literature

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those who put the lamb on chairs

those winding roads

twist in sun drenched landscapes,

where moon shines next to failing supernovas

yet there is a space filled with a transcendental joy

that wafts, similar to the fragrance of lost flowers, people,

voices, names, places.

they keep driving in silence

it never ends, yet it hasn't even begun.

we last forever and ever, forever too far.

and all we do is wait. all we can do. all that we have done.

internal security act

ISA needs to be abolished. The substitution of an Anti Terrorist act really doesn't help. We know the nature of this country in bending its statements, or the definitions of terrorism to utilize it to its own benefits. Eventually the Anti Terrorist act will become a burden as is the situation with the ISA as of now. On another note, isn't it funny how the government derives the worst from western civilizations eg. consumerism, capitalism, mass wastage and hail it as technological advancement for modern development, worshiping it with dollar bills, bowing to a demogorgon that might just seize humanity.

And then they smash any brave ideology for peace that these western civilizations give us. eg. the practical application of human rights, freedom of speech -- annihilating it as if it were some piss dripping concept that were here to deface and threaten Asian decency.

How our morality prevails. Build a mosque, build a church, a temple, and relish in all the sin and hell, and piss and shit that surrounds it.

portrait

david

don't cry

more pork for lesion vegetarians

Don't say it with contempt,

I hurl the rabbit of the cliff,

Watched it fly.

Now turned to my side,

With such melodrama,

The kind from Chinese soap opera re-runs

After midnight

Somebody tell me to stop,

So I can climb over you,

And look back at a black mountain.

A rose growing in tar on its top,

Shhhhhhhhhhhhh.....

The space between the millet and the dripping stars,

They whisper,

In a level not audible,

Vibrations of air circulating 

In an empty lung, 

For me, for me?

the luckiest bastard swimming in a sea,

Surrounded by endless mirrors,

With smiling faces from 50 years ago.

But I'm only twenty seven years old.

27 too soon.