when you come home

when you come home
(
 take my longings and blanket them unto thee..
flaking hopes drift timeless tis journey.
ever here, my tenderness countless unto thee
yet regardless relentless, such tourney

stillborn, my lonely will resonates to death
Oh, in eyespeak I yearning pleaded thee!
yet thy gaze glazed across plethora; deaf
the comfort of dusk, whence we shalt at home be.

endless trying due defeated sky faced poll
when would the faithful, finally doth reap sows?
in thy world, beautiful with silent wisdom
.. I lay waste hope daily, come the evening crimson..



)

even before the start of your time, you started on your journey.
In a world, you wondered, alone.
Sometimes I know,
 I felt,
….you came close.
On my saddest days you wondered far.
Some days I fear,
 if you have wondered too far,
and if you are lost.
 I had to understand that this is a road you have to take,
.. road less taken,
but a burden you have to bear.
There are times I despair if you would ever come to me,
there are times I am hopeful.
..But on that day,
 I knew,
 you are on your way back when you spoke my name
… for the first time.
I knew then
you are on your way,..
 home.
I shall always be here to help you find the way.
And I hope I will be still here,
 ... when you come home.

©www.apoet.org 21 Jan 2011

dread repeated

for the prize of wishes,
so sow our speech.
packed is burden of a full heart chest.

eons and ages,
the writhes repeats
exhausted and burnt like a old man has

dread and hisses!
this stale old pain
pours forever, this brown green drain.

chest of wishes,
aw burns repeated,
life like sand this plain.


© apoet.org, 07 may 2009 12.08pm

dark poets

...here where the light is dim, has no censorship, has no restriction, no taboos, no boundaries. Here where the light is dim, is free.

here where : dark poets.

This terrible fall

This terrible fall

what grotesque of grief
do you hold in your eyes?
Ten thousand slashes,the writhe of my every breath..

Away hasty hands
cold defamiliarize..
My fountains of red, thy hands sorted un press.

Upon spikes and spears,
Upon wicked failure
Have the crows ever sang songs of autumn lore?


memories beloved
be now past ...of spring before.
See not ye, off my cheeks tears so silently fall..

… AWAY !

A dance been taken …end of the world,
where love so once is light..

how art love abundance be not joy ?
but of fear invoked thy cursed toil?


© www.apoet.org 2010 version

No pity.

... in a black corner, we stood. Lonely. A place where the ceiling dripped tears.The floor wet. The air closed for a time beyond long, stale and pungent the death of those tears. Tears die and dry, and change minds. We gather together for support, but time is eternal and we are not. And we are defeated. Our support could not last us. And slowly we fall. Slowly one by one we change. Mutate or evolve. In the new form we shall survive. We shall be able to endure this environment. A new hideous race. Much stronger than before. Vile and unsightly for the race above. A long groan of torment, echos dreams that no longer brings smiles.Nightmares. day or night. Oh, what strength holds time? beyond all! Unknown we waited. Blacked and without light. Soaked and drenched. Revenge. Time wrinkled skin. Scaled by the wet air and floor. Coloured by the lack of sun. Holds still. Mocking laughs and intent. The disgraced wait. Writhe. Grieving and angry. Timeless of silence. Deafening rings. And Timeless of echos, bangs and speeches , whispers.

from the depths, unlighted , they breath. Cold, black, endless. FOREVER.

ways of god or the wrong reasoning of man?

"why would one not abort a fetus that doesn't have stomach and face? why would one give birth to a child that had to endure more than 20 surgeries to reconstruct the stomach and the face and still doesn't look like a human being?"


fanatic Christians that don't accept abortion.


Is this the way of god? Can such a cruel way of life be translated into some form of test from god and it's will? And man in all it's mortality carry out such cruelty or devotion ...(depending if god do exist)...if the later is not true. The capacity of man for cruelty is astounding and ..sadly righted by the false illusion of god's will.






Links :

http://www.julianawetmore.net/
http://doesgodexist.multiply.com/links/item/371/How_could_her_parents_not_abort_her

analogy of "the over-burdened"

"A place, in a wall of st anne’s church lies a symbol, image of sadness. The tomb of a person.
And I saw the always wet floors, that seems never to dry, the tears of the ones grieving. I saw yet those that are alike like this, many in numbers and much, I saw that it would be more than the angels that went with Lucifer on that fateful ancient day and that is more than a third in size in heaven. By this person’s death, her words will stop and with this end, I saw a well that many has feed on for strength and inspiration and hope….dries. This person is well...her heart is at a good place..and a person who is well at heart…And a person whose heart is not misplaced, shall be free from rules of organized religion. And still be in god’s favor. I saw a field of people, who brave art their souls… to them they have a duty to step forward to help justice. To help those who god won’t. And these people whose name is already in heaven. …..Circumstances that come before us, were not willed by us, nor wished by us..And yet they come, and with them, by them we destroy ourselves, when it comes and also others… The happiness in our world is when the suffering lights up a little, Among all the types we suffer constantly. We are lured, seduced with hope and promises…of many sorts, spiritual and mortal…and we are paid by this hope in the end, pain. Yet we will not know better and can’t till at this end, at time's end. When all is done and cannot be changed.So this end, she died. And she laid and the tomb, floor one, level 4, number 74. This end takes her far from mortality. And far from the pain mortals shall ever have. This person is named Fleur. And she is withering.Her people cry. God’s children are dying. A shout to god, your child is dying. Although, her ashes lies in just box ,trapped, but she will be free, and whatever she needs to give to this world…has been done,given. She has no debt from now."

THE OVER-BURDENED

THE OVER-BURDENED

wall of St Anne's Church,
of saline floors have urged....

More than a third in size,
will first heaven rest reside?

All ye thy words impel,
shall blight at the now still well.

Whom well, by place of heart..
manumit as thee of knell..

Forth worthies Now raise thy hands!
For thee be thus compelled

Worthy whom, shall star the sky,
After this human life…

...

When willed did us tis done?
on our own we graft..
all of mortal longings,part ourselves in halves!

the joys of our world,
levitates our tolls
doth amidst our writhes, yet amidst our woes..

Why give upon the lured?
let pain yet forth come adhered
oh wisdom must thee come dated, thence time no more procure?…

.. peaceful laid, the beautiful..
“F one L four seven four”
and ever far from now, mortal woe deplored

le garrot de “fleur”
tears watered embitter.
thy flowers fade,..Oh hear me; lord thy flower withers !

...

…within one storey within, of masters thou shalt have none, when all thou to give have no more…

© www.apoet.org, 17 NOV 2009

not up to me.

would you take... would you take it away god? I cannot do what's up to you.

reaching for god

despair drives me to illogicalness..as I become angry, I dismiss understanding...and upon things hate. Despair drives me, and thus motivates me, and my acts follows...irresponsible, careless , moralless.

a slash at the blood clouds!

no pits defines my depth, and the black therein. I shame at my own reluctance to antidote this laziness. I have exhausted myself. Spent. .. it was a feat. to replace my eyes. Eyes that do not tell a welcoming. behind the new ones, may them open wide arms ... for friendly embrace. And the effort to grow new limps and arms. For better outlook. See my vanity and the eyes for prejudice. See me as I fake myself. In a walk that differs, a talk that untells things... that might and might not be true. This must be the way of man! for it is the way of gods! A race to death...
breathless... sightless... aimless in the end. You will not retain ANY self esteem. Failed! Thy eye circles. Tiredness , do you really concur, .. adjust your self. Adjust yourself! I seek ways to excuse myself to explain myself to fool myself to console myself to believe in myself .. to comfort myself, to pride myself to lie to myself. The worse win!

The worse win! THE WORSE WINS !

across my blade, in the air, bring life to freedom! oxidise! dry to the heavens! harden be rocks in cold!!

Join mine to yours.

when as one. Be in flight....

my table.

