Temperature Rising

Holding onto the feelings as I kneel on the ground,
Knowing that if things need be I’d apologize,
Before it’s too late.

Taking in all the words in a blinding heartbeat,
I hear the sirens blaring constantly,
I can’t make a sound.

Drifting away from the narrow lines,
I hear the cracks beneath the ice,
I breathe deep.

As I turn around,
The lights flash across the river,
The temperature is rising.
-Temperature Rising


I had fever a few days ago, and it was the most draining thing, 3 days on and off high fever where I had two distinct dreams. Today being the first day my head is clear, I spent the day recollecting, and reflecting about my dreams and I guess I felt like writing. In one of those dreams, I dreamt about meeting a group I met a long time ago who were biased against me before they even got to know me, due to someone bad mouthing me:


The jury passed its judgement long before the evidence was presented. It was too late, I did not need to say another word, or even apologize for being who I was. I turned to look at them with my hurt eyes; they did not acknowledge it the slightest bit. It was as if they were cutting me down with their cold stares.

Words of another about you can often crack the thin ice that everyone starts with when making new friends. People often make their judgements about a person early, and stick with that judgement. A prejudice, especially when someone else tells them something about the other. Positive comments help a bit, but negative comments often break the ice that everyone treads when meeting for the first time.

Those were the times in the past, I remember about such things, I have a personality that can make enemies without me knowing. Because often, those who don’t like me are quite two-faced, wearing masks in front of me, pretending to like me, acting as a friend towards me, but behind my back revealing their true dislike for me. These to me are the worst people I meet, but I’ve come to accept it as part of life. There will always be two-faced people, and I know there are people out there who I’d not like but not show it, and there are a few who I warn people about, from my various experiences with them. Thus, it can’t be blamed, we all work that way right? Some people may not like me, I may not like them, all of those who I’ve warned about are generally those with low EQ, not that I have high EQ myself, but I guess and hope I have relatively decent EQ. I think I’ve gotten better as I’ve gotten older, learning what are traits I posses that should be toned down or featured less except on certain occasions (I rather not talk about that today, perhaps another)

Another dream I had was about a time I had to say goodbye to a close friend who passed away a long time ago. Here is a poem I wrote a long while ago, as a tribute to him.


As I heard the music of the funeral band,
I reached out for her hand,
Only to stumble and be lost.

As the first drop came,
An endless pour,
Caught in a world of endless doors,
I began to cry,
And then a hand grasped mine.

I was out of my daze,
And I was met with many a gaze,
I heard the speech of praise,
From a priest of heavenly grace,

The hearts had been bled,
The tears were shed,
At the end of everything said,
I said my goodbye as I cried in my bed.

- Goodbye

When I wrote that poem, I felt every word bleed out from my heart, along with my tears, it is something I will never forget. He was young, and his death struck a loss in my heart, and it showed me the mortality in the world we all live in. Death can come at any time, to anyone. For him it was too early, and I know that no matter what I do, I can’t make a difference. It makes me feel so weak. I can’t change the past, I can’t change death.

What I can do, is make a difference in the lives of others who are still there. The very people I can reach out to, those whose lives I can still affect. That’s why, I intend to go far in life, achieve my goals and reach out to those who need help. With my very effort and money, I will directly help, and not with some organization that takes the money, stuffs it in a bank and takes out a fraction of the money to use to help people. Donating to a charity is like paying someone else to care for another, it’s so easy to pay, but are you truly affecting another person’s life?

Everyone has a limited time on this world, but it doesn’t mean they have to suffer. For those who are better off, more fortunate, they should reach out to help someone. Even just one person, it would make a difference. When someone who is blind who needs help to get somewhere, an elderly who needs help to carry something up a flight of stairs, teaching English to underprivileged children, when someone has fallen down, all these acts of charity make a big difference in their lives, even if it may seem small, it meant that there was someone there to offer aid, support, help. Although it may seem like one small act, you should remember, that every act is important because it affects the person you’re helping. Remember that every person you help has feelings too and, how much joy or ease you bring to their lives when you help them. I guess that’s why I help, I want to make a difference, and I want to affect people’s lives in a positive manner, even if it may bring a perceived inconvenience, I find that its better to help the person in need. Don’t donate to an organization where volunteers reach out for you, reach out with your very own hands.

From everything that is given,
Of the trust emplaced upon,
I cross the line once again,
Pushing you wayward.

