Tens of times doth my battle-call low
With each call came sharp pricks
Tens of times doth my fortitude grow
And beat them back with sticks.
Where shall I reach in the cavern of time
To seek sound judgment back?
Where the sugar to drown the lime
That's eating at my tact?
I see I was mistaken
For methinks I saw a wonderland
But here float shadows misshapen
Lord, help me understand.
Found myself looking through the wall
Strangely, I saw beyond
It works not then as a dead end should
But to my fascination, doth respond.
Squat I among the relics
The cracked pot turned to dust
And now a figurine, moulding
Yea, that be a must.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Contemplations 2: Ancient City of Ayutthaya. Thursday, 17.01.2010.
Weather: still mild.
Visited the ruins of Ayutthaya. I find it hard to reconcile the splendid city i saw in Sri Suriyothai with the poor, tumble-down houses now scattered in the formerly great city. Even sadder to know that Hongsa won the war in the end.
All i could think of, while wandering amidst broken towers of bricks, was 'Good, Lord, how on earth did they build these things?' and what sort of a war it must've been, for such a huge area to be torn down. here and there in the city you see a sudden bit of crumbling old wall labeled 'City Wall' and you know, once upon a time, these walls were the ones that kept the city's inhabitants safe within.
If modern man is great with all that he has, how much greater the man of old who made so much out of so little?
Tell me, how significant can a modern human being feel, standing next to these gargantuan edifices build by sweat and blood?
Some food for thought: the tour guide mentioned that monks (they're required to serve as monks for a certain period of time, all their men) enjoy watching sports, but arent allowed to watch ladies' gymnasticcs. too sexy. but if a monk's entire aim is to achieve the state where no earthly desires can bother him, what does it matter how sexy a woman is? why worry about temptation is you are beyond it?
On to the entertainments of the night.
Remember watching the dances of the previous night (of course you dont)?
On stage, all we see is a well prepared tale, narrated beautifully in a cultured voice, with all necessary characters and settings in place, rehearsed to run on time like a well wound clock.
This night, however, i watched not the dances, but was drawn into them; feeling the gentle rocking of a traditional barge, dancers twirling their fingers in the midst of the guests, simply adds on to the heady feeling that i'd felt as though i'd stepped a little bit back into time when royals enjoyed such entertainments. was it a little rush of excitement at watching hanuman chase after sita? while on stage, i felt a sort of detachment, as an audience watching a play, but to have hanuman prance before me, waving his, pardon me, ugly head about...
I watched those dancers slip into their costumes in a corner of the barge, simply because the barge was small and there was nowhere else for them to do so. an ordinary man and woman quickly throw on and tie different lengths of cloth, pin on trinkets, put on a mask. and behold, no longer mortal they be, but mythical princess and mighty deva.
How easy it is to switch personas. you simply step out of one into another, discarding each layer so easily. Such is the way of the stage.
But we do that in our lives, all the time, don't we?
Small wonder that we cry and laugh over what we see on stages and screens... do we recognize ourselves in art, even as it imitates life?
Or is it instead as Wilde would have it, the idea of life imitating art?
Visited the ruins of Ayutthaya. I find it hard to reconcile the splendid city i saw in Sri Suriyothai with the poor, tumble-down houses now scattered in the formerly great city. Even sadder to know that Hongsa won the war in the end.
All i could think of, while wandering amidst broken towers of bricks, was 'Good, Lord, how on earth did they build these things?' and what sort of a war it must've been, for such a huge area to be torn down. here and there in the city you see a sudden bit of crumbling old wall labeled 'City Wall' and you know, once upon a time, these walls were the ones that kept the city's inhabitants safe within.
If modern man is great with all that he has, how much greater the man of old who made so much out of so little?
Tell me, how significant can a modern human being feel, standing next to these gargantuan edifices build by sweat and blood?
Some food for thought: the tour guide mentioned that monks (they're required to serve as monks for a certain period of time, all their men) enjoy watching sports, but arent allowed to watch ladies' gymnasticcs. too sexy. but if a monk's entire aim is to achieve the state where no earthly desires can bother him, what does it matter how sexy a woman is? why worry about temptation is you are beyond it?
On to the entertainments of the night.
Remember watching the dances of the previous night (of course you dont)?
On stage, all we see is a well prepared tale, narrated beautifully in a cultured voice, with all necessary characters and settings in place, rehearsed to run on time like a well wound clock.