I have on my table, plates. Plates of different kinds, and a few of them. This plate, I felt unfinished, and left unfinished. ..though I do not know if I have left it. Am I still trying? still holding it. A few plates broke. Plates break. That's one of the things that do happen to plates. Why make them then? If there are no plates, none can be broken. I imagine this plate feels for me. Yet I do not know if it wants me to finish it. I imagine with my big ego, it begging me to completed it. Furnish it.. and in the end of it's cycle, honour it. That's my imagination. I do not know for sure. A back view wrench my heart this morning. A pain so deep, you can no longer tell nor explain. It is in the end that we would come to remember the joy from it's beginning. And regret the in between. I am sick of hope. It toys us. We are but fools to it. For it means nothing and is nothing. But we hold it. Above logic, above odds. Above possibilities.
I gentle ly touch the plate with my eyes. going through it's contours...looking, re-looking...and secretly seek a respond. A sign. Ah yes, everyone believes in god. Everyone. And I have found the basis to prove that. Ah, yet now here, not now. Now I want to look at my plate.
This is time, dedicated. This is time ..quality. What can I do for you, from here? The scraps of food and broth, and sauce...taints and distracts... yet it is those that makes you. .. in way. This room dims, and the old air con duct, purrs and it's fat flap hitting back and forth the groves, made for it's exhaust to exit. It is cold. It is old. Faithfully. Voices stream in from neighbours... some whisper of secrecy and conspiracy. Some of laughter in foolishness and laughter of nothingness...whom has lost grip of sense...the fault of the world. Fault of god.
I am back here as before. I hate SO much to be back here. I sigh and despair...thinking of the journey, I have to retake, redo...and emotional crescendos I have to do again...brings me down to a dark black place. I want the last attempt to work...and fear and dread redoing of this. ...ahh. ..
..I see it near still. And it should be completed. The plate must be done. It must be completed. I shall go forward with this.

I shall.




I seek an artist, paint this for me.

two weeks ago.

.. it is in my dark times, that I discover myself. Rediscover. .. maybe redefine. re construct.....hopefully for an improvement , for the next dark wave. ...at about noon today I lost my will to continue my search and journey for "the over burdened". For in this day I have lost hope and with that interest. And most importantly purpose. .. the purpose to tell it. to show it.... yes.. and for what purpose..? for myself..? and what is that worth? It was done 2 weeks ago. it is the well spoken cycle of death and rebirth..and this way it is spiritual. And on another scale. again and again. and again. The numbers of it's repetition makes the whole issue trivial and nothings it's significance.

makes me sadder.

finding "the over burdened"

.. pretty short journey ..maybe 2-3 months....maybe it's long for a thing like this : a piece. It laid there assumed matured. For a few years. And recently I decided that it was a case of irrelevancy. And thus to over haul it. I went to places, and wondered what it shd be. And took about 2-3 months... having broken pieces of clues, fragments of idea... though it has always been known to me. I did not know or realise that it was to be. anyway... In a death , I realised, things, remember painful things which I brush…..and also found "the over-burdened" I wish it beauty, grace and poise.

le garrot de “fleur”

 

le garrot de “fleur”
tears watered embitter.
thy flowers fade,..Oh hear me;
lord thy flower withers !

© apoet 1.13pm 25 Aug 2009

http://fleurjourney.blogspot.com/

http://fleurjourney.blogspot.com/2009/08/prayers-for-flora.html

http://fleurjourney.blogspot.com/2009/08/prayers-for-flora.html

Psalm 23

"The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever."

by putting the death into them

a person, in adulthood already mid life. A person would have lived for many years ? But no. it was not. Person was dying throughout life. Dying till the day he would be dead.

We give something to the young and then, they totally adore it , we take it away and throw it away. And this act has to be seen by them . To burn it in front of them or throw it down the chute. And thus in their inability to grasp the concept of the sadness and fear of death, they will be able to feel what death is essentially is. A lost forever. The fear come with adulthood. They will see what they have adored being taken away , and destroy to a state of forever lost. ..into nothing. The key is the forever element... that is binding.

oh, gentle goes with scars

And came explosions, and the flying of the debris
and time is long for settling of the haze.

The unrest turns against what should have flowed
sinks the fragile to dullness till todays


oh, gentle goes with scars


© apoet 31 july 09

a sin lesser

"Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you'll notice you've got their strict attention."

John Doe
From the Movie "se7en"

A threat of death. That points it's finger at me. Guilty. For it's fatality I listen. I would guess if else I would not. If else I shall continue being "What sick ridiculous puppets we are / and what gross little stage we dance on / What fun we have dancing and fucking / Not a care in the world / Not knowing that we are nothing / We are not what was intended." (John Doe, from the movie "se7en"), like all of us. I realise, I know and I continued at it.. feeding the wrong, feeding the sin, growing, learning to enjoy it as I enjoy it. Nudging , urging it to the ultimatum of this sin, a closure, a completeness, not really wanting it...but wondering it...edging towards it. And I had a jump start right at all. And realise and saw of it.. and what it is for what it is. and it comes to my horror, to my realisation, to awake me? And I re-know that it is wrong. and I took a step away from it...and want to take steps from now away from it.....so that I can be ....

a sin lesser.

a white parade of beach road garden

... forlorn....and the waiting... the freedom, the free..and the time..., oh so much time.. and yet time is short...but yet time is slow..... And the walk that stopped. And the wait for nothing. Because time don't, that's why they do. And so, it is...do every single one need to? No. What happen to dreams? "what happened to my sweet toddlers?" where is god's love? oh where are the meadows of life that so frequently fragrantly light up people's sky? Where is our sky? where is our one time sky that life righteously entitled us like we are equal? they are classed, as they , we join the white parade..a line of wisdom ....accompanying the beach road garden...be those of wisdom, know. be those of wisdom come prepared, light us, learn us..and lest be trying to not be like us. For in wisdom, this is sad. Oh sad.... a one time chance, and it falls like this....as the parade renews....diseased and incomplete...and so a tale. unimportant. so strange...no ones believes in the white parade..yet so did the white parade.

'The 15 years was a great blessing'

http://www.asiaone.com/Health/News/Story/A1Story20090716-155191.html



WHEN doctors discovered the unborn child had an extremely rare condition, leaving him with only 'half a heart', they tried to get his parents to abort him.

His parents refused. Doctors then gave the baby three days to live.

But Andre Tang Jia Rong ended up being his parents' 15-year miracle until he died on Sunday.

The teenager was born with hypoplastic left heart syndrome. Only the right side of his heart was formed.

Put simply, he had only half a heart to pump blood around his body.

When his parents learnt this during a scan in the 22nd week of pregnancy, doctors advised them to abort him.

According to Andre's parents, a doctor said at the time that his chances of surviving was very slim.

His mother, Mrs April Tang, 41, said: 'The doctor said I was still young... I could have another baby... We were so heartbroken.

'But I wanted to give Andre at least a chance at life, even if it cost us everything we had.

'I told him that I wanted him to have a name, an identity, an IC... And he did get one, last week.

'I wanted him to have friends, and secondary school friends, and he has tons of them.'

A close friend of the family, Mr Michael Chua, 52, said: 'As a fellow Catholic, I'm very edified by April's decision not to abort the baby although some others would have chosen to do it.

'The 15 years that Andre shared with them was a great blessing in return,' added the senior manager with The Business Times.

Andre's father is Mr Tang Ngai Kin, 55, who coaches the national women's 4x100m relay team.

In his youth, he won five silver medals in the SEA Games for decathlon, sprinting and relay events.

'Life is like a 100m race. Only when the race ends can we know who is the winner,' said the Singapore Press Holdings group account manager.

'I prayed very, very hard, and I was rewarded. He was our miracle child.

'Throughout his life, we've been through countless obstacles, ups and downs. And he has really fought the good fight.'

Andre was born on 7 Sep, 1994. He died on Sunday at about 10pm in the family's Pasir Ris home.

He had just finished watching his favourite TV show - Tom and Jerry cartoons - with his family and was tucked into bed.

Mr Tang said that he continued to watch TV with his wife, when Andre called out: 'Mummy!'

He said: 'We went to his room, and saw him sitting upright on his bed. He held his hands in front of his chest, and was shivering.'

Mr Tang called Andre's sisters, Andrea, 13, and Andreana, 10, and the whole family gathered around Andre as he died.

'I felt that his heart was slowing down, and that his hands were loosening. When he began foaming at the mouth, I knew it was the end,' he said.

Mrs Tang added: 'He left us peacefully, in my arms, just like the way I held him when he first came to us.'

Andre's family and friends describe him as 'charming', 'cheerful' and 'immaculate'.

He was the peacemaker in the family, who would solve problems instead of cause them.

As a result of his condition, the Secondary 3 ACS Barker student could not take part in most sports, and had to do many things slowly.