Sometimes I find things ajar.

Broken glasses across the floor,
Scented candles lay beside me,
The wind rushing through my hair,
On my shirt there is a tear.

Wearing the past long torn.

Memories of times of lust,
Long since the dream’s bust.

Of the times I’ve felt guilty,
Fallen into a place,
Where you cannot follow me,
I close my eyes and pray.

Please let me stay.
-Calm

When I write

Where the words have fallen,
Of the thoughts left separated,
I hear her voice in my head,
The image replayed a thousand times.


The odds are stacked.

Faded into the shadows,
Memories of the dream,
Winds of fate had blown past,
Leaving a void so vast.

Hallowed dreams.

The importance is long forgotten,
Yet secondary to none,
I reach for the shadow,
Why have I lost it?

A troubled soul.

A being I had left sundered,
Dreams of which I had plundered,
Broken,
Ethereal.

Nobody sees her.

I reach my hand out,
To undo my faults,
To untie the knots,
To break the chains.

To set her free.
-Free

“Where we stand”

It was late, I had taken a ride from a friend who dropped me off at a place that was further from the destination that we started from. I felt slightly sore about the choice I had made about following his car, in a hope of getting home faster, and where I got off, had no bus to my place. So I had a good ten minutes walk to the bus stop that I needed to go to. I had just begun to discuss over the phone with my friend over some important topics.

Across the road there was a man in dark glasses walking with a stick, as I crossed it, I saw he was about to cross and he was rather hesitant, and so I asked him if he needed help. The man was blind.

Ending the conversation with my friend, I forgot about my bus, though there was a slight feeling of being late scratching at me, I knew that the man needed help, and I was there, and one should never wait for another person to help a person in need. Many people suffer from the inactions of others.

And so I stretched my arm forward when he reached out. And so he explained to me where he needed to go. He had to cross the road to take a bus, so I took him across to the bus stop, and just as I was about to leave him there after helping him, I saw him asking blindly at the bus stop for someone to help him with looking out for the bus. I saw the people at the stop simply stare at him, without uttering a single word, they simply look frightened. So I turned back to tell the people of his condition, and the bus he needed to take. Immediately, two girls agreed to help, I could see their uncertainty over the whole situation before I stepped in to tell them.

Most people don’t know how to react, and often they are often frozen in their actions. Leaving the man in their care, I proceeded to cross the road again, realizing that I had increased my walk from 10 minutes to fifteen. Despite the increase in the distance, I felt that I rather walk the fifteen than let the man suffer the danger of crossing the road since he was blind, and I shuddered to think that he was all alone, traveling around, in a world where people were often apprehensive and reluctant to help, he was willing to take a chance that there will be people to aid him.

As I walked to the bus stop, I thought about my helping the man, the short conversation we had, I had introduced myself, and the silliest thing I did was point at where we had to go, when he could not see. I felt stupid, but I realized that I was inexperienced with helping a blind person, and I could only imagine how stupid I looked when I talked to the blind man and pointed at things at the same time. Who was going to see but me and the rest of people? While the intended person could not.

His trust in me, was strong, as he gripped my arm firmly and followed my every step, not hesitating when I brought him along. It was quite a distance to take him, it was a pity I’d never get to know him any further. And would he remember me? I don’t think so, maybe he’ll remember someone helped him across the road to the bus stop, but will he recognize me? The voice of that person? I did give him my name, but then that was it, in the world we live in, despite how small it might be, is vast enough. I don’t think I’d every get a chance to know that person, to know more of his world. A world without vision, but heightened sense of hearing, taste and touch.

I wish I could have gotten his contact, and perhaps learn about his experiences. It is a world that I would never want to experience, but it’s something I’d like to learn more about, so that I might understand them better in order to help them more.



“Competition”

As the sun bore down on me, as I looked up at the sky, the heat warmed me greatly, the feeling of where I was, reminding me that there was much to do in my life, many plans still left incomplete. At the poolside, a friend asks me to race across to the other side. The challenge reminded me of when I was younger, when I would be the one challenging. Here I was, being challenged, and so off we went. I won that race, like many that I have done, but then again, there was always someone who was better, so most of the people I raced were not better to begin with. If it was a large competition with many competitors, I’d usually end up second.

Why second?

As I ask myself that question, and now that I write it out, I feel that I commit much of my mind to the task, but at the last moment, there would usually be a slight doubt, even if it was just for a split second, it often would cost me the win, and I end up second. I could say, I’m quite used to second place by now.

