(Tell me about it).
"Cracks in the Wood"
28.10.11
"How the man sat in his dimly lit room! Silenced for the past two years -- not significant, but enough to allow his home to fall into disrepair.
His face was milky white with a grey scraggly beard just falling below his collarbone. His eyes were a deep brown, much like the cold habitat he left on the counter. His face sagged around the eyes and his mouth in a permanent frown.
The eyes forever fixated on the wooden border around the corkboard. Although painted white, it flickered orange by the candlelight.
Above hunger and rest, he was. His vigil on the bed constant as he vegetated into the brown quilt.
The little cracks and holes flickered shadows into a show for his weary eyes. He'd swear to only himself that a world remained beneath the simple defects. His mouth parted when they went to work and he cried when they left.
"Silence," he said, "the only true companion."
His teeth, stained from constant caffeine, formed a smile as they recognized him! To take him away from the shame of a town hermit and the perils of this world!
They put him on his back as he inhaled the old earthly air. Eyes clasped shut, his heart shuttered at the thought of a new adventure, even in his old age.
The flame choked and quivered out, the smoke rising into the cherished land."
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
hands like secrets.
"Vague"
27.10.11
"I believed that I was plagued.
The world would crumble on me
solely. But yours was so innocent.
And how I've come to hate
that word amongst others.
My own irrationality and hate.
Built you a wall
and might as well have laid mines.
Entirely my own, fault.
How can I express?
The words; just ink.
Emotion; mental stability.
I wanted to save yours,
but
I stole, too."
27.10.11
"I believed that I was plagued.
The world would crumble on me
solely. But yours was so innocent.
And how I've come to hate
that word amongst others.
My own irrationality and hate.
Built you a wall
and might as well have laid mines.
Entirely my own, fault.
How can I express?
The words; just ink.
Emotion; mental stability.
I wanted to save yours,
but
I stole, too."
dismantle. repair.
"Viewpoint (and it wasn't me!)"
25.10.11
"The eyes declare war
but the flesh says otherwise.
The desire for touch
but the sight of blood (the pride!).
The wound is romantic
but the bruise is lethal.
The gentleness is animosity
but decapitation is endearing.
The harrowing is a promise of forever
but the caress is a nightmare.
The eyes are flesh,
the flesh eyes.
This is war."
25.10.11
"The eyes declare war
but the flesh says otherwise.
The desire for touch
but the sight of blood (the pride!).
The wound is romantic
but the bruise is lethal.
The gentleness is animosity
but decapitation is endearing.
The harrowing is a promise of forever
but the caress is a nightmare.
The eyes are flesh,
the flesh eyes.
This is war."
bring me up, bring me down.
"Organal Reprise"
18.10.11-25.10.11
"It laid there, exposed to the world, more specifically, the significant it. There's a proverb for being connected regardless of where one is, but those ties were cut.
The brain had unraveled like tethered yarn and became a separate entity. How it heaved and tried to constrict itself around the exposed other organ.
It thought it had found its purpose, but it was forcibly kicked back six-hundred miles east: the Kingdom of Normalcy.
The tethered lines dissolved back into the ocean, where everything had started. This time, evolutionly stronger and smarter than a simple pump.
The pump forced itself onto its host and removed all sanity until it became hungry for more.
Brain was tortured, dusted off.
So the cycle repeats."
18.10.11-25.10.11
"It laid there, exposed to the world, more specifically, the significant it. There's a proverb for being connected regardless of where one is, but those ties were cut.
The brain had unraveled like tethered yarn and became a separate entity. How it heaved and tried to constrict itself around the exposed other organ.
It thought it had found its purpose, but it was forcibly kicked back six-hundred miles east: the Kingdom of Normalcy.
The tethered lines dissolved back into the ocean, where everything had started. This time, evolutionly stronger and smarter than a simple pump.
The pump forced itself onto its host and removed all sanity until it became hungry for more.
Brain was tortured, dusted off.
So the cycle repeats."
can't you see you belong next to me?
"Give/TAKE"
3.10.11
"What have I lost?
The irony of death
by something so pure.
Innocence of the word.
Corrupted -- slaughtered.
An open canvas.
All I have is grey.
It bleeds white into an open hand.
Indifference?
I don't want to believe...
My emotion gone to some forsaken place.
A world drained of colour.
Haven't you taken enough?
Is there more to feel
than just anger?"
3.10.11
"What have I lost?
The irony of death
by something so pure.
Innocence of the word.
Corrupted -- slaughtered.
An open canvas.
All I have is grey.
It bleeds white into an open hand.
Indifference?
I don't want to believe...
My emotion gone to some forsaken place.
A world drained of colour.
Haven't you taken enough?
Is there more to feel
than just anger?"
saxooooobeaaaaaaat.
"These Four Walls (An Ode to:)"
3.10.11
"I can feel the walls shaking
about to wall
on this dystopia.
It's too loud.
