAU PINANG, MALAYSIA.
date borrowed: 05.03.2009, 14:31:55
date return: 20.03.2009 (finished reading on 14.03.2009, Saturday)
"about the laundry room in Siberia where he almost froze to death,
or his first love, Caroline, and the wonderful opal,
or his tiny little grandmother,
or the dead schoolmaster with the silvery eyes,
or the Princess who let him down,
or his career as a highway robber,
or how he painted himself back into the kitchen."
Robert will keep the secret of where he has been to himself..
was watching the tv screen..
which shows a winter scene of some grey city,
with trucks crawling along the broad, snow-covered streets,
women in headscarves shovelling the snow into great heaps,
people in thick coats and tall fur caps hurry by..
feeling tired and dizzy,
he rubs his eyes,
one,
two,
three,
everything goes dark before his eyes,
with the tv set still on,
with the slowly melting ice in the lemon tea,
with the kitchen clock saying its three minutes to nine,
while the sky outside rapidly darkens
and the first drops of the cloudburst patter against the window panes,
Robert isn't in the kitchen any more...
oh!
where is Robert?
"the cold wasn't the worst of it,
the wind was,
sharp as a needle..."
standing under icy shower..
Robert found himself in Russian, 1956
where Olga the kind pharmacist,
took him under her shelter.
Of his flight from the embassy,
with tails of guards behind him,
and into the cinema,
showing an English film..
"the camera roamed over a seaside scene,
the sea was inky blue,
the weather sunny,
a view of a rocky peninsula,
with children looking for treasure..
Robert cried,
he rubbed his eyes,
everything blacked out."
And lo behold..
Robert found himself in...
he saw light browned animals on two legs,
larger than rabbits but smaller than deer,
taking great leaps,
as they passed by..
he is in Australia.. 1946
where he met his first love, Caroline,
and the finding of the wonderful opal..
"Lea, Caroline's mother, showed him her photo album,
where Robert leafed though it until one particular photo,
of a girl in black bathing suit..
what had taken him by surprise,
is the swimming pool,
the changing rooms,
the church tower,
the photo blurred before his eyes,
he took out his handkerchief and rubbed his eyes.."
Lea was holding the teapot,
poured herself another cup of tea,
when she looked up,
Robert is..
back in Germany, 1930.
where he met his grandmother Magda,
his superstitious great-grandmother Wanda,
his bad-tempered great-grandfather Friedrich.
of how he was trapped in the throng of fighting men,
getting struck on the head,
crashing into a dark shop,
where he saw a painting of a bay swarming with little sailing ships,
small seaside town of little red and white wooden houses set among green hills..
"Robert rested his head on the glass,
the last thing he saw was the white church steeple high on top of the hill."
his fourth journey is the place where he mingles with Norwegians in 1860,
the painter Mogens,
the Kaspar Hauser addicted pastor Lorenskog and his family,
the schoolmaster Emanuel who believe in reincarnation,
then how he stowaway in a ship,
"as the ship rocked up and down,
his stomach churning with it,
he felt dizzy and everything went black before his eyes..."
he come to his senses in an oval hall with a high ceiling and pink marble pillars,
ladies with powdered hair,
wearing expensive dresses,
and gentlemen in tall, snow-white wigs were revolving like dolls on a shining dance floor...
here,
he became the page to Her Grace the Princess of Herrenlinden, "Serene Higness"..
meeting the philosopher Treibnitz,
and becoming his assistant..
all in 1702
one fatal mistake cause the life of the poor man,
"...the barber-surgeon bend over Robert,
muttering to himself.
"Aha, pressure of the blood,
reddened conjunctiva, swollen lids.
We'll soon deal with that."
Soon Robert found his temple filled with leeches,
as he watched the creatures slowly swell,
becoming plumber and plumber and taking on a reddish tinge.
Dizzy with revulsion,
He closed his eyes..."
