*a glimmer of a smile *

why is it such a bother trying to plan timetables and modules. why can't those ppl plan their sem2 timetable and release it. why cant they do it earlier. why is it that things cant be confirmed. why do i then have to make my choice so early. what a bother.

Grim

to you who has always kept by me,
to the girl who shaped my dreams,
to the voice that treads my thoughts at night,
to the human in angel light,
perchance the road might lead to Rome
or likely not at all,
perhaps there is nought i have to say
but just the daily "Hi",
to the human wrought of mortal bones,
to the voice filled with hollow air,
to the girl bogged of female tense,
to you, who wasn't always there.



*a curt nod of the head, eyes staring apologetically, biting lips*

some of you, who read this, shouldn't. this wasn't written for you, this wasn't written for you to comprehend and appreciate. this isn't what i would say to you. this might be what i would say to someone else. i suppose, in some way, you sortof realise that.

but this is also not written for one person alone.

read if you will, try if you will. i beg not your judgement, i seek not your attention, i know not your soul. you might not find what you expect to find, you might not understand what you think you understand.

whocares.

if i bid you be quiet, would you speak?
if i asked for silence, would you abide?
if i wished to be alone, can i be?
if i stared into the distance, would love come to me?
if i wrote and cast into the wind, would the currents die on me?
if i told you to leave this and not respond, would it be?
if
the answer might neither be aye or nay, what then might it be.

there goes a Swallow in the jet blue sky
swiftly away does it fly.
in the silence of the flapping wings
i realised i forgot to say goodbye.


technical exercise.
sometimes those words written meaninglessly, might reveal more instead

it is not as it seems

Jh says:
and i don't really feell like living now

some peace, some quiet, some sun, some rain.

some pretty words, some pretty pictures. to stir up the emotions of long ago. to swirl the cauldron of past memories. like the crumpled surface of old parchment, like the dust layers on old inscriptions, like the dank air trapped in the tunnels of the pyramids.

one of those moments where, as you walk around the crowd, past the ever-lively fountain, past the scores of little children, through the artificial coolness of the streets, past the promoters, past the hesitant salesgirl who gingerly probes a question but withdraws in embarrassed failure, past the smokers, past the ever-rushing crowd, one of those moments where even in the midst of all these, one can still feel truly alone in the world.

words, written, will once again fade into the nothingness of memory, covered upon by new images and people, crowded out and neglected. the essence of these thoughts will never be truly understood by anyone other than me.

some days i hearten that there are those in this world who still feel, and appreciate what i do. some days i gaze perplexily, confoundingly, morosely, reluctantly, upon those who i do not understand.
some days, i wonder if you really understand me. and, even worse, if it matters.

one moment i am exceedingly bubbly, the second moment i pop like bubbles in a cauldron: big, hot and forceful, the third moment i withdraw into a tumultous core of a smooth sphere, the fourth moment i am not there.
but, in every moment i am still myself. i can never be anyone else but myself. i can never leave myself. no matter how extreme and different, it is still me. (or perhaps you can say that in that very extremeness i am me)
recognise, see, think, and forget. for today you remember, and tomorrow i will die. the memories of humankind will once again be the blood of stones, and flow in anguish forever, in excruciatingly slow speed down the sides of the mountains.

these words here, mean nothing: this is not who you see.
these words here, were written by me.

live love, live life, burn with an inextinguisable flame. find the joy of existence in the barest of gentle smiles. trace the steps to heaven in the crinkle of dimples and folds of wrinkles. see in the dark eyes the meaning of why one must live.

the romance of life flutters in its existence within the realms of unphysical form. discover beauty in its inanimate yet wonderous self. love not for love's sake, love not for romance, not for beauty, not for the sunrise, not for the flock of birds taking off.

just be, and forget why.