Noise of My Life

(It started with)

Cling-cling....Tappity-tap...Clutter....Moderate patch...Tap-tap-rappity-rap...Hard knock....Off beat....Oops...Kaching-kaching....Chuggidy-chuggidy-chug...Tiity-tutty...Tuttle-Fruttle...Missed one...Bad patch....Bad patch...Bad patch...More bad batch...and Even more bad batch...Worse patch....Must be the worst patch already!....Crash-boom-bang!!!....Dang....Dang...Dang...Ching...Ching... Things falling on the floor.... Swish-swish...Clean...Whooooooosh.....Upbeat....Tempo on the up.... Rat-a-tat-tat.....Boom-badabing.....Crescendo......Wheeeee!!!!!!!!!!

(wheeze...sigh...puff....)

Now what?

Feeling Macabre

In the beginning for each and every mortal of this earth, everyone has an invitation.
Some people misplaced it as they grew older.
Others simply forgot that they have been invited.
They carried on being kings and wise men.
They lived as princes
As paupers.
Everyone fought, fighting to carve a legacy.
People made peace and told themselves to be happy.
And they were full of pride....
And be they full of themselves.

Memento mori.
Remember your mortality.

The invitation will fly into your face when you least expect it.
Have you been caught, unaware?
You will have to come to the party.
You cannot refuse.

Study well, ars moriendi.
The step to this dance is an art.
Follow.
Follow.
Step by step.
No need to hurry.
No need to fret.
You have an eternity to get it right.
I promise.

Kings and beggars.
Fools and wise men.
What difference does it make?
When we gather, we are all equal.
When we dance again, we are all equal.
You and I
We are equal.
Equal in the Grand Danse Macabre.

Memento mori my friend. Memento mori.
We've all been invited.

It was on TV

I saw this on TV one night and it went something like this:

Scene (Boy and Girl walking along a very normal looking street in a very normal night)

While walking..

Girl : I think, lets just not see each other anymore... (in a very unsure tone)

Boy: Sure.. (in a very non-chalant tone)

Boy carries on walking not looking back as he walked on. Girl just turned tail and ran in the opposite direction.

Girl: (Screaming with traces of tear chokes) You've never loved me! Why did you went out with me in the first place?!

Boy: (In silence just carried on walking without answering)

Scene End.

For some reason, the scene is like a mirror that reflects that which had happened to me. Needless to say, this Boy had hurt the Girl real bad. The jerk that I am sometimes.

Taken?

I seem to hear this phrase a lot:
"Every guy/girl that is good is taken, everything else that's left is [fill in your own negative descriptions here]"

Now question is:
If all the good ones are taken, how come you are not the one doing the taking?

Answer probably goes along the line:
Probably your are quite rubbish too. Either that, or you are not good enough for the good ones.

Life sucks. I know.
Nonetheless, it is time to get real and smell the crap that life has in store for you.

Proseac: Yep. I know I am gonna offend a whole lotta people with this one. Tough, as I don't really give a bleedin fuck about it. Cheers.

Not Perfect (You Don't Have to Be)

Something about you,
You need not to be,
Kept me thinking,
Up all night in waking,
Something about you,
That made you for me.

Was it your crooked smile?
Maybe your dilated eyes?
Was it the scar on your brow?
Maybe your unwomanly figure?

It must've been your tempestuous temper.
It must've been your talentless voice.
It may of have been the way you lose yourself.
It may of have been the woman that you see yourself to be.

Blemished perfection,
Not the prettiest I have seen.
Flaw of character,
Not the most gentle or meek.
Tainted history,
Scattered with mistakes.
Seeing no future,
Where do you belong?

There was something about you,
You need not to be,
Perfect a woman
For a man like me.
Imperfection is simply not a shame,
For I still love you, simply all the same.

Fire from the Night Sky

Every night as I lay her down to sleep,
I pray to the Lord her soul she would keep.

Each night we lay in our beds with dread,
Would it be us tonight, that our lives should end?

Never understood the conflict and war.
What makes men take lives and more?

Watching my children asleep in their bed,
I cannot help my tears I shed.

Innocent they are not deserving this fate,
Of fires of men unleashing their hate.

Maybe the fires will rain upon us tonight,
And we will succumb to the state of our plight.

