An Autumn's Requiem

2011-12-25T07:07:00.000-08:00

Singapore will once again bask in my presence. Where it has been dark and gloomy, my light shall shine. Breathe deeply, the same air that I breathe.

You cannot hold Johnston within the confines of a box, because his presence will exude through. Hide him in the dark corridors, and still his glory will shine and the whole earth shall see.

You cannot point to Johnston and say "Go far away from me! To the corners of the Earth." Because after walking the whole round, he would be at your back.

He is everywhere. Just not at the same time. But hopefully, where you are, he is too.

"Now sleeps the crimson petal" by Lord Tennyson

2011-09-26T06:56:00.001-07:00

NOW sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:
The fire-fly wakens: waken thou with me.

Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost,
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.

Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars,
And all thy heart lies open unto me.

Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,
And slips into the bosom of the lake:
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me.

"Come away, come away, death" by William Shakespeare

2011-09-26T06:54:00.000-07:00

Come away, come away, death,

And in sad cypress let me be laid.

Fly away, fly away, breath;

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,

O, prepare it!

My part of death, no one so true

Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

On my black coffin let there be strown.

Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.

A thousand thousand sighs to save,

Lay me, O, where

Sad true lover never find my grave,

To weep there!

El Roi, the God who sees me

2011-09-14T05:40:00.000-07:00

Dear Heavenly Father, You are the God, El Roi, the God who sees me. We have read of Your love for Your Chosen People, and how You watched over them, and guided them with compassion. Like a loving father, You never let them stray out of Your sight. When they turned from You, You were sad. And when they returned to You, You led them with power. And through all that, you were watching over them, like a Shepherd watching over His flock.

And though we are one person in a world of millions and billions, we know, O Lord that you watch over everyone of us. When Moses felt weak, you were there to give him strength. When Joseph was alone in a foreign world, you were there right beside him. When Daniel was in the lions’ den, you protected him. Even the humble Hagar, was within your sights. You saw her, and watched over her. We long for your compassion.

As small as we are, we understand O Lord, we understand your love for Your people. And we pray, Father, that you will love us always, from the beginning to the end, just as you have promised, to be faithful to the end. We believe in your love.

Father, do you see me? Are you watching me? Like a child, I wander through life, confused and naive. I’ll make mistakes. I’ll do the wrong things. Make the wrong choices. I’ll even veer away from the narrow way. Will you be there to teach me Father? To chide me and to guide me? Are you watching me? Father, do you see me?

Father, watch over us. Guide our ways. When we heed your ways, lead us with power. And when we turn from you, never let us out of your sight. You are the God, El Roi, the God who sees me.

Johnston

this conflict of mine

2011-09-12T02:47:00.001-07:00

What a hateful man. What a shameful sight. That piteous flop of a man. No doubt there are those who look up to him. A hero of the dregs of society. A star amongst the scum of the earth.

If I could only begin to speak of his crimes. If I could only paint a picture of his dark soul. But I could not, for there is no place to start. A frightful companion he is. He is the string that must be loosed. The needle you'd leave in the haystack. There is no word called responsibility in his world. There is no concept of duty born alongside man. Not in the existence that surrounds him.

He took a job, and said he would do it. One involving the administering of souls. A higher job, ethereal and divine. A job so joyous, yet so abstract from human standards. If one could fully understand it, one would never be discontent. Yet the days came, and the days passed, and the job was left untouched. The souls were left to their abandonment. Alone they were, left neglected.

He claimed a disability and I accepted. No man is fit for everything. And there is nothing fit for every man. And how tedious this job can become, one's heart is not strong enough. It may be joyous, but there are conditions of the heart that must be set fully in place before one can derive the job's full benefits.

Yet he disappeared. Just as quickly as he spoke. There was no consideration for what would happen next. No thought dedicated to what might ensue. The baton was dropped. Merely drop. Nothing more. Nothing less. It took seconds. But we saw it as minutes. Hours. Years. There was some component of shock. More of disbelief. It was a long pause. What happens now?

Does a statement alone, allow us to ride free? Does a feeling alone, discharge us from the duties we long to let go? How convenient that would be. At a word, I can put to rest that which must be done. But we are bound, by the sacred laws that constitutes us, to complete the job, or to find someone to continue the race. Not merely someone, but someone specific.

"If I drop it, someone will pick it up." Who? When? Shall we wait an eternity for this mysterious benefactor? Surely, you enjoy the element of suspense. Surely, you are a great practician of patience. A common theatre scene, that greatly satisfies once concluded. But what of now? What of the people involved? Shall we leave them be? Like sheep left to wander? Perhaps you would have them line of beside you, watching, just watching. For this intensity that would take your place to save them. Why, I have a sudden foreboding of someone's Second Coming. Perhaps it is to your taste, that we practice what we preach.

And when I tried to assist you, you took it for granted that I would take your burdens away in a flash. I was merely there to help you find a solution. You've got a lot of things wrong over there. However did you construe such a outcome? That the moment a toy no longer brings you pleasure, I would be there to carry away?

And yet your sick mind allowed nothing in. No words of comfort, no words of reason. The world had become a dark unfriendly place for you. It was a chore to open your eyes. So you kept them closed, and walked around your imaginations. You rejected kind words. You defiled kind intentions.

If you understood the magnitude of the job, then surely you would also understand the magnitude of the forces that drive it. Would not the right attitude be one of gratitude? Your pains and sacrifices are not the only ones man have to suffer. We too, the engine that drives our establishment, have our pains and sacrifices. We try our best to create a simpler form of service for you. And when you choose to stop, we try to help you. We are all in this together.

And yet you spurned the advances made to bring you peace. Advances built on the sweat and tears of others. You treated therapy as skirmishes. And salvation as destruction. Your absent sense of duty has brought dereliction upon yourself. And now you call the attempts to rebuild you, an annoyance?

The things that must be done, have to be done. How basic is that which forms the foundation of this world. We have duties to perform. And we have to perform them. If we cannot, or choose not to, we find others to fill our place. So that a building is not given only half its pillars. So that our home, is not left without its parents. We build, until our ends, then others take our places. The hammer does not stop pounding. Only the hands that hold it change. The baton cannot be dropped, even if it is heavy. The one who holds it, must bring it to the finish, or pass it on.

The spite that is on my tongue, is bitter as bile. The words you spoke to me, can never be taken away. Your presence amongst us, belittles the stool that holds my weight. The white that covers you, is stained with filth in my eyes.Your contempt for the efforts of others, brings you to shame. Your bitterness, turns you into a sour sight amongst those who care for you. Your rejection of that which is good, makes you the object of rejection.

This wretched pain that stirs within my chest. I am torn to bits by the forces that construct me. The iron hand of duty that is the Notsnhoj, and the hand of destruction that also speak of love that is God. Johnston was the balance between these entities, and the container of the raging conflicts that they bring. Release me! How it hurts! How it confuses!

I am sad. So sad, the burdens on my back, bind me to the ground. I could not explain it, but my arms feel weak, and my knees give way. If I could undo my crimes. If I could undo what I have put him into. I would. How I wish I never let him suffer the responsibilities of leadership. How he grieves. His pains, are my pains. His hate, is my tears.

Yet I am angry. So angry, I could tear this man to shreds. How I wish to destroy him, for the things he left to destruction. How I could shame him, if I would. These distasteful ambitions of mine.

God, help him recover from his wounds. God, help me. Oh damn my sinful estate.

Notsnhoj

The First Testament of the Notsnhoj

2010-12-15T07:38:00.000-08:00

This shall be the first testament of the Notsnhoj, spoken without regret. Written upon this unchanging rock, may it last forever, in word, and in truth.

One year ago, I met a girl. With quick wit upon her tongue and a charming smile, she stole my soul and locked it in a place by her side. Perhaps she did not know, or perhaps she did, but it was destined that day that only by her side, could I ever breathe again.

So I will make that trek, that will take me to the place I long to be. To seek to love and be loved, what crime is there in that? It is a route that will take me several years. For I have been displaced to a foreign land to meditate on accounting scriptures. The wisdom of Google Maps advise me that my hike will take me north-west, six thousand kilometers over land and sea.

Now that we on earth have walked the full circumference of the sun, so my heart has reached full bloom. Speak to me anymore of her goodness, and my heart would burst. Whisper to me her deficiencies, and it would overflow with longing. I love her, everything and anything. I would hold her close. And I would never let go, till the day we turn to dust.

Yet there came the day, when a single hand grasped her own. A hand that was not mine. It was a hand I would have shook, any other day. But it was a hand I despised, on that day. A day that was today, the day he grasped her hand. And so my time stands still as I watch the scene before me. I wait and I ponder this. What would I do if the imaginable comes to existence? That that white gentle hand would grow firm in his. That she would gaze into his eyes as one in love.

A hateful scene. There is nothing sweet there. I could pout, I could cry, I could pretend to be filled with joy. But whatever I do, it will not change this. That my chest would be heavier than the sinking sand. My frown would show the many years that I have not lived. It is a bitter thought, and it leaves a bitter aftertaste.

Wait for me. I am only a little away. Let me finish my trek.

Johnston

2010-11-14T03:37:00.000-08:00

Walking by the coast, I walk with gentle Mother Nature. Father Sun shines gently upon my back, his warmth courses through my veins. Beneath me, I tread upon the sands, which gently receive my feet. I hear the waves fall gently on the shore, the sound of water searches my soul. I feel the wind surround me, gently holding me close. Then I look to the hills, with its slopes gentle on a child. The gentle grasses they welcome me, my bare feet they comfort. The trees sway gently, softly and kindly they sway. Strolling up the slope, I stroll with gentle Mother Nature. Yet gentler than these, there is one. There up upon that gentle hill, a pavilion surrounded with flowers. There is one gentler that lies within that ring. My lady, she lies within the pavilion.

There is sweet, and there is fair. There is graceful, and there is kind. My lady, she encompasses all these things. These are her, and she is more. Yet these things are a distant memory, for she has not been within my sights. I search for my lady vainly, still I seek with all my heart. Long since I last beheld her, long since her warmth became my own. Now I am as good as blind, my fingers cold, my palms unfeeling. The sight of my lady makes my heart flutter. Her absence makes me frown.

I love and it pains me, because I love too much. How I long to hold her close, to feel her in my arms. Yet just the chance to see her, would be as good as gold.

Now the world and all, awaits our reunion. Look at how the ground quakes beneath. The rivers, they rage in anger. The greater waves throw themselves against endless rock. The mountains turn in disapproval. For they know that this distance should not be. And what has been apart should be brought together. There shall be no smile on earth till our eyes meet once again. No comfort till we are held close. There shall be no justice save the moment our fingers should caress the other’s cheek. No morning sun till our breath entwines as one.

Across that distant sea, I bid you, fair lady, lie beneath that distant sky. That were the sky a great mirror, I might lie beneath mine, and gaze into your eyes. For I will see you in that sky, and I will feel your breath against my neck, for it is carried in the wind.

Notsnhoj

2010-11-09T18:03:00.000-08:00

Tears are the only words that can now express my pain. If a leaf were to fall on me, it would crush me whole. With the same weight that a mountain crushes an elephant, so shall that leaf apply upon my head.

Exams at the REB

2010-11-04T06:42:00.000-07:00

Deprived of sleep for many days,

In sunlit morn I started to pray.

Up stony steps I had to crawl,

I found myself inside a hall.

They forced a paper into my face,

Gave me a number to know my place.

Three clicks of the clock they kept me still,

Behind their masks I felt their thrill.

But I sense the end is coming. The end is coming near.

But I know the doors are opening. The doors are opening here.

Johnston

Non T'Amo Più

2010-11-03T03:09:00.000-07:00

Author's note: The meaning of the words - I loved you deeply, but now I don't love you anymore.

The meaning behind this song - I don't love you anymore... Really. ........really........like really...

Ricordi ancora il dì che c'incontrammo?
Le tue promesse le ricordi ancor?
Folle d'amore io ti seguii,
ci amammo,
E accanto a te sognai,
folle d'amor.
Sognai felice di carezze a baci
Una catena dileguante in ciel;
Ma le parole tue furon mendaci
Perché l'anima tua fatta è di gel.

Te ne ricordi ancor?
Te ne ricordi ancor?
Or la mia fede, il desiderio immenso
Il mio sogno d'amor non sei più tu
I tuoi baci non cerco,
a te non penso
Sogno un altro ideal:
Non t'amo più, non t'amo più!

Nei cari giorni che passamo insieme,
io cosparsi di fiori il tuo sentier.
Tu fosti del mio cor l'unica speme,
tu della mente l'unica pensier.
Tu m'hai visto pregare, impallidire,
piangere tu m'hai visto inanzi a te.
Io, sol per appagare un tuo desire
avrei dato il mio sangue e la mia fè.

Te ne ricordi ancor?
Te ne ricordi ancor?
Or la mia fede, il desiderio immenso
Il mio sogno d'amor non sei più tu
I tuoi baci non cerco,
a te non penso
Sogno un altro ideal:
Non t'amo più, non t'amo più!

Francesco Paolo Tosti

2010-10-30T04:33:00.000-07:00

Author's note: I was bored. And I was really bored. Attempt to read this in fake Irish or Scottish. And let it be within your hearts, to pray for me to study.