Overwhelm the senses,
to a point of failure.
These four walls,
they ask too much.
Give too little.
(The burden I carry
my arms go with my mind.
Nowhere).
These four walls shattered
like glass.
Tore us apart.
And we'll drift like the ocean current.
Gradually colder,
and fade into the distance.
These four walls
held the illusion
and I'm too tired to bear the name."
3.10.11
"I can feel the walls shaking
about to wall
on this dystopia.
It's too loud.
Overwhelm the senses,
to a point of failure.
These four walls,
they ask too much.
Give too little.
(The burden I carry
my arms go with my mind.
Nowhere).
These four walls shattered
like glass.
Tore us apart.
And we'll drift like the ocean current.
Gradually colder,
and fade into the distance.
These four walls
held the illusion
and I'm too tired to bear the name."
lalalala.
"Fake"
30.9.11
"Naively, my heart was yours.
The whisper of that fated word.
I became a cynic.
"I would like to feel the pain of a broken heart.".
But how can once feel
if it does not belong to them?"
30.9.11
"Naively, my heart was yours.
The whisper of that fated word.
I became a cynic.
"I would like to feel the pain of a broken heart.".
But how can once feel
if it does not belong to them?"
arcade precinct.
"Flood"
28.9.11
"Blinded by the salt water,
release the burden.
Pour from the soul,
the body is a canvas.
The purest of all emotions.
Shame it was
the breakdown.
True irony in the raw.
Overtaken by the strength
to fight.
Winded by the struggle,
let it flood.
[give in, not up]."
28.9.11
"Blinded by the salt water,
release the burden.
Pour from the soul,
the body is a canvas.
The purest of all emotions.
Shame it was
the breakdown.
True irony in the raw.
Overtaken by the strength
to fight.
Winded by the struggle,
let it flood.
[give in, not up]."
please please please
Untitled Essay.
28.9.11
"I believe that people are the most beautiful when they cry. Ironic, isn't it? Completely red in the face with lungs gasping for oxygen. Eyes burning and lack of body control.
A face drowning underneath saline; much like being just belong the water in a pool.
The elegance is truly something else. A human in a broken down state, a human that could be considered at his weakest, but it happens to not be the case.
The raw emotion of the mental state is released to the public and sings the dying words of the heart. It would being a whole new enlightened meaning to, 'crying your heart out'.
Crying, though considered childish, is the strongest way a human can react. To let one's guard down and accept the cry for help shows acceptance and realization.
Though life's burdens became much, the human knows his breaking point. It is not conventional beauty, but inner strength."
28.9.11
"I believe that people are the most beautiful when they cry. Ironic, isn't it? Completely red in the face with lungs gasping for oxygen. Eyes burning and lack of body control.
A face drowning underneath saline; much like being just belong the water in a pool.
The elegance is truly something else. A human in a broken down state, a human that could be considered at his weakest, but it happens to not be the case.
The raw emotion of the mental state is released to the public and sings the dying words of the heart. It would being a whole new enlightened meaning to, 'crying your heart out'.
Crying, though considered childish, is the strongest way a human can react. To let one's guard down and accept the cry for help shows acceptance and realization.
Though life's burdens became much, the human knows his breaking point. It is not conventional beauty, but inner strength."
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
love is an open book.
"Twisted Fact"
26.9.11
"I can't tell.
My mind is plagued with sickness.
Bleeding oceans,
entertaining the body.
But what is this?
Past simple infatuatioon,
close to enamour.
Salt on the wound is love.
To be skinned alive,
submerged.
A temporary distraction
as it ravages everything.
In constant war,
the mind is only the ignorant jester.
At gunpoint,
the end is falsehood.
If so desired,
why is it so twisted?
Disfigured, beastly?
Yet the most gorgeous to be gazed upon.
The bloodletting must be taking a toll."
26.9.11
"I can't tell.
My mind is plagued with sickness.
Bleeding oceans,
entertaining the body.
But what is this?
Past simple infatuatioon,
close to enamour.
Salt on the wound is love.
To be skinned alive,
submerged.
A temporary distraction
as it ravages everything.
In constant war,
the mind is only the ignorant jester.
At gunpoint,
the end is falsehood.
If so desired,
why is it so twisted?
Disfigured, beastly?
Yet the most gorgeous to be gazed upon.
The bloodletting must be taking a toll."
I can change.
"Cut"
24.9.11
"I found it.
Hidden amongst the rubble,
the flames,
the broken glass.
Had it been following me?
One can only wish.
Simply, happiness.
A foot in another realm.
It was not corporated yellow and black smiles.
Nor laughter,
or glitter.
Not even a favourite.
It was colourless light.
The quiet backdrop.
Pen on paper.
The serenity of the mind.
How it beats back,
glorious in itself.
Beat the sin of the dark,
to the burrows, they go.
Hand in hand
it walks.
For they both strike,
when the other's back is turned."