The morrow shall come and more lives then are lost,
Lives of the innocent for which war is the cost.

People will mourn for the lives which are gone.
Sadly the senseless war will just go on and on.

Proseac:
Sometimes I do wonder how do the civilans live in times of war? Each night, sleep comes along with fear. The sound of a shattering bomb rouses them from sleep just to count the casualties, many of whom are innocent of the conflict.
My stance on the situation in Israel and Lebanon now?

Stop the war. Please. No more war.

An Alien Landed In My Backyard

A crash in my backyard broke the calm and silence of last night,
Half expecting Armageddon in full swing,
Only to be surprised by an object unidentified in my backyard.

The neighbourhood was still sound asleep,
Neither dogs nor cats were about in the streets.
The whole world must be in their dreams,
Or maybe the dreamer was me?

Emerging from the strange craft was a girl,
(Or rather distinctly female humanoid)
Her too large pupils and her bluish skin,
Are the only difference from otherwise
Human.

She spoke into my mind,
Her sultry voice, definitely female.

Same old story of malfunctioned craft,
Lost in space, crash landing that was unintended.
I nodded.
Heard it all before, seen it too much on TV and in the movies.
(Funny I thought that she should speak English?)

We hit my fridge.
Drank cans of beer.
Smoked cigarettes.
Whiling away the night.
Time definitely stood still for too long,
As we whiled away the too quiet night.

She spun tales of stars and galaxies,
Tales of travels and things incomprehensible to me,
I found myself mesmerized.
I was dreaming again.

In some way she was innocent,
A girl without deceit.
I was innocent again,
Wondering in my childlike naivette.

I spoke to her about Earth,
About my drab life,
About my daily struggles,
About everything too ugly, that is human.

She just looked at me,
Empathy or sympathy?
Just profound sorrow for jaded old me.

I stared into her eyes, as tears fill mine.
She smiled.
Her only words,
"Hope exists because of people like you"

I cried.

Her rescue arrived soon after.
She planted me a kiss.
And soon in a flash of light,
She was gone, and so was her ship.

I stare into the night sky once again,
Wondering where she is.
I watch each star as they twinkle.

I dream of her each night,
My love for an alien who landed in my backyard.

Unhealthy Fascination

The boy with the devil may care attitude.
The wanton goth girl whose life wastes away.
The villain in the movie who captured my imagination.
The anti-hero that flaunts all rules.
The tempting romance of the Devil
The drugs and alcohol
The rock star who burnt out
The torn jeans and the quicksilver ride.
The venom that could kill in an instant.

I find that we all have fascinations for the dark side of things. We can't help but be attracted to the anti-norm. We can't help but be perpetually mesmerized by things that we know will harm us.

Deep down inside, we all will want to flaunt and flirt with that someone or something; that we fantasize about but will never want to bring home.

The Extent Of Pain

Neverending nights of endless rain,
Washing amidst the pain,
Tattoed tears,
Etched on my face,
A stream of memories I can't replace.

Neverending nights of endless pain,
Washing amidst the rain,
Broken flesh,
In my mind a stain,
That is the extent of my pain.

The Meaning of Growing Up

Another month has passed and I cannot help but ponder what is the true meaning of growing up.
My mind starts to wander back to the days when I was a little boy, acting all spoilt, needed plenty of attention, crying at every single little thing that I couldn't get or have. There were no worries back then. Everything is pretty much 'in-your-face'. There was no need for pretense. People can look at me with their opinions, and really, back then I didn't give a shit. I shouted when I felt like shouting, I ran when I felt like running, I screamed when I felt like screaming. Sadness never lasted really long. It was so easy to cheer up. It was so easy to be forgive and forget. Everything is cheered up by a candy bar or a toy. Even when I never did have the most expensive toys in the world, sometimes, a simple marble or a bottle cap will do. I pretty much liked everyone and everyone, no matter how ugly or no matter how naughty I thought they were. Even the class bully is sometimes a friend. There was a wonder for everything. The wonder built on a certain naivette that things were easy and all things in the world are good, like having an ambition of being a policeman when I grow up.