The lords are up in their fortresses,

Of great stones, tall and strong.

They are surrounded by their watchmen,

That number many a throng.

With booming voice they thunder,

As they feast just as they whore.

"The Danes, they be afearin' us,

Too scared to land on our shores."

Then one night, as silent as eerie,

We saw a light in the bay.

'twas approaching in quicker paces.

It came, just like Monday.

Before we be aknowin' it,

They were upon our lads.

They came like creepin' shadows,

Shades in leather clad.

He grasped me as I turned to run,

His hands were cold and clammy.

In his gaze I saw no meaning,

No friends, no wife, no family.

Great many things flashed by mine eyes,

Before my throat his dirk did lay.

I saw blade as it went through bone.

And bone as it went though decay.

To be acontinuin'

Notsnhoj

My Sister

2010-10-29T05:03:00.000-07:00

We were as close as two sides of paper, with a bond of solid gold.

In anger I did abuse her. In love I did protect her.

Then one day there was this young man, he came and took my place.

Still, I did abuse her. But someone else protected her.

Then I saw the hollowness of my actions, the lack within my heart.

No longer did I abuse her. But no longer did I protect her.

The days are now stretched and long, as is the distance between us.

How I long to abuse her. How I ache to protect her.

Johnston

El Sali, The Lord Our Rock

2010-10-09T07:07:00.000-07:00

Our Father God, El Sali, You are the Lord, our Rock. You are our great support, the bastion of our faith. You created the heavens and the earth, and we know of Your great might. Like a great rock, You stand unmoving against the tides of unrighteousness. Forever You are with us, forever we are not alone.

Father God, you are our great foundation. Because of You, we can stand firm. Because of You, we do not fear. Even in times of tribulation, we shall not fall, because You are holding onto us. And we are grateful.

Father God, we know of Your love for us. And we pray with all our hearts that You continue to hold us close to You. Keep us steadfast in the faith. Help us to never waver.

Our hearts are weak, for we are human. Given time, we easily lose sight of You, O Lord, we lose sight of what is important. Because we are faint-hearted, we fail to cling to Your instructions, and we fail to live godly lives. We deviate from the path, because of our lack of maturity. We no longer look solely at the gates of heaven, because we look at other things. We look at things of little value, and fail to focus on Your glory.

Father God, though we are weak, continue to hold us close to You. In times of our weaknesses, help to us look to You as our great foundation. Help us to focus on You.

You are the rock upon which we stand. And we shall never stumble, for You are solid ground. Though the world around us may crumble, we are safe when we stand with You. When we place our trust in You, we shall never falter. Father God, we pray with all our hearts, be our Rock, and hold us firm.

Johnston

The Road Not Taken

2010-09-24T08:30:00.000-07:00

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 20

Robert Frost (1874–1963).

the turning of a page

2010-09-16T21:53:00.000-07:00

Let loose these feelings of dereliction. Put away that which is crushed. The earth renews itself. The moon is born again. An end is merely another beginning. Every morning is different. The story lines never cross. The plots are all ever-changing. The morals number beyond count. There is something new in everything. And everything new in somethings. The old is what is past. What has long gone will be forgotten. The pages of a book will wither. A memory never stays. There will be a new tomorrow. A light shining anew. A vision that breathes new life. A song that fills the soul. The grasses are bright and shiny. The shore fresh and cool. Drink the water that replenishes. Tastes the sweet summer berries. And be born again, renewed.

Notsnhoj

a lamentation in solitude

2010-08-08T07:07:00.001-07:00

I hear a distant rumble,

The sky is overcast.

This world is dark and gloomy,

Where sunshine does not last.

My life is cast in shadow,

The void is my domain.

Through night and day it showers,

The bitterest of rains.

I walk the roads in blindness,

"Will no one give me light?"

I have no home to go to,

They shut me out at night.

They hurl insults and abuses,

With spite thrown at my face.

With flails of gall they scourge me,

To make me know my place.

I crawl, I run, I try to hide,

Where'er I turn, they know.

To mock me is their purpose,

I have no place to go.

I walk the moonlit doldrums,

No sound but the distant howl.

The shades too, they ignore me,

All life is naught but foul.

My sufferance exceeds the mountains.

My sky is overcast.

I curse my earthbound shadow,

Let the end come fast.

Notsnhoj

the beams that support

2010-05-10T20:40:00.001-07:00

The clay crumbles beneath as our heavy boots scrape against the rocks. There is a long way to go as we ascend the slippery slope. Every step of the foot is a flip of the coin, every reach of the hand is a roll of the dice. We take our chances as they come. We fall when the gamble falls through. We push on, beyond all hope of turning back, yet short of the hope of standing on top. Fear is a constant, uncertainty is its foundation.

Will we ever hold the crown of victory? Are all things bleak? Do we climb for failure? Let us give up. I lack the zeal. I lack the will. Where does a Johnston stand in the grand scheme of things? Should I ever be needed? Let me rest, let me lie. Let the clouds roll by. I can live and I can die, and still the world will move around me.

As I look toward the summit, I see a hidden sun. Yet not even the mountain peak can mask its glory. The splendor of its rays reach out to the open skies. Far out and beyond, all the earth receives its warmth. My heart is filled with renewed courage. It beats again. Out of the heavens, come the ones with the same paths as mine own. Radiant with love, their faces are aglow. One goal. One vision. Their summit is none other than that of mine.

Sunbeams from heaven light our way. The light bounces off each crack and stone, surrounding me and filling me. With a palm upon my back and an arm linked in mine, I assail the ramparts. They are with me. Let none stop me! What could I have done alone? Yet now our steps are heard as one.

the heaviness of weariness

2010-04-07T18:51:00.001-07:00

My head is heavy, my shoulders burdened. My worries weigh a ton, and my bothers bog me down. Life moves slowly along as I wade through the swamp. A swamp where I cannot see the end, and the beginning too is out of sight. This march is endless, it strains me. I am tired, my breath escapes me. Heavy. Heavy. Heavy. The load is heavy. A little more, and I would not bear. The end is never near, to hope I would not dare. How far is the road to liberty, my feet are worn and cannot hold. I struggle to move against the mud, like pushing against a stone. I move an inch by the hour, and the scenery does not change. I sigh and I pant, then I pant and I sigh. How much more do I have to go, against life’s tall obstacles. The knolls are high, and the valleys deep. The bush is thick and the roots hinder me. They trip me, and they hurt me. How long before I can lay down my jars, with burdens to the brim. Weary. Weary. Weary. My soul is weary.

Johnston

2010-03-15T18:52:00.000-07:00

Is this a dream? Am I awake? Or merely lost in a story so torn apart by abstraction?

These days, I no longer smile the rented smile. There is only cheer in me. Like an unstoppable spring coming forth from my chest, such is my joy. It fills all the lakes of the earth, and floods the valleys. I can giggle, I can laugh, I can tap, I can dance. I can even do the whirls, but I cannot wipe this smirk off my face.

How silly I have become. Believing in the unknown, and hoping it will come true. My senses have been numbed by my absurdity. I can only see the colours of the new morning. I can only hear the songs of this enchantment. Sing to me, and let me be. My mind spends each waking moment by her side. My soul had long left me. All that is left is a mangled body hoping to do the same.

Perhaps now I understand a little more of what it means to lay heaven’s embroidered cloths before her feet. For all the riches under the sun would not suffice for the purchase of the gleam in her eye. Just let me be.

Notsnhoj

2010-02-20T22:50:00.000-08:00

Who can restrain my unbridled heart? So full that all the deserts of the earth could not contain it.
Who can contain my rampant mind? With its endless wanderings by her side.

How I wish to embrace her very presence. To hold her hands and look into her eyes. To converse and laugh with her. To feel her joy and join in her merriment. Such fatuous thoughts! And yet, how they never cease to persist. From the morning to the evening, they torment me. But in my agony, I find sweet bliss. Who can stand against the tides of the heart? Each passing wave of emotion strikes ever stronger until we are powerless to resist!

Note that the author can neither comprehend nor fathom the very words that he writes. For his mind and his heart have never been very close associates.

And none of this makes any sense! Why should I be moved? Is it written somewhere? Perhaps in the Bible? No, there is not! Why should I have to abandon the happiness of my singularity? This is utterly unfair.

Despite that, I shall persist to the very end. Until we are old and toothless, and our hands to weak to touch.

2010-01-08T20:32:00.000-08:00

For years I have averted my gaze. For years I have walked away. Why then do I find it so hard to do what I have done for years?

Have you heard her speak? Have you felt the merriment behind her laughter? Resist as you might, they shall fill your senses. Still you will grimace in joy. And shudder in bliss.

Is the heart weaker than the body? Do they not always say to push past your physical limits by sheer will-power alone? So how can I tell myself to hold fast against the wild winds of passion? Try as I might, my efforts are void, my strains to no avail. There is no way out of this mess. Only a path deeper into it.

How then shall I decline the longings of my heart? How can you ask me to avert my gaze? How can you tell me to walk away?

2009-12-18T22:20:00.000-08:00

Engage me to her presence! Let me be!

If you saw what I saw and heard what I heard, would you be able to hold back your heart. I am standing on the edge of a mountain top. Listen to me. All my years of reservations are at the brink of falling apart. My heart and my soul have left me. How can I go against the tide of my own emotions? How can I keep what I have already lost?

Just seeing her smile would make you smile. But for her laughter, no other sound could move my heart. What a marvel! Is there a sweeter sight? Is there a sweeter sound? I could travel to the ends of the world, and then travel further beyond, yet I would not find. No Rose of Sharon could compare, nor Song of Bocelli. The Himalayas would bow in reverence, the nightingale would flee in shame. Then what of me? How could anyone command me, "Johnston, be still"? I would not! And I could not!

There is so much I could say, but so little I could put in words.

"Somehow I've fallen under your spell,
but somehow I'm feeling it's up that I fell."
(As long as you're mine - Wicked OST)

You Are My Life And Your Word Is My Sustenance

2009-09-20T19:25:00.000-07:00

Father, you are beautiful beyond description. Peace sits at Your left hand, and joy at Your right. Happy are those who reside in Your presence. Better is one day in Your courts than thousands elsewhere.

Your ways and Your works amaze me without cease. My mind is small and my vision is narrow. But, Lord my God, You see all things, now and forevermore. Glory be to the Lord who provides for His people. Glory be to the Lord who loves His children.

Father, I thank You for Your Word. Your Word sustains me. It fills with my endless delight and song. Immersed in it, I draw closer to you. Without it, I am a wreck, without direction.

I thank You, Father, that each time I set my eyes in the right direction, You are already there waiting for me. I am slow to understand, and prone to failure. Lord, please be patient with me. My flesh is weak, but so is my will. Father, renew me.

Johnston

the numbing of the senses

2009-07-28T04:04:00.001-07:00

Have your emotions been scalded? Are you numb to touch? Can you not see the falling petals? Can you not smell the scent of flowers? Can you not hear the crying of the young ones, and the wailing of the old? Are you blind to beauty and disdain?

Yes, I cannot understand these things. I feel as if there was a shard of glass within my head. It dulls my mind's eye. It bothers with my thinking. I no longer know what is before me. I can see no further than an arm's reach. It has been too long since I last looked. Too long since I last thought. Too long since I bothered.

I walk in the shadow of the woods. I hear not the singing of the birds. The roses have no colour, the dew does not sparkle. The river are still, its creatures lifeless. They return my gaze with hollow eyes, my words with screeching silence.

I was found with my palms before my eyes, and my ears covered in despair.

One day, I will speak to the earth once more, and hear its whispers. I will see and understand.

Notsnhoj

the isle of seclusion

2009-06-01T02:19:00.000-07:00

Do you know that feeling? When your chest becomes so heavy you cannot breathe. Your jaw tightens until it hurts. Your hands tremble. Your heart stops beating, and your blood thickens to the point where it does not flow. Then, the moment lingers on, and on. Have you ever had that feeling before?

A situation of bleakness. Where all is lost and hope is placed on lost things. Where all that was familiar dissolves, and all that was unfamiliar is valued. Blind eyes and deaf ears become natural symptoms, and nothing makes any sense. Silence is kind, and lies blessed. The beholder of truth is a delusion to himself. Colours pale and scents fade, all beauty is disdained. There are senseless cries. Pleas of despair. Yet, it lingers on, and on.

And then it spreads. A shivering voice from a quivering lip. Gloom becomes the air of breath. A helpless word becomes the foundation of two. The hope that was placed on lost things is lost. The sky is too dark, the air too heavy. There is panic, not of a single soul but of many. A shout complicates matters, deceptive images are aplenty. A friend turns an enemy, an enemy turns a friend. There is no understanding, for what is there to discern? All are shreds. Our reason. Our humanity. Madness abounds. There is blood, and the ending of life. Yet, help does not come.

That feeling. A heavy chest, a tight jaw, shivering hands, blood slowing till it no longer flows. It lingers on, and on.

Notsnhoj

How Pure His Cleansing Blood

2009-04-25T22:20:00.000-07:00

How pure His cleansing blood, that make us white as snow. There is need for my flesh to be restored and to be made whole. This flesh that has been consumed by sinful nature. Charred and tainted, rendered foul and useless. How fickle are the minds of mortal men, that we cannot keep our faith. How cheap is our word, that it can vanish in a moment's instant. Like deranged sheep, we constantly stray from the path.