He typically spent 1 1/2 hours eating his meals, and could only walk for a few minutes before he felt tired.

Sometimes, he had fainting spells and had to go to the hospital.

He took up bowling as a co-curricular activity in Primary 6, but stopped after he found it too tiring to hold the bowling ball.

Instead, he focused on painting, mostly in acrylic. Last July, his work was featured in an annual art exhibition organised by the charity Very Special Arts Singapore.

Last year, he sold some of his paintings to buy a laptop computer.

His condition has been deteriorating gradually over the past two years.

Collapsed

Last September, he collapsed while in school. After that, Andre went to school for only two hours each day.

Said Mrs Tang: 'Every time he comes home, I see a very tired child. But he's smiling all the way.'

Two weeks ago, he asked his parents for a stool, so he could sit while bathing. A few days later, he asked if the maid could bathe him, his father said.

'It seemed like a bizarre thing to say at that time, but now we understand why he said it,' added Mr Tang.

Two weeks ago, Andre also asked for cream-coloured lipstick, so that people in public would not stare at his dark-coloured lips.

It seemed Andre himself was aware that his body was weakening. He asked his sister, Andrea, who is an active swimmer, to win a gold medal for him.

He left instructions to Andreana to take care of his cat, which he named 'Kiasu'. He also asked his family to leave his computer, laptop and desk as they are, because he 'will come back'.

Mr Tang said: 'Andre used to ask me: 'Why doesn't God take me back, so that in my next life, I can jump, swim, play, without catching my breath?'

'Andre would say: 'If I had a normal life, I would be better in sports than you.' He said that he would represent ACS in sports.'

It was Andre's pride in his school that motivated his family to decide to cremate him in his school uniform. His funeral will be held on Friday.

Andre's father plans to write a book about Andre's life.

Mr Tang said that before he died, Andre told his mother: 'Don't be sad. If I go, I'll be well-taken care of by God. Anyway, I'll be around. I'll be an angel looking around. I will help you all.'

'Don't worry about the funeral expenses. They will be answered. God will help us.'

This article was first published in The New Paper.

red.

.. the life of some is not as worthy as the life of some. So is the value of some is not as worthy as the value of some.

is this so in the eyes of god?

for it is so in our eyes. The eyes of human mortals.
And we are so convinced that we are the more worthy ones.
of course some of us are wrong. And forever wrong. ..which one(s) of us?

unconsiousness

... This wrong. It has to be. It has to be incorrect. How can consciousness be put to and end? How can consciousness cease to be. For each consciousnesses would have every instinct to live and survive and continue it's existence. How can consciousnesses be made to cease , end and vanish. ..forever? And some even told of it's time. This is so cruel.

the ever un-green

. I told the rest of you, that we are planned. There is no life in our concept. It is at the beginning that we are already set up failure, for an end, for death. It is at the VERY start we have already started to fail. That is the nature of our kind. And be it more sad, because we are much more intellectual less mortal than any of them. And yet we do not fully seek to admit. We are set up to die. We are all dying. Right from the time of birth, growth.. ...and deterioration thru time. We seems not suitable for this environment and place. We ..indeed cliche... we are born to die. But know that , it is longer for the body to self deteriorate, than we yourselves to catalysis it further.

our plans reflect our wisdom not. Our failure to know what it is abt the nature of our kind. We are here to take, use and disintegrate. Our failure rate is higher in terms of place and situations. Thus our plans must reflect that. Our plans shd not be long term. I see many of us create plans and await silly lengths of time for a "better" time to execute them, it is un-wise.

They plan as if they are gods and immortal.


Strange, do they think life is that long?

There is no next time, or some years later..in the future.... there is no such time

There is only time now.

Time now.


NOW.

lost and the night stalker

lost and the night stalker :

http://apoet.multiply.com/photos/album/30/lost_and_the_night_stalker.

50—year—old SingTel technical officer Ong Kian Cheong and his 46—year—old wife, UBS associate director Dorothy Chan Hien Leng

50—year—old SingTel technical officer Ong Kian Cheong

46—year—old wife, UBS associate director Dorothy Chan Hien Leng,

You deserved more than you got.

of thee , father not

.. father, we cannot win, we cannot defeated the ways of the world. It is inherently grown into the core , the roots and the hearts too deep to extract to eradicate… and I am not of worth , for this evolution…or to see it happen. I am just one me. I cannot make a difference. I cannot, father thy wish and command has fail on my weak and limp body… I have failed you. Thy grace am I unworthy. And in vain I have taken thy name. thy war, I cannot win. I shall die trying. Thy legacy of hatred, pride of the left hand…I shall end…end I shall , for I bring not this unto my sons and sons of sons.. this is a dark path, of justice and yet woe, …the way of the world vile shall defeat us. As I wishes upon our descendants the art and skill of this world…which is the art of unscrupulously… which is of honour not, integrity not, …which is of us not…of thee , father not. take this willingness away with these outflowing tears.

fa lun

Bring this theory back to where you come from. It is not welcomed here.
Don't come to our country corrupting it with your shit.

I am son.

...for the length of my youth , I had fail in wisdom to know you. To understand thy mysterious ways...rejecting the world who follow you not. Who do not at thy cross bow...hated.,..And I hated you. I fought with my rage and the strength of youth and with much ignorance. And .. it seems I might have won, even when I am wrong. ...for light came unto me, of thy depth and wisdom which now with much ages added I grasp.,..and know. The ways and whys, thy world created and stated,.oh! it's so true they say the blind do not know still even when true hits them between their eyes.... and I am so...And I see it now. ah... such truth in thy ways, comdemed.,hated...I yet I am already yours. this and that....and of all that.,.I know now the truth thou held and hold. ...such pain where no know believed and agreed...I realised that yet ...I am already yours.....

I am already son.

Broken child

There is a pair of parents crying and grieving over their child, a innocent young child, harmless and pure. Broken. His limps and body all broken into different pieces. Next I saw a toy made of plastic. It is a toy in the shape of a child. It is a toy in a shape of an innocent young child, harmless and pure and broken. This toy is to resemble that child who is broken. His limps and body broken into different pieces...

It is a toy. And it is the child of that pair of parents..

habitants of a tall white building

.. tinted is our hearts. The hearts of man. That their sleep turmoils with desire and unrest.

In a day, I walked an alley, a penumbra path of female parades. I am male today. I walked with an agenda of lust... arriving at a strange tall white building. Where access to it is up a slope..the slope begins slowly ...having stairs and railings... for one to hold on to....and further up the way... the stairs has faded...and there is only the railings to hold. The slope steepens... dangerously. I had moved too far up to back track safely. There is no grip and I am up high ... there is no stairs but just railings. One needs to carry on up.

so at last I reach a clearing... and upon my eyes rest ruins. Slumps. Of stench and filth...rust and decadence. and of algae. Yet it is not abandon at all. On the contrary , it is packed and heavily habituated. and thus a man's vice is cheaper affordable. And of a king's picking.
And I picked one. But there was two and in the room, they were two... like sisters. comforting the pain of wants. And in respond promoted me to stroke mounts of venus covered with white cloths. and we were all made to feel that we are sick ...a sickness that needs to be medicated and cured.

a kid fell.... in shock he cried.

...

...I stood...and took a deep breath of the stars.

Poetry for charity

Poetry for Charity.




Contributed.

8th april 09

I received news that I smile. I smile indeed. because I tot that these are not my foes..and could not comprehend that they were being ruthless....and I needed to be nice. and therein lies my mistake. I gave it a lot of thoughts...and came to a conclusion that no friends (or family) of mine should behaved that way...and now I come to not correct my mistake. this is not a justification of my smile. I come now to re-tilt the imbalance for myself every time I relive the incident. I come to re-tilt the equation of the shame and mockery, members of my clan has suffered under enemy jesters....and I curse the same and be it my wish that the same shall befall unto them no more NO less… I come now to seek extreme awkward situations that smiley bastards want to avoid, I come now to seek awkward situation that selfish egoistic people talk themselves away, I come now amidst broken relations and dog pride raped liketh family ties..this is not justice, this is all about I hurt you, and I feel better...I am not reasonable, I am not logical I am not affected by kindness nor bad karma. I am moved not by soft talk or penis teasing peace whispers. I Love revenge. .I come now and seek offence.