So when do I get first? Usually when the actual no.1 isn’t there. So every victory in that event or sport, when I am the first, I feel that it’s not worth the win because I never competed against the best.

If only there was never a sense of doubt. I know I can control my feelings a lot, and remain calm, but a small slight insecurity tends to creep up especially against an opponent who is stronger, many of which will never sense and I can still win, but those that do, capitalize on it, and those tend to be the ones who rise to the top.

Defeat your opponent not only through your strength, but also through his weakness. That’s how I compete, I analyze my opponents, or the people I compete with.

And there I was, after that race, on the other side of the pool, my friend wanted to race again, but I was tired, and I would rather reflect about what I was thinking about during that race. I was not thinking of winning it, which was I usually thought of most of the time during competitions, but rather about the past and how I was like then, so much went through my mind as I swam.

And for a while I realized the most important thing, the thing that causes the moment of doubt, when I was serious, I never really enjoyed what I was doing, and I’d become too critical of my actions, and others, thus when the slightest mistake occurs, it creates a snowball effect which I often can never get out of. I normally never let that happen, but against the best, its never smooth sailing, the true test I guess, is to get back from the losing end.

That’s something I’m very weak at. It’s easy to dominate an opponent, but to turn being dominated to becoming the winner is probably the hardest thing. Something I must learn, and not be over critical about what I do, and remember that I am not simply just there to win, but to enjoy myself, and do well.

And so here I sit, the evening after the race, thinking about my reflections and realizing more about how I live my life. It is important to see the direction I am headed, and not fall short of what I am doing. Enough of being second, in fact, its time to stop thinking of me ending up as second, and getting the task done.

Perhaps I have fallen short, but training myself to overcome a situation when the odds are stacked will make me much stronger. Of which I can apply to my life.

As I reach out to feel the silver wings,
I seek to fine out the divine plans,
Holding onto what is most precious,
Knowing that nothing more can be true.

Of the hope.

It is through her eyes I am seeing through,
A reflection of the time spent,
Having faith in the both of us,
For our choices in life are for two.

Life is so brittle.

So many paths to choose,
With so much left to lose,
Our fate is such a fragile thing,
Which needs special handling.

Of the things I’ve put you through.
-Silver wings.

For that moment past

Sometimes I wonder about the shadows long cast,
And during those moments everything returns,
Like flashing light moving at the speed of sound,
The emotions come spilling as if to drown.

At that point of time I’d drop my knees to the ground.

Caught in between the blur of memories,
My head swirls with the flow of the moment,
I think of the faces in my past,
The eyes that once flowed with lust.

Forgive my faults, for I left it unrequited.

With the beat of her heart,
I remember about the moments shared,
The sound of her voice in my ears,
I look back into those eyes.

I saw something broken.

Try as I might to mend the tear,
It was there even before I began,
It was not mine to fix,
Neither was it mine to make.

The frustration as the words never touched.

The subtleties of her actions,
Destroying me slowly with her trust,
I lean against her one last time,
And whisper into her ear.

Goodbye.
-Times long past

I was blind once upon a time, I could not judge as well as I could, I could not see myself through her eyes then, but now I can. I guess I meant a lot, but what am I to do? I made a choice, I tried, but the conversations went dry. And nothing was left to carry it on; I did not feel the love. The realization that there wasn’t love to begin with.

Now that’s quite a while ago, I pray to this day those eyes of lust have calmed and have been requited by someone else. I learnt a very important lesson long before that incident, and that was I had to be true to myself. A person once told me about relationships, “It was just the shades of grey in life, the inbetween, that long lasting relationships never lasted on love, sure it may have started on infatuation that felt like love, but after the infatuation was long gone, after the lust had been cleared, the eyes would see nothing else, and for it to work that had to be a common idea, a sort of agreement between two people to take care of each other. People could never live off love, but rather responsibility as a couple.”

When I think about it, I don’t really agree with that. Even after infatuation is gone, it doesn’t mean love has to go. If you like the person, you have to like that person for what they are, every detail of them, their feelings, manners and actions. If the choice was made simply on the way they looked or their status, then of course there would not be love to begin with. It’s still possible to find love that way though, but when the infatuation and lust is over, you begin to see the person for who they are, and if you don’t like what you see, then I guess you wouldn’t love the person.