Now that I am and adult I realize, to be adult it means to sometimes be deceitful. Smile even when the times come when I feel like crying. Sadness lasts a lot longer when you are all grown up, to the point where it sometimes spirals into depression. It is never really easy to cheer up. Our greed for the material grows. We slowly learn how to hate. Ambitions and dreams are shattered as we slowly delve into the dirty muck of society. We learn that sincerity is hard to come by and people don't always mean what they say. Then there is accountability and obligations. We've even learned how to lose friends.

I don't think I enjoy growing up anymore.

Why Ignorance is Bliss

People say, all things happen for a reason.

I personally think there are only 2 problems:

1) Most of us won't ever figure out the reason of why things happen. Heck even if we did, I doubt there is much we would be able to do about it, prevent it or at the very least make us feel any better at all. Contrary, we may just feel worse than before.

2) The thing is hindsight. Even if we did figure out what went wrong, it is all over anyways. Hence, its back to my first point, that it helps nothing at all that we figured.

My conclusion?

Even if all things happen for a reason, ignorance is definitely bliss.

Perspectives

I am the child,
Looking at the world with wonder,
Watching all it captivates me,
My dreams my imagination.

I am the dreamer,
Reality holds me no sway,
The night my constant companion,
My dreams my imagination.

I am the single mother,
Each day I live with scorn,
I fight to build all that shattered,
My dreams my imaginaton.

I am the superpower,
The world my playing ground,
My wild ambition and hunting ground,
My dreams my imagination.

I am the forsaken vagrant,
My home the streets and stones,
I struggle each day and get none,
My dreams my imagination.

I am the forlorn lover,
Wating each day for love,
I live on that sliver of hope,
My dreams my imagination.

I am the victim of war,
My daily life broken in pain,
I linger on the sorrow of loss,
My dreams my imagnation.

I am the crippled lame,
Body scarred in permanent guise,
Each day I live by courage alone,
My dreams my imagination.

I am the mental imapaired,
All things are just so simple,
Kind love sustains me each day,
My dreams my imagination.

I am the automaton,
I just do as I am told,
My brain is washed and emotions devoid,
My dreams my imagination.

I am the drug induced,
Each day has really no meaning,
My reality in bottles and angeldust,
My dreams my imagination.

I am the simple writer,
My life in words and prose,
I live each day musing and inspired,
My dreams my imagination.

Defeated By You

Standing still trying to move on
Your photograph's faded in my mind
Sometimes we try and we don't succeed

I try again
We try in vain
Many times I fight to run
Still defeated by you.

Sitting still and watching it rain
Your distant voice over the line
I tried and still I cry again

To wash the pain
I tried in vain
Many times I bleed to live
Still defeated by you.

I try to swim your river
And drown in your caress
You tried and you feel my pain

Each time and again,
The many times in vain,
Too many times I go beneath
Still defeated by you

Yet again.

Proseac: Some sketch lyrics to a song I wrote.

Intrinsic Masochism

Just a short one for today.

I find human beings intrinsicly masochistic. We just have to find some way to hurt ourselves in one way or another.
How many times have we jumped head-first into relationships that hurt even when we know not to?
How many times have we prod and peeled at a scab even though we know it isn't healed?
How many times have we wasted ourselves just to feel like shite the next day?

I am pretty sure we have many wonderful and imaginative ways to self-destruct. As the saying goes, no one can hurt us more than ourselves.

And so we go on doing so.

Cry and Carry On Crying

A long long time ago, when I am with someone who is crying I, can't help myself but cry along with them. I try to emphatize and the sadness just seems to amplify. I'll try to help others stop crying.

Not so long ago, I've learnt how to offer comfort to those who cry. I try to tell them everything is alright. I am there by their side. I am the shoulder they cry on. I'll tell them to hush and stop their tears.

Recently, I've finally realized, everyone needs to cry once in while. It always feels better after you've cried, and only when you carry on crying till your heart tells you to stop. So I've stopped telling people to stop crying henceforth.

No Exit

Forced to look at my reflection
A perfect mirror with a cracked smile
Bona fide contradiction
My only hope is for a life worthwhile

Living with or without
What else does it matter?
I am looking for a way out
Of this misery growing deeper

I'd just want to shut the door
And wallow in the darkness
Scream out till I hit the floor
And go down with my madness

Proseac: For the times I choose to shut everyone and everything out.

