Life is a Beach

My ocean of love,
She swells and roars at my approach,
As the waves embrace and cover me.
The splendor of her beauty unbound,
Waning miserably cupped in my hands.

My hopes akin to sand.
Her soft touch soothes my tired feet,
Bearing the heaviness of my entirety.
I reach for its soft touch,
They slip and flow through my fingers.

My dreams illuminated with stars.
Radiating visions of bliss and delight
Into my weary old soul.
Sweet escape that beckons me
Darkens and fades in anguished tears.

Love does not belong to me.

Hope torments me with fading fantasies.

Dreams die in agonizing reality.

Life, is a bitch.


Lord, I want her to be happy, no matter what that means. To be free… even if it’s from me. I want her to find the love she deserves, who will see her always as I do now, through Your eyes.

Self-Regulated Regimes?

Down in Lala Land, the Senior Elder for the State of Artful Communication of Misinformation, Mr Money Phuck You has described local toilets as ineffective self-regulated regimes.

Speaking in the Elder’s Council situated in the treetops of Monkey Hill, Mr Money cited the example of shit that erupted from various visitors to local toilets after an elder was set on fire in his kitchen, by a grumpy old rickshaw driver, while serving food to needy serfs.

The local toilets were abuzz with the sounds of different sounding farts and droppings, after eating the food served by the elder. Mr Money described some farts as sweet smelling, while criticising others, which he termed as unhelpful and thus not conducive to a public amenity.

“Significant numbers of farts heard were too loud. A small number was downright smelly. It’s disappointing.”

Mr Money added that the toilets’ bulletin boards should have been used to provide information on how to release softer or more melodious farts and how drinking less water may assist in less watery stools that will not stain the toilet seats so kindly donated by the council.

He said, “It is a squandered opportunity for a higher degree of self-regulation. It would have been an example of the genesis of the first step towards a more responsible, a greater self-regulatory regime.

“But many of those farts were not rebutted nor answered. And I think it is not healthy for some of those to crap unsavoury shit in the toilet unchallenged, unquestioned, and unanswered.”

Many in the council nodded their heads in amazement that Mr Money was able to use the word “genesis” in his sentence. All agreed that it was an excellent way to provide a useful double emphasis on the meaning of taking a first step.

Lala Land’s incumbent dynasty is now making more efforts to engage visitors to toilets, after the Advisory council on the Impact of Mushy Stools (AIMS) submitted its proposals in December last year. But it is opting for a cautious and pragmatic approach for now. It is yet unready to face current serfs who enjoy taking a dump in an assorted freedom of styles and personal expression.

Mr Money said that in order to develop a responsible toilet, all parties, including the toilet administrators and toilet goers, have a role to play. He has however not prescribed the methods of playing while in the toilet. Insiders have anonymously let on, that the elder will soon touch on the proper positions to be used while taking a dump. Unacceptable positions such as males sitting down to take a piss may soon be officially frowned upon.

He said; toilet goers and toilet administrators need to maintain credibility, so that the elder council can enjoy their visits to toilets. Apparently, official farts and dingleberries expelled by elders in the council have gained a sweet intoxicating reputation amongst themselves. After all, elders are paid with bananas of the highest quality, and will thus produce only sweet aromatic excrement and pleasing melodic farts.

Differing opinions are generally labelled as silly and ignorant, due to intake of poor quality bananas.

The senior elder also encourages serfdom to pin notes on the bulletin walls of toilets to praise and generally enjoy the farts and floating islands left behind by visiting council elders, who found time to grace the toilets with their officially aromatic shit. He looks forward to all toilet users helping, to establish and enforce norms of acceptable toilet behaviour.

Mr Money also holds the official Lala Land’s commission of Rear Admittance Officer in the elite navel inspection guard. He has cited his admiration for Singapore’s government and RADM Lui Tuck Yew’s commendable efforts in attempts to control the internet and seeks to use similar policies to police disappointing toilet behaviour in Lala Land. He has also often copied speeches made by the latter for his own benefit.

-Unregulated Free Press.