Love, requires one to really be able to want to be with the person, past the infatuation, past the lust, past the image of being with someone, its about actually about wanting to be with that person, that smile, that manner, that person.

I once wrote a long time ago, as a prologue for a story, my definition of true love. It’s changed slightly along the way, but remains mostly the same, here is a part of it:

“ True love, how does it happen? Love at first sight? I do not really believe in such things, for even when you look into the eyes of the person, and see their emotions within them, it is like a story without a start or ending. No matter how much you judge a person by their looks, you cannot tell what they are truly like, until you have been with them. For me, I judge women like a bottle of wine, the appearance of the bottle maybe attractive or seductive, but you can never know what its like or whether you would love it until you have tasted its contents. The contents are the women’s true self, her personality and her essence. A woman can be sweet or sour, strong or mildly pleasant, intoxicating or weak. She could have a great after taste that leaves you wanting for more, she could make you addicted to her. Addiction, the start of infatuation, that eventually leads to love. To me, infatuation is the part and parcel of life that eventually leads to love or rejection if it is given the chance. And like wine, women can get better with age or become the sour vinegar that would be undrinkable. It depends on her, she is the one who defines how she ages and changes. If she becomes better with age, her beauty is more enhanced and her personality becomes more refined.”

The original was written during my O levels, when I was sixteen. Over the years, I’ve added new lines or changed a few words. Most of it however, is the same as before. The title of the story is crying angel, in all, I wrote three chapters. I had planned to write a total of twelve chapters to finish my first novel.

I never finished, till this day I don’t think I’ll find it till I find the muse that allows me to complete that story. Till then, I’ll write other stories, and of course more poetry. A poem for my thoughts, a line for my emotions, every word representing my life.



Haste overcomes us,
Stay for a moment,
I look out the window.

When do we arrive?

I feel your goodbye,
As we chase our lives,
To where the path returns.

Where did we begin?

I listen to the whispers,
Where the emotions rise,
Where the souls divide.

For time does not lie.

When the sleep returns,
I hope to see your smile,
To see if the truth is there.

Looking at the void between.

So many excuses heard too often,
Cold as we are left standing around,
So much left unspoken.

So much to say.

-For that moment.

Reality Surge

Volatile the circumstance on this window sill,
Yet the urge to tamper with it,
To see what is on the other side,
Breathe in the air.

A face appears at the window.

As I look into her eyes,
The exchange of our expressions,
Like telepathy,
She beckons to me.

The passion is so divine.

Her hand gestures like a dove,
The words mouthed filled with sweet returns,
Yet with all its clearness,
There is such a veil of mystery.

The attraction undeniable.

The hot breath from her lips,
Placing her hand on the glass,
It seems to melt it away,
For a moment.

Our hands touched.

She pulls away beckoning me to come,
I feel drawn towards the beyond,
Into the shadows that lies behind her,
With her.

I turn the lock,
As the cold wind blows,
Cutting my eyes as I try to look forward,
A hand reaches out before me.

I feel no trust.

Closing the window,
Turning my back,
She rushes to the window,
I reach down for the brick.

Some windows were never meant to be open.
I pull my hand back slowly,
She screams at what I am about to do,
I know what was needed,
I let myself go.

Some windows were meant to be broken through.

The lines were written between the latitude,
Shrinking into the darkness,
Not wanting me to see,
Revealed for what she is.

For only at the edge of reality can I recover my sanity.
-Reality Surge

Where does a choice begin and a decision occur? All the while, in my life, the choices I’ve been presented with were spread far and wide. The very one’s placed in front of my face seemed like the most obvious choices, yet in the end, I chose something else, something that I felt was right.

Sometimes, when someone is given choices, many people try to influence their decision, to the point, it can be hard to think. I’ve seen all my friends stuck in similar positions as me, and the choices they make are often heavily influenced by what people think they should do, rather than what they feel they want to do. For the decision to be made, I’ve had time to think, to decide, I didn’t rush, but most of my friends never took the time. Some do regret their decisions, and bear grudges against those who influenced them, but in the end, it’s not those people’s fault, it’s theirs for making it. Unless they were forced, the choice they made was theirs.