There is joy being in His arms. There is peace being under His wings. We know it. It is life to live with Him. And death to live otherwise. We know it.

Johnston

the song of a bleeding heart

2009-03-30T02:35:00.000-07:00

The clouds go by
In disarray.
A lonely mind
In troubles parts.
The world turns still
In solitude.
I sing the song
Of a bleeding heart.

I fell for an gem, so bright and fair.
It shone in the night, in moonlight glared.
Its voice was soft, it took me whole.
Its song so sweet, enraptured my soul.

I placed my heart in a foreign hand.
How could I quell my feelings' tide?
My heart, my soul, was taken whole.
How could I turn myself aside?

Though hope was high, and life seemed fine.
My heart was torn from that foreign hand.
For I was to see her walk away.
To take the arms of another man.

What coloured scarf hangs not on its paired coat?
What finished diamond on murky waters float?
What mare of wings to the world can convince?
What princess walks the streets without her prince?

I must have been blind,
For I had not seen.
How those arms entwined,
In hers had been.

What fair use to climb to the peak.
The rose had already been picked.

The clouds went by
In disarray.
This lonely mind
Now troubled parts.
The world turned still
In solitude.
Can you hear the song
Of a bleeding heart.

Notsnhoj

the loneliness of night

2009-03-04T22:24:00.000-08:00

I am getting sick of these nights. They are cold and lonesome. It has been awhile since I have spoken. The hinges of my jaw have turned rusty. I would think it hard for any man to try pry a gap between my lips. The air grows stale within. For the first time, I wake alone. I wash up alone. I walk to school alone. I sit alone. I learn alone. I study alone. I go home alone. I stay at home alone. I cook alone. I eat alone. I wash up alone. I sleep alone.

My life is routine, carried out and accomplished alone. How I wish for a neighbour. Then, the darkness would not be so cold and lonesome. I am tired.

Yet I wait for the better tomorrow. The better tomorrow that will come.

Johnston

the weariness of day

2009-03-03T16:08:00.000-08:00

I am entitled to a small portion of the sky from my study chair. Zeus must be panting hard, for the clouds are racing by. Like a screensaver, they come in from the left, and then they are gone. Yet, that is all the movement that my eyes are entitled to. The brick walls outside are still. The branch hanging over is still. My room is still. The air in stale. Somehow, I feel as though this hollow world is caving in on me.

I sit here, indulging in the texts of laws and monetary sciences. I wish the world would move. Then, I would not feel so stale inside. The days are wearisome.

But there is hope beyond. I can wait.

Johnston

the unfamiliarity of familiarity

2009-02-20T13:48:00.000-08:00

The double year has passed and I have awoken from my slumber. My dreams of my sovereign nation are over and I have been painfully thrown back into the world of reality. A world where its minions, by their thousands, scurry around maintaining the perfect balance forged and acquired over time.

I have found myself wrenched from my former seat. Gagged and bound, the next time I saw the light, I saw a different surrounding. No longer can I touch the cleansing waters birthed of science, nor feel the stones veining with fond warmth. The waters and stones of my motherland. Though my new life is one that I knew, it is lonesome and distant. The unfamiliarity of familiarity. The comfort of a home, the joy of my peers, the love of a family. These are the three wonders of life that no pyramid can surmount.

I have returned to this land of bleakness, where the buildings are grey, the night dark and the day quieter. No song can speak my anguish, no cry my solitude. I left my heart in ancient time, the now, I live without it. Life was greater, now it is meek. Let me now be earth's minion, holding it up on pillars made of books and lack.

Notsnhoj

Ecclesiastes 5:1-3

2009-02-16T19:46:00.000-08:00

"Guard your steps when you go to the house of God. Go near to listen rather than to offer the sacrifice of fools, who do not know that they do wrong. Do not be quick with your mouth, do not be hasty in your heart to utter anything before God. God is in heaven and you are on earth, so let your words be few. As a dream comes when there are many cares, so the speech of a fool when there are many words."

Flamboyant eloquence is of no regard when we approach the Lord in prayer, especially when the heart is not right. When we pray, we must pray with a sincere heart, constantly seeking His will. We are meek and lowly, constantly covered in sin. Our God is the Lord of Lords, when we speak to Him, we must know we are speaking to a King. When we pray, we must be aware of our humble positions before Him, for His throne is great and His glory boundless. When we speak to God, who are we truly speaking to? Are we placing Him in His rightful position as our Lord and Master? Or are we simply throwing our wish list on some unseen random? Who are we truly speaking to? Let our words be spoken with the right heart, and spoken to the right King.

Johnston

the fruits of another

2009-02-13T08:21:00.000-08:00

The rise of global warming is the bane of the poor. The poor who rely on Mother Nature. Them whose survival hangs on a thread, held up by her temperament. They fear her wrath. And they grieve when she grieves. They slave, yet their happiness can be taken away by a single storm. They work, yet they weep when the sun does not shine. They try, yet the dark clouds above mirror their gloom. A hard-working man of poverty. Yet today, I am speaking of another man of poverty. The ones whose work is unseen. The ones whose efforts are unheard of. The ones who sit when others are standing. The disobedient flock of sluggards. They do not work, and yet they want the rewards of work.

They look to the wealthy, wishing to claim their share of the prosperity. Or so they claim. But I now declare, that they have already taken their share of the prosperity, though it is a small share. For that is their share of life. Am I saying that they deserve less? Am I saying that the rich deserve more? No. It is not that they deserve a different share, but that is simply their portion. Handouts. A word instilled into the minds on many foolish men. They see the silverware on another man's table, and wish to take it for their own. They lift it off the tables carved of the finest oaks, and place it into the ashes. These are such foolish acts, yet these fools constantly find reasons to do so.

People say that the rich are getting richer, while the poor are getting poorer. Yet it has always been the same. Nothing has changed. The rich are still rich. And the poor are still poor. It is always the same. Nothing changes. Tomorrow, next month, or ten years down, nothing would have changed. Each man, sitting in his proper place. Should we change their places? To be fair? Do we ease the burden of the poor by giving them a chunk of the rich man's due? Do we take what he worked for, to let the poor man can live in a mansion and dine with crystal finery? The poor are always crying out for more.

Does the poor man do the work of the rich? Can he accomplish the works of lords and masters? He cannot. He does not know how to work the computer. Nor can he add the sums. He cannot understand the law. Nor draw a plan for a nation. His hands are hands that are caked in mud. And that is his occupation. Do you say, "I was denied the chance to be educated. But I could have done the same had I been. Life dictated otherwise." So shall I raise you high? So shall I let you touch the stars. On that basis, shall I give you what is given to the rich? Simply because of life's disdain for you. Then I say, "Does the poor man do the work of the rich?" No. Then I cannot give you what they are given. Then I cannot raise you high. Each man gets as his work dictates. If you measure gold, then gold shall be your payment. If you dig dirt, then dirt shall be your payment. If life dictates, then it shall be so. Life is always unfair, when we judge by man's standards. Be content with your lot.

The genes of poverty are often passed down to offspring. So if a man starves, so shall his spawn. Though there are times of change, for life is based on random factors. So a poor man can rise high and a rich man can fall to his knees. A poor man who read the books can change his fate. A rich man who sloths can change his fate. So I say, study! Work! Earn your keep. And do not set your eyes on what is another man's. If you have a desire, work toward it. But if it is out of reach, then it is out of reach. Do not seek to acquire what is on someone else's plot of land.

All in all, we all have different births. And we make it to different places in life. Difference is not equality. Therefore, life is not equal and we should not demand equality. Why should we moan that the man above us has a larger pantry? We are where we are, and many times, because we deserve it. Why demand the fruits of another man's labour? Live your life as it is. Be content with your lot.

Notsnhoj

the simplicity of life

2009-02-03T05:01:00.000-08:00

In life, do your job. If your job is to hunt, then hunt. If your job is to farm, then farm. If your job is to lead, then lead. Well, seems easy enough. But what if we tweaked it a little and said, if your job is to do as you're told, then do as you're told.

Why can't you do as you're told? If that is our position in life, then that is our position in life. Why resist the natural order of things? What gain can one achieve by swimming against the current? The greener fields are down below. Why fight against fate, at the cost of your soul? If our job is to be obedient, then be obedient. Our jobs are blessings. They are stepping stones toward the life after. In short, they are within life itself, each stone being placed there by our Creator.

Each man should follow the path set before him. Step on one stone at a time, then move on to the next. Never try hopping off the path onto a stone belonging to another. Why hate your path? Is your wisdom wise? The foundation under every man's road is His wisdom. His choice is what is best for you. Why hop onto another man's stone? The grass is always greener on the other side. You'll soon find that stone not to your liking.

Stay content with what you have. Why martyr yourself in a reckless bid to influence humanity? Is your way best? No one will thank you. They will clap their hands and look away for the next show. Why try to change the world? Is your way best? No one will remember you. They will pen down your name in the books but not in their hearts. No one cares. Leave things as they are. Let it be as it is. If you are put in a box, stay in the box until you are taken out. That is the way life is, and should be.

Besides, we cannot all live the same life. If we climb up, it is on the head of another. In coming out of oppression, we oppress others. We cannot all be kings. And thus, in this, I'd rather take only what I'm given by Him, staying in my proper place.

It is not about where you are in life or what you have to do, but how you go about doing it. Whether you fulfill the responsibilities awarded to you. Whether your duties are accomplished as they should be. And whether amidst all these, we shine the Light as we should. That is what matters. That is all that matters. It is all about how we go about living life, rather than what kind of life we have.

At the end of all things, it is the same. In life, do your job.

Notsnhoj

Let Me Draw Closer

2009-01-27T08:41:00.000-08:00

I once had riches, holding articles others sought to gain. I once had a fame, walking neither height nor ground where my existence was non-existent. I once had mentors of great renown, acquiring a wealth of knowledge that drew envy. I once had many a thing. Yet what I had, others had too, and more. Electronic devices, jewelry and precious stones, carvings of the greater woods, designer clothing, vintage and sport cars.

We may hoard many things in life. Yet all things will come to pass. In time, circuits will fail us, silver will lose its shine, the oaks will come asunder, moths will feed on Prada and Ralph Lauren, Lamborghini plate-works will rust. Nothing lasts forever.

I may hold items of great value and beauty. Yet these are all temporal. Let all of my treasures flow out of the chest, let them all slip through my hands. For there is only one thing whose value is eternal. It does not dull with time. It is the one thing that I desire. A relationship with the Almighty God.

I live my life on that foundation. All things will come to pass, for nothing lasts forever. Every golden artifact will be lost, every success will be taken away. Time will place its hand on all life and all of life's possessions. Every statue's face will misshapen, every name will be forgotten.

Let me not hoard riches for mine keepsake. If I am given a coin, it is not mine, but merely having been placed upon my palm. All that I hold, I have not earned. For what I have taken, can be taken away. And so too, what is given. In taking, we are doing wrong, it would not in accordance with His purpose. For we should wait for God's timing, and receive with thanksgiving whatever He has given. Taking we should never commit, yet receiving has to be done in the right manner. Whatever we receive, we know in our hearts that we did not earn. Whatever we did not earn, we did not deserve. Yet all good things are from Him Above, so everything we have, we have received. I did not pick up the coin. It was placed onto my hand. Everything good I shall use for the furtherance of His kingdom.

Let me not pursue success blindly. I have made claims, and I mean to abide by them. I live my life centered around His purpose. If I had found success, it would be because He saw fit that it should be so, and that it would further serve His purpose. Wherever I stand, whatever the ground my feet walk upon, firm or loose, good or bad, it would be part of His plan. If I wish for an eternal relationship for Him, I should dedicate all of me to Him. At this point of my life, this would include my academic pursuit. What a hypocrite I would be if I slogged for my personal comfort, for my future, for my eligibility for a spouse, or any other reason or cover. These are fine things to seek, and I believe it is fine to seek them. Yet if they are not given, they should not be taken. For to take, would require the abandonment of the relationship with Him. What greater hypocrite I would be if I claim to be His servant, yet stop doing His work in favour of other pursuits.

We cannot say that we will leave His service, for just a little while, so that we can pursue our studies true and clear. Besides, there are other things in life that we could put aside for a time. If someone chose such a choice, and all he did was study, then I would have nothing to say. Though I would still think that leaving His service at any time would be a disfavour to Him and also to ourselves. But most of us would be lying if we made such a choice. For we would put Him aside, and still continue running amok with our acquaintances, indulging in our hobbies, and pursuing relationships with the opposite gender. There are many things in life to put aside in troubled times before we even start to consider to put aside God.

There will always be things to pursue in life. These things will never cease intruding into our lives. To say that the current pursuit, would be our very last, would be saying a lie. For these are two opposite paths, His chosen path and the path of the world. To walk down one way is to walk away from the other. There is no other way about it. If one's walk is not correct, and yet persists in his folly, is he not showing contempt for his Creator? There is only one direction in life that is right, and that is the path towards the gateway of heaven. There is no other way about it. I pray that I will constantly walk down the right path in the right direction, without veering to the left or to the right. There is only one solid ground. Let me give up all things if they prevent me from attaining a relationship with my Lord. Let me draw closer to Him, now and forever.