This night, however, i watched not the dances, but was drawn into them; feeling the gentle rocking of a traditional barge, dancers twirling their fingers in the midst of the guests, simply adds on to the heady feeling that i'd felt as though i'd stepped a little bit back into time when royals enjoyed such entertainments. was it a little rush of excitement at watching hanuman chase after sita? while on stage, i felt a sort of detachment, as an audience watching a play, but to have hanuman prance before me, waving his, pardon me, ugly head about...
I watched those dancers slip into their costumes in a corner of the barge, simply because the barge was small and there was nowhere else for them to do so. an ordinary man and woman quickly throw on and tie different lengths of cloth, pin on trinkets, put on a mask. and behold, no longer mortal they be, but mythical princess and mighty deva.
How easy it is to switch personas. you simply step out of one into another, discarding each layer so easily. Such is the way of the stage.
But we do that in our lives, all the time, don't we?
Small wonder that we cry and laugh over what we see on stages and screens... do we recognize ourselves in art, even as it imitates life?
Or is it instead as Wilde would have it, the idea of life imitating art?
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Contemplations 1: Bangkok, Wednesday, 16.01.2010.
Weather: mild, cloudy (to match a genial mood)
If ever i were amazed by art, this would most certainly be it.
Think: walls and ceilings covered in rich gilt (the guide assures me that its real gold), delicately set with tiny and tinier squares of glass, painstakingly carved wooden pillars etc, all handpainted in vibrant, glorious colour. (and lets not forget the brilliant wall canvas of scenes from the Ramayana painted onto, was it a 100 rooms of the Grand Palace? i forget. but breathtaking, nonetheless)
You see, they honour their king by building him marvelous palaces to represent his sovereignity (also having his portrait displayed in every conceivable place), because he is a symbol of the country they love, and in doing him homage they honour the country he stands for.
If ever i were awed by the love a people have for their country, this country would be a shining example of it.
I can feel the love of the people pouring out of the shining walls of their palaces, their temples, out of every soft 'sawatdee', and mostly, how sincerly polite and helpful they are to everyone, not just those who have yellow hair and white skin.
I watched a simple tour guide stoop down to pick up a milk box that a careless tourist'd tossed onto the palace grounds and put it in the bin. such a simple thing, really, but so profound.
With that, i can only conclude that the thai love their country very, very much. through the peoples' actions a country is reflected, and i can safely say that they have managed to honour their country in the highest degree, simply by showing courtesy and respect to others and therefore giving a good impression of themselves, and anything associated with them. something, unfortunately, that my own countrymen and women (never say i am sexist) lacks the ability to do.
It's only been my first day in Bangkok, but as you see, i've already found so many things malaysians could do well to learn from.
First of ALL: i would like to emphasize on the astonishment i felt on stepping out of the sky train (their version of our LRTs) to be greeted with a sea of people, neatly arranged in lines, all waiting for their turn to enter the big worm. no pushing, no shoving, no queue-jumping.
I am in awe. and in absolute disgust for my country people, who cannot so much as enter a doorway without some degree of pushing or squeezing.
Second: POLITE cab drivers! an absolute rarity in the bloody mess of roads that is kay elle, but seemingly common in bangkok. you definitely do not get any cabbies in kay elle deigning to open car doors for you.
Having said all that, i shall move on.
Visited a gem factory today, and by all accounts, it is under royal patronage. i watched several of the workmen at their craft, and i have to marvel that their rough, big fingers and primitive tools could create such delicate work. there was this craftsman moulding a flower on a stub of wood, slowly hammering away till he'd gotten the perfect shape, then hammering pinpricks into the surface, and painstakingly lay gold dots into them.
But how many of these craftsmen were there? three? four? precious few to continue what seems to be a dying art. while i am infinitely grateful for mass-produced costume jewelry (otherwise how would we all afford any?), it breaks my heart to think of how technology robs us of many traditional ways.
Still, while danger of repeating a cliche, i can only say, such is life, i suppose.
If ever i were amazed by art, this would most certainly be it.
Think: walls and ceilings covered in rich gilt (the guide assures me that its real gold), delicately set with tiny and tinier squares of glass, painstakingly carved wooden pillars etc, all handpainted in vibrant, glorious colour. (and lets not forget the brilliant wall canvas of scenes from the Ramayana painted onto, was it a 100 rooms of the Grand Palace? i forget. but breathtaking, nonetheless)
You see, they honour their king by building him marvelous palaces to represent his sovereignity (also having his portrait displayed in every conceivable place), because he is a symbol of the country they love, and in doing him homage they honour the country he stands for.
If ever i were awed by the love a people have for their country, this country would be a shining example of it.