My older sister wanted to do theatre studies, she was well suited for it, an arts student in junior college who was in the debates team, represented Singapore overseas and did drama at the same time for the ACJC drama company. She had just gotten her results, and applications for universities were to be made. My parents did not condone what she wanted to do, rather they tried through active persuasion and long debating to convince her that she would be better off going to study hotel management in Switzerland. Fast forward six years later, she got a degree from one of the top hotel management schools in the world and came back to Singapore to work for my parents. Being the eldest, I guess she felt obligated, and influenced to do the degree which ultimately brought her back to the family business. I guess she is fine with the job she currently has, and she has the drive, though she gave up her passion for acting to do what was considered the responsible choice, she made her decision.

As for me, I was at that path, between the responsible choice which was my parents believe I should do and the choice of me doing what I wanted. At that point, I did not really know what I wanted, so I took the responsible choice. Fast forward two and three quarter years later, in national service which was a break from the responsible choice, I found that it wasn’t what I wanted. I was fine with it, but it was not what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted something more.

The responsible choice I had made was doing a bachelor degree in business. It was a general degree, which would allow me to apply for many different office jobs, but it did not specialize in anything either than managing a business or people. What I wanted was more than that, I know business is practical, but what I wanted was something that involved the body. The decision I had made, was a degree in sports and nutrition. It was something that fit in to what I have enjoyed so much in my life, my interests. The love of sports, fitness and good nutrition. My love for keeping fit and cooking culminated with my desire and drive to learn new methods of exercise, the reasons and science behind it, the techniques that suited a person and nutrition that was best to reach a certain goal. It was something I knew I wanted to do for my life. Thus, the decision was made.

The time I spent in the army, had given me the time and chance to reflect on what I want to do with my life. Thus, I decided that what I wanted was feasible, and responsible, so I set about convincing those around me about it. Thus, I influenced the others who were supposed to influence my choice. Now, I await the moment, to move forward and live that choice. A future I look forward to, and must prepare rigorously, perhaps it’ll satisfy all the desires I have in life, and maybe it may not, but the most important thing was it was a decision made by me, after careful thinking.

Now the shadows of my life are stretching behind me, and now facing the start of the bridge, I see much to be climbed, of which I am enthusiastic about, one which I will meet with full vigor. And when I am done crossing that bridge, I look forward to seeing what is there on the other side.

Her hope swirls downwards,
The feeling of draining away,
Wishing for a pill,
To take her pain away.

To escape.


Fallen into the shadows,
A hint of her warmth remains,
Feathers lay upon the floor,
Closing her eyes as if to shut out the world.

A crimson drop falls to the floor.

The shadows begin to fade,
Clinging on to her own,
She wishes not to be seen,
To not be judged.

The world can be cruel.

A streak of warmth strikes her face,
Turning to the person reaching out,
A hand stretched out before her,
Her eyes can’t see past it.

She is unsure.

Borne into a world so cold,
Memories of pain,
Given empty promises,
People’s hidden agendas.

Finding it hard to trust.

From a time long forgot,
A slow sonata of old,
Of unrequited desires,
Of dreams long lost.

He holds her hand.


She feels as though she is falling,
Yet she finds herself rising,
She opens her eyes to the world,
A world of possibilities.

Where the pieces be

Where I stare to now,
Of the tears you shed,
Pleas you had made.

Things get broken.

You asked for a reason,
Its not that you never tried,
But something in you died.

You were lost to me.

I tried to understand,
Even when the dust has settled,
And the slice of pie has gone cold.

Many words left unspoken.

As the hot breath escapes me,
I breathe in deep the air around me,
I noticed the letter on the floor.

Hoping that one day the wounds would heal.

Torn halfway a ragged piece,
The anger of the words showed no peace,
Reflecting a hint of sanity’s eclipse.

Letting go of what was once precious.

I step out through the door,
Closing it gently as it creaks behind me,
The door is shut.

The room had been forgotten.
-A forgotten room

A long time ago, I made a wish, about someone who was precious to me. It was like a dream within a snow globe, perfect. But then upon sanity’s eclipse, the snow globe had fallen to the floor, shattered.

Many a tear was shed, a plea was made, but I guess I turned my back to the plea, though I still offered my comfort. Now, it’s been a long while, so I guess I’d take the time to reflect about it, and silently apologize for it was a failure on both sides.

The torn letters given to me remind me about how much was put into it, and what was lost, and filled with anger and hate.

Attempts at peace were not taken in well. That’s why; I left it all behind for the best, as a room that was best left forgotten. But of course, its part of my past, thus it can never be forgotten, it serves as a lesson, a scar. A memory of which I hold no regret, as I moved on, hoping that the other has.

