The Test

The test, with you sitting in front of a computer screen,
staring ahead with a bitter taste of determination,
a sweet scent of deodorant,
the tang, ripe and tight of fear,
of possible disaster,
No… We will not fail!

We will not fail this simple,
These words in front of me,
with pictures,

Green
Amber
Red.

Why not three colors for eternity too?
For the eternal struggle,
Perfection,
The test to find out, if you really are as smart as you think
you are, can be, will be, forever are remembered as being.

Those fools, they cram and cram, they become smart.
Where is their intelligence?
You without your ability to even converse,
with the low, the high.
You without your charms
With your plebian jokes,
your wittisms

HA! The true test!
Should be how you handle a real life situation,
the only test you ever need take.

How you handle being in love,
how you handle being fired from your job,
how you handle a pan.

Those false hoods,
Those falsities…
You can’t write about life unless you’re out experiencing it!

Yes, You can’t….

Me?

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The Boy

The Boy who is in love,
He stands above all,
with his voice raised high,
his banner adrift,
With the reds and blues and whites, blending
joy to the world, I am fulfilled,
Even when running to the high,
The voice never wavers,
never falters,
always dripping with the red passion
with or without his other,
Because they are
breeze.

There is a lightness in his tenor,
An added lustre to his bass,
his mind filled with songs of summer breezes,
winter strolls along the Neva.
iPods could be written and sung about this love,
but no, there is no need,
for it is already written,
the soundtrack of their Love, Actually.

The Boy who is not in love,
He stands tall,
with his righteous spirit,
I don’t need anyone else,
I can stand on my own.
Who needs a crutch?

He is dedicated to the proliferation of the melancholies,
those bittersweet symphonies,
those everlasting arias,
Who says he’s alone!
The songs that are sung not by the choirs,
for their masses only serve to make him.
Alone.

No, these are sung
With the soprano, solo.
She stands there, calling to him,
Her eternal voice,
reaching ever higher,
to me! To Me! Decants she!
He savours every note,
Like a Lafite,
Every bubble of her,
A Clicquot.

The Boy who is in love,
is a friend of the Boy without.
They share their trials.
Without offering his great emptyness,
to be filled with.
Their tribulations are solved,
with an overwhelming efficiency,
the one in love willing to see,
to lend his love-broadened eyes,
We need not wish them luck,
for they are lucky to have each other,
their brotherhood complete in its duality.

The Boy who is madly in love,
Hears and sees neither.

Find The Brightest Star, In The Sky, Simply Because You Can.

Sometimes, its difficult for me to raise my head to those flickering lights reminiscent of a badly pimped out PC, searching with a furrowed brow, the creases on my forehead straining to leave a mark, attempting to make me look older. Yet, somehow, occasionally, I find the time to gaze to the skies. Even though those spotlights, lining the well paved, impeccably cleansed streets of Singapore are trained upon me, awaiting my opening aria, somehow longing for me to fail in my attempt, somehow emptying me of what little strength is left. Left behind, by generations of ancestors, I hope that they’re up there, hiding behind those lights in the sky. Maybe behind a star, probably behind a satellite, knowing that’s the last place any human would look.

Wow, thats really badly written…

Ok. So this blog isn’t really much of a blog… just wanted to vent some creative spirit…? LOL.

Let there be love in this world, for there never can be enough…

I deleted your blog offa my Open Everyday bookmark list…

Step 1: You said we need to talk…

You walked…

Where did I go wrong, I lost a …
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save… This?

Its strange how Men are only able to “FEEL”, given a certain lag-time. Like we’re a badly programmed piece of software in that department. Like somehow God gave us all highly efficient logical processors, but forgot all about the day to day stuff…

Disclaimer: This post is not about HER. I think I’m over that. Its just about all that freakish emotional stuff that’s been going on in and around this time. Please don’t think I’m about to go get myself drunk and wake up in a dirty futon on the upper east side of Broadway, with nothing to wear but Borat’s swimtrunks and a tie. Next to some desperate New York hottie, the likes of which Sex and the City alluded to. Actually… that don’t sound so bad… considering I live in Singapore and us Chinese, Middle Class, Single, Fat men can only dream of living such a dystopian lifestyle that epitomises the American “Dream”…

Omg this Disclaimer is longer than my actual post…:D

My Loves

I don’t have many “romantic” loves. No love of the night sky, or the overly sweet, under satisfying popcorn you get from movie theatres that you buy anyway because its easier than popping some at home… Anyway, I don’t have many romantic loves, but I do have a few loves that made the past year so much better.

James Bond and De-Lovely. By entering my life, you brought me countless moments of reassurance, brought me pleasure when I thought none was to be found. (Mr Jer, I know you’re wondering why I didn’t mention RENT, allow me to come to that later)

Poetry, Writing, Blogging. Several people have made me more aware of the power of writing, I have to thank my A1 teach, Mr House, Mr P, Jer for this.

My Macbook, As I sang and wrote sonnets of praises for the Mac, all through my younger years, I never actually used a Mac, until September of this year, when I received a Macbook. It was much like having a new girlfriend, learning her tempers, finding out what pleased her, what pleased you about her, learning that she was only human… that sort of thing.

NS. NS has made me one thing, more appreciative of the smaller things in life, and treasuring the bigger things. It has thrust me into a position where I’m required to be for the first time, truly independent, its a thought that not only frightens me, but gives me strength.

My Guy Pals. They’ve been one thing and one thing only, my sanity all wrapped up in one convenient package, ready to be called for whenever needed, they can be stupid, they can be incredibly insane, but they’re all that keeps me from running round Orchard Road, with nothing but a tie and a Sarong on. In Clashing colours no less.

My Girl Pals. They’ve been my emotional rock. Always ready with a sarcastic comment, a quick jab, an easy laugh. Well most of them… the rest of them have just been great simply because of their presence.

My relatives. This year, I’ve learned most of their names, their “cheng hu”, and now it gives me a sense of pride to show the proper Chinese respect. It seems strange but some traditions, seemingly out of place in the world of First Names only, seems kinda nice, with its formality and its sense of history.

Here’s to the glorious Year of 2007. I wouldn’t want it any other way.