"he saw an album bound in red morocco,
searched for the picture he like most,
when he found it he saw the scene with such exaggerated clarity
that the sunbeam on the spear of the robber wearing plumed dazzled him,
he thought he felt the breath of the wind stirring the foliage of the oak
under which a man in a helmet was sheltering.
It seemed to cast a flickering shade.
then he heard the shot."
he found himself joining a band of robbers,
trying to survive the Thirty Years' War of Germany in 1638,
saw his friend beheaded,
and how he became involved in a fight with his chance-met companions.
"trapped in the house with fire creaking and thick smoke around him,
Robert withdrew from the fight and into the main hall..
there was a bit of soot in his left eye,
he blinked,
rubbed his eyelid with his forefinger,
as he staggered towards the big painting on the wall,
with fire creeping up on him,
he press his hands on the frame,
as he saw the painting grew darker and darker until it charred..."
the next moment he was away from the war.
it was quiet and warm in the large room where he found himself,
a curious white light lay over the painter's studio,
Robert's glance fell on the tall window, and through the streaky bull's-eye panes he saw that it had been snowing.
the painter sat at his easel in his leek-green cloak,
just as he had been sitting in front of the tiny picture within the painting
that Robert had studied in the burning house.
Robert has dropped in at Amsterdam, 1621.
by becoming the painter's apprentice,
he joined the painter's guild,
learned how to prepare pigments,
prepare an oak panel,
the sketching,
and finally to partake in the painting process..
With that Robert secretly started painting his kitchen,
the bars of sunlight falling on the wall cupboards, the stove with the pan on it,
the Venetian blind over the balcony window,
the kitchen clock still saying its three minutes to nine,
he began painting the picture of his younger self,
how small he had been then.
A good thing it was only a back view; at least he didn't have to paint his past face,
the face he couldn't remember.
Suddenly it all came right.
He had caught the moment of his disappearance,
right down to the last curlicue cast by the sun on the toaster..
"What on earth are you doing?"
it was his master's voice, trembling with rage and indignation.
Robert was so alarmed that he couldn't move a finger.
Tears shot to his eyes..
"It's all over,
it' all over,
it's all over,
it's was all for nothing,
I'll never get away from here,
this is the end.."
edited by Christopher and taken from "Where Were You, Robert?" by Hans Magnus Enzensberger, translated by Anthea Bell. Published by Hamish Hamilton, London, 2000. First published in Germany as "Wo warst du, Robert?"
This book can be found at PERPUSTAKAAN HAMZAH SENDUT DUA, UNIVERSITI MALAYSIA, PULAU PINANG, MALAYSIA.
date borrowed: 05.03.2009, 14:31:55
date return: 20.03.2009 (finished reading on 14.03.2009, Saturday)
"about the laundry room in Siberia where he almost froze to death,
or his first love, Caroline, and the wonderful opal,
or his tiny little grandmother,
or the dead schoolmaster with the silvery eyes,
or the Princess who let him down,
or his career as a highway robber,
or how he painted himself back into the kitchen."
Robert will keep the secret of where he has been to himself..
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
rEminder
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
0
oNce in a while,
i'll go running or cycling like crazy,
running at top speed,
stepping repeatedly on the pedals,
basically giving it my all..
the breathless feeling,
the passing out experience,
is almost delirious...
tOday i went cycling,
all the way from fajar,
to aman,
to usm's museum..
without once stopping,
until i felt this fainting sensation.
that force me to stop,
parked the bicycle,
and lie down on the glass,
gulping down air,
like drinking water..
Illogical?
Yes..
but to me it's like a constant reminder that i'm working too hard to be good,
reminding me that i need to stop and slow down once in a while..
and it's okay if i make mistakes,
people just do.
without reliving this experience,
i might forget..
and someday i might just break..
i'll go running or cycling like crazy,
running at top speed,
stepping repeatedly on the pedals,
basically giving it my all..
the breathless feeling,
the passing out experience,
is almost delirious...
tOday i went cycling,
all the way from fajar,
to aman,
to usm's museum..
without once stopping,
until i felt this fainting sensation.
that force me to stop,
parked the bicycle,
and lie down on the glass,
gulping down air,
like drinking water..