Many lessons have been learnt since then; I’ve seen much more and took in more of the world’s light. For I must say, it is truly blinding.

As the light shines through the looking glass,
I notice the break within its center,
A change of direction.

It changes course.

It shines on the teddy on the floor,
Collecting dust from neglect,
Several coins lay around it.

What was the value of her intent?

Soft vibrations all around,
The wind chimes sound,
Blowing away the dust of old.

A reflection catches my attention.

I notice the gleam in the bear’s eye,
The expression seemed of warmth,
Yet the room was so cold.

What was it I had forgotten?

It feels soft within my hands.
So I put my arms around it.
It looks at me with conviction.

Remember the reason.

Her intent was something positive,
I had forgotten her touch.
I wondered why it was forgotten.

I had forgotten how to trust.
-Remembering myself.

As I think of the bears I’d been given in my time, I find it odd for a guy to get one, but I don’t recall how I got them all, and now I have so few left, most of them were lost, why they were lost I am unsure. Their collecting dust shows I’ve neglected them, and perhaps forgotten them.

She was always happy when I got them, I remember. All those who given them to me, all their faces seem a blur now, totally forgot. I wish I could remember all those who had given me gifts. An album where I could see the face with each gift I ever received. To be grateful for what I received.

She was all smiles when I was younger, and then she began to become less cheery and open as I got older. The world had taken its toil, sometimes slow, sometimes rapidly. It bore its weight down on her and she’d just break down. It tears me inside when she break’s down.

I guess I lost her often, because she had been hurt so many times, but I’ve gotten her back, with lots of determination. She was naïve, and always positive, until she got crushed one too many times, shrunk away into a cave, into the darkness, afraid to even feel. She lets few in, and even then, among those few, there were those who betrayed it. Who even, trampled upon her.

She is my innocence, and who is she? She is my sense of trust in people. It’s been hurt quite a few times, and yes she is one who feels a lot. I guess that’s why I am not that close to that many people, my true friends are few, my acquaintances are many. I guess for me, she is often left forgotten, and it’s so rare for her to truly trust someone.

And will she learn to trust more? I don’t know, my faith in my fellow man is skeptical; the only way to see how a person really is when the relationship is called into question or placed under strain, only then is it possible to see it for what it is. The world is full of masked faces, it’s so hard to tell, and honestly, it’s so hard to trust a masked face.

Can one judge another purely by look and first impressions? It takes time to trust another still, no matter how good an impression that person made. Of course that person would have peaked my interest, and I would like to understand them more. That’s when; I guess she comes out, out of the darkness, though warily and always ready to shrink back into the darkness never to return.

Those who’ve she’d let in, those angels over her shoulder where she can spread her wings without worry, those who have not let her down for so many years, I salute them. Those who are my closest, my true partners in life, I cherish them all, and look forward to so many more years.

The white feathers float slowly to the ground,
I look over and see,
The angels over my shoulder.

For all the wishes I’ve ever made.

Of the dreams within my head,
Of the love in my heart,
Of the smile upon my face.

Learning what it is to be happy.

Of the world’s light,
That fills our eyes,
And the joy’s we’ve had.

It’s glorious to see us all grow.

Cherishing that which is precious,
Beauty of the words spoke,
Bringing the feeling of content.

Is it too late to remind you?

Of the times even in silence,
How we enjoyed every bit,
For the lives we lived.

Doing the things we wanted to do.
-Cherish

Reflection

When will we get there?
A pause within a moment,
Promises with a smile,
What is there to right?
I think I see a lot in plain sight,
But so little worth fighting for.

Severance from reality,
The truth seems to breaking,
Everyone seems to be waiting,
A fallen tear shed,
Many years ago,
With many more to come.

What was lost?
Pity about the loss,
Forgive it for what it was,
Frightened by the toss,
Shrouded by the frenzy,
Becoming a forgotten cause.

What is there worth fighting for?
Issues thrown into the fray,
But which to fix?
Frowns upon the promises made,
A pause within a moment,
When will we get there?
-When will we get there?

The mist clouds much before me, on an empty road. A cold morning it was, around two. The road stretched out before me, I could not see very far, and there as I walked I thought about where I was now.