Life vs Work

Apparently, Nominated Member of Parliament Loo Choon Yong thinks, since Singaporeans aren't spending enough time fucking, to fertilise our women, they should start working longer weeks again.

During the 2009 Budget debate, this very Loo (pun inadvertently intended) tried to flush away what he thought was a turd. Branding the move to a shorter work week by the public sector and then the private sectors in 2004 as an erosion of the Singaporean's work ethic, since he feels we have not improved our fucking skills (or better phrased perhaps as "skills in fucking") in any meaningful way.

The Loo gurgled, "We should accept that as a people our procreation talent is not our forte - nothing to crow about.". Urging the government "to take steps to determine whether our productivity and competitiveness have been affected by the five-day week and to review the policy, if necessary."

Unleashing his own watery stools, he voiced concerns over what he called the "all life and very little work" attitude of the younger generation. Pointing to local newspaper Straits Times reports on how to maximise leave by taking advantage of public holidays that fall near weekends as an indication of an erosion of the work ethics.

With a very typical old generation mentality pervasively found in many of our fathers and local bosses, it would seem work productivity is measured by the number of hours spent in the workplace. Similar to how many loos have a pervasive shit smell.

Many people already spend their off-days at home, working on shit they brought home from the office. I wonder how horny anyone can get when their anuses is choke shoved with that much work. But of course, Loo probably thinks all Singaporeans probably need is a 5-minute poke and cum session (20 minutes or more really is just wasting time and energy with all that grunting and cardiological movements).

I might have added that it could be due to his own personal ejaculative experiences, but I could be wrong.

Perhaps the Loo knows what he is talking about. For all I know, he could be God's gift to women, and can probably fertilise any woman at will, at any given time, in between work. Who knows, perhaps women get incredibly horny and ready to bear babies when looking at him. I wouldn't dare say anything, I'm not a woman and I have never understood them.

Personally, if I were a woman, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't wanna fuck him. But being a man, who knows what women want? Could that be the reason? Perhaps he doesn't want the rest of us to get lucky when he can only resort to self gratification? Just an assumption, and if anyone thinks I'm saying it is so, it is purely misconception on their part. Well, at least that's a form of conception, even if it missed.

All I know is, most of us mere mortals probably need to spend an abundant load of time before our penises even feel the warm breath of a woman's love. Time, which an extra day off on Saturday may not prove sufficient.

We can even throw away Sundays as anything remotely useful, considering many, if not most, poor saps like us spend it cleaning our homes, buying groceries and largely moping around thinking about the dreadful looming Monday. But of course, Loo probably has a maid to do that all for him, while he does his patriotic procreating during commercial breaks on TV. Again, I am only assuming, and I could be wrong. Besides, with so much commercial time these days, our efficient Loo might probably be able to complete his duty and shower too.

So whats wrong with trying to maximise leave by taking advantage of public holidays that fall near weekends, that we might finally actually get some nookie? And may I remind ourselves (yeah, guys, I'm talking about us), most of us probably go back to work with blue balls anyway. Most men who turn up for work on Monday, may have a sullenly frustrated look. Guess why?

Women can have it anytime they want, but us men, well... we are mostly just waiting around for that golden moment. Like hookers in Geylang. And that hardly comes (pun fully intended).

He did try to excuse himself by saying, "I have nothing against our young Singaporeans having fun and partying. But I hope they will work as hard as they play."

All I can say is, when there is too much work, we may somehow find time to play, but we won't necessarily be able to get hard.

Update:
Apparently, the Loo is executive chairman of the Raffles Medical Group. And an ex-staff tells me how they are totally maxed to the core where work is concerned.

Apparently she was always so dried out from work all the time, there wasn't any chance after getting home, that she'd be able to get wet. :P

So, my dear Loo and your fellow rich cronies, you are among the leading causes to Singapore's low fertility rates.