Johnston

The Fool's Prayer by Edward Sill

2009-01-15T06:29:00.000-08:00

One could tear in shame when we read this work by the poet Edward Sill.
In pride our dues to God we spurn.
Perhaps it's time we take a turn.

The Fool's Prayer

The royal feast was done; the King
Sought some new sport to banish care,
And to his jester cried: "Sir Fool,
Kneel now, and make for us a prayer.

The jester doffed his cap and bells,
And stood the mocking court before;
They could not see the bitter smile
Behind the painted grin he wore.

He bowed his head, and bent his knee
Upon the Monarch's silken stool;
His pleading voice arose: "O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

"No pity, Lord, could change the heart
From red with wrong to white as wool;
The rod must heal the sin: but Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

"Tis not by guilt the onward sweep
Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;
'Tis by our follies that so long
We hold the earth from heaven away.

"These clumsy feet, still in the mire,
Go crushing blossoms without end;
These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust
Among the heart-strings of a friend.

"The ill-timed truth we might have kept--
Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung?
The word we had not sense to say--
Who knows how grandly it had rung!

"Our faults no tenderness should ask.
The chastening stripes must cleanse them all;
But for our blunders -- oh, in shame
Before the eyes of heaven we fall.

"Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;
Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool
That did his will; but Thou, O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!"

The room was hushed; in silence rose
The King, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmured low,
"Be merciful to me, a fool!"

Edward Sill

an inspiration amidst boredom

2009-01-08T03:21:00.000-08:00

Now edited by professionals, or so I'd have you believe.

Lady
My life in shambles, lacking all and having nothing.
Ten years have passed, and past all point of living.
That love I came to know.
It was so long ago.
He said he would return for me come winter or spring.

Man
My life in riches, lacking nothing and having all.
Ten years have past, in slums I had to crawl.
That life I had to know.
It was so long ago.
But then, I left that scum-filled place forever and more.

Lady
Could it be him? That man there bears his likeness.
Ten years have past, now past this life of bleakness.
That love I came to know.
It was so long ago.
And now he has returned to me, his love still no less.

Man
Hello stranger, whose rotting rags house rats and lice.
Hello stranger, why look at me with those eyes.
Come take a coin or two.
And now be off with you.
To say you are a pretty sight would say you a lie.

Lady
We were in love, love being all and needing nothing
Be off with me? As if he were no longer caring.
Can you not recall my face?
Memories of me misplaced.
And as I walk away from him, my entirety despairing.

Man
And here I am, back to change the slums of my past.
So long ago I was freed from the chains of my caste.
The things that now I see.
Fragments of my memory.
Now times have changed, it is the things I've built that will last.

Lady
So long I've waited, now he knows me no longer.
So long I've waited, but now I wait no longer.
This dagger I now plunge.
This heart I will expunge.
To the marring darkness of despair, myself I render.

Man
And now I recall, the piteous dreg that I had seen
That lady in rags, the love of my life had been.
I once held her in my arms.
Shielding her from hurt and harm.
What have I done? Of thieves and murderers I am akin.

Lady/Man
We were in love, love being all and needing nothing.
He/She was my world, all else beyond comparing.
Mock this wretched life of mine.
He/She is not for me to find.
If there's not meager hope of love, life's not worth enduring.

Notsnhoj

Edited by Christopher Yang and Judith Ooi

Refluxing Proverbs

2009-01-07T01:31:00.000-08:00

Proverbs 1:7 - "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and discipline."

Proverbs 1:8 - "Listen, my son, to your father's instruction and do not forsake your mother's teaching."

Proverb 1:10 - "My son, if sinners entice you, do not give in to them."

Proverbs 3:1 - "My son, do not forget my teaching, but keep my commands in your heart."

Proverbs 3:3 - "Let love and faithfulness never leave you, bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart."

Proverbs 3:5 - "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding."

Proverbs 19:11 - "A man's wisdom gives him patience; it is to his glory to overlook an offense."

Proverbs 19:18 - "Discipline your son, for in that there is hope; do not be a willing party in his death."

Proverbs 19:21 - "Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails."

Proverbs 20:19 - "A gossip betrays a confidence; so avoid a man who talks too much."

Proverbs 20:22 - "Do not say, 'I'll pay you back for this wrong!' Wait for the Lord, and He will deliver you."

Proverbs 20:24 - "A man's steps are directed by the Lord. How then can anyone understand his own way?"

an appeal for disclosure

2009-01-02T00:35:00.000-08:00

Quiet the noises. Stop the squabbles. Do you not hear the sweet sound of laughter? Do you not feel its merriment and the peace that it brings? It soothes the giants and quells the raging waters in me. A lady's sonance. It speaks of tranquility, of tenderness, and of affection. Of love! I say. I hear her speak. Layoff with the hubbub. Listen to her. I am unhinged. Thrown into the turmoils of anxiety. I swim in its swirls and uncertainties. Do you not hear her melody? Let me find her. I know she is there. I sense her presence. Who is she? Let me see her face. I hear her. Silence now! Hide the children. Make the rounds. Track the sounds. Seek out her sanctuary.

And as I try to find out where, I am here, and she is there.

Notsnhoj

An Illustration Of Sin

2008-12-31T03:06:00.000-08:00

I saw a picture of two persons oblivious to their surroundings. Behind them, a wave of tremendous power was approaching, towering frighteningly over them. What could have better illustrated our blindness to sin? I then imagined an image of God there beside them, His hand stretched out toward them. I wrote this very simple poem to remember this picture.

Human

Our wills are resolute, our faces straight.
Our hearts are hardened in this charade.

But the waves are high, the forces strong.
His face is there, the master of wrong.

He lurks in the darkness where we cannot see.
By the time we know, we cannot flee.

God

"My feet are rooted into the ground.
I am here, my balance is sound."

"My grasp is firm, my grip secure.
I am here, I am your cure."

"Hold my hand, your wounds will be healed.
Cling to me, your life will be filled."

Human

My ears are deaf, I hear you not.
Now by this storm, I will be caught.

Help me to hear, and build my faith.
Help me to trust that you'll keep me safe.

I hear your voice, I hear you call.
Lord, hold my hand, do not let me fall.

Johnston

Les Miserables - On My Own

2008-12-18T09:00:00.000-08:00

Eponine

And now I'm all alone again, nowhere to turn, no one to go to
Without a home, without a friend, without a face to say hello to
And now the night is near
Now I can make believe he's here

Sometimes I walk alone at night when everybody else is sleeping
I think of him and then I'm happy with the company I'm keeping
The city goes to bed
And I can live inside my head

On my own
Pretending he's beside me
All alone
I walk with him till morning
Without him
I feel his arms around me
And when I lose my way, I close my eyes and he has found me

In the rain
The pavement shines like silver
All the lights
Are misty in the river
In the darkness
The trees are full of starlight
And all I see is him and me forever and forever

And I know it's only in my mind
That I'm talking to myself and not to him
And although I know that he is blind
Still I say there's a way for us

I love him
But when the night is over
He is gone
The river's just a river
Without him
The world around me changes
The trees are bare and everywhere the streets are full of strangers

I love him
But everyday I'm learning
All my life
I've only been pretending
Without me
His world will go on turning
The world is full of happiness that I have never known

A Prayer For Faith

2008-12-17T19:16:00.000-08:00

In the book of Habakkuk, Habakkuk questions God firstly of why the unrighteous of Judah go unpunished. God brings into revelation that He will raise the Babylonians against Israel. Habakkuk then questions of why God would allow an ungodly people to inflict suffering upon a godly people. The answer was that all would be judged, Judah, Babylon, and all else. Though, the righteous would live by their faith, even if they got caught up in the conflict. Yet even amidst these trialing times, Habakkuk concluded it all with a powerful confession of faith.

Habakkuk 3
17 Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls,
18 yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior.
19 The Sovereign Lord is my strength, he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights.

And so I pray that when my life is covered in the shadows of trouble and hardship, I will quiet my turbulent soul amidst my focusing on the Lord who is my redeeming light. I pray for faith. That should the malevolent of the world cloud me with confusion and the ones I hold dear decline to intervene, that should I fail realise reality and my sanity coalesce with delusion, that should I tread the paths of darkness and light should shine no more. That I should know that the Lord is Master of my life and Keeper of my soul. So that when my life is no longer filled with goodness, I will trust in His plan for me and follow Him till I die.

Johnston

1 Peter 5:6-10

2008-12-15T00:58:00.000-08:00

6 Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that He may lift you up in due time.
7 Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.
8 Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the Devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.
9 Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.
10 And the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will Himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.

a longing of a dream

2008-12-09T23:27:00.000-08:00

Her words unsettle me. Her presence flusters me. I have heard little of her voice, and seen little of her face. Yet she bothers my thoughts on a daily basis. She is always the theme within my dreams. I am a simpleton, to seek what I know nothing of. Is there a word greater than naive? Or a word that means double of foolish? Then I must be these things. For I cannot forget her. She is always at the corners of my eyes, whether the lids are open or closed. She is the genre and discourse of my life. What a struggle it is to control my pain! I relish just so many things. To see her again, be it in time or in haste. To settle my palm upon her pretty face. To hear her sweet voice sound and mellow my heart. To give her my all whether in whole or in part. Let her ask, and I shall come. I long for that better day.

Notsnhoj

Climbing Out Of Filth

2008-12-08T01:48:00.000-08:00

I am a criminal and a law-breaker. I have displayed disdain for what is good. My words are not here to defend me, but to expose me. I have shown utter contempt for cleanliness, and thrown myself into filth. The slime is slippery. The grime is sticky. I yearn to climb out of this unwholesomeness. Yet how do I accomplish such a feat? I am not Achilles, nor be I Alexander. I am Johnston, small and insignificant. I wish for fresh air and the cleansing light. I want to lean on the strength of the Lord. Father, please help me so. Teach me so.

Johnston

His Love Endures Forever

2008-11-25T23:50:00.000-08:00

What greater love than that of the Lord's? That we should lose ourselves over and over again, and yet still He wants to find us. That we should have upset Him so many times, and yet still He wants us back with Him. And I? There is nothing I am more grateful for than His unfailing love. For the weakness of this creature are many. The things that I cannot accomplish cannot be counted. The ways I am defeated are a great host. I have fallen from Him time and time after. Had my master been another, my transgression would have found me wanting. However, I was forgiven instead, and I was freed from my shackles. What manner of conduct is this? That I should have been repaid in goodness for my crimes. The Lord's love is boundless. I was unclean and leprous, cursed to be isolated from life. But He renewed me, and gave me breath once more.

How deep the Father's love for us,
How vast beyond all measure.
That He should give His only Son,
To make a wretch His treasure.

Johnston

To Live What's Real

2008-11-20T22:37:00.000-08:00

Thanks be to God that I have gained new sight and wisdom to life. Or rather that I have finally been able to see, after having been blind. And that I have finally been able to think clearly, after my mind having been muddled. Glory be to the Lord of the Highest Heavens, for He has taken me back under the refuge of His wings, stained as I was in blood and all manner of filth. I had once been living on the border of my life, always straining for the things that were always out of reach. But now, I am living what is real. Life that is centered around Him Above.

He has been a tree of many leaves, providing me shade from the sun. He has been a mountain, sheltering me from harsh, rugged winds. He has been a breeze, keeping me cool. He has been a flame, warming me in times of cold. He has been a light, showing me where I should safely thread.

Psalm 36:7, "How priceless is your unfailing love! Both high and low among men find refuge in the shadow of your wings."

Notsnhoj

the realignment of my senses

2008-11-09T01:09:00.000-08:00

The days of gloom have finally come to past. Tomorrow will be my re-entry into the world. Once again, will I know life as it was. Once again, will I see the scenic views and hear the melodic sounds. Once again, will I smell the beautiful scents and taste the vibrant flavours. On the morrow, once again will all that was, come to be. I have lived a time of sorrow and lack. I knew neither relief nor joy. The simple pleasures of the day were a foreign article. I had neglected those close to me, and banished them afar. Those who sought me for comfort, I shunned. Those who sought me for advice, I kept silent. Those who trusted me, I betrayed with my indifference. Those whom I knew, I said I knew not. I was either blind or foolish. Maybe I even was asleep. But now the world has spun around, and I am facing the right direction. Now I embrace life with my realigned senses. I see the things I had been blinded against, and acknowledge my failures. Now I have acquired the knowledge of my wrongs and crimes. And the burden of that knowledge has pulled me under. Too long have I abandoned what was dear to me. Too long have I misplaced my priorities. At this time, I recognise the old goodness, and I will cling on to it like my life depended on it. For it does. For without the old goodness, I would be living the life of pitiful lack that I had been living for the past two years. My renewal I will treasure. And I fear not failure, for I know that that will never come to be. For new life and light, guidance and strength, granted I am, from Him Above.