I can feel the love of the people pouring out of the shining walls of their palaces, their temples, out of every soft 'sawatdee', and mostly, how sincerly polite and helpful they are to everyone, not just those who have yellow hair and white skin.
I watched a simple tour guide stoop down to pick up a milk box that a careless tourist'd tossed onto the palace grounds and put it in the bin. such a simple thing, really, but so profound.
With that, i can only conclude that the thai love their country very, very much. through the peoples' actions a country is reflected, and i can safely say that they have managed to honour their country in the highest degree, simply by showing courtesy and respect to others and therefore giving a good impression of themselves, and anything associated with them. something, unfortunately, that my own countrymen and women (never say i am sexist) lacks the ability to do.
It's only been my first day in Bangkok, but as you see, i've already found so many things malaysians could do well to learn from.
First of ALL: i would like to emphasize on the astonishment i felt on stepping out of the sky train (their version of our LRTs) to be greeted with a sea of people, neatly arranged in lines, all waiting for their turn to enter the big worm. no pushing, no shoving, no queue-jumping.
I am in awe. and in absolute disgust for my country people, who cannot so much as enter a doorway without some degree of pushing or squeezing.
Second: POLITE cab drivers! an absolute rarity in the bloody mess of roads that is kay elle, but seemingly common in bangkok. you definitely do not get any cabbies in kay elle deigning to open car doors for you.
Having said all that, i shall move on.
Visited a gem factory today, and by all accounts, it is under royal patronage. i watched several of the workmen at their craft, and i have to marvel that their rough, big fingers and primitive tools could create such delicate work. there was this craftsman moulding a flower on a stub of wood, slowly hammering away till he'd gotten the perfect shape, then hammering pinpricks into the surface, and painstakingly lay gold dots into them.
But how many of these craftsmen were there? three? four? precious few to continue what seems to be a dying art. while i am infinitely grateful for mass-produced costume jewelry (otherwise how would we all afford any?), it breaks my heart to think of how technology robs us of many traditional ways.
Still, while danger of repeating a cliche, i can only say, such is life, i suppose.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Intermission IV: postcountdown: hail, 2010.
just yesterday afternoon someone i know well (and who probably knows me better than i like) told me, 'you're still young, go enjoy!' when i made a face and said i aint a big fan of clubbing.
'fun'=clubbing? maybe in your glitzy world, not mine. (so said from yours truly's own personal experience from last new year's countdown after getting splashed with beer and squeezed off a dance floor by a grind-happy couple =.=)
a bit silly to ask, but i'm wondering what i'll be getting out of this year?
nice lecturers, definitely (especially after that fiasco last semester). and nice team mates (also after several fiascos last semester). and nice assignments (still from that fiasco last semester). and more good books. more new discoveries, more...
heck, when did this turn into a wishlist?
i wonder how many roadblocks there'll be this time? the beginning of this year signifies several endings for me; endings that're coming all too soon. unfortunately also, my head's swimming with ideas and sort-of plans i'd dearly love to carry out, except for the buts... never mind. i'm rambling.
for once, i dont have much to say, anymore. just that, at this moment, i'm only aware of a strangely positively, optimistic bent in my demeanor, something sweet and warm, something full of hope and lightness, and right now, its lifting me up high, higher than i should be for someone who'd liken facing the unknown to standing on the edge of a precipice on tippytoes (and who'd view the ravine with trepidation).
'fun'=clubbing? maybe in your glitzy world, not mine. (so said from yours truly's own personal experience from last new year's countdown after getting splashed with beer and squeezed off a dance floor by a grind-happy couple =.=)
a bit silly to ask, but i'm wondering what i'll be getting out of this year?
nice lecturers, definitely (especially after that fiasco last semester). and nice team mates (also after several fiascos last semester). and nice assignments (still from that fiasco last semester). and more good books. more new discoveries, more...
heck, when did this turn into a wishlist?
i wonder how many roadblocks there'll be this time? the beginning of this year signifies several endings for me; endings that're coming all too soon. unfortunately also, my head's swimming with ideas and sort-of plans i'd dearly love to carry out, except for the buts... never mind. i'm rambling.
for once, i dont have much to say, anymore. just that, at this moment, i'm only aware of a strangely positively, optimistic bent in my demeanor, something sweet and warm, something full of hope and lightness, and right now, its lifting me up high, higher than i should be for someone who'd liken facing the unknown to standing on the edge of a precipice on tippytoes (and who'd view the ravine with trepidation).
oh, and that warm, sweet feeling? its called Faith.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Intermission III: there you go, 2oo9.
