http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/may/11/iraq.humanrights?fb=native&CMP=FBCNETTXT9038

The Butterfly Park
was at Terminal 3.

And so have I
Wandered thus far
to where I will be tomorrow.

And guess what?
The end is nowhere nigh.

It goes on – Robert Frost..

Each slicing slowly the doe-eyed innocent.
A banter denying her any redemption..

What monstrosity beneath his gentle skin.
Yet, what beauty hides in this beast.
Why such actions from this naive hands?

Rage unfounded burning his being within.
Nothing left but a tired charred grump.
Scurrying, scampering a search goes in vain.
Where lies that illusive answer?

No sleep for you, tonight
Chuckles the cold wizard.
Ah but wise one, remember your curse is such,
a revealing light upon
Monsters that lie beneath us all.

No malice in this chalice.
No mercy from the free.
No apology in this soliloquy.
No hate from the irate.
Yet, no glee for him to see.
Hatchets don’t get buried so easy.

Empty.. EMPTY?!

Hear ye, Brother Roaches, Come out!
Time belongs not to the wretched witches,
But us.
Why, then, this cowering fear?
We have seen time from the terrible lizards, Comrades!
Let fear belong to them: the ignorant giants.

Come out, Amigos!

Our time is now and has been forever.

Let us Revel.

Through tumultuous waters and ungodly silence
Poseidon has now come to rest.
Earth burns beneath the feet and
Inching towards strange and lucid fortresses.

Yet, the new embarkment is none too ferocious
beside golden memories of which I reminisce.
Reigning in gratitude for the
Scythian basins of life and knowledge -
Transient Aphrodites and blooming Athenas,
Mere few paths of the embodied journey.

Warriors beside the determined heart
While foxes beckon in the night.
Fruits that bear only on watered grounds,
Now do I see.

Cosmos that spell volumes
Though speaketh the healing wounds
That transformed my very existence.

Sensual experiences encapsulated
into one dimension.
Never too unfamiliar.

Ithaka, have we arrived?

Ask that your way be long.
At many a Summer dawn to enter
with what gratitude, what joy -
ports seen for the first time;
to stop at Phoenician trading centres,
and to buy good merchandise,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensuous perfumes of every kind,
sensuous perfumes as lavishly as you can;
to visit many Egyptian cities,
to gather stores of knowledge from the learned.

Have Ithaka always in your mind.
Your arrival there is what you are destined for.
But don’t in the least hurry the journey.
Better it last for years,
so that when you reach the island you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to give you wealth.
Ithaka gave you a splendid journey.
Without her you would not have set out.
She hasn’t anything else to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka hasn’t deceived you.
So wise you have become, of such experience,
that already you’ll have understood what these Ithakas mean.

The Bandsman leads the Countdown.
Teasing his merry men as they march wearily

11 days: Get Excited
9 days: Get Psyched
7 days: Get Ready

Even Wise Beard, Lame and cheering by the sides
Sneakily shooting a spark into the air:
7 days till the roof burns.

Let’s get flustered, the wayward Bandsman chuckles,
crunching his numbers night after night.

Fear Not.
7 dusks from now
Look to the big steps
There, The Crunchmen’s Army will arrive.
Standing Arm to Arm with Allies from
Stamford to Bencoolen

I am a 25 year old male who has been through National Service,
who never carries an umbrella.

Then the heavy rain slowed to a drizzle as we reached the gate.

P.S. Joseph Ho. Thanks for sharing your umbrella with me the other morning.
One day I will save you.

A new birth marred by a masked vandal
Scarring deeper than his inkwork..
Indeed he went postal on our asses.

The new decade brings forth the hushed memory
of Kitty’s death.
Angry bystanders watching in pitiful inaction
Caught in Hamlet’s limbo, To do or not to do.
Maybe let’s just wait, someone else will.

But the people did.
Hiding behind their focal lenses
they shot.
The masked marauder enjoying his devilish deed,
as if taunting, “Catch me if you can,
Punish me like you did Fay!”

When finally the mask is stripped off,
A corporate plea for attention reveals.
Nevertheless, spraying a sad picture..
And as we enter the 2^nd decade,
His work reminds us..
Of what we’ve become..
Of what we have always been perhaps.

A bus from Ang Mo Kio to Bedok, passing by my place.
Time taken from Kembangan to Redhill
The number of men on soccer pitch.
(Think about it.)

I am 25. Raring to go.
A little late, perhaps?

With nothing to my name.
Not the shoes, not the boxers that cover my crack
Not the mattress where I lay like a sack
Not the Mathilda on my back.
Not for long, Jack.
The average life expectancy of an individual back in medieval Britain
(Lucky me. Never too late)

PS. Happy Birthyear to all born in 1985.