must... have ... coffee...

As you can see I am suffering from coffee withdrawal. No it is not because Singapore does not serve coffee, it is just that the coffee is not quality coffee. So it has become apparent that i require external supplements to stay alive and stall my own sleep deprived state of mind. 

Now onto more, I am still carrying the lolita virus, it has partially affected my mind. Also today is the first day that my muse is completely in power. It has been fruitful, and i feel more in control of myself surprisingly. however this is only the first day so ... much more is to come. 

So why have i been blogging ? and always at the end of my blog i leave a piece of poetry ... ? 

I really don't know. When I do I'll get back to you.

Oh !!! and I got an A for PW.  I really am happy but at the same time I really somehow seem not to care anymore. It is like as though i have decided that how good i score is no longer a gauge for me anymore. Study though it gets you far in life I have realized that it is no real yardstick to how good one really is or can be. I pray my prejudices do not slip in. 

I really intend to read out my poems and record them really soon probably after this then i will post again to post it all up. Quite genius is'nt it... 

I am reading Ulysses right now by James Joyce, It is Confusing as hell... not even halfway through and i am already lost. I probably have to restart ... really sickening... slap slap ! Oh and today is good friday ... errr ya ... don;t really know my point but ya it is good friday.   

Ok here is a poem, i don't care anymore. 

Lights, the light of day 

the fray, little stars in the sky 

jewels of the heavens 

tell the sun of your beauty 

walk the cold winters 

alone 

tread lightly lest you awake the man 

who sits beneath the fir trees. 

My mind darts back and forth 

like a train from Chatsworth to London

confusion breeds 

the mixed signals sent, emails. 

intelligence 

foolish, natured written on paper IQ

falsehood 

writing with a fountain pen, 

ink all o'er the place 

Beauty of the sun 

displayed in heacate 

Beltane approaches 

the season of love 

The two great lights dance as we on the earth 

prance to the mighty drums of Earth's hollow 

The Holly and Oak 

mighty and exalted above us all. 

we dance 

till lost in the sound of the rhythm 

the two doves meet 

the swans them bowed to each other. 

Floundering in madness 

the opening of a Merlot 1982 chateau de france

pour into the glass 

the rest offer to heaven. 

smash on the ground 

and open to sky and earth 

merge the two into one. 

the red dew on the green. 

roses bloom 

beauty surpassed 

picked and thrown into the fire 

charred and trampled upon. 

cold and dark 

the light i stand under flickers 

the lamp post hinges on going out 

desolate, quiet, on the stony road

I wait I wait 

my beating heart still 

the screaming silence 

and I am there in the ward 

abused and stricken 

disease bound 

no surgeon can cure 

yet they cut me up 

Slice and dice 

the butcher shop 

tearing open 

my festering body 

what a mess they make 

they are dogs 

they work for Hitler 

for Nero, and i try to hide beneath the green curtain. 

But still they find it 

and rip it out of its place 

and put a system in me 

mechanize. 

I am no more the man 

no more the product of the earth 

the dust has settled and I rise 

a cyborg 

Mix of man and god 

soil and metal 

let the farmer's sharp sickle slice through the wheat 

pluck and let live 

empowered but hardened 

warm cold 

heart still beating 

beating 

in your fist

in your open hand

there there I stand 

a rock in the fire. 

________________________________________________________________

ma belle...

Bonjour to all... lords ladies welcome all... due to the fact that i am studying Literature I need to somehow have this innate ability to use the romance languages, German, French, Spanish,Latin whatever ... So I have decided to use a little French in my blog. 

Lassie aller... right, so I am annoyed. I have just finished watching the importance of being earnest. However there is a more pressing issue... My muse desires my lolita... horrid because i am afraid of saying anything to my lolita. Only hi, bye and nothing more than the superficial words that pass our lips. This poem would better express it.

Muse and Lolita 

I love and yet fear the consequence 

I have not given up 

the sickness which bothers my heart 

light bulbs of my mind flicker 

running low on her presence 

inspiration closes her door on me 

the accursed one 

The organ blows deep 

rings through Transylvania. 

And they barge in 

wearing their cruxes and bearing offerings of garlic. 

They pin me to the ground

tie me to the stake and try to kill 

Kill an undead ?!

Impossible  

Logic is lost 

let my muse take over 

I relinquish altogether 

Assassinate the Czar. 

My shadow diminish and enlarge 

What does it matter 

of no importance ! 

only my muse knows. 

So i offer it all, 

to my emotion 

no more to my logic 

for my muse has overpowered me, become dominant. 