The Music and The Song

When did this piece started playing, I probably would never know.
I can hear my life as it echoes out in song.
The melody is faint and it is hard to sing to, but it plays on nonetheless.
Sometimes it is a bare and lonely melody that plays eerily in the still of the night.
Sometimes my song intertwines with someone elses song.
The union forms a beautiful harmony and the song goes on.
We try to to fill in the lyrics and we try to sing to the tunes.
Eventually our songs split apart, but the music goes on.
My song is of highs and lows, never in monotone.
Sometimes I crack singing in a falsetto pitch I can never hit
Sometimes the deep bass resonates, barely audible.
My song is a magnum opus built upon a skeletal tune
Events in my life strike certain strings that forms chords to my tune.
The chords ring out as the echoes meld into my melody.
There is no constant beat or rhythm to my song
The tempo speeds up and slows down without notice
It is a song of drunken stupor, of drug induced hallucination.
It is a song of infinite sadness, a song of pain.
It is a song of romantic love, of beauty and memories.
It is a song of infinite joy, a song of happiness.
The music fades into the background,
My song is sung in accapella.
Slowly my song fades out from the fore of day.
It is a tune for myself in the still of the night.
Watch me sway to my music and song.
It will never stop playing till the end of my time.

About Giving and Taking Back

It may be a blessing or it may be a curse that we all will fall in love with someone else at some point of our lives.
Personally, I have fallen in love a couple of times (and have been involved in several relationships) in my life time thus far. It is very unfortunate, that nothing has worked out right up until now.
I've just been musing for the better part of today. When we are in love with someone else, we just can't seem to control ourselves but to give. Give and give even more. Give to the point where it hurts, and still we cannot help but give. A part of of us always goes out to that special person.
I wonder, after all the giving thru all those years, thru each and every person that was special to me, how much do I have left to give? So many parts of me have gone out and will always stay with them.
The tragic part is, all that has been given, can never and will never be taken back, no matter how hard I try.
Maybe I just really don't want anything back.
If giving hurts, taking back truly kills.
Them, whom I have truly fallen deeply in love with, will always have a special place in my heart from here on until the day my heart ceases to beat. Sure, the memories have faded from my head, but deep down inside my bleeding heart, I know that they are in there somewhere.
Introspectively, there isn't much anymore that I can give. It is all running dry. The essence used up. I can feel myself, just the cynical shell left with life sucked dry.

So yes, I am twisted. Yes I am aloof. Yes I am cold. Yes I am emotionless. Yes I am one selfish fuck.

Simply because, I have nothing more to give and I've died in my attempt to take something back.

How I Deal with A Problem

It is inevitable that I have to deal with problems day in and out.
Numerous experience from dealing with problems have imparted me an important skill:

"If I can't solve a problem, the next best thing is to laugh it off"

Yeah, it may sound silly, but I suppose it is better than sulking, hiding and whining. Most of the time, if I do manage to keep my spirits high, I will eventually solve the problem.
It is either that or the problem seems to go away, at least for a while.

Ten Things About March

There are ten things I would like to highlight for the month in which:

1)The month is March, and the date currently is somewhere very near to the date of my birth quite some 20 odd years ago. (Its quite a big odd to add on to the 20 years if you must be precise)
2)Sometime during the period of this month, I will be aging yet another year, which possibly might be an excuse for me to get drunk.
3) March was originally the month where the Europeans had their 'New Year' because spring is just round the corner.
4) Astronomically speaking, this is the month of fishes and rams.
5) The month is supposed to be named after the Roman God o War - Mars (or Ares in Greek). Does that make me a Martian? (ok it's a bad joke, so sue me)
6) Everyone is paying way too much attention as to when the date I was born. The attention is causing me a little bit of discomfort.
7) Fact is, I don't enjoy being the centre of attention at a party. I prefer playing side-dish to the main-course, or so to speak.
8) This month always seems to cause me some heart-wrenching moments for one reason or another. EVERY YEAR without fail.
9) It is also a month that seems to just whip on by very very fast, in spite of it having 31 days in total. (The only other short month I ever remember is Febuary, but I suppose that would be normal?)
10) Finally, a dear dear friend of mine will be having his daughter coming round the corner real soon. She might just share the same birthday as I. My prayers for her that that will be the only thing she ever has in common with me. Nonetheless, I will still love her. This month is dedicated to Baby Gwinny, coming in from the stork and arriving really soon.