Showing posts from October, 2008

more literary vomit

what f*cking good is it!?

what good are thoughts of care
if they are not expressed

what good are dreams of greatness
if you seem content with less

what good are words of comfort
if spoken out of duty

what good is giving up your all
with no fair reciprocity

what good is it to speak of hope
if deeply you despair

what good is it to find success
and have no-one to share

what good is it to cry for help
and be misunderstood

what good are opportunities
that you didn't take but could

what good is it to talk it out
if nobody hears a thing

what good is exploring new ideas
if to old ways you will cling

what good is seeing potential in one
that they themselves can't see

what good is trying to improve something
that just wants to be.

my solace

there was i
so young yet so jaded
my heart burnt and scarred
seared shut
by mis-givings of the past
adamant only in my withdrawal
from matters of the heart

and there was you
burdened yet hopeful
despite your harsh realities
riding through life on your bike
seeking simple pleasures
your h…

Of books and beauty

One of the best book I’ve read in a while. Actually, the only book I’ve read in a while.

The Girl in Times Square, by Paullina Simons.

Aside from having a decent plot, characters, themes and twists in this book, this writer is just amazingly talented with her prose. Particularly her description of peoples thoughts and emotions, character’s reflections about life, family, their hardships and joys, they’re intensely personal and real.

Just thought I’d share that.

Here’s a favourite conversation from the book:

"I'm telling you, something happens to beautiful people. The think that something extra is owed to them by life, by God, by all the people around them. They think their life has to be better, more dramatic, happier-in color, not black and white."

"Everyone wishers their life were happier."

"No not like beautiful people. They walk this earth, their chin up to the rest of us, and think that great happiness, great love, great joy is their right and their pre…

Sleepy prose

Fia moe

Sleep escapes me, as I toss in the heat.
Unable to extinguish my blasted awakedness.
My thoughts burn the midnight oil
Set alight by change
By fear. By hope. By stuff.
Fuel to the fire.
My mind ablaze, refusing to digress.
Frustration fans the flames.
Feels like a fix is forbidden.
My tiresome body unable to find redress
In the comforts offered by my oscillating fan.
Noisily exerting it's presence about the room.
It's posture is impeccable in it's perfectly timed rotation.
A cunning disguise for it's Made in China fan blades.
That are barely causing a stir in the humid midnight air.
What a waste of 85 tala.