its with a warm feeling that i remember the night before of the last new year, so ripe with expectations, so full of promise.
has it truly been a good year?
looking back at a day a year from now, scattered pieces have been glued back, some preserved like the treasures they are, more've been broken, or are cracked and close to breaking. will those be able to tahan till next year? we'll see.
these last months, there've been days where life was so bleak i simply wanted to curl up and shrink into the walls, melt into the floor, times when fury nearly got the better of me and turned me into a monster, and had lots of pebbles i tripped over and felt like taking a sledgehammer to, or shrews i'd have happily have tossed into a cellar and locked away.
has it truly been a good year?
looking back at a day a year from now, scattered pieces have been glued back, some preserved like the treasures they are, more've been broken, or are cracked and close to breaking. will those be able to tahan till next year? we'll see.
these last months, there've been days where life was so bleak i simply wanted to curl up and shrink into the walls, melt into the floor, times when fury nearly got the better of me and turned me into a monster, and had lots of pebbles i tripped over and felt like taking a sledgehammer to, or shrews i'd have happily have tossed into a cellar and locked away.
having said that, it can be quite sharp a jolt, looking into and around yourself, and finding you dont like what you see. and quite a wake up call it was.
still, i'll take the bad with the good. as far as vision goes, its definitely clearer than its been in the entire 21 years of my living. Not just that, found lots of new fun to indulge in, gone through some pretty whacky and bizzare episodes, all of which total up to some very satisfying moments; had more files and stuff chucked into my long term memory, and i hope they're there to stay, even if i cant manage to lug them back up front. its enough knowing its stored somewhere in those folds of neurons.
for better or for worse, its also taken this year for me to finally comprende that certain fears're simply unfounded, and that sometimes the easiest way to beat a demon is just to close my eyes, have faith in the Father above and take a nice big leap. and for that, i thank Him, for the little bites of insight He's given me, for all the peace of mind that He filled my heart with, for every prayer He granted, for the strength He's given me through those genuine companions He's given me.
also, there're someone elses i would thank, for all the patience shown me, all the short tempers put up with, all the trouble i've given. you, you and you, you mean just about the world to this child who's still finding her footing in this world.
yes. i've grown up, and not just only a little bit more. wish me luck in growing up another bit more.
oh, one final thing... isnt it funny how a grown-up still needs to have grown up in order to be considered grown up? sorry, i couldnt resist one last bit of wordplay. ;)
Happy New Year, everybody!
P.S to all those who've left this world, i pray that you may find peace and solace in the world you're in now, whichever one you believe in. May God be with you always.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Chapter Twenty Three: Deep, Deep, Deep As A Pavement Puddle.
Deep are the thoughts you have in your head
To buy, to spend, to splurge on that dress?
Deeper are they up in your mind
Should I, should I not, oh, I digress!
Deep they are in the back of your brain
Can I wear it once, or twice, or thrice?
Again you think, in the recess of your head
I was so close to buying it, to be precise
Here and there, its right in your mind
If I wear it once, can I do it again and again?
Such deep thoughts flit all over your brain
They torture, they flutter, they drive me insane
(Ah, i see.)
(If these are the thoughts that you call deep,)
*shakes head*
(I guess intellect just isn't something you bother to keep.)
To buy, to spend, to splurge on that dress?
Deeper are they up in your mind
Should I, should I not, oh, I digress!
Deep they are in the back of your brain
Can I wear it once, or twice, or thrice?
Again you think, in the recess of your head
I was so close to buying it, to be precise
Here and there, its right in your mind
If I wear it once, can I do it again and again?
Such deep thoughts flit all over your brain
They torture, they flutter, they drive me insane
(Ah, i see.)
(If these are the thoughts that you call deep,)
*shakes head*
(I guess intellect just isn't something you bother to keep.)
Chapter Twenty Two: The Quack Crow of Teachin'.
This one is based on the song 'Phony King of England' from Disney's Robin Hood, played on the blog. Sing along, if you want.
O the world would sing
Of an ancient queen
In all the years from now
And all because she made her law
Whilst acting like a crow
While bonny good Sir Galahad yon
He leads the fight along
For her we've had to slave away
With naught to show but yawns
The Incredible that she is: inept
Thus in memories she will be kept
And so we call her the quack old crow of teachin'
A POX on the quack old crow of teachin'!
Too late to be known as one of the first
We sure do know her as top of the worst
A POX on the quack old crow of teachin'!
While she tires us to pieces
And she robs of of our wits
Her name and fame
Are further maimed
And puddle at her feet, aha!