Notsnhoj

the folly of mine own

2008-10-05T22:10:00.000-07:00

It was almost like a dream, from the moment I turned and saw her face, and saw that the voice I had heard came from those lips of hers. Though there was conversation, I found that as each second that toiled by, my ability to speak was diminishing. I had ended the conversation out of haste, rather than following its natural order. Even as I hurried away, I felt as if the innards behind my belly had risen to my chest, and my lungs had entrenched themselves in my throat. My pulse had been racing faster than the paddling feet of a duck. She came and she took all away. My composure. My reserve. Mine self. The lady, with all her gracefulness and beauty, had flipped me like a coin. I was bowed over. My heart is hers. My mind too. And mine eyes. Here, take mine ears. And so followed the all of my entirety.

Notsnhoj

the dealings of shifty smiles

2007-11-02T21:57:00.000-07:00

There are harsh words and crude gestures. An impregnable stronghold of persons, seemingly without fault. They turn the world around as They please. They are the axis amidst us, our fates binded to Their wills. None can stand against Them, nor have many achieved the desire to do so. Yet amongst the seemingly impecable society, there are hidden snares. There is something pertruding through that stiff human barricade. In the quiet, vicous and unwholesome vices reach out for the hands of associates. In the dark back alleys, They comsume one another. We know of the holy innocents whom They hate. We know of how these came to their ends, all at the work of Their hands. We know of the oppression that They bring, and of the fear that They cast. Yet who would know of the filthy dealings carried out within Their inner circle. It had surprised me. I had never knew. You may never have. Their shifty smiles that caused those shivers down your spine. Who would have thought that in those, They had hidden intentions for each other that may not have sat well within each other's hearts. You would have thought Them the closest of friends. Yet every curse uttered was meant for the brother next to him. Once the world had believed Them to use others for Their own means, but who knew that They did the same with one another. Turning ally on ally for personel gain, all behind a smile. Stabbing the other's back, all within a hug. No wonder you thought Them creatures of filth. So low is Their friendship. So base are Their words and promises. Hidden behind the veil of friendship, there are dirty dealings. Hand in hand, they sing with one voice, all behind those shifty smiles.

Notsnhoj

a splinter of amber

2007-10-22T21:55:00.000-07:00

Upon what did I blemish my sense of taste? The bitter pill of sorrow? Of injustice? Or of betrayal? For what reason did it hurt so bad? That I would be rendered speechless, at the distasteful treatments from a friend. Or so had I believed him so. But what friend would have you constantly smiling at him with eyes sparkling as if he were the sun of your life? What friend would utilise of your help when of his grieving moments then cast you aside when you are of yours? That he would have you pining shamelessly for his supposed strong arms. Why would he be so willingly bask in the glory of you grovelling at his feet? That hi would enjoy you behaving in such a self-depriciating manner, bowing and apologising all the time of one or another of your traits that he finds an eyesore. The norm of a friend? Or are you instead slave to him? To scrape the dirt off his possessions and lick the grease off his boots, and still call them gold. And instead of the common gratitude, you recieve the now-the-common slander and spittle. Is this the sort of friendship people seek so desperately? A shame. I had believed so. Yet it would seem more likely that my unfortunate folly be turned to a story many comedians would use. A joke. Some would call it. I must admit that I am not entirely sure if I would ever hve the mental justice to turn back on this event in future times of ill or fortune. Whether for memory or reflection. But it must be known that the most straight-forward understanding is this: That this slight exists as a splinter of amber etched deep into my heart, glowing in the light that all manner of trust and friendship has been dispelled. His faithlessness has enforced an alteration in policy. We live in a world of difference.

Notsnhoj

the rains of Brunei

2007-10-19T21:54:00.000-07:00

The thunders roar. The people tremble.

The rains pour. The cold instills.

Amidst biting cold and misty ravines, we lie here, a miserable lot. We are encaved within naught but a pointlessly thin layer of nylon. At least it serves the mundane purpose of hiding our eyes from the terror of the storm. Nevertheless, the howling wind has breached our defenses, with its chill tightening its icy hold around our throats. There is no way of escaping the drenching. It is so cold. There is no way of escaping the wind. It is so cold. There is no way of escaping the storm. It is so cold. For an unneccessary but existing obligation, we will suffer it.

It would seem that I have lost myself in a past long gone with the winds of history. I envisioned myself gathered into my mother's warm embrace and secure within the steady grasp of my father's hands. Just as it had always been. In these, all manner of comfort and security lie. Yet what used to be is no more. Now, there is only the cold and me. It is without of my nylon protection. And within it. And within me. It is so cold.

Notsnhoj

the sands of time

2007-09-18T21:53:00.000-07:00

The sands of time. A term that speaks of a whole new grey world. A world where time has slowed to the point where each tick is a lifetime. A distortion on the face of a clock. A world where each day is a year, each minute is an hour, and each second a millennium. The sands of time. A world where humanity hangs at a pause to watch all the sands of the deserts flow through an hourglass. An age of ennui. The sands of time. An eternal pause. Of silence.

Notsnhoj ancuz Clapase
Saph-oins quinjyo nopa ul pevra"quinjyo veok pevra"malgeun.

the collapsing of the world

2007-09-16T21:52:00.000-07:00

And so they lied. I had been in grief over the recent sudden collapse of my world. I had clawed and scraped along the sides of my heart amidst my agony. I had been cast aside like a rag, no longer to be deemed an entity. And I was in pain. Then they came. The words of comfort, the precious hug, and the beautiful painting of the future. I was greatly cheered. I found the smile I thought I had lost. I croaked the laughter long stuck in my throat. My pathetic naive self had lost the battle of wits. I had been standing in a room of curtains where all my vision was impaired. I was informed of what lay beyond the curtains in words I foolishly took for truth. All of a sudden, the grief returned, the agony took root, and the pain expressed itself more than ever. Once again, I forgot the art of smiling. My lips only twitching at the odd angle on the odd occasion.

Notsnhoj

the beginning of terror

2007-09-12T21:51:00.000-07:00

A bitter siege. A dark one, where I am trapped within knowing little of what was happening without. With my eyes covered with more than sand, I was more than oblivious to my surroundings. Yet they have come. They have started. And they have ended it. They took all I ever held dear. This is the bitter A siege I have no hold upon, where all I do is done as good as its absence.

Notsnhoj

the bettering of our world

2007-09-09T21:50:00.000-07:00

Let them cry upon the bosoms of their mothers before they face their fates. Let them run away lest the day come where they run no longer. Let them them suffer beyound all understanding of pain. Let death itself awaken them from their folly. To rid the world of impurities. To cleanse our lives by removing the bad elements. Those selfish entities that exist to revoke the pacts and to destabalise the peace. How that mortal men claim their own claims. How that no common understanding shall be accomplished. Would that our society be run by the decisions of one wise man. So that all would be as such, and none other way. So that the eternal river would flow without disturbances and obstacles. So that all would be served and plans made to success. Would that the masses put aside their foolish claims. Why fight when one bears no sufficient intellect to spawn ideals worth of notice? Would that those that rebel be hidden from the better side of the world so we need not taint our eyes. Would that some would cease to exist, and others more so.

Notsnhoj

the conditioning of sufferance

2007-09-02T21:49:00.000-07:00

I have found the cause to this inability to lay down the scripting of the occurances within my most recent existence. It presides in an accursed founding. The very source of all that was written came from what used to be a boundless fountain of emotion. The riches and sweetness that flowed forth brought untold quantities of words of wisdom, exhilaration and hate. Yet all has come to a seemly end. Now that the void has consumed, and all emotion has turned void. I shed tears that come forth from dry eyes, my laughter rings out no further than my throat, I speak in a manner unchanging as the sands of the desert remain unchanged through the centuries that have rode across them. There will be no sparkles that proceed from my veil-lidded eyes. Whatever is turned upon my tongue, all would present themselves a blander entity than a starless sky. From the strong wines of the west, the aromatic spices of the east, the savoury meats of the north and those sapid of the south. All would only prove I had no taste and no tongue to confess it. The world flashes by but I only hold one dead stare just to see its procession pass by. Would they seem naught? Would it be that all I once enjoyed belong to another and I remain engaged in this bland mindless battle against the oblivion?

Notsnhoj

the dark wings of a messenger bird

2007-08-18T21:46:00.000-07:00

A veiled sun. A broken comet. A dark cloud. A pale moon. Omens of the past, carried upon the black wings of the messenger bird. Dark wings, ever darker words. There is no struggle without injury. There is no injury without hurt. Injury is a necessity. Hurt is a must. Gain is ever shrouded in lost. Life is ever shrouded in dreams. Broken dreams. We live. We seek. We desire. We choose. Yet, it is a novelty to understand the concept behind choices. We hold the right to choose between right and wrong, community and sequestration, duty and dereliction. We inherited this right since the first days of our forefathers. However, it is in this right, that all goes wrong. It goes by the momentum of claims that we possess a choice for what we eat, how we run our health, the path we carry our lives upon, and all else under the sun. But the circumstances that ever surround us would do no justice to the things we want. They distort the path we seek and take away from us the things we love. These words speak of a person. A single person of an utmost importance. The events that took place, the struggles ventured into, all to attain what was close to the heart. Yet all was taken away. When were my choices then decided and imposed upon me? Where lies the justice behind this injustice? Am I now a pawn of this accursed universe? Is my will to be bent to its damnable will? Am I now to be prey to the wishes of circumstance? Why was I be enforced to carry out deeds that would only cause me hurt? Why could this will without turn my own hand upon me? What is this unfounded pain? A pain that stretches its foul reaches onto others close to me, doubling the already heavy portions of mine own pain. All my dreams have been whispered away. All my hope bounded in shackles. By things without, all that I loved was taken.

Notsnhoj

the monotony of life

2007-06-18T21:45:00.000-07:00

The monotony of life. A freeflow of the constant. A glorious bloom of ennui. A non-existence of interest. A collision of stars where their brightness is dulled. The darker side of the truth. This is the monotony of life. In the crux of your crisis, when faces appear before your eyes, you feel comforted by their company. But then you realise their silence and their revolving attention. You see their hollow eye sockets and their gapping yawning mouths. Your wishes have been denied and rejected. They took you a mile away, raising your hopes and deepening your desires. Then they cast you off as if they had no intentions whatsoever to even have the slightess of communion with you. It would have been as though they forgot your very presence from the beginning, and took you along merely on impulse and by accident. All that you expended in that one mile expedition is then disregarded. Nothing was returned for your efforts. The fault illuminated the path they trod, every step of it, becoming the same entity that they were. Then they laughed. They laughed a loud laugh. The chorus of their laughter drove away the squirrels and the rodents, the sparrow and the lark, the deer and the bear, everything that stood for the peace of nature. The sheer pressure of their vile laughter elevated the fault off their shoulders. Whatever wrong they accumulated within them was made right in the eyes of their laughter. This is because you are an irregularity. You stood alone in a multitude of wrongness. People laugh at irregularities to justify their own actions and to make them seem like the norm. They laugh off the responsibility and the consequences. You may try to dispute. Each word that impugns their authority-by-majority exists as what tantamounts to an entity of spite. Your then vindictive and callous nature will give them reason to collectively deprecate you. You are the bitter one. The focus has now changed. All memories of their wrong forgotten. You are a violation of the peace. Numbers always win. You suffer. It happens. All the time. The monotony of life. A freeflow of the constant. A glorious bloom of ennui. A non-existence of interest. A collision of stars where their brightness is dulled. The darker side of the truth. This is the monotony of life.

Johnston

the reason behind this service

2007-06-09T21:43:00.000-07:00

I lie amongst a world of quiet. I see a multitude of tiny blades of grass running in every direction. Away from me, to the ends of my imagination. Their little bodies shivering each time the cold wind blows. Off in a distance I see the vast expanse of flora form up the horizon. Their isolated emergents reaching for the heavens in all of their majesty. The pale moon and its starry host commune above whilst the misty clouds and darkness envelope them. I hear the cries of the crickets, the geckos, and the birds of the night. Peace. Quietude. I hear a shout. I hear more shouts. With a pack on my back and a rifle in my hand, I rise up. My neck is aching. My back is straining. My hands are shivering. My legs can hold no more. We move. We run. It never ends. Would have it been without reason that I do what I do, I would not have done it. It is by a rigid law I stand by that cannot be abolished. It has existed since generations before and will not be uprooted in the generations to follow. The authenticity of the reason itself cannot be reasoned against. I speak of the existence of an entire living system involving the loved and the unloved of those whom we know. I speak of the noble morality behind ensuring the preservation of their actuality. These people are the reason. The endangering of their lives. The threat of a stolen future. The imperilment of their entire macrocosm collapsing. All these would be too much to bear had these been of truth. What joy would exist when we are sequestered from our bonds. What use would it be if all were gone and we stood in solitude to face hindrances of this world. This would be why I do what I do.

Johnston

a departure of what used to be

2007-05-01T21:43:00.000-07:00

I am lost. I am conquered. The representation of myself no longer serves rightfully as a representation of my actuality. There is a difference within me I fail to understand, simply because I no longer recognise the being I used to be. What was once truth, is now a fading entity. Like the clouds in the sky, they change from calm to storm without a moment's notice. And then, you no longer remember how it used to be. Only how bad it is now. It is as if I have neither control nor mastery over senses. Words gather in my head and disperse within the subsequent seconds. I suffer from a sudden inability to capture the rhythm of the song that flows through my veins. It used to throb endlessly with a passion soaring high over the snowy peaks. Now it screams in silence, wishing ever to dearly ernestly to tell me something dear, but I hear it not. All I hear is an undeterminable murmur, that brings in so much uncertainty, and so much painless pain. There is an ambiance of disorientation in the air. Draw me out of this labyrinth.