4th april 2009

god, is this all that you ask of me?

I sat in a dusty room

I carry this chunk of white paper around, and place it where I go and be happy. And at where, I place it's paper will live it's life time. The paper will decay as my happiness of there wane. aww but everything wanes....everything... if it's slow or fast.. if you think it's not changing, it's just too slow for you to see.... and with everyday I try to leave white paper as much as I can.... and especially the places ...where the white paper has turned yellow...turned to black..and to ash. you see the white paper I leave will wane in time...turning from white to yellow to black and slowly to ashes...And be blown away by them. they whom sit at places where the paper is turning...waiting for them to be turning from white to yellow and waiting till they are ashes and they who waits shall blow these ashes away...ah, I need to get to those paper that yellow and turning to ashes and try to be happy there again , for the same reason and thus I can put a white paper there.... sometimes I can . if he blows the ashes before me.. I will lose that happiness forever.

the things between you and me.

would I have sadness that you have?
would it more, would it be less?

would you have worries that I have?
without those loops on my neck

would I have burdens that you have?
which is deeper, mine or that?

would you be wishing you were me?
like me wishing you to be..

would you be as happy as you seem?
or is my happiness you foresee?

who lays claim to wisdom more?
the riches, full, wealthy & lore.

who speaks life and knows it better?
the proud and strong, or the meek and little?

will I live life just like you?
sigh in mountain air life's a beaut?

would you be sad like sometimes me?
and wish things could differ be?

would you be calm like sometimes me?
on grass be running for simple be.

why place the you in you now?
or how place the me in me now?

why is your life as you have?
mine as mine good or bad?

would you ever know of me?
and I of you a friend see..?

is me or you or you me and?
who more? when it ends.



© apoet 4.12pm 6 march 09

In the face of death

some darker place

... many years ago... about 20 years ago.. in school , in a primary school where kids should be happy and merry and most of them are. There was an event, a happening. Where the kids were ask to bring the photocopies of their parents identity card for some form of registration... the kids were excited. And were comparing faces of their parents and having a nice time.....

kid a: is that ur mom?
kid b: yes , I see..so fat?
kid a: oi !
kid c: quite pretty, think I see her before..
apoet: think I saw ur dad before.
apoet: hey how abt urs, how come urs dun have picture one?
kid d: this is my parents' death cert.

Last words

Last words

A tingling pinch
oh a secluded inch,
so requested teach
yea smack up this bitch !

like mjöllnir of thor,
seek un-breaking walls
a gesture of erks
be not like last words

©apoet 6 Feb 09

...unrest

..the ways of the violent and the rage ...that seems to turmoil even the most hidden of dreams will tortures the ones that hold them. As they seek peace which is ultimately a common longing for all...especially when near death. A wave of uncontrollable sickness and a moment of insanity takes over. And when the wave dies. One is awake and mostly in remorse. And regret. These cannot be controlled. And soon, it will take over it's host. what peace can release and cease his sickness? ah...



"takes more strength to put down my hands...than raise them to fight"

:Youth of Today.

the balance scales of libra.

in a strange twilight... where the stars do not explain the things that are being in-scripted across the skies. But are already fore see.. we do not know and could not know.. the scales .. our scales.. and for all that we have given. All that we have taken... and for all that we could have been. We stand in silence. and wonder else. Where some of us have traded the luxuries of youth for the something. And if that something is worth... ah, I do not know. I do not know for for those of us we still do not see it.. we cannot see the return of the our woes , the return of our pain... and maybe even our destiny. Is there balance in the scales of libra? in the scales of the stars and for the stars. Oh scales of heaven and balance of the stars, will see in my sight the trade of my life and tell me, will it be fair. Will justice be done? and of all the things we have ask for.,,,and of those that is fair... be returned? Will those be the one who have paid their dues? And guide us with the signs the way of life, the difference we are to make.

Thee I call thy name scales of libra, be bright as the sun of leo! tell us the path thru the moons of Capricorn! ... and lead us , tell us if not save us !

din

http://writers.multiply.com/journal/item/2375/Besides_god.

old demons

whom trampled thee,
demons vile and old.
own.

© apoet , 13 jan 09

dedicate to plat0.

humanity

may it be his house,
walls wet of humanity
learnt or loath painted.

© apoet, 11 jan 2009

Besides god.

Beside god.

“from Lourdes shall come ..”
Be with god or not,
of faith.

Could be man to man
eventually can.
forsake

..for there can be thought,
in such times of drought
of love.

and man without god
without force or loath
give love

maybe god who bless,
or of divine hands,
on us..

(but) just man can come.
with unhidden palms
awake.

and man can give,
to his fellow man
not take.


© apoet 8.07pm, 01 01 09


In our draconian times, where we are whipped with terrible diseases and along with such financial state....as mortals we are compelled to seek help. And help from something that will defy laws of our world... and that goodness will come from this.... though rare. Man can do another man goodness, without the influences of god. For while man by himself is capable of all the sins Lucifer has been accused of doing. Man too is capable of goodness, from himself and by himself..

The sun of 12.

The sun of 12.


Given the gift
Of the less fortunate,
and watch the inverts shine…


wonder the wish
which group of twenty-four
would such be of thine?


My every pain,
Too it’s my every loves.
returns ten folds hurts


Care like the 12,
blinds and overwhelms
could thy love, our curse?


Life’s every wheeze
I turn and wonder it

of why the inverts shine..

of if it is my time



© apoet 7th dec 2008, 4.05pm

Blinks for my eyes.

I tried to hold up my eye lids today, for about an hour...and at the end of it my eyes were so dry from the air, it turned red and sore and force my fingers to let go, to beg for a blink..red and dry... beg for a blink, and when it does it tears. Thus a full cycle has been achieve. We have to keep it dry by wetting it.

We in turn to be selfless on a bigger scale had become selfish on a smaller scale. And we know the ones that deem you selfish on a bigger scale is selfish actually on the smaller scale.

Mark 3:22

Mark 3:22

photo shop

come, come,
show our bond
sight paintings of adjusted reflections

count, count,
fat our brag
worth to the amount of "papers" tagged

praise, praise
set a face
mouth the words, that the heart doth hate

"ah....I speak here the whys to family portraits !"

© apoet 5th Nov 2008

Sworn to a great divide

“Clouds in September”

as "the journey continues.."
the timeless
competition repeatedly renews

two contrasting ceaseless lore
chronic
tug-of-war of equal justified allure,

decisions of writhe
politicize
the choice of act lacerated by the “great divide”

a miasmal cerebral
as visitation
so...rapture or desolation?

© apoet 2.22pm 2 Oct 2008


"every time and everywhere. The different ways of acts we can commit to any situation. Between good bad, right or self fulfillment. Hope or desolution, love or hate, right wrong, should, should not....We decide we debate, we choose, between two main things at the roots. We torment oursleves over the choices of act... We are indeed sworn to the great divide. ...constantly"

Inspired by :

- Clouds in September by Fleur.

- Sworn to a great divide by Soilwork.

..gasping at the buddha's leg..

I went to the temple today.
For I am a bad person.
I went to the temple today to pray.
For I am a bad person.

I thought to myself. There are a lot of bad people here isn't it ? I mean the whole temple is crowded. There are a lot of bad people.

Then I was told, that it's not true. Not only bad people come to the temple. I asked "really?" Then I wonder why do people go to the temple. Would someone who has been really a saint come to the temple and say " I am here today because I am too good a person." Will that happen? Would someone come to the temple and say "I am here today at the temple because I am doing so much good things." hmn....

Then I was told again that's not true. People come to temple with regards to things. Then I thought to myself, Then there must be a lot of greedy people. For the temple is crowded again. If most of them did not come to the temple because they are bad but just to want things. Because again I don't think someone would come to the temple and say " I am here today because I have too much things ." or " I am here today because I have too much money." dun think that would happen.



I go to the temple today.
because I am a bad guy.
I go because I wonder why my punishment is not here yet,
and I just simply want to thank buddha for the borrowed time.

"...against Elli..."

the hall of Utgarda-Loki, breathes the faint breeze..of mockery.
Here upon glazes that speak little, and what ye would call thee.
Yet this is, the fight of the mightiest for those whom are wise,
Pass the spell and illusion, Where man comes weak..before Elli.
For thee of strength that matches the gods cannot move,
and the harder thou push the faster Elli, she stood.
Now Elli as a old woman, stricken in years stood
And not even the mightiest and the strongest of us could
Come firm and strong Elli will and did ,
And thou held on longest all have seen,
For all man would and will fall,
All man but not thor,
Who gave just a knee to floor.