But while she makes some merry men
In the world of limp wee minds
We'll find a way to shake her away
And peace of mind to find
She may come to hear of this..............................
Hah! Its a chance I hope not to miss!
I apologize to the writer of the original lyrics for mangling his well written words. But you see, yours were so well done that i felt compelled to use them as a template for my own rant against a tyrant.
O the world would sing
Of an ancient queen
In all the years from now
And all because she made her law
Whilst acting like a crow
While bonny good Sir Galahad yon
He leads the fight along
For her we've had to slave away
With naught to show but yawns
The Incredible that she is: inept
Thus in memories she will be kept
And so we call her the quack old crow of teachin'
A POX on the quack old crow of teachin'!
Too late to be known as one of the first
We sure do know her as top of the worst
A POX on the quack old crow of teachin'!
While she tires us to pieces
And she robs of of our wits
Her name and fame
Are further maimed
And puddle at her feet, aha!
But while she makes some merry men
In the world of limp wee minds
We'll find a way to shake her away
And peace of mind to find
She may come to hear of this..............................
Hah! Its a chance I hope not to miss!
I apologize to the writer of the original lyrics for mangling his well written words. But you see, yours were so well done that i felt compelled to use them as a template for my own rant against a tyrant.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Chapter Twenty One: le Pompadous.
Once upon a nose up high
There was a little man
He fancied himself a giant
As much as a hot air balloon can
Airs he effects to distraction
Diverting from his uncouth pride
To Arum maculatum he grovels
And pushes the Calotropis aside
Look about him the glitter
He sees not honest steel
Only shiny shimmery estincele
Fie! He sees not what is real
What goes up, will soon roll down
At the end of its glorified days
And I hope ‘twill be, that he’ll come to see
The end of such erroneous ways.
There was a little man
He fancied himself a giant
As much as a hot air balloon can
Airs he effects to distraction
Diverting from his uncouth pride
To Arum maculatum he grovels
And pushes the Calotropis aside
Look about him the glitter
He sees not honest steel
Only shiny shimmery estincele
Fie! He sees not what is real
What goes up, will soon roll down
At the end of its glorified days
And I hope ‘twill be, that he’ll come to see
The end of such erroneous ways.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Chapter Twenty One: Birds Flock Together, Not Of A Feather.
I sat there watching
Bright hope, shining stars
And I feel so empty
I haven’t gone that far
And I watch your talents
I know, I have none
And I feel so empty
Only doing things for fun
Why is there a chasm
Over which I stand
Never only on either bank
One foot in both lands
Fiery words all
I’ve heard them before
Set fire on dry kindling
To inspire us more
Where, where
Is the recognition
That strong sense of pride
Why, why only confusion?
Where should I be
In this vast space on earth
Fit into a pigeon hole
Prepared from my birth?
Tell me why I feel lost then
When flocking a-feather
Why I am separated
Even as I stand together
Where are my roots
Neither here nor there
Please, someone tell me
Someone, just tell me where...
Bright hope, shining stars
And I feel so empty
I haven’t gone that far
And I watch your talents
I know, I have none
And I feel so empty
Only doing things for fun
Why is there a chasm
Over which I stand
Never only on either bank
One foot in both lands
Fiery words all
I’ve heard them before
Set fire on dry kindling
To inspire us more
Where, where
Is the recognition
That strong sense of pride
Why, why only confusion?
Where should I be
In this vast space on earth
Fit into a pigeon hole
Prepared from my birth?
Tell me why I feel lost then
When flocking a-feather
Why I am separated
Even as I stand together
Where are my roots
Neither here nor there
Please, someone tell me
Someone, just tell me where...
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Chapter Twenty: That's All It Takes.
I
What nuances, so subtle
Teaches us to presume
That a visage affixed will stay in place
The intensity daily resume
Teaches us to presume
That a visage affixed will stay in place
The intensity daily resume
II
That one look, one glance
And so ever more
Enough, to mesmerize
A thousand times more than before
Just then, how it struck me
Such beauty on a profile
I have seen so often
That to me it was hidden for a little while
III
And so ever more
Enough, to mesmerize
A thousand times more than before
Just then, how it struck me
Such beauty on a profile
I have seen so often
That to me it was hidden for a little while
III
Look you there, blind as a mole
You could not see beyond your tunnel
Or the world as a whole
And when it whispered to me
I replied gladly
And from there
Does my story unfold.
You could not see beyond your tunnel
Or the world as a whole
And when it whispered to me
I replied gladly
And from there
Does my story unfold.
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