Notsnhoj

the senselessness of loneliness

2007-03-17T21:42:00.000-07:00

Loneliness. The intoxicating brother of emptiness. It binds to us. It chills us. It takes away all functions of our senses. It brings down our mortal ego. It snuffs out the flame of hope. Whatever trickle of strength we have left, it laps up with its deceitful tongue. We are blind men fighting against a world of nothingness. Nothing we do can fill the void. It is a vacuum that draws out all your emotions. Till you have nothing left but the blank wall you face each day. The blank faces you speak to each day. The blankness of the work you do each day. The pointlessness of it all. It no longer makes any sense. Each day you lift your hands to do your work. You drag your heavy feet along the path. You enter a building and you leave it. And you do it again. And again. Enter. Leave. Enter. Leave. And again. The world is mundane. You no longer serve a purpose. You just live each day as it is meant to be lived. But its simplicity is a doubtful matter. For there is a pounding in your head that never ceases. It drives you mad. It takes your sanity. It converges your thoughts into one such that they no longer make any sense. Your head hurts. The pain is never relieved. It remains. Until you no longer feel it. Because you no longer feel anything. The whole craziness of the entire matter. None of it makes sense. The senselessness of the world is senseless. The senselessness of this claim is senseless. Loneliness is a senseless matter. It takes away all reasoning. It takes away all understanding. It takes away all sense. There is only that void to live in. An empty world of nothingness and senselessness. A pitiful world of loneliness.

Notsnhoj

a revelation of the common

2007-02-25T21:41:00.000-08:00

Author's note: This is probably my second blog entry in my life that relates of an event in its most direct fashion. Or at least most relative to the capabilities of my awkward styles.

The Mirroring Sky

I stand here on top of a building I call home for this day. My time passes slowly and steadily, like a lioness on the prowl, awaiting my own guard duty prowling. The sun has risen and is now to set, yet I have served naught but four notches on the clock. The remaining of this wretched day I have lay, sat and stodd, watching time pass by as it too watched me. I have seen cloud after cloud travel from one horizon to the other. I have seen the birds glide to the heavens and down again. I have seen men and women from all ranks of our regimentation dig their boots to and fro from the ferry terminal. And yet, time is still, and my duties remain the same. I have not moved, nor will I, for a very long time.

I am at a lost for words, for after these many hours that I have been dead standing, I have just been rewarded with a glorious view of a different type of sky. I see a sea of blue covering the atmosphere. Below it, its colour converges with the sun's rays, giving birth to a field of green. Beneath it are patches of black clouds, looking akin to sea rockes and an entire vegetation of shrub, bush and tree, with representatives from every family. But of the most remarkable, there is none other than what lay in the horizon itself. Giant grey clouds shaped like cones covered the horizon, overlapping one another. Whitish clouds surrounded them and their sides were covered in red light.

The heavens have granted me a beautiful sight. A sea of blue upon a savanna of green. Patches of minute black clouds covered both colours, representing craggy sea rocks and land shrubery and forestry. And beyond them were majestic mountains reaching high above the vertical limit, shrouded in a romantic mist, with steaming volcanic ashes streaming down their sides. The sky has mirrored the earth.

All of a sudden, two hours have past. My regimental duties have to be resumed. Strangely, I am at peace and am content.

a delay for joy and pain

2006-12-06T21:40:00.000-08:00

The bars of my enslavement of the yesteryear have been long and gone. Wings have liberation have sprouted and I have never felt such a sweet breeze of freedom gliding across my face. The joy that springs forth from the depths is unlike any other. It shoots higher than any mountain and scatters to the four corners. They say a new chapter is blooming. There is no doubt and no lies behind the claim that any aniticipation is greater than kings. If I could live the life now instead of waiting a few more days, I would sieze upon the chance and bind it to my soul. All in an instant, I would grasp it and let no other threaten its existence. Such is my relish. I have a hope that my bliss will be unparalleled. For soon I shall leave my life of darkness and travel to a place where dusk and dawn embrace. A place where there are people and objects close to my heart. Yet there is a fear. A fear that lies within my greatest hope. It is a fragment of glass inside my heart. The world is ever-changing. The people we understand, the people we know, the people we meet, and even the people outside our tiny world never cease to change. I suffer a heavy disquietude. Will the bonds begin to change? Will alliances be broken? Will the confederacy fall to shatters? Will collaborators betray each other? Will the concord be deemed worthless? Will the members of the pact turn from one another? Will the mutual knot be untied? It remains a bliss-in-waiting and an sufferance unsure.

Notsnhoj

a confession of actuality

2006-11-02T21:40:00.000-08:00

To all of this foreign land who know of my existence,

I fear to say this, yet it grows strongly within my heart like poison. An apology I owe to the people I know. Yet as this confession pours out before your eyes, I hope so strongly that you would do but one thing. To view it as if it were not me writing. For it is in that, that my story is of. For I have lied much of what is known to you. I have hidden myself behind a veil. Withdrawn deep into the depths of the unknown, only showing of the lies and deceit I had wished you to believe. Suffice it to say, that I have never shown you my own self. But instead, revealed a distortion of my actuallity. I wished I could have only shown you the true Notsnhoj. The personalities behind this hidden figure. For reasons known and deeply etched into my troubled mind, I have done you a great wrong. It was not something I had wished, but it came like a falling leaf, gracefully yet quietly. Such that I had not known its coming, and neither its presence, until time had past till there was no time left. It is of utmost importance that I say, I have grown to respect the very people I act as if I dislike. It is, I must say, a respect beyond mortal bounds. I only hope that you do not brushed it away. For in those I respect, I cannot hope to delude. For within me burns a dark and cold flame that forces me to acknowledge my abomination. It is one flame I lack the abilities to extinguish, as much as I wish to. But I have not the cold unfeeling heart to do so. I am tomented onwards by this deed of felony. For it is as ugly as a dying world, except that it is my soul dying. The shell I created, was not one that is, was, nor will be well appreciated. I had not planned it to. Yes, it was my corrupt creation, materialised from my corrupt imagination. I thought it a mere test. Yet, a test that is a lie. Albeit a cruel one. To both my hurt self and to all who remain in ignorance of my character. I wish only to show, the person that hides. Upon invitation, what would need be done would be so with none less than gladness. It is peace I seek within myself, and a pardon from those without.

Notsnhoj

the rant of the missing few

2006-09-04T21:14:00.000-07:00

Those are grand halls, there have been none so spacious.

A history of happiness no doubt to continue.

Tonight, a night, where all come gracious.

The gentlemen come in coats all so new.

The ladies with their smiles so sweet and vivacious.

Of the people whom belong, missing are few.

Missing are few.

There are you.

The music is set, and the program is beggining.

The tables with all kinds of foods laden.

The fun and the merriment and the joy unspring.

To chat to the gentleman and sweet-talk the maiden.

Conversing, feasting, punting, dancing.

So much to do, no sign of bother nor of burden.

Of the few not there,

Would someone care?

A hearty laughter rings out, rings out, rings out.

A gallery of smiles to be seen, to be charmed.

"Hurry, lest our customers hunger and pout."

Exclaimed the manager, obviously alarmed.

Manservants flooded the premises as if in rout.

"Rush out the next dish, and back you come!"

Boil, stew, steam and roast.

Some or none for the host?

"Where is the host? Where is the host?

Long gone was the start of our feast.

We have not addressed nor seen our host.

We know him not. If we did, would we be pleased?

We should not bother if he be far or close.

He's part of the missing few, the missing least.

Where is the host? Who is the host?

He has missed the most."

"I am the host! Remember you not?

I was a friend and compatriot, care you not?

We played and danced, recall you not?

We grew up together, was that not?

You know me, know you not?

I exist in your thoughts! Do I not?

You are there.

And I am here."

"The food is laden, why taste I not?

The music is playing, why hear I not?

I should be there! Why am I not?

My soul is willing! Why am I not?

Why am I not? Why am I not?

I should be there! Why am I not?

You are there.

And I am here."

"The components of my heart are up in turmoil.

I fancy, I want, I covet, I relish!

My desires, my needs are all curled up in one coil.

To be there! To be there! That's all I wish.

My tears fall upon foreign soil.

Would there be none to fulfil my wish?"

My tears are unnoticed.

My wish is unheard.

Notsnhoj

the bastion of authority

2006-07-24T21:13:00.000-07:00

When one speak of the United States, the impression on those around him is always great. The great America, supreme ruler of our world today. Unchallenged at the summit, she reaches down to push off those climbing up the mountain of authority. Far down she has to reach, for even those nearest to the top are not near at all. America, the land of stars and stripes, unsurpassable and divine. They alone hold the key to the gates of history.

Both respected and worshipped, America maintains a large degree of influence throughout the known world. On earth, there is none that are capable of truely challenging them. In space, they own every portion known to mankind. They rule all undentifiable matter through their undefined quantities of ducats. They are the world's richest and they have the world's richests. Their limitless industries crowd every corner of the world, drawing the currencies to them. At the center of the world, they do whatever they please. They have the cash. The world looks up to them at the summit while they look down below. Untouchable, they master all of authority. In God's name, they capitalise on their authority. With God behind them, they ravage all lands as they see fit. They make the laws. They make the rules. They command and reign over earth. They are America.

The United Nations was created so that every nations had a share in our world. Given the power and authority to act against agressive nations, they were to keep the peace. But alas, it was America whose voice was essential for the creation of this supposedly peace keeping force. A world body created to make decisions for the world. Is this a dream? Or a lie? Is the UN more powerful than the US? Surely, America has to bend to the world's authority. It is evident that America has not attacked any country for selfish amibition for fear of the collective union and resistance of the countries of the UN. What of Iraq? Is America crusading against terrorism for the sake of the world? Or is it to do with selfish ambition?

Surely, the UN can end all nonsense from America if they wish to. They are the world's body. Surely, their word weighs more than anything else? Then why does America owe $1 billion to the UN? A sum worth peanuts to the world's biggest industry. The UN blocks the will of America and America cuts off its share of paying. It is a big blow to the UN. $1 billion is a lot to the UN. It needs the cash to run. Worst still, Japan wishes to pull out of paying too! If America is not paying, why should they? Can the world's body do nothing to punish America? Their intent is obvious. Yet a nation of America's stature can afford to make claims and make the world repeat that claim.

Is the world unfair? It is always unfair. The recent Israeli attack on Lebanon shook public opinion. For two soldiers, Israel overturns everything that is standing. People have lost loved ones and their entire life. Are the attacks justified? (I myself would prefer the use of a better word than justify, for I disagree to the need for justifying any war. But let us settle for justify now, in its most general meaning.) America does not care if the war is successfully justified or not. Its claim that Hizbolla started the conflict would suffice for the faithful dogs of America. It should suffice for the rest of the world as well. After all, who dares to comdemn Israel and then condemn America for supporting the terrible attacks. Whoever does, runs the risk of angering America and losing its friendship, how ever deep. Iran obviously does not need to care as the friendship was long forsaken. But what of Syria and other Islamic countries who at the start fiercely disparaged Israel's offensive. Why is it that they have not raised a strong voice to resist the American "justification by presence"?

America reigns supreme over all the earth. They maneuvre through the expanse as if all were their own. They hold the globe upon their palms. All the soil and all the waters are theirs. Their people hold places of great influence in every land. Their navy are ever-present in every sea. The authority of the universe lies not on any hand but theirs. The future becomes what they say. They are the gateway to the heathen gods, rulers of the realm, Poseiden of the oceans and the bastion of the world's authority.

Johnston

a rebuke of politics

2006-07-21T21:12:00.000-07:00

I write this in response to the increasing speckles of protesters who mock the Singaporean "right-wing" democracy. For years foreigners have looked upon our great democracy and laughed at our "right-wing" politics. They have mocked our leader as a dictator. Now inspiring youths have formed their ideas of a Singapore being run by true democracy. They choose to be ignorant of our past glories and our present success. The orderly society that never falters in its growth depends strongly on its political structure of intense rigidity. They claim that true democracy will make everything much better than it is. But what can anyone hope of democracy if its leading users are such poor examples. I speak of the nations of America and Australia.

The Singaporean government rewards the efforts of its citizens. All work is paid off. Earn a living yourself and strive to the fullest and you can only hope to advance your living standards. Everything you do has a consequence. The system Singapore works by allows all who push for the better life to gain the better life. America does not provide this comfort to its people. The poor stay poor no matter how hard they try. Once in a while, one lucky poor man turns rich and the media exaggerates his advance in life, making the world believe this is so of every poor American. I tell you this is not true. There are many living barely livable lives. Yes, there are those who do turn rich. What of the millions more who do the same work but suffer unprotected under the hands of their oppressive bosses. The US government does nothing to defend these slaves as they only hope to please the upper class. They need the support of the rich. In America, the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. Singapore is such that everyone reaps the benefits of their labour and everyone can improve their standard of life as long as they try.