Glory !

"wash not woes , but high them more than tide of drinks, for knives drawn at water splits nothing..."

Haunting-s from one angel, finally moved me. As I shrink into recession...retract into calm. Backed into impotency. Yet in reason there I deny defeat, no fray of stance or confidence. But pleads... that do not force, but begs against hopes much as nil, relentless... pleads lay fray yet to a much much earful audience. As knife drawn at water splits nothing, I was mesmerised into doubts ...doubts to the right to inculpate, as tyrants. As we all are, given the chance. And now I stand shameful, ashamed that I am ashamed to bully. The vile of a merciful murderer. The sympathy from the predator at it's prey. I lower my head in lowliness, like a man that peed in his pants, facing the mob of mockery, tears of a limp wimp flesh. The incapability. and after all it comes to this.


"wash not woes , but high them more than tide of drinks, for knives drawn at water splits nothing..."

.adapted from a chinese idiom.

"for Christians only"

Today I met this lady that is responding to the government's rally for us Singaporeans to have more kids. And also for the singles to have help to meet up and be married. She told me that there was this outing for people to know each other , meet up and make friends. She said I could not go. Because it's for Christians only. I asked why, and she said :" it's in the bible that we must be equally yoked."

I need to know what is not equal between a person walking the street who is a not a christian and another one walking the same street who is one. That they cannot meet to be friends.

I NEED TO KNOW.

...the fleeing singaporeans on tuesday...

.. the news is barely out. And on the papers, just even the current day has yet to come to pass. And our beloved countryman and women ran, and many of them.. to take what they can and flee. If I am immune to pain, I will push my fingers all the way into the back of my eyes.... I am disgusted with what I see on the television. Disgust with this behavior, the rush to save oneself, and not being able to listen, to calm down, and to see and understand. BUT to slash and burn and save oneself and flee. Oh , this world is so full of them. Oh I hate kinds like this whom jump to conclusion at the slightest hint of rumors, and what do they do they speak untruth and blabber staining twist to the real thing, and cost so much harm and distortion. They feel like worms to me. And they need a Christ. A solution which comes no longer in a tiny painless needle. We bring to the graceful, disgrace. We need to wear disgrace and inflict unto the graceful hopefuls, the ugliness of disgracefulness, and mirror them as what they are.

godlessness

godlessness

upon baby like sleep,
screams liketh the souls of hell...
reds the infants twilights..
and so we are peace-less.

at the white feathers heap,
like distressed old church bells.
smashes a fairytale light
brings now consciousness.

of my love insane sleeps
torments like of the witches knell
rape the tranquil nights
tears me till bitterness

of the brothers by bleed….
An allegiance warth forged held
Forgive the blacken knights
sadden till godlessness

© apoet 9.28pm 12 August 2008

to keep walking ( cause )

(this is not the present)

..*mumbles to myself* must keep walking... must keep walking.. keeping walking. *as tears clogs and gathers* must keep walking. for there is no more hope. And we cannot and can longer depend on that for strength. ... there comes time when sheer determination moves even without the slightest of hope, light or any form or chance ...regardless of the existence of any form of encouragement be it mortal or immortal. For the fall is even worse than death itself. That's when, one can move and carry on without hope without light. The sheer darkness of being alone and dying alone and fighting alone with total desolation and hopelessness... and certain devastation. This is a time where we do not care anymore about results. We no longer care if what we do matters, BUT the most important is we are doing something. We are. No time to cry, no time to grieve, no time to show weakness...Just trying. We are not even sure if we will ever succeed , but we are prepare to die while at it. ..a form of numbness comes, and we keep moving. keeping moving, keep walking. senselessness comes and we move into a state of subconsciousness .. vaguely remember just what we need to do, and we are doing... not knowing too sure anymore why, not knowing too sure anymore our cause... but just that we must keep moving. for we cannot accept anymore the cause of reality. The cause of certainty and the linearity of time.


.. I wonder how many of us ...have been blessed not to experience this.

to keep trying

...truly many and most of life's things were not taught to us. While some of us got better of it some of us did not and scrambled, fall and came out the wrong side of it. But all of us went in without much of a clue and practice, that's for sure. And some of life's things are so trying. SO SO trying. And it's really almost impossible to not give up. But some of us don't...

I am not talking about those who didn't today, or how heroic that they are. Instead I am seeking an understanding of those who did. Those of us whom gave up. And we need to understand how hard it is not too. How trying and clueless we all are, at that point of time... this point of time. sigh. Indeed we are all poor souls, throw in the arena to fend for ourselves not knowing most if not all of the time what is the absolute truth... well if there is such a thing in the first place. I wonder what happened to our creators. Did they make us out of boredom and our tolls and falls for leisure in the make place toy of earth do they enjoy to see what happens to their little toys.. ??strange.

man, this is so trying. I have no clue on what to do. And what's best. We all ask questions on how, when and seek the wisdom of the gods on what we should do , some pray for luck , some pray for wisdom.. some for wealth and health.... and all of us are seeking, wanting to know. And all of us are just going around. And till we run out of time. Till it's time.

man, it is so trying, I sad at the very fact that I do not know what to do and the actual thing could be there is no one thing that can be done which is correct.
...

what should I do? .. in so many things.

rest

..eventually. But is it worth? all of this...

I lay myself down,and closed my eyes. And my heart. To shut away, to shut away things that lay so many of us even way before we are done.. we are already done.
Many years have passed, from the first time I cried to reality...cried to life and the way of it. Along the years during some of it I thought I got over it...some years I knew I didn't.
Some of you have called me a hater. Some deemed me as a depressant. Could be true. Yet all I will ask to all that is... am I not speaking truth that you too can see around you?
Some would say that I have interpreted it differently. Interpreted wrongly. Truly for the sake of both of us, I hope you are the one who is right.

For if I am wrong,...ha I am nobody. And it does not matter. And I shall pass on. But if unfortunately I am right....if I am right.... then , all this, all of us....will become pointless, totally meaningless and that would such a sad sad thing. Which I myself fear every single night I sleep and why I cried so young many years ago.

. . . . . .

: one : sad : me : everyone : no one : the :

I am sad today. And so I am, and so am I. And the sads that is from me is reflected in and out of me to all the others. And thus every me there is , is sad. And every me that exists is sadder than me. And thus sad is me. For because every me is sad, thus anyone other than me is no longer sad or that sad not important for me is sad. And that me who is sad will not be heard. And thus each one is sad. And each is always one. And one falls. We are Ones. One at each of us and one is everyone and everywhere. And that is sad. Not that me is sad, but that sad is everywhere because one is everyone and everywhere. And death comes to ones , and everyone cries. And no longer wants to be one, and suddenly become not one of everyone. But that is enough? that will suffice? a min just before death to be not of the ones? I dun know. I am sad. And I have become one. I sad at the ones the small ones will become, and that sad will be those ones they become. And they themselves will hold the sad and me sad of being one of everyone.

if someone reaches out, who is there to hold them?


the no one.

Fuck the papers. (dave teo)

today, another death pass us. yet another hangs on, and another just lost. It's amazing, what we are doing to each other. It's amazing what we let god get away with. ....and those parents... those parents too...I wonder if they know now, realise now what they have done. They have sculpt out of a Innocent child from birth a lost torment man. What irresponsibility, and how cruel.
If you cannot bring up a child properly, or don't even want to try, don't FUCK. And not to say don't bring a child here. This place is no where for Innocent to flourish on it's own. I hear this story yesterday :

A father who is a convicted drug trafficker, a mother who is a gambler vents her anger on her sons. And divorced, they sent their son to their grandparents. I would guess the two brothers grew close, since they got only each other. the younger one had an accident. A lorry ran over him. and left the older one on alone. Alone here. 7 years after his brother's death, his girlfriend of 4 years leaves him.

Now, at 21 years do you really blame Dave Teo on what he has done? Do you really think it's all his fault?

This is a hard life. His hard life. And not yours. that's right. Not ours. At least don't pretend that we can understand how he feels.