Right now, a gap in my life was soon to end, two years that I’d never get back, of which I had no choice, but to serve. I’ve met many people, learnt and matured much from my interactions and experiences. Saw the ugly side of people, and of course much of my own, people were my mirror. Given a better understanding of life, I know that as I see more of the bigger picture, knowing more and more and seeing past the word “I” and seeing and feeling of the word “us”.

When I contemplate about what I have done for the most of my national service, I actually regret much of what I have done. For the first time, I truly regret having lived the slack vocation of which I got. I would rather have done more, become what I am physically and mentally capable of. But what is one to do when the government doesn’t allow it? I did not choose to be born with this minor flaw, yes I have a kryptonite, but everyone has his or her kryptonite in one way or another. Like a clause within a contract that forbids one, which perhaps if I actually fought for, I might have gotten, but I guess in a way it was fear of fighting the system stopped me; to me it was a moment of weakness, because I did nothing to change what was given to me, although I wanted more. And here I thought I’d never regret anything in my life because it always taught me and gave me experiences. I made it a point to live life without regret, yet the experiences I got were not something I felt was worth the two years. The slack life of army was never what I wanted, I wanted the hardest bit national service could throw at me, the toughest training and best appointment a national serviceman could get. A commando officer. But that’s wishful thinking, too late, the damage had been done, I’ve loss a good chunk of time already and have not been as fit as I was originally was before army. In fact people would think I’m stupid or crazy for not wanting what I was given, and that I should be grateful for the easy life I got, and that I was a fool for wanting the toughest training an national serviceman could get. But I wanted the experience, to learn from it, to know what it was like to be one of the elite soldiers in the army, in a way it was a dream. However, a consolation that I got was that I got to meet a really good marital artist, whose skill and strength was far beyond what I had. For the first time in my life, I met someone who actually practiced something that paled every unarmed combat I’ve seen, learnt and practiced. It was mixed martial arts; it brought together all the best aspects of different martial arts.

I’ve learnt much from then, becoming a stronger person, physically and mentally. What I lost was my ability to run, and gained weight, due to a year of little physical activity and too much food. Of course, I’ve managed to work a lot back since the year of slacking off, but I have yet to get back to my peak. I’ve perhaps more strength, but less athletic ability. I’d rather have more speed and endurance over being able to lift more weight.

Perhaps, the reason for my regret is because of the slack life I got in the army as it made me slack and unfit. What I wanted was the tough training, of course, it might be different when it isn’t voluntary. But I was willing to go for it. That’s why I knew I’d prefer it. Physically and mentally prepared, until my enlistment, I had trained hard for to ensure that I could endure, and perhaps surpass the requirements. I wanted it, pity it all came to naught.

What I got to see in the end, were several groups of people who had genuine physical problems, people who wanted to avoid physical training and people who had physical problems and wanted to avoid training. Those who wanted to avoid training tried to “keng” or bluff that they were not well or fit for physical duty. For those who “keng” they reflected poor characters. Of course what I found was, it reflected on me too, I was affected by those around me who were like that, so much that it rubbed off on me.

It’s what made me regret ending up where I was. I wished I never had that flaw, so that I would have had a different military life. That perhaps I would have had a stronger discipline with the different vocation. I wanted what was on the other side of the coin. I’ve become better in certain aspects, but horribly undisciplined, which I had to struggle to fix.

And so it is coming to an end, I’ve lived most of the slack life, and can’t change much about the work, and neither do I want to change anything now as it would amount to nothing much. The only the thing I can do, is work towards my future. Leaving behind an army life I’d rather have done differently, I can now focus on things I must get done.

Fulfill what I want to do for my life, studies, charity work, acting, physical training. The rest of the aspects I’ve not mentioned are pretty much alright right now, those that I’ve mentioned have yet to fulfilled. I guess that’s where I ask myself, “When will we get there?”

I am on that road, which is misted up, and I can’t see very far in front. It’s starting to get cold. And though I can’t see far, I must walk on.

I breathe deeply before the contemplation,
Of the many things that I can’t escape,
Of the thoughts the mind would weave,
Where much of which I’ve said,
Had been left unanswered.

Just a little insight to this plight,
Perhaps a hint of the truth,
Was all I’d ask,
So that my thoughts would not take flight,
Yet the silence was all I got.

All those around,
Well aware,
Yet they say nothing,
The silence was deafening,
What was their cause?

Standing before the jury,
Before the evidence of my pass,
The judgment was already made,
Cut down by their unforgiving stares,
Frozen hearts of ice.