My reflection 

once pure 

Muddy and choked. 

only darkness surrounds me 

Let me be exposed to the elements 

naked and bare 

I take on the responsibility as Lear 

Singe my white head ! 

Let me be Lear 

free and mad 

this torture is murderous 

black and dark, Gothic. 

I refuse to accept a dogma 

i cannot be bound by strictures 

all of them point their pharisaical fingers 

and condemn me 

stone me

to death. 

Muse Lolita 

continue in struggle

for i shall resolve the issue 

i shall tell her ...soon. 

So ... I just have the urge to write ... the muse is over working !!!!

I think my muse is slightly irritated at me. I am overworking her, Yes it is a her surprise surprise... and no i do not know what she looks like. Nonetheless, she is rather frustrated that i am slave driving her to work for me. Well I think I am forgetting to feed her with inspirational essence, (god knows where that comes from). Love somewhat short circuits the inspiration thing and quickens the muse to work, something like coffee for the muse, expresso. And so my muse is bored and tormenting me. kinda. Anyway, I am writing this in response to many things, friends, school, (my muse really wants coffee-no no !!! ) and family. 

Yes i seldom talk bout family, so here goes, I need to get out, but at the same time i cannot live without the provision of my family. I am in a dilemma, lost and unsure if i should just take the plunge. Ah heck it, soon soon I will trot away free from this place. I have become somewhat of a stranger in my own home, I am hardly at home, mostly in school and out. nearly non existent at home. No really, I and my parents now hardly speak, oh trust me but we do speak on the dullest of subjects, like how was school and all that courtesy nonsense. I hate it and hopefully it does not turn into a mad thing where i become resentful against my parents. No no I pray it will not descend to such depths. I still respect them as my parents but it just sometimes get frustrating when you live under the same roof but you seem to now hardly know them. 

Onto school, Apparently my second home, all i need to do is just sleep there and transfer my library there and voila it officially can become my home. However it is also where tremulous moments are made. I will not speak of them for you already probably know the story head to tail. ( Muse ! Stop, i Will feed you afterwards ! go sit aside first!) Ok back to the story, Ok i am really really annoyed with the fact that a project that we are doing is reduced to 4 pieces of white paper! Seriously !!! And the project is supposed to spark creativity and we reduce it to 

4 SHEETS OF PAPER WHAT THE HELL !!!!!!!!!!

I hate it, seriously, It is absolutely unacceptable for me, for others that are bloody lazy i can understand but I refuse yes I REFUSE to just reduce my ideas to paper and pen. Also for other subjects which I take (shall not tell you which) Nonetheless, people are just cramming for my opinion. IRRITATING! I hate it when people clammer for my opinion, seriously ! WHERE THE F*** IS YOUR BRAIN ??? i guess they just left it in their car. absolutely sick and stupid. 

Finally, seriously friend ... get a life. No no, don't diss me aside. I don't think it is my place to say much but i will say my 2 cents worth. Studies, crap it through, we are all under this curse of knowledge, it is sick and stupid but it is our burden. Tracy, Sharon .... hmm seriously they are busy, you are busy, it is commonplace ok... And finally the playboy issue ...Seriously ? playboy you ? erm ... i don't really see that side, at all.... ever, through those 7 years... not a drop of casanovaness (if there is such a word). So I don't see how poly will be a problem. I shall try to be kind to you, You apparently are more ... friendly than I can ever be so don't just try and get all the girls, and quickly try and find a girl. No no ...PLEASE I BEG YOU don't ... just let things play its game. Really it will somehow all work out. really. 

Ahhh... finally I sort of ended my rant. 

Ok now i shall entertain my muse, she is calling, annoying as hell. Emotion is indeed getting in my way. Coming coming ! 

   

Lolita , beauty beyond compare...

firstly i shall annoy you ... elton john is not gay .... 

Ok back on track... oh i dread this daily posting of my own terrible stories. It seriously is painful to relive them especially that of my lola, Lolita. 

so here goes... i think i just cant get over her, i guess that it is her, just her that somehow attracts me to her. which kinda drives me slightly insane. So here goes 

Plummeting into desire 

and we dance the samba in the corridor 

one ahead of the other 

amnesia. 

desire and passion 

suffocate me, force me to say what i refuse 

a torture 

gas chamber, it is her presence which drowns me. 

tall chambers 

arbeit macht frei 

the lie 

i am confined to

chains bind my feet, unwilling to walk over. 

regaining my muse 

singing her song in my ear 

precious music 

yet, sinning against myself 

it pains my heart 

bloods red words, strands of self 

poured out.

we cannot be mixed 

only blended together 

crushed and destroyed

a mess, of ships planes and men 

lying on the harbor, dead dead. 

playing hard to get 

and I waltz along 

dancing the foxtrot

trying to keep pace with the note less beat. 