At least the papers can shut the fuck up, on how wrong he is and condeming him. And emphasize, show us, tell the readers the truth on why he is what he is. And then point fingers at those who truly are at fault.

the plague of clouds

the plague of clouds

across the thread,
tiny it sat,
till hope resorted to ginseng,

sunk eyes drips black,
it's vision’s had,
in iris a scream’s vain.

where should be hole,
black blood stub folds,
out of the oesophagus

and of it’s toes,
to upright holds,
done nails at 10 it’s figures

in so the reap,
the wondering doctors,
sew in a bag of sperms

in 2nd edition ,
a whore audition,
the leak of milk when spun

He needed the naught,
when vile-s are caught,
accused the innocent wet tart,

whom carries the 9,
loses sleep at night,
love a cursed by heart.

In haste a hiss,
maggots filled armpit,
the lick of a pus filled wound

a try dismissed,
at mindless feet,
lust from a previous worn.

and furry white,
shed their spite,
hairs cover the tasteless rough

their efforts hide,
a blur of hide,
and also a crooked path.


© apoet 12 june 2008 1.00pm

enough of noise

ah,
enough of the death
that keeps coming

enough of the sad
so needs crying

enough of the young
that keeps dying

so that we be able to keep on a-feeling


enough of systems,
that keeps failing

enough of faith,
that keeps waning,

enough of love
constantly thinning,

it's ok to fall if we keep on a-living


enough of urs
problems and whining,

enough of urs
daring and doing

enough of urs
scolding and fighting,

it’s my noise I want to be hearing.


Enough of god,
living and warning

Enough of messiahs
helping and healing,

Enough of followers
proving and promising

it’s okie to be living to one day be dying.

© apoet 10 june 2008

“…what I saw at punggol field…”

“…what I saw at punggol field…”..

I saw…

…so in peace laid angelic white
to rest did she from such tedious fight
who seek the ways of trust and faith
Upon by god has her name a place.

Posters show at the side of the hall,
creeds and tolls hath she endured,
of sad things that man can’t cure,
she did with a smile, which we all adore.

I wonder at tears that will not cease,
Still with years for a sad like this,
Yet I see not eyes of sympathy,
But a sense of calm tranquility

In awe I knew what she hath done,
not the blog nor the site she runs
she cure the fear of death like magic,
oh, not trivial, but just heroic.

© apoet 3.09 pm 3^rd june 2008

Just for the wonder-woman at http://www.wearewonderwomen.com/blog/

there was a sad day at punggol field

there was a sad day at punggol field

sad…
for death of reapless seeds whom sowing fails like life..
it’s roots are our feet.


yet..
the dark reap of deeds, lives swift blind and hype
even from gutters deep.

Still…
ignored and snubbed, to gloom life’s cause is dub.
As thus the gods art.

Lost.
Trust and the confiders and hands and the skies..
Is reason too denied.


Out.
the prayed, is how the hopeful feels played.
Is our house to faith


© apoet 12.29 am 30 may 2008



The cancer sufferers of our time, tell yet brave and sad real life stories. Of those who fought it side by side with god, and those who fought it by themselves, they all deserve our admiration and respect. For those who evetually survived and those whom did not. ..something that commonly an undesired end result is mostly foreseen. I am just sad today that these are facts. Not that I dun know but today I am reminded again. "there was a sad day at punggol field" is my cry on this. On this terrible heart breaking and life taking diease.

[on 29 May 2008 at 12:31am
From 29 May 2008 (thu) to 01 Jun 2008 (sun)]

in lightest moments

in my lightest moments, I felt great love passing into me and thru me abundantly and endlessly. And like all sick beings that inhibit earth, I felt positive and full of love and reckon that life is of a wonderful passage and realized my purpose in life. And I stood among pathetic parents that had no aim and goal in life anymore but to based their life mission and sole purpose to glorify their offspring and do anything they can and will so that the young can dominate their peers and thus serve as a pride and rub the egos of the parents to a organismic level. And thus the deem life as successful.

When I reach this peak of emotion, every time I felt so happy, I felt it so fast and I wish it lasted longer, because every time I feel the love for my young. EVERY SINGLE MOMENT I feel the love for my young. I feel a instant follow up of great pain, sadness and guilt beyond anything I could feel. Beyond anything I have feel in my life. I grasp with my thoughts and at my hands.... what have I done? I have brought innocence into this world ! I have brought them into this world, a world that will devour innocence with swift violence and merciless hungry and lust.

With my love I wish, I could turn back time.
In all my wisdom this is the greatest foolishness I committed.

thou art not tested

they whom rest in the warm blossoms of peer to peer faith comfort, the grip of thy father pointed their fingers and said : thou whom with ease have no belongings , with ease held no restriction , with ease held no inhibits , held no burden.

this is untrue.

We. Ones whom walked the valley of shadows of death walk with no king. Walk with ourselves, brothers and sisters bonded by blood and bonds. Walk with courage that is self reliance, and self executed. We do not hold hope beyond our means. And thus face death disadvantaged. and we face it still that way, by our preferences and strength.

What you fear, you face with a supernatural being.

We face it by ourselves.

and you say we have no burden? And you say your race is tested?


...

Wong Ngit Liong, wife and Then Jiamin ( tycoon's wife slaps SIA girl )

today I learn from the newspaper, that if you are rich enough you can raise your hand on another person, then pay them off and get away with it.

turned away

today I saw sincerity being turned. honest emotions being shun and i am sad greatly sadden affected and disturbed by what I saw in differences we have parted and disowned and distanced because of differences and perception and mindset we still have sop much to grow and know for we lack so much even at this stage who else hears the sadness of sincerity being rejected who else will you not want to be viewed as normal by everyone else and yet you have view this different and oust this and keep it out who else deserve chances do you if you do not give one same as you one must all who asketh for one appear white and cross bearer

you breed the rage, and a greater rejection towards the things and reasons which you shun me with and defended yourself with from me. I stand outside your door knocking. knocking, dress well but only in my comfort colour but it was not yours and thus you did not open your door. I do not curse you for yet the things you do are of much greatness. But one thing, you need to know. you need to know. You did not welcome me. and for every sad reasons.

you did not welcome me.

the way of saddening

It is inevitable that as we age, and grow older.. we become sadder, more sadder, ..more sadder…. Until when that day finally comes, we would be almost ready. For we would be sad enough for it. Is this some form of preparation? …if so .. by the instinct of our own genes and kind? Or by our creator’s wisdom planning and instruction?

to raised an evil

.. a pair of parent today, I saw killed themselves...tried to kill themselves, by jumping out of the window of their house. They did so because they did not want to be eaten alive by the things they have raised as kids....these things have stay seemly undiscovered for over 30 years, and these 30 years the parents raised them thinking they were their kids... strangely enough they gave birth to them.

they jumped off the window and landed hard on the floor below. Broken and waiting to die.but not soon enough, they saw, those things make their way down and continued nibbling off flesh off their bodies....eaten to death only this time they are broken and cannot move but can only watch.

this day

imagine this. A person gives alot to charity, so alot that it gets on the paper. And this is what is wanted. And thus it is. The money was spend to buy newspaper space. Not given to charity.
Picture this. A person, helps charity needing person for a while out of own time and little of what was intended to be used on oneself. But now is given. This which is given is real charity.

so if one wants to go around talking loud and proudly, that one celebrate this day, please know it as what it is. Else one is just "buying news paper space."

Fuck the "newspaper space buyers" of this day.

which irritatingly most of them are.