Stepping forward and away from the cage,
Ignoring the cage of their judgment,
I am no merchant of emotion,
I have no heart of ice,
But neither do I punish others with silence.

The jury fades in the shadows,
They cry out,
The mute are no more,
They have no hold,
Their just forgotten shadows now.
-Finding one’s self.

Her cold breath

Looking around at the still grey,
Once again standing on that spot,
Unable to explain the reason for the cause,
I feel a sense of immense dismay.

A figure stands before me,
The curves fill the light,
Eyes covered by the shadows,
Her lips so red.

Leaping out from the darkness,
Arms wrapping around me,
Like a searing bolt of lighting,
I am star struck.

Lips against mine,
My eyes closed in the sweet sensation,
A dream of honey and wine,
Of a taste so divine.
-She’s a star

There was a sudden crash, people began to get excited, and I turned to see an old lady had fallen at the train door, I rushed forward and for one moment when one man reached there first, I stopped in hesitation.

The bell rang to signal the closing doors, her legs were still outside the train; I rushed to grab one of her arms as the other man helped her with the other. It was over. No one had even moved from their seats, they simply stirred to see what was happening. They did not even bother to help.

My hesitation, hit me deeply as I sat down in a seat, reflecting on that pause. It could have meant the difference between someone being seriously hurt and being saved. Why did I even hesitate? I believe in helping others, and I learnt so many times, that one must not wait for others to help, but help if one can.

Was I afraid of what others might think from my actions? Was that why I hesitated? Yes, my vanity made me pause, when it was something I should not have even thought about what others thought, but rather focusing on aiding the person in need. My vanity flaws my moral of helping without hesitation. Again I feel I failed, despite being able to help that person.

The crowd rushing by,
Standing to see the troubadours,
With their manners and satire,
Caring not of what others thought.

They played for a cause,
Instrumental chaos,
Pleasing the demure crowd,
Ignorant to their true purpose.

A table by the side,
Seated four,
The leaders of a cause,
Charity a noble goal.

Fatally doomed to be ignored,
Efforts flawed by the crowd,
The people see not,
They give not.
-Ignored cause

Rushing into the cool air of the shopping mall, it had been hot and I had been walking with a close female friend for quite a distance in the sun, the welcoming air brought a great relief. We had arrived to a crowd that surrounded a stage of musicians. A Jap rock band, Singaporeans they were, the lead singer could be singled out purely by his shoes, bright shiny leather shoes with pointed tips. Their makeup and hairstyles made them look feminine, accompanied by their petite builds, it made them look androgynous. Even my friend thought one of them was a girl.

They were preparing for the performance, ignoring the looks of the crowd, caring not about letting them wait. Making no gestures whatsoever on when it would start, or even acknowledging the crowd that waited attentively, eagerly. As the minutes went by, my friend and I had already gone from shop to shop, and people from each floor had gathered at the atrium looking down on the band that was about to perform.

Just as we were about to leave, the band began to play, my friend pulled me to see the performance. We were blocked by the endless crowd that surrounded the stage, so we moved to an empty area where we could have full view. To an area where a table was placed. There were signs and a newspaper cutting, and there sat four girls before a table filled with chocolates. And then, I realized the reason for the performance, these girls had brought together the entire event for charity. I felt awed by their effort, four girls who managed to start with an idea and make it into reality. But it hurt me terribly that no one even looked at their table, there was only a tiny donation can, and I looked around if people even donated.

I took out a note and placed it in the tin. It was money for a movie ticket, since I decided that my friend I would go for a run instead, since it allowed her to save her money, and I had no need for the money I had set aside. It would fit a better cause, and at least make the day of these four, and so I smiled, and they quickly offered bags of chocolates which I declined. Of course, they pursued my female friend and gave it to her instead.

It was a worthy cause, these four worked hard, unlike charitable organizations which hoarded money and squandered it for the wrong reasons. These were the few I would gladly donate to. So noble, so grand, yet terribly doomed to waste.

The society we live in, doesn’t appreciate such causes, and most people will not stir to help others. But rather they seem to prefer to be entertained by what happens. In a way, their speech never really went beyond the word “I”

An action without respite,
The words cut down to the core,
Hardened shells crack from the strikes,

The fallen pieces melt away.
Tear drops on the floor stain the way,
Leaving wounds bare.

Forgive his actions,
A penny wish away from bankruptcy,
For he was poor of wisdom.
-Foolish words