Australia, on the other hand, is an apalling example of which I fear to use but I have no choice. In Australia, the support comes from the poor. The poor are not poor without reason. They demand welfare from the government and are thus given it. One year, down the road they realise life could be better with more and they demand more. The Australia government almosts seems happy to oblige any whim coming from these sloths. When things are not given to them, they just need to wait a few more weeks. More slackers join them due to this awesome lazy life where one works none and lives well. They add voice to those who were there to start with. The numbers increase by each word I speak. They have competence to work, but they need not use it. All that is needed for them to accomplish is to lay back and claim government handouts from suffering tax payers. I wonder if these people have any shame or conscience of what they are doing. There is no poor man in Australia. However, this comes at the cost of their honour.

It can all be summarized into this short paragraph. The poor man of America works hard but stays poor. The poor man of Australia sloths all day and collects huge sums from the government. The poor man of Singapore works hard for his own money. He earns a better living than the poor man of America and lives a more honourable life than the poor man of Australia. The democracy of America grants its rich people benefits at the expense of its poor. The democracy of Australia grants its poor people benefits at the expense of its rich.

The "right-wing" democracy of Singapore grants no one benefits at the expense of no one, benefits are only gained after hard work and laziness only results in further loss.

Every action has its consequence. The good is repaid with good. Thus, all bad are repaid with bad. Perhaps many would cry out at the harshness of the Singapore system. But isn't it all neccessary? If we look at the brilliant society Singapore has nutured. Singapore has one of the lowest crime rates. All crimes are dealt with punishment. Punishment acts both as a deterrent for non-offenders and as a lesson to offenders, lest they repeat their foolishness. An extremity? The result is a society nearly unblemished. It is safe to walk the streets of Singapore. There is no reason to fear that you may be attacked or raped. If you are then never fear, you can always meet the offender again within hours due to the high efficiency of the Singapore police.

I do not know of the American system, but having lived in Australia, I can relate of its horrors. Criminals have roamed the country for months and even years, all the while evading capture. Caught offenders have been known to beat up the police and run away. The police seem to feel no urgency in capturing law breakers. Many of the police themselves aren't too holy. Youths can steal, riot, rape and kill. If they are caught, they only need to put on a grieving facade and declare their deep repentence and they will be freed! At most they would experience the droning voice of a counseller, a punishment reserved for Singaporean youths who do not do their homework! That's meant to be murder for crying out loud. No one is afraid of breaking the law in Australia. Democracy is the cause and root of all this ridiculousness. Potential criminals after all have a vote. Let the Australian government hear their voice and lessen jail sentences so that these bandits can run amock all over the country in whatever manner pleases them. The result of the Australia true democracy. How lovely would that be in Singapore. The Singaporean government are doing their job.

Do you want pure democracy? This is only one tiny aspect of the destruction caused by these unwholesome democracies. Is this the beautiful picture that was once painted? Claims of the wonders of democracy are as ridiculous as claims for the wonders of communism. There is no difference.

Johnston

the curse of democracy

2006-05-22T21:11:00.000-07:00

Democracy is in its richest form in the land of Australia. Freedom of speech flows further than the great rivers. Every corner of this giant land mass brings forth the rich words of the poor. On this island, no longer do the nobility exist, no longer do the rich control each and every action of the government, no longer do the great rule. In this continent it is the masses that dictate their world. They are the very basis of Australia. Every thought they form is important, every word they speak is a command, and each breath is a newly formed perfume. The masses form the core Australian politics. There is no legislation formed without their consent. There is no law that is enforced upon them. Instead, as a show of true democracy, the laws here are forced upon the ruling party by the people. The government has no power. Every day they live in fear that they may incur the wrath of community. At the slightly word, they could lose their authority, if they had any to begin with. Thus every groan and any whine, any whinge of any kind is rapidly detected by the sniffs of the government and the wishes of the people are fulfilled almost willingly. Every member of the Australian public owns a dog, and that dog is their government. The honourable job of the Australian government is to place their hallmark paw print upon every paper demanded of them.

The incompetency of the government is reflected even among individual leaders. A leader is chosen because he is popular and well-liked. Without a doubt, this leader will possess a large count of intelligence. Yet, none of this will be used. A leader does not lead. He follows. A leader in Australia trying to lead is immediately ridiculed and mocked at. His actions of goodwill are seen as attempts to restrict the masses. He is seen flaunting his newly found powers, basking in his own authority. He must not try to lead. For the moment he does, the ignorant public will hit him down. He is getting too arrogant, they will say.

I see these things as normal. Democracy has always thrived in our world. A great hindrance it is, but it thrives and we must learn to cope with it. A leader is not a man with authority, he is a man with responsibility. Despite constant resistance from the general public, a leader should never back down. The rationale behind why they rebel is the same cause for why the leader should persevere and lead. The masses are a lost and confused lot. The reason why they are the masses is simply because they are too inferior in intellect to lead. They grumble and they whine. These are the natural actions of the ignorant. Their brains have never been fully developed, as they do nothing but complain about issues beyond their mental capacity. They never know what is best for them so at times it is neccessary to serve to them decision on the tip of a blade. It is possible that they may still defy common sense. Then incentives should be shown to them at gunpoint, and perhaps with a few cadavers. It is nothing strange to be disgusted whilst talking to these peoples. The masses have always been good at ensuring that. Their stupidity may well be a good topic for them to talk about if they were even wise enough to realise it. Thus, a leader must always strive to lead these lost sheep. The trouble they cause when they are alone is never too little. It would serve better if they were stopped before that. I have always seen these actions of the masses as normal. Thus my reasoning on why a leader should be present. The masses need to be bounded and gagged. A little pain may ensure that they will live a healthy lifestyle in the future. It is a leader's job to fix the problem, to right the wrong, and to teach the dumb.

Johnston

the approach of winter

2006-04-11T21:10:00.000-07:00

The cold creeps in like the thief. Its presence is neither announced nor felt. It builds up on the outskirts of our senses. We never know of its intentions until the moment it rushes in. When it is too late, we find it everywhere around us. Encased within its cold blue arms, there is no way out. Its grip is as hard as ice, crushing us into submission. The cold slides its freezing palm across our cheeks. All trace of warmth is drawn away and the cold clings on. The cold always remains. The cold draws us toward its motherly breast when it feels that we have suffered it too much. It takes away all suffering, all feeliing, and the sense of touch. As we lay in its midst, we no longer feel its terror. Perhaps by then we do not even know what terror is, or perhaps we do not know anything except to lie there and keep silent. As silent as the cold. Then it snuffs us out as if we were a gentle flame. All warmth is gone. The cold invades. It pursues and harasses. We are powerless in its might. Like a blade it draws itself along our necks, awaiting the command to cut. When cold cuts, its cut is so clean it would seem that its victim was never whole to begin with. As clean as steel, just as steel is cold. The cold is cold-hearted. It is merciless and its massacre is horrendous. It gives no quarter. When it comes swarming around its victim, life no longer proceeds past that suffering stage. Life is preserved in cold. An everlasting life is forged. A life in death. The cold is a blunt blade. It is blunt with its words, going straight to the point of its will. It clutches you by the neck and tells you. It tells you what it wants. It tells you to let it claim your life. It tells you that you are powerless. It tells you that you fear. The cold summons fear. It summons hate and curses from men as well. But it summons fear more than any other. All fear the cold. Both the cold and fear are born together. One does not come without the other. The man who does not fear the cold is a doomed man. The cold is a cruel device, always sneering with its smile so lacking of charm. Like a thousand flying daggers, it stabs us in every possible way in all its grace. Though loved by some and hated by others, the cold hates all.

the song of the morning

2006-02-28T21:09:00.000-08:00

The sun rose with the gracefulness of a swan, spreading its endless glory across the heavens. It brought life to the vast sky with its divine presence, adding colours to where darkness had once reigned. The grass sway with the passing wind and sparkled amidst the morning dew. It was a fresh new morning that whispered to me of my unspoken dreams. Then it came floating with the wind, so freely and so gently before falling as if it were a petal. It seemed to be a voice, but if it was, then it was a voice like none other. All that was done was simply a greeting from the courtesy of a charminig young lady, and yet it came to me as a song. It was a song I wished would never end. It was a voice that looked more lovely than a blood rose. A voice that smelt more fragrant than aromatic perfume. A voice that tasted sweeter than golden honey. A voice the felt too soft for my coarse palms to touch. It was a voice I wish to hear again.

We Went And Left A World Behind

2006-01-25T21:08:00.000-08:00

When we venture into a world too big,

We often find that we leave things behind.

Things of value, things of great worth,

Things rooted deep into our hearts and mind.

We leave items we cannot bring along,

For the journey that we must take.

Leaving tiny treasures, gifts of love,

Things that we desperately wish to take.

The warm comfort of home is gone,

As we pitch our tent elsewhere.

A lost feeling resides in our hearts,

We lay here lacking love and care.

Love ones that never left our thoughts,

Love ones we shall not meet for long.

A bitter and thirsty longing to see them all,

A useless hopeful thought, an empty song.

We went and left a world behind,

A world familiar, a world we knew.

Our aspirations are far from complete,

The deeds we have done number too few.

We gaze back at the times we had,

We still have much we have not said.

Tears start to form a puddle at our feets,

We will watch the years go by as we wait.

the call of life

2006-01-18T21:07:00.000-08:00

We were born into the world undeserving. We were granted a life we did not earn. The land we were born into, we did not choose. Instead, the land chose us, and gave us its fruit of which we live off. After maturity sets in and our growth taken place, the time comes for our story to be written. The path we choose must be right in theory and right in the morals we chose to live by. We should choose to show our gratitude to this land that brought us up and repay it for the good that we were given. We are bound by an unwritten law of nature to owe our loyalty to the land that bore us. Our honour would be at stake if we chose to violate the pact our ancestors made with the ground on which their blood was spilled. Our commitment should not be an empty one. Only when one is willing to fight to whatever cost would this allegiance be made whole. It is not a right. It is a duty. A duty by which failure to fulfill would mean an inglorious and dishonourable death. Through the ages to come, all of the past will be remembered. The honourable dead will be honoured and the dishonourable will be mocked at even in their death. All people of whatever stand, great or small, rich or poor, ruler or subject, owe the same love for the Fatherland. All were born to the same land. All live through the same hardships. All will die for the same cause.

a recount of the present

2006-01-16T21:07:00.000-08:00

Author's note: This is a recount of my entry into a new world that may not be so new. If you get what I mean... though I do not myself. Also I do not feel like typing in my preferred Clapasian fashion, thus please make do with this. Still, you must keep your excitement down as this style may also be queer, and definately not normal. And I know it's a bit late, but I got my internet late.

Extreme Sports

Ever since I have been flung far out into lands beyond the reached of my beloved country, I have constantly been plagued with sadness and a deep longing for my homeland. I lay in my own grief wishing to find peace and yet adventures came persistantly though strongly unwanted. On this first night in an unfamiliar land, I longed no more than a shelter to rest under. Entering the unlit domains of my newly aquired home, a sudden coldness swept across my right foot. My sixth sense informed me of a leaking roof, so I looked up, but I found nothing. My tired and heavy head hung down disappointed in my false judgement. Then there it was. Even as my vision was focused straight forth toward the dusty ground, I could spy a giant black image scurrying around the corners of my fully dilated pupils. I spun ninety degrees clockwise, possibly more, and saw before my awesome presence, a spider. Not any ordinary spider, this one must have been enjoying the peace it had in my empty home prior to my arrival. Without having to use my extremely intelligent brain, I calculated that this spider was either the size of my left fist or maybe even more. Further calculations told me that this would be a one-sided battle. I fled. From one corner of my living room I flung one of my only two weapons (my shoes) at the horrendous creature unknown to mankind, or possibly only unknown to me. As if in slow motion, I watched my shoe rotate its way toward the spider, finally missing it by a good ten inches. Still, it was sufficient and the spider jogged away. It stopped and hid behind a black bag. From that second on, I was a changed man. This spider had totally made the wrong move, that black bag was a possession of mine. A chair was swung in a semi-arch and the bag flew off. The vile hairy scum cowardly made his escape, only to be impeded by my right foot. My left arm holding my other shoe, flew downward while I shouted, "Bankai!" But the filthy spider played dirty by dodging my grand slam. It should have just stayed there. A great chase was made, it probably lasted ten seconds, possibly less. Zooming its way into the garage and dodging my well aimed frenzied attacks, the spider scurried under the family car. In a flash I was off and back again (I even had time for a glass of water), without my right shoe, but with a bottle of insecticide in each of my hands. I ducked down to give the spider one final look at my extremely smart-looking face before I ended its miserable life. It was not under the car. With extreme speed and gracefulness, I spun around firing my sprays the same way Mr. and Mrs. Smith did. I kept spinning, anxious to avoid the smeaky spider's ambush. I dashed through the door and back to safety, fellig dizzy and extremely annoyed at my failure. Then, there on the kitchen floor, I saw two cockroaches that would later suffer my wrath.

a letter of simple words

2005-11-25T07:28:00.000-08:00

To the lady whom I may never meet again,

Much time has passed since I first had these feelings in my heart. These feelings that were never forgotten. These feelings that brought such warmth to my weakening soul. I had never knew such warmth before I met you. The world may collapse and burn upon the ground that it stands on but I will live on, lingering on these sweet memories of you. For even amidst the terrors of my life, I had always found strength just simply by thinking of your fair face. Just the thought of you brings me renewed courage and hope to cross the obstacles enveloping around me. How much I long to hear your voice, the sweet sounding music that proceed from your lips. They carry on as echoes in my mind, so I can hear them till my end. How adorable you look in all that you do, where ever you are, every second of your beautiful life. My nerves fail me when I see your face and I fall to the ground in awe of the spectacle before me. Without doubt, this will not be so before another. You are all that exists in my world, and may you remain so. Yet it pains me to know that my day of leaving draws close. Is it possible that I may never see you again? This horrible punishment that I know not why is inflicted upon me. It does not matter that I do not find space within your heart. Neither does it matter if I do not even exist in any of your thoughts. All that matters is that it is an allowance for me to love you and to see your face. Now that this right is wrenched out of my grasp, I only know bitterness. All I beg is that you remain in my memories, and all that was done with you...