I captured the magic of her eyes 

pearls. 

I look at her, 

not knowing, not hoping, loss of mind, soul and 

left with disdain for myself. 

refusal to speak 

waiting for the other, begin the killing of Franz Ferdinand. 

Revolution waiting to happen 

and still i wait

 

have i missed the caravan ? 

the gypsies call out to me 

the guitar strings play round my ear 

and my muse is drowned by noise. 

No no more ! 

I break out 

reaching the nirvana 

the nothingness, 

and grasp for 

Hope, The curse of Pandora.

I travel in circles 

cross country and fields of gold 

you sit in my car 

no words are mentioned 

only actions. 

Actions speak louder than words. 

i cannot hear her through the glass 

I see her but dare not reach out 

not afraid, tempted by the serpent 

the bossa beat 

guitars and music kill my red heart 

my sweeeeet 

lover, come be mine. Tell me tell me! 

let me not wait 

No No patience is a virtue 

to hell with it !

Love is irrational and mad 

the red wine that i drink 

heart burn. 

kills the organs in my body 

suicidal 

maniacal, like a witchy brew 

she and I, potion of madness, a killer. 

Jack the Ripper 

find her tonight. 

don't kill her, bring her before me. 

no more no more 

cortigo ego sum 

Liar, Descartes. 

How do thoughts express emotion 

only words and blood 

blood, a river of forgetfulness

leave me there to live in 

nothing but 

Amore 

Amore 

Amore

there with  

Moi Lolita, lost muse of the sun.

there you go... think what you will, but good luck dissecting it.    

I float above the storm... kissing the wind

surprise surprise ! I am back here again. I do this for my sanity and to keep my writing spirit up. 

and i really need coffee. I think I'll go get it after this blog post... hmmm i can already smell it wafting through the air ... arabica beans the smell of coffee is ... beautiful. Lost in the love for coffee.  zzzzz... oh whoops sorry, I live I live... carrying on with this post (though how lost and annoyed I am) 

Ah reader ! believe me, the lolita saga is pretty much over. But this gives you no reason further to neglect this blog and run off into the sunset. No no, even more you should stay, reader due to my ending of the lolita saga, it has resulted in a slightly more anti-social me. 

Yes I have somehow adopted the stance that I cannot stand the human race anymore. Which results in my closure from people. That my faithful audience is going to end, in great disaster. 

I am no longer surprised and shocked, i think i saw it coming so I shall leave it here first. 

on to poetry : scream scream 

no no poetry is my sanity my life and pretty much what i do for my recreation, apart from working for the mafia on a full scale,rubbing out people and burying them 6 feet below (oops! i think i said too much). Moving along here, I write a poem on the ending of the lolita saga and what is currently happening and affecting the writer i.e. Me. so sit back enjoy... 

on a side note I should try and read out all my poems one day and record them and post them up here, I think that would be fun ! hmmm soon soon. 

Pressing on ... enjoy, seriously I cant believe you are still reading this. 

oil and water 

divide 

the heart and soul. 

sonnets tell of her love 

I have heard them sung 

in church, in school, the choir wearing straight jackets. 

Flowers blossom in her wake 

Persephone, 

goddess, nymph perfect - divine lady 

Lolita. 

I suffer as Demeter 

As Hades prosper I loose her. 

I call on the Almighty 

there is no response 

I am speaking to the sky 

to the elements, 

all static, all immovable furniture in the house of the mother Gaia. 

Winter follows my temper 

the snow, cold, hatred and unfeeling 

Madness I shall drive into the man 

who curses me. 

Damn him Damn him ! 

Hades is no man 

he is a beast, perpetuates the mind of the innocent 

and yet they fall at his knees 

while my temple is desolate 

with the last few candles flickering out. 

Stained glass windows 

painted on with dust 

i refuse the sun to enter 

The rats are my friends. i can take this no more 

No more ! 

My tears, the rain that pours and washes the snow away 

no heat in them 

no love in my heart 

only hate hate and death. 

Tears grow into apples

The fruit of life  

the glad sword opens me 

slices deep into the core of my being and I reach that ecstacy 

that calls me to pour out 

a fountain 

of life and rebirth. 

Through the sword I live anew 

Hail ! the glorious dead ! 