Illogical?
Yes..
but to me it's like a constant reminder that i'm working too hard to be good,
reminding me that i need to stop and slow down once in a while..
and it's okay if i make mistakes,
people just do.
without reliving this experience,
i might forget..
and someday i might just break..
Monday, March 2, 2009
sEa mAid
Monday, March 2, 2009
6
sHe gave up her voice,
to unite with her prince,
yet it's a twisted deal,
for when the sun rises she will die if her prince loves her not,
of all circumstances still her prince falls for a noble's daughter,
who he thought to be his sea-wrecked savior.
"oh woe... oh woe.."
cries the waves,
"oh woe.. oh woe.."
cries the sea breeze,
"oh woe.. oh woe.."
cries the sea-maidens,
" before the sun rises,
before thee turn to air,
take this blade and soak it with blood from his heart..
return to us..
dear sister.."
holding the blade in her hands,
as the cries of the waves, the breeze, and the sea-maids all twirled into one
yet she don't have the heart to stab her one and only love,
in the frenzy, she made her decision..
to bid farewell and as token of blessing..
she lightly planted a kiss on his forehead,
as she slowly turns into little bubbles,
and evaporated into the rays of the rising sun..
the waves, the breeze and the sea-maids' mad frenzy all died down,
leaving the awaken prince,
alone in perspiration and realization...
"It's too late... too late.. too late.."
rang the distant church's bells...
to unite with her prince,
yet it's a twisted deal,
for when the sun rises she will die if her prince loves her not,
of all circumstances still her prince falls for a noble's daughter,
who he thought to be his sea-wrecked savior.
"oh woe... oh woe.."
cries the waves,
"oh woe.. oh woe.."
cries the sea breeze,
"oh woe.. oh woe.."
cries the sea-maidens,
" before the sun rises,
before thee turn to air,
take this blade and soak it with blood from his heart..
return to us..
dear sister.."
holding the blade in her hands,
as the cries of the waves, the breeze, and the sea-maids all twirled into one
yet she don't have the heart to stab her one and only love,
in the frenzy, she made her decision..
to bid farewell and as token of blessing..
she lightly planted a kiss on his forehead,
as she slowly turns into little bubbles,
and evaporated into the rays of the rising sun..
the waves, the breeze and the sea-maids' mad frenzy all died down,
leaving the awaken prince,
alone in perspiration and realization...
"It's too late... too late.. too late.."
rang the distant church's bells...
Sunday, March 1, 2009
pUppet
Sunday, March 1, 2009
3
all it's life,
is a form of dependency..
he's born because of the puppet maker,
he's alive because of the puppet master,
he's happy or sad because of the sake of the audiences.
no one cares how he feels,
no one notice how he dragged his feet, how his head stoop,
no one notices..
he''s screaming!!!
but no words come out...
sorrow and frustration drowned in the laughter of people.
having a mind of his own,
but a body that's not..
every actions by the pull of the strings..
crying a tearless cry,
calling out a soundless HELP,
trying to move a lifeless body,
he's just a puppet,
a bRoken pUppet,
is the star so far from within his reach?
Quote of the day,
"pRay that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for."
- Dag Hammarskjold (1905-1961)
is a form of dependency..
he's born because of the puppet maker,
he's alive because of the puppet master,
he's happy or sad because of the sake of the audiences.
no one cares how he feels,
no one notice how he dragged his feet, how his head stoop,
no one notices..
he''s screaming!!!
but no words come out...
sorrow and frustration drowned in the laughter of people.
having a mind of his own,
but a body that's not..
every actions by the pull of the strings..
crying a tearless cry,
calling out a soundless HELP,
trying to move a lifeless body,
he's just a puppet,
a bRoken pUppet,
is the star so far from within his reach?
Quote of the day,
"pRay that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for."
- Dag Hammarskjold (1905-1961)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