Gracio meinen musofine Nylekoj, jac var beetion teylhu.

a time of void

2005-11-04T07:27:00.000-08:00

The bitter hate that blinds our senses. The seductive joy that plunges us into a world of ecstasy. The fancy hope that gives life a meaning. The somber sorror that destroys our souls. The feelings of the world, they exist as such. And yet of late, I have been unable to feel the dispositions of a normal mortal. I live in void, and the void clouds my thoughts. My heart tells me nothing, and my mind does not know of what to do. I am in a whirl even as I speak. I feel lost and misplaced. A mist deprives me of my sight. A searing cold numbs my sense of touch. My ears are rendered disfuntional by the screeching silence around me. When will I be relieved of my burden? When will I be free of my load? When will I feel life again?

the birth of a newborn

2005-10-14T07:24:00.000-07:00

A light impact was made upon the ground,

Causing the soft dust to rise above the land.

The mood was calm and the wind gentle,

Carrying along with it the tiny speckled sand.

The cries of a newborn broke the silence,

It annouced a new life waiting to unfold.

The people gathered around the yound child,

For the sound was too beautiful to behold.

Sharing that special moment were many,

The young and the old, the puerile and wise.

Like one they imagined the infant's future,

But it was somethings impossible to surmise.

The little nursling was cute and adorable,

The feeling perceived was far from torment.

No eye gleamed brighter than the mother's,

No doubt that this was her proudest moment.

the chant of lamentation

2005-10-13T07:24:00.000-07:00

Alas, the grey clouds gather round by my death bed. As if singing a dirge, they chant on endlessly. My heart has fallen apart into the dying flames and has rekindled the fire. But in doing so it has disintegrated. It hurts so bad. There it was, the hope of the enchanted dreams. It hovered right above my head. It voiced words of enticement. I hastened to grab it. But it disappeared into dust the second I laid my shaking hands upon it. I had not known what it would have done, nor what it would do. Now I am wasting away into my dreams. They will remain so. And my life will follow it. Does nothing ever come true?

the element of hate

2005-09-27T20:39:00.000-07:00

Damnation and bitter curses against all who brought naught but plagues upon my already miserble life. Is it not enough that I have already lost my pride and honour? Must you now mock me? Master of scum and criminals. You have lived one day too many. You hated animal. Down six stratums beneath the dust is an empty place that you shall be condemned to and no one else. May you live your days in solitude and misery. You claim to be a bringer of peace. But of fallen glory and despised hope, you are the worst element of vice. You bring a harvest of darkness upon the heart. You bring the breath of sadness. You bring the sight of death. May it be that you will never see another day of elevation. Your bitter heart will rot into itself. Your brain will decay in your skull and you will become senile. Then you shall be pitied and perhaps despised. You shall whimper like a camp dog kicked around the fire. And at the moment in time, I will sit before the scene like an audience. And I will be pleased with the show.

the breaking of wills

2005-09-27T20:23:00.000-07:00

Of withering flowers and of crumbling leaves. My life is naught but a miserable wreck. I have reached the end. Time and time again I was made to stand up against the elements of life. And finally, I am broken. The great battle was fought and lost. It seems as though there is naught to be happy for. Naught to love for. Naught to joy for. Naught to look forward for. Naught to live for. It has come to a dramatic close and it is not in favourable terms. But yet in the midst of my despair, I understand that this is not truly the end. For end is much further. This is simply the end of one major battle. But life holds much more. For we must live till the end of time comes. For we must live for the greater good that is to come.

the regaining of hope

2005-09-24T07:21:00.000-07:00

The elements of life have challenged my abilities to withstand them time and time again. And now my energies are nearly an end. I am beaten. Lost. Confused of what am I to accomplish. When all hope has left us, what shall we do? Shall we bow down to the overwhelming might of the enslaver? Shall we flee from the fearsome power of the aggressor? Shall we give in to the greater strength of our enemies? No! I may be fighting a losing battle but I do know one thing. No matter how much there is to lose, there is nothing worst to lose than our right to live life the way we want. The elements may hound us endlessly. But we must never play into their hands and let them dictate our lives. For giving in to them and their demands is tantamount to death. To lose against them is already a disgrace, but to seek peace terms and compromise is the worse crime one can commit. A crime worthy of the death penalty with inclusion of mutilation and absence of a proper burial. For a treaty with the elements is never balanced. We can only seek to lose. We shall lose our beings and our honour. And we will be left with nothing. I condemn such thoughts ten levels beneath the dust. We must never allow ourselves to be cast into darkness. Only if we resist with all our mights will there be chance of victory. Even if they come again, we shall resist once again. This is the only way will we see the beautiful life beyond the seventh oasis.

the voices of enslavement

2005-09-02T07:20:00.000-07:00

I am not deaf. Just hard of hearing. You do not understand. There are things affecting the voices I hear from this world. There are these voices in my head. Speaking to me every minute of the day. Harassing my mind endlessly. They speak to me. They say strange things that I find hard to comprehend. I hear the same phrases over and over again. But they make no sense. It is beyond me and my capabilities to manipulate this terrible phenomenon. For it is within me, no doubt harvesting on my own abilities and turning them on me. I am victimized by these unseen forces. I am tired. I cannot hold them back much longer.

the change of change

2005-09-01T21:51:00.000-07:00

I cannot take it anymore. Blind hate flashes across my eyes like it were flames. Is there no chance to change my inner feelings? All I want is peace to reign ten-fold across my lands. But the stink of that craven scum had to come forth once more. Just when my heart was turning from anger, it was turned back again. Now change is wandering through both rock and bone. There is no longer any chance for quarters to be given freely to the aggressor. Pain shall be inflicted. Suffering shall flow like the rapids. May it be known through the lands of the five founders.

the thirst for vengeance

2005-09-01T21:23:00.000-07:00

Hate. Anger. Thoughts of revenge. Hopes of retribution. They flood my head and cry out in endless song. The accursed scum who think me weak in heart. The filthy imbeciles who know naught of me. I relish the day that all whom had done me those faithless injustices will burn in their own deeds. But I must not feel these things. A person of my standing is not allowed. I only can feel for my people. I can only feel vengeful for their sake, not mine. For now, I must be strong in the eyes of them who watch. A poor outlook will result if love for my enemies is vanquished. An enemy can turn ally. And so we hope.

the end of time

2005-08-23T07:16:00.000-07:00

In the ages to come, we may see new light, new springs and new mornings. Life will blossom through the four seasons like the flowers of Flerindre. It will flow endlessly like the streams and rivers of Klakfoon. We will see life everyday and we will embrace it like a loved one. We will live it each day like any other. The quest for glory and honour. The search for eternal joy and ever-lasting peace. We will learn to enjoy the fruits of this world. But it will come to an end. The day will swoop down upon us like the peregrin falcon. We will not sense it until the very last second where we are already within its claws. It will feast upon our powerless bodies. We will suffer pain without any strength to resist it. Darkness will shroud in from all sides of the spectrum of decay and all hope will be considered forfeited. The multitudes will listen to poetic dirges speaking of them. The nobles will lay in their lavishly gold covered graves. Even the strong and the kings of the great empires will meet with the same woeful end. Nothing lasts forever. No one will survive. All will be lost.

the impossibility of adaption

2005-08-21T07:15:00.000-07:00

The top priority of every soul is to change. For change brings about difference. And difference brings one to the very top. It elevates you far above the common populace. However, change is not adaptation. To adapt is the number one crime one can do. To adapt is to follow, it is to be ruled over. Instead, one must avoid this extremely detrimental step. One must learn to change fast, lightning fast, before one's enemies can. And they will be left behind, trying to catch up, trying to adapt. Struggling to adapt, to you.

a time of what the elements bring us

2005-08-17T07:15:00.000-07:00

Her smile, so bright, radiates around the four corners of my heart.
Her eyes, like gems, sparkle as the quiet waters flow by.
My heart, melting, longs to be by her side.
My sanity, all gone, may never come back.

the plague of desire

2005-08-08T07:13:00.000-07:00

The lady of dreams is in my thoughts every moment of time. The infection of hope has hastened to spread through the four corners of my heart. How then do I break forth from this iron grasp of desire? Why does she have to be of such beauty? Why of such grace and of such elegance? Not a day passes without her hounding my inner soul. She moves the heavens with her dance of life. Quartis! She brings the world to their feet. To be in her presence is a great honour. How much more honourable then to be by her side each night and morning? To see her smile of joy and to hear her laughter of song. Her beauty never ceases to astound the world. Like blue sapphire she gleams in the moonlight, stunning in all ways. Her existence casts all other ladies aside into darkness for she is the most beautiful of all. I lose all essence of thinking and of speech when I see her. My heart beats ever so strongly, like it would come out if I did not try to bring my state to a calm. Silent words of my feelings pour out from my heart to her, but never in sound.

the flowers of beauty

2005-08-03T07:12:00.000-07:00

The lilies gleam in the quiet waters.

The roses bloom every night and day.

The sunflowers birng light to all around.

These are the flowers of Flerindre.

Their beauty is unrivalled everywhere.

They draw the envy of all the lands.

The desire to pluck a petal or two,

Work ever so strongly upon the hand.

And then the lady comes ambling by.

The flowers seem withered and wrinkly

These once beautiful things look inferior.

Indeed how ravishing is the lady.

The most blatant of crowds go silent,

Obediently waiting for her along the banks

Her beauty melts the hearts of men.

They kneel, even the highest of ranks.

the torment of hope

2005-07-30T07:11:00.000-07:00

The lady! The lady! The lady of all the dreams I have summoned. How the multitudes sing of her beautiful name. Her presence enchants the world. Her voice brings the world to their feet. Her portraits hang on every door. Hidden behind the veil of secrets, she controls all wills by her thoughts. Alas she plauges my mind every night and morning. I am tormented with hope. Am I playing for the elements? The world forbids. I have to break free. May change come soon, in whatever form.

the elements of power

2005-07-28T07:11:00.000-07:00

In this world, we all strive to make change for the better. However, there are forces which work against us to undo what we have done. These forces are the elements of power. They too make changes, however, the changes are for the worst. The elements hold within themselves a power beyond imagination. They wield it to bring desvastation to everyone. Lives are disrupted and suffering is caused. All are powerless against the elements. None can stand against them. There is that one way to conquer this threat, and that is to control it. To take hold of an element and to convince it to do your will. By turning it to your side, you in turn will wield its power and many things will then be within your sphere of influence. Nothing will stand in your way. You must never allow the elements to control your life. For by playing into the hands of the elements, you will lose your soul. The elements of power control our fates. Should we not then control them?

the lady of Flerindre

2005-07-25T07:09:00.000-07:00

Amidst the glimming shadows I spy the lady.

A beauty beyond all that the world has seen.

Her joyful smile thaws an unfeeling heart.

Why now I see her? Where has she been?

Her sparkling eyes are like no other.

They brighten the world like sweet sapphire.

Just to gaze upon them for all eternity,

Is the highest honour any could acquire.

Her graceful movements denouce the dancers.

Her perfect execution conquers the dance floor.

No courtsman nor king could stand an equal.

They look pathetic around the lady much more.

The lady stands alone in her solitude.

Will she not grant me her lace or her glove?

May it be that my presence she asks for.

Long wanted and desired has been her love.

a moment of hope

2005-07-23T07:07:00.000-07:00

The elements took me once again. Harm was brought to me. Yet amidst the pain and confusion, I was given aid of the utmost standards. I exaggerate. The lady Nylekoj came forth and granted me the cleansing of my scar. A simple deed that left me hoping for more. However, no more was granted. Not even a farewell. Yet I still keep the faith, that in time, things may change, just as I have.

a world of difference

2005-07-22T20:00:00.000-07:00

We were born into this world to live a life. What life we live is up to us. The choices presented to us number many, for the world lies not on one hand but on many. But to live a life of standard is not what everyone achieves. The very world we live in openly decrees that all must change, for this is a world of difference. Those who change will be blessed by the world. They will prosper. They will rise high above all who live. They will live a life on earth that will be remembered. They will live a life of immortality in the minds of all even as their physical bodies die of age. As for those who rigidly stick to the old systems, they will waste away no matter how great they were in the past years. Just as a rose of tremendous beauty will wither in time. They will be forgotten. They will die along with history, unknown.