Spring, unimportant 

the daemon still holds her sway.  

the pomegranate her curse 

the lost of love, my love, my lolita 

shattered into a million seeds. 

each birthing a tree. 

I mark it with red 

keep it away from the two lovers in the park. 

And it is then that i see her 

the serpent on the tree 

persephone, empowered, reborn 

queen of hell, daughter of life. A mismatch, a disaster ! 

throw her into the pits of Tartarus ! 

Make poseidon sink her ships 

the lord Zeus smite her ! smite her ! 

Hope, Pandoras box unleashed 

upon me 

that curse, cure 

madness inducing, fleeting heart, take me away 

back into olympia 

where I belong. 

Apples that lead me to life. 

Red shoe goes 

click click 

into my wonderland. lost in paradise. 

glorious obsession dissolved.

Ok ... i understand that the poems that i have come up with recently are rather sub standard. So please i beg the reader to be understanding. I am still somwhat studying and have not been living on the earth for long and at the same time i have just lost my muse, lolita. so please don't judge on what you see now but rather what you have seen and hopefully it will come back to get me. soon. ok ok i must get coffee now ... seriously before i zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz (too late) 

Lolita, the frigid queen... and I stand alone. The Narcissist

hmmm pains the soul does'nt it to imagine that the person whom you adore is the most incompatible person with you. Well for me I had to lay aside some of my selfish desires and acknowledge the greater good of both parties. of course after great admonishing of myself I have come to the conclusion that Moi Lolita is indeed one whom I would not woo nor should i bother about because of the great contrast in ideals between us both. There of ends the Lolita saga and ushers in a new era of slogging like hell and undisturbed concentration on the battle ahead. 

so here a final poem in tribute to the Lolita saga. 

And so i stand here 

the cold darkness surrounds my green tunic 

and i pull out the cold body 

lay him out on the table 

open the bag 

the body, a freezing mess 

of two eyes one nose and a mouth 

distorted. 

And I take this last look at him 

not family 

not friends 

no one to say goodbye to this man 

and still he hopes for that closure 

strip the body 

naked, hairy, the darkness 

lights up his body 

I live under the light bulb that burns the brain 

incision 

slicing, the body open 

the red words flowing on the table 

poetry of guts and mess 

deeper i cut

there is no soul 

nothing left behind but heart and body 

search search. 

his cause of death was pride.

a human default, a weakness, shallow and yet

pure 

pride is what we stand on, glory and honor 

yet one slip and we go tumbling down the cliff in to the mausoleum 

I am his soul 

the black hearted creature 

the red juice in my hands which one pumped through his heart now 

nothing but to be bagged up and taken away 

away by a stork 

his blood is to be poured into a cup 

conforming to the shape and curves 

the goblet, the holy grail. 

Good friday 

resurrect from the dead? I think not 

die! this passion that i had 

not worthy of me, it is sick and flawed. 

i dissect him, splitting to recreate another man 

another body 

with mine

my hand in his body, connection 

there, his heart, layered with a plastic food wrap 

zip locked and hidden away 

his organs only to be used, 

and we dump this bloody mess six feet under. 

no more i offer 

no more poetry 

no more inspiration 

end it all so i can begin again. 

yes it is a pathetic poem. i know i know. compared to my previous literary genius this is absolutely unacceptable and I agree should be dumped far far away. But writers have their day offs so i guess today is mine. Don't be prudish about it, no no it is sick and stupid. If you really hated this then just go away and don't come back ! 

so you wanna challenge me ?!

HUMPH !  so dare to challenge me ? me ?! absolutely DISGUSTING !!!

fie upon you 

here begins the poem : 

So dawns the prehistoric age

the beast roams the land 

stares into the water 

the narcissistic creature. 

and so he boasts against 

the writer. 

absolutely awful and distasteful and plague

And so he talks 

and speaks proudly announcing his 

finger prowess 

to imagine that 

a beast a creature 

reaching an ecstacy 

unknown off, an obscene connection. 

evolution, Darwin's origin of species 

a scientific truth 

in the mind of a warrior 

is useless 

he is only to be left there a corpse of his own 

own dead body 

so he pulls his anger and strikes 

in vain 

against a hard wall he breaks a finger or two 

a ridiculous relationship 

him and the wall.

so the writer laughs 

loudly 

and scoffs the poor soul 

and so now he searches 

for truth in what remains of his heart 

to find 

love ? or loss? 

nothing left but a three fingered salute to the glorious dead. 

so you think I can't one up you ?