Ballad To The Cavity Where My Heart Used To Be

Don't... don't close your heart to how you feel
Dream, and don't be afraid the dream's not real
Close your eyes, pretend it's just the two of us again
Make believe this moment's here to stay
Touch... touch me the way you used to do

I know tonight could be all I'll have with you
From now on, you'll be with someone else instead of me
So tonight, let's fill this memory

For the last time
Hold me now
Don't cry, don't say a word
Just hold me now
And I will know though we're apart, we'll always be together
Forever in love

What do you say when words are not enough?

Time... time will be kind once we're apart
And your tears... tears will have no place in your heart
I wish I... I could say how much I'll miss you when you're gone
How my love for you will go on and on and...

Hold me now
Don't cry, don't say a word
Just hold me now
And try to understand that I hope at last you've found
What you've been searchin' for
And though I won't be there anymore
I will always love you

Hold me now
Don't cry, don't say a word
Just hold me now
And I will know though we're apart, we'll always be together
Forever in love

What do you say when words are not enough?

What can I say
When my words are not enough?


Having rediscovered this song from long ago, I find it unbearably painful as it plays to my ears, and wrenches my soul. Yet, I seek that pain like a drug, if only to remind me I am alive. Dreaming of a last embrace, dreaming it would last.

I know not how, but I know I shall live in that moment, a moment that can only probably happen in a dream that I will pretend is real.

A Cynical Calm

For every wound, a balm.
For every sorrow, cheer.
For every storm, a calm.
For every thirst, beer!

Indeed, a lover that’s always here.
The wonders of beer.

Well, perhaps not so much beer, but I did enjoy couple’a bottles of wine. There is much to say about the perspectives a drink can give a mind like mine.

Realisations of a life my own that no one can really or would really bother with. I’ve always had a satisfying life when I am content. Ambition, covetousness, greed, even hope and expectations almost unquestionably lead your sorry ass down a road to despair and disappointment.

When opportunity knocks, open the door and let it in if you like the looks of it. I figure its best not to even expect anything interesting outside the door, apart from bloody salesmen selling toilet chutes and pairs of Jehovah Witnesses.

I wonder how long this calm can last. Perhaps it’s just the eye of some godly storm, and when the storm is over, there will be nothing left of me. Or what was recognisably me.

Meanwhile, I’m happy to note I do have something I can look forward to. Even after downgrading my mobile phone plan, albeit with a contract, I got a new mobile phone for a fraction of its cost; and it does come with all preferred bells and whistles. I’m just waiting anxiously it to arrive. Now that’s one of the very few things I can be sure expectations would not disappoint. I hope.

Nihil Ex Nihilo

Sleep was such saccharine comfort. The dark dormancy of a faded life. Dreams were a joy and sweet pretense. I could see you, even if it was just a lie.

Where have you hidden yourself, Mr. Sandman?
Why have you left me awake
When I needed you most?
Where is your sand to blind my despicable consciousness
And allow me sweet repose?

The minutes of welcoming unconsciousness,
Visits me with little comfort.
Where are my sweet dreams?
Why have they left me with naught
But visions of despondency?

I can’t sleep.
I hate my dreams.
Contaminated by emptiness
Stained by darkness.

God made everything out of nothing, and I can see nothingness in everything.

Everything I do, everything I say,
Leads not to where I hope.
Nothing I do, nothing I say,
Leads to naught but the same noose on a proverbial rope.

What do I really want to say today?
Nothing I guess, from where I lay,
I’ll just watch my sanity slip away.

A Lunar New Wreck

Its been nice and heartwarming to be in the presence of unconditional love. I know I can find it in God, even tho' I haven't been able to feel it through my absent mind, heart and soul. Its just empty. Feels empty, even tho' I know its there.

Family. Thank you God.
Friends. Thank you God.
My light. Thank you. Thank you God.

In the refuge of your arms I seek. I thank you for the moments you allow in my life when I can forget about it all. Rare but much cherished moments.

The moment ends, and I return to face a world of empty walls, meaningless television and webpages. I wait for my light. When I think I finally see it, I see it flicker. I see it. Then I don't know where it has gone. And I don't know why. My chest aches, and my mind ... I don't even know if I have much of that now.