"In My Language"

"The previous part of this video was in my native language.  Many people have assumed that when I talk about this being my language that means that each part of the video must have a particular message within it designed for the human mind to interpret. But my language is not about designing words or even visual symbols for people to interpret. It is about being in a constant conversation with every aspect of my environment. Reacting physically to all parts of my surroundings In this part of the video the water doesn't symbolize anything I am just interacting with the water as the water interacts with me.  Far from being purposeless, the way that I move is an ongoing response to what is around me. Ironically, the way that I move when responding to everything around me is described as "being in a world of my own" whereas if I interact with a much more limited set of responses and only react to a much more limited part of my surroundings people claim that I am "opening up to true interaction with the world" They judge my existence, awareness, and personhood on which of a tiny and limited part of the world I appear to be reacting to. The way I naturally think and respond to things looks and feels so different from standard concepts or even visualization that some people do not consider it thought at all but it is a way of thinking in its own right. However the thinking of people like  me is only taken seriously if we learn your language no matter how we previously thought or interacted. As you heard I can sing along with what is around me. It is only when I type something in your language that you refer to me as having communication.  I smell things,  I listen to things,  I feel things,  I taste things, I look at things. It is not enough to look and listen and taste and smell and feel, I have to do those to the right things such as look at books and fail to do them to the wrong things or else people doubt that I am a thinking being and since their definition of thought defines their definition of personhood so ridiculously much they doubt that I am a real person as well.  I would like to honestly know how many people if you met me on the street would believe I wrote this I find it very interesting by the way that failure to learn your language is seen as a deficit but failure to learn my language is seen as so natural that people like me are officially described as mysterious and puzzling rather than anyone admitting that it is themselves who are confused not autistic people or other cognitively disabled people who are inherently confusing.  We are even viewed as non-communicative If we don't speak the standard language but other people are not considered as non-communicative if they are so oblivious to our own languages as to believe they don't exist.  In the end I want you to know that this has not been intended as a voyeuristic freak show where you get to look at the bizarre workings of the autistic mind It is meant as a strong statement on the existence and value of many different kinds of thinking and interaction in a world where how close you can appear to a specific one of them determines whether you are seen as a real person or an adult or an intelligent person.  And in a world in which those determine whether you have any rights there are people being tortured, people dying because they are considered non persons because their kind of thought is so unusual as to not be considered thought at all.  Only when the many shapes of personhood are recognized will justice and human rights be possible."


Amanda Baggs

Valentine

Valentine

lovers be in fear!
coming of a time where love gifts thine of nothing but tears,
nears.

lovers loved so blind !
chaining the writhe of doubts for thy rush to indulge unkind,
binds.

Lovers love with lies!
thy faith in sweetness the bliss of youthful weakness unwise,
dies

Lovers thus behold!
All thee held reasons to joy reaps unworthy much sow of toil, told
is woe.

apoet © 14th feb 2008 4.50pm

2 red

..and red in rage, and the heat in hades seem pale to match it's pace,
and so the people spurge like it does not hurt , for shame is to be second or third..
and unruly they come, like if the race runs, everything here that is done
at them they hint , whose days are green, of superiority by their grin

little they know, in shame it's told, the red are the worst of arrogance, behold !

apoet : © feb 6 2007, 8.37pm

transcendental

transcend out, and the intend is just to see yourself. See the body that we cannot see. See the ugliness that otherwise is not possible. To know your own as something else, to know the familiar as someone else. We need to do that . Especially in this place,... here in singapore. We need to see ourselves for the shame that we are, the self-righteous claiming hypocrite . The snob and the arrogance. The ignorant and the selfish. The self centered and the coward.

this is a very serious need

the end of death

he who felt greater than flesh, felt a mortal fear. A black of emotions and breath. A black on the love of life. Upon the love of life lies the truth in petals bed....and they chant it's name "sin". And the idols dancers claim the absolute as a beginning. Indeed, if the end is not a beginning what else is there? Nothing.

The end of death is to not give new life. We can end sorrow. We can defeat the gods. Where there are no more lessers, no one shall be god.

the great disheartening

come to my arms, lost lover. One held deared for all my mortal memories..how can I find you again? How do I embrace thee forever once again? We have stood together, and watch each other aged, and matured .. and in times of dependence...I held with both my arms and lean totally on you. for this is my love and my passion....Had you me? and I believed with more than all of my heart that we are one..every single day. in times of fear I chanted thy name thee of whom bestow unto the lost, me, strength.

Was it my pride? tis straying that is of me? Had I in direction misguided? ..thus complacent? Is this that I have asketh much? A confirmation and seal of our love, a certification for self assurance and gratifying....and in that and those ...I lost you. ....this few months, I walked the thorns alone...though it fills my heart with pain that my voice no longer stand loyal to me...I breath the dark lands blank, daze and with no direction nor purpose, I walked the day path insecure unsure and lost.. I am no longer a person. I am less, so much lesser. Can I not ask for more?

is this the wrong I reap?

and I lost you. This disheartening, chains and grips my heart tight like a vice, for I have lost you, and thus my voice...and my tears can no longer tell the story..

have I erred ,trip and fall..?. do I realise that I have to find you from nowhere again? I longed for your return and you... how do I ? I relive memories, where we would fight and love, I remember the sweetness of pain with you.... have I at you thrown disappointment? Have I upon our love judged,on a dried tree skin degraded, and physically our bond?..where it's created by it's killers themselves to praise and masturbate their each and own vanity? have I ? have I fallen to their lure? have I?

How do I re-align? and the right path do I re-discover? a familiar place where passion need no justification or prove nor can it be graded. where love is just between two person, you and me...and with that all is enough and all will come. and so shall my voice and my tears cast upon the world knowledge , stories and hopefully wisdom.

this great disheartening of us..walking with you, yet the sight of it is the cause of the heartache, ...

I carry the the load of you weightless.

maul

.. he who pour his gift and showered all his inheritance to us. long lived the children..Seeds that needs to be passed, long with the old, gave to us mutation ten fold. The main pour of rain, and those live in bliss lest the first and last drops echos screams... forever. In hands they hold hammers spike with nails.. the talkers shalt be mutilated, silt not the wrist but dismember the fingers. And mate skulls with fist, bones in traction cracked to thin, swarms are coming..ways to sodomy, as the flow of human excrete and fluid hard and congregate...flesh lays ruin, by flesh. The coming time bears no reason, no ears, and now since no one is listening. We will not. watch my ways and yours.. in your white hypocrisy for when you claim to be a righteous one, I do not. .. I claim to be a bastard.

DO SIN.

COME FORTH AND OFFENCE !

.. for every offence that is given, for every mayhem that is conceived. we take the blame of the driven we take the name of the forsaken! oh fuck thy soul bathe in lubricant ! you speak of rules and ways that lick the sick glory of self stain pride, built on speak that tiny gals swine ! hark ! you the beauty clean and green, rich and polish, smart and gleam , "we are just bones brain and cock ! deep down we are stronger than all!" where fist grind fist, and blood is where guts spilled in glory. rape reason as she falls, as we built a idol in adore weight her high and name her treason ! I am the dissident I am the insolence I am the mutiny I am this unity , indomitable raged and primordial. The sickness of fraud is enough, and reason have had her tries, where justice lies shamed. The strike of the left hand comes firm hard and merciless. We welcome blood and disgrace and mock the slap on you fucking face.

yeah... come forth and offence, mock your god fucked face.

Disown !

...fuck the sweeten blood ties, I am bred like the wolves and the rats, and I am bred for war. fuck the self righteous old sags, thou hath not half the honour thy splatter with thy sick saliva slime. fuck thy seniority and self imposed authority. I have no respect for it. fuck the promise of a right life, I am bred in perversion and pain and anger scream thru the nights in my dreams for years that you fear to hear. I am getting ready. Are you?

disown an aching limb

your eyes do see, just your ability see not
ears don't hear, for true is not it's lang..
mouth doth speak, trust abused favored lies
advocate, you are the best of lies disguised!!

words not yours, so copied and steal
ideas stale, those you think you claimed as own?
so to where is this "seek" ?
that you so beautifully preach?
whose is this "we"?
that you would with it will find a day?
you war your own , bite the hand that feeds..
but shame true not your way, for as proved you are still inner-ly fray.
when all has cometh two as one, you married your bride..
sex and die with her, a wooden fetish called pride.
You drive those out, you fail to down,
You hate those whom betters you,
while you preach contradictions, truth weightless ounces
and frame them so with dishonor ly crowns..


fools are you whom not learn , unlearn and relearn
fools are ones with eyes blind not but mind clots
fools are the silly ones, whom degrades it's own unfulfilled desires..
fools are you, one whom speaks alone, am watched and mocked.
fools are you, encrypted, self made vice dons the chores of nothings petty piles,
fools are you so self claimed Michael's.... damn you to the fallens!!!
and serve me well "the accuser" legions in numbers, wealthy in strength, cometh forth and bask the glory, trample on with thy cloven hoofs.