And I'm cursing the motherfuckers burning motherfucking paper incense shit in the stairwell below my home (if I can call it a home). I curse the motherfucking smoke, from all the motherfucking incense and paper burning by the motherfucking bastards, making the air around me a stinking burning thick murky phlegm. I wonder if they are half brained motherfuckers with no sense of neighbourly consideration, conceived by motherfucking inbreeding.

I can feel the emptiness in me being filled with hate. And I hate that its happening so insidiously. I wish the smoke from the motherfucking house of bastards downstairs will thicken tonight as I close my drowning eyes. Perhaps I won't have to wake up to face a dark sunny day anymore.

Eclipse

Watching the skies,
the prospects of light
lay in cloudy lies.

Darkness prevails
in the waning light.
Dreary blue and grey
is all that’s in sight.

Black emerges,
as the sun is swallowed,
by a shadow that taints
what stands below.


In an incredible affirmation of how incredibly crappy my life is turning out to be, I can look forward to watching the sun disappear for a couple of hours, this very year. And just to make things clear, its even going to happen twice.

It would seem Singapore's skies will darken twice this year. First would be on the first day of the festive Chinese New Year. Whoopie. Finally something remotely interesting is going to happen on Chinese New Year. Excitement builds, kinda like watching your friend about to sit on a whoopie cushion.

I wonder what the pundits of astrology and fengshui is going to come up with for this phenomena. By the way, doesn't fengshui (wind and water) remind anyone of the rushing sounds of a toilet being flushed? And the masters of fengshui who flow in tandem with it, are very likely the turds. Ok, maybe I'm too harsh on them, lets call them dingleberries instead. Sticky crap that refuses to go away without several good wipes. At best, you might find them as useful as fungi being cultivated on your inner thighs.

This would also be a good time to convince people who piss you off, that viewing the eclipse with the naked eye is a good idea. For extra fun, you might even consider pushing the idea of a telescope.

And oh, the next one will occur in July 2009. Whoop de doo.

I can hardly contain my excitement. My life is complete. Somebody crack my skull with a hammer now. Anybody.

I'd Love To Go a-Wandering...

There is such an overwhelming urge within me to take whatever little essentials I need and the few dollars I have, and simply take the cheapest mode of transportation into the next country. The change and my final absence, would probably even be best for those I love.

I've always wanted to see the world on foot, or as much as my freakishly lazy feet will allow. I wonder, it would be nice to end my last days seeing something new every dawn. To move on from place to place alone without worry of being a worrisome stone or anything in anyone's life. I have long admired the lives of such lonesome wanderers and somehow, I feel myself being drawn to being just such an invisible and unknown shadow on this earth.

There is no true soul I can see, to whom I can truly bare my soul. Everyone sees but aspects of me. Aspects, to even those that matter to me, would have already made them wish I was someone else or just elsewhere *ha*. For only my Lord could probably bear my absurdities and despair, and perhaps I pray He will at least be the One to continue walking by my side.

Family and friends and people I love all have their roads to walk, and I'm beginning to accept these roads diverge. Once these temporal strings now holding me are gone, we will all have lives on separate roads. I wonder if I have that courage. I pray I do, and hope I will. For I wish only the best for all whose paths have came alongside mine thus far. And I pray I've only left lasting marks that would make you smile, and any other would be swept away by the sands of bastard time.

Perhaps, and it looks very soon, that my practical obligations should be settled and the road will open up for me to walk into that sunset.

Ratty Bulls

Yes, its beginning feel like last year farted a piece of turd for 2009.

While I have no utter belief in the zodiac, last year's rat year sure was ratty. And this year's bull is beginning to seem like it's going to hand me a nice big load of bullcrap as well. I can already feel the black clouds release a nice drizzle of piss.

The feeling of utter uselessness. Pointlessness. Of everything I do or say, or not say or not do. It basically leads only to throwing myself into another heap of dung.

I'm so tired, and filled with desires to meet a speeding bus head on. Though I frankly think that would only land me into yet another pile of shit.