He is enemy to ye that speak truth through hideous plights,
He is but nothing of the earth, space and water ,
He is the vermin that depicts the very shame of the whores whom he fail to laid,
He is that disgrace which he buries his failures with despise and hate,
He is the masquerade that speaks honey words to flowers between legs
He is my disgust, and equals the rest to like past
He is the inferior predator, on the child bearers he forces himself.
He is the intoxicate, that dos your mind in the name to educate.
He is not the "no one." for disgraceful if an association.


no gift is this that sprout from the very of disease,
of that, of course, of so thee wish ..a fantasy so pungent that thou so reek
cause stand nil of a virtue , thee holds such
poor the ignorant , little and un-humble types.
oh wait oh wait, whom speaks of disguised?
of who did entice lies and lies enticed did who?
Of that agreed, that it did twitched ,
in ye conscience clear and unlike thee.
of nothing they utter.. the lost gone ones,
of nothing they are , ... nothing sustained.


cometh forth sire , whom thy name is whispered

that is eagerness, the unwaitable urge of an underage, like the lust for
it's rainbow colored cherry pie,
that is a cover, like shield , the babies hide under sheets,
that is not nature, oh please spare mother earth from your daily sprouting
of pus.
that is not passion, for haven’t you heard this ; " why the impatience for
an eternal gloat ?"
that is not enlightenment, and nothing of that great for didn't you say "
if one would preach like god, fools would the one who fall ."
that is true the not learnt yet you part.
that is not about controlling the heart, but excuses for the inability to
think and reflect.
that is not words, not words mean for a fallen, a truly fallen.
this is a wait, a wait for admittance.
this is imperfection.
this is me
this I admit.


....is lust your root?
or the lying mask beneath your pretentious hood?
is pride your food?
or the organic pleasure of stolen stories' loot?
is denial your art?
or lowly mistake to stinking excuses of pride un-part?
is betrayal from years?
or is that an illusion of a ghostly mail?
is trust your prey?
or the innocent's heart and the fragile fray?
Is preaching your way?
or those are but words with flowering haze?
so indulgence's your strut?
that excuses the severe of your ways destruct?
is repentance de rigueur?
or so the whip spared the kid?
is practice in your preach?
or your deluding warmth is your perfected ditch?
does forgiveness matters?
years, pride and solitude is utter…

need no insanity to mask my in-confidence.

so now fame’s your search?
Not the rubbish talk of passion’s urge?
You twist your words?
Like titanic storm and typhoon’s worst..
But yours is not..
But the tiny storm of a disturbed cup..
Not worth are pies?
The worthless is you , and your ego piles.
So the mask you deny?
Must be the lust of a ghost , that caught my eyes..
So shout you now, OH!!!…innocent..
And claim sympathy of a wrongly burnt?
Displeased expressed?
Ha! nah.. , just words to ring when you are in your desolate urn.
Hey aren’t you’ve been wronged?
Why now the hope of new born flesh?
What use is new, when old is good?
What good is flesh when heart’s just ash.?


Nope. * tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock ,,,tick tock….*


Speak not , link not, of sowing the dones
When it’s the ploying plans is it’s magical wand
Oh pain is, hurt is, in seeing the one,
The hiding of yearning, in your musical barn
Take in, pick up , the any of one..
for the cover of lost, is by a fitfully hunt..
oh, too much , too great in the coming of freeze?
And now you are at it, again, doing the twist..
Ha!, scalded did, burnt did, but of whose are the limbs.?
Stopping screaming the dream of the conniving scheme
Act not , betray not, but of rage and of lost..??
Then it’s a sad of your age, still not knowing your course..
Whip should , tear should, by the rights of .. ..war.
When punishment descends, we’ll observe more…
oh no, oh no, not another stolen did??!!
that’s a line …going same hearts beats..
better not, matter not, but who’s in pain?
but the alone some squat, with the heart so faint.
Hope on, hope on, with your spirit of cain,
When your ego’s thaw? for time’s all drained.
laugh yes, laugh yes, all others may..
in pairs if they prayed, and into their heavenly days.
so do so do, the sad of a “truth”?
the alone of pride, a bitter ul sight.

my rage that will not die over 20 years, will yours bind?

a long long time

the core is endless. Only if it ceases will then father time has allocated enough. Till now no one know if this is bliss or curse. Oh, the core is endless and this is cannot be altered. We cannot seek to change anything unless the core is altered. And if the core changes, it dies and only a new one will come to replace. It might be new but it is not the same. Ah, the core is endless and thus the journey seems long, but this wrong there is not a journey. Mortally it is a passing cloud, yet time is limitless. unless the core changes, then time will be reset. Hark ! the core is endless and so are dreams. Unless the core changes, else dreams will die. And dreams which is tied mortally will lifespan like it's host which is mortally defined. Sigh, the core is endless, yet mortally all cannot be defined by the core, and thus choice is given. Limited but in existence. A almost useless tool but that can be used for self comforting. The core is endless, and "a long along time" is wrong. There is no time. It's just mortally trying to think in it's limited mortal capability of understanding, which in itself is wrong. ...why us? the core is endless.

-:-:-

..oh, ... what a god damn dreadful day...

lay a-limp

lay a-limp

by the smile of a foe,
lay a-limp.

the age toll unfolds
lay a-limp

little becomes worth
lay a-limp

thoughts stillborn at birth
lay a-limp

the vague of a purpose
lay a-limp

blame it all on curse
lay a-limp

under sands lies dreams,
and so a body lies limp,
under weight faith sinks,
to rest we lay a-limp


...after all it's just a limp.


apoet 25 dec 2007 (1.34am)

your snobbish behaviour is really making us.. "fucking hostile."

19th Dec 2007.
As we got on a lift and pressed 4th floor, a lady was already inside and she had pressed 13 floor. As the lift door closed we realised that we had got on the wrong block. We tried to pressed the open door button but it was too late, thus we decided to pressed the next nearest floor so that we can get out. The lady inside said " hey you cannot pressed the other floor. I already press 13th, so you must wait, I got here first."

20th Dec 2007
We got on a lift at causeway point. The lift was nearly full. As the door was closing, and it open again, a lady with two kids, carrying one and holding the hand of another one, got into the lift. And the door close. On the next floor the lady with the kids got off. And the door closed. An animal looking woman who is in the nearly full lift, spoke to her husband with her own two kids in the lift too and said : "one floor only also must take lift, this type of people so stupid, one floor also want to take cannot walk? so damn stupid. "

greatest gift of love

Many years the man will be tormented , many years the man would be eyed as a failure via the co-cohabitant's that shared the land with him. He had lived in solitude for many years. And for ALL years of him, shall he be living alone, and eventually to die alone. Yet , for all this is his preference, his choice, his gift for the greatest love possible.

When the time came for him becoming a age for marriage. He had denied it. And many yet passed and he held on to being alone. And thru the years when his peers down and soak in the sweet nectar of companionship's and relationships. He held none, retracting deep into his own dark world of silence and loneliness, yet knowingly holding out for love. And when the years of youth had pass and he no longer wish for companionship, the joy of kids and children soak his heart into the saddest years possible only by swans. Yet he held on. He did not had any children and had stopped himself to have any children, nor kids. They have called him, strange , cold and twisted. But he held on, for love. Leaving old age alone. Missing the joy of cuddling his own children and sweetness of a warm home. He live in his own large house, rich as he is but alone and cold, yet he held on for love. And finally in his last years, they asked him why? why has he wasted a FULL lifetime and till death, missing out love for a partner and love for children, these experiences are such wonderful experiences that they cannot be associate with anything else, except living thru them yourself. Why has he wasted his own life and choose such a cold solitude one.

With a voice,long cursed by age and time. And a smile un tinted by the world. He say " I have held on a life time for love. God has create us, and gave us the ability to love. And I am using it. Though God gave us love, such a eternal thing, but he did not gave us eternal life to enjoy love. Not the love with the ones we want to be together with. God has make separation mandatory, by death. And cursed man with disease.

I have seen the joy of kids. And I have seen my joy of me and my beloved children in my visions. And I love them so much, so much more than myself. I love my wife so much, in my vision that I would suffer for all suffering that might ever be bestowed unto her. And that is why I save them from all the pain they would have to go thru. I did not have kids, because I love my children so much in my visions. I have chose to not bring them to bloody earth. For children, are so pure and innocent, I believe they came from heaven

I choose and let them stay on in heaven.

no matter how bitter I am and alone to die cold on earth. My heart burns fierce flames of contentment for I know the ones I love, remains un scarred in heaven.