24.9.11
"I found it.
Hidden amongst the rubble,
the flames,
the broken glass.
Had it been following me?
One can only wish.
Simply, happiness.
A foot in another realm.
It was not corporated yellow and black smiles.
Nor laughter,
or glitter.
Not even a favourite.
It was colourless light.
The quiet backdrop.
Pen on paper.
The serenity of the mind.
How it beats back,
glorious in itself.
Beat the sin of the dark,
to the burrows, they go.
Hand in hand
it walks.
For they both strike,
when the other's back is turned."
stuck in her daydream.
23.9.11
Untitled essay.
"I promised I'd write. I can barely find the words to convey what I truly mean in print and vocalization. The placement of adjectives brutally emphasized my nouns to morbidity when they used to express what my heart sang out.
My heart would call and I would gladly follow. An orchestration in the dark, blatantly put.
But how does one continue to write when a muse turns sour? Does one turn to fiction? Does one bathe the audience in falsehood? It seems to be the case. Let me, as a writer, cover up the craters, the war, you (the muse) created underneath hills and hills of the English tongue.
When the flames erupt, the writer is to find the words in the ash and ease the suffering. Ink on page is his blood. Without his writing, he is nothing but a common sufferer -- lethargic and ignorant.
The common sufferer reads, but does not see. He finds no meaning and no beauty in the hidden. Simple minded, he spreads his ignorance like the Black Death. Minds -- they listen and rot.
They will never know what it means to be literary awakened.
As a writer, he seeks to cure and alleviate.
A writer found the words in his own blood and finds his purpose without the muse.
That is his message."
Untitled essay.
"I promised I'd write. I can barely find the words to convey what I truly mean in print and vocalization. The placement of adjectives brutally emphasized my nouns to morbidity when they used to express what my heart sang out.
My heart would call and I would gladly follow. An orchestration in the dark, blatantly put.
But how does one continue to write when a muse turns sour? Does one turn to fiction? Does one bathe the audience in falsehood? It seems to be the case. Let me, as a writer, cover up the craters, the war, you (the muse) created underneath hills and hills of the English tongue.
When the flames erupt, the writer is to find the words in the ash and ease the suffering. Ink on page is his blood. Without his writing, he is nothing but a common sufferer -- lethargic and ignorant.
The common sufferer reads, but does not see. He finds no meaning and no beauty in the hidden. Simple minded, he spreads his ignorance like the Black Death. Minds -- they listen and rot.
They will never know what it means to be literary awakened.
As a writer, he seeks to cure and alleviate.
A writer found the words in his own blood and finds his purpose without the muse.
That is his message."
Friday, September 23, 2011
fiction.
We had a prompt to do at our creative writing circle.
22.9.11
"I write because it allows me to free my mind through words, not spoken phrase. I am not putting myself out in the open, but I am at the same time. My daily toil and mental suffering is no longer a burden, it is an art form. My art is my blood, therefore my lifeline."
22.9.11
"I write because it allows me to free my mind through words, not spoken phrase. I am not putting myself out in the open, but I am at the same time. My daily toil and mental suffering is no longer a burden, it is an art form. My art is my blood, therefore my lifeline."
Monday, September 12, 2011
this won't stop 'til i say so.
"Too Young - Blinded"
12.9.11
By Caroline Chu.
"Do I know you?
Ignorant eyes pass over.
Too young.
Lack of care.
The journey is ominous.
A land of unknowns.
To cross it, indeed.
It calls for you.
To be perceived as more.
How incredible!
Though people in the opener,
person at the close.
Fairness is not an option.
To cope, yes.
A feeling,
most natural."
12.9.11
By Caroline Chu.
"Do I know you?
Ignorant eyes pass over.
Too young.
Lack of care.
The journey is ominous.
A land of unknowns.
To cross it, indeed.
It calls for you.
To be perceived as more.
How incredible!
Though people in the opener,
person at the close.
Fairness is not an option.
To cope, yes.
A feeling,
most natural."
skype.
"A Million Miles a Minute"
12.9.11
by Caroline Chu.
"I'm finding it more than
obligation to write
about you. It's seemingly
the only thing I can do.
You're there.
I'm here.
Though it can be applied to more than one,
time trickles by.
All the tangibles you left me; the painful
ghosts of the intangible.
They fleet and dance
under canopy and stars, my heart does break.
At ease and deception,
I cannot wish for more
than this.
Resides in my heart eternal.
For you, I am stronger.
When my heart stops,
it will never, for you,
at a million miles a minute."
12.9.11
by Caroline Chu.
"I'm finding it more than
obligation to write
about you. It's seemingly
the only thing I can do.
You're there.
I'm here.
Though it can be applied to more than one,
time trickles by.
All the tangibles you left me; the painful
ghosts of the intangible.
They fleet and dance
under canopy and stars, my heart does break.
At ease and deception,
I cannot wish for more
than this.
Resides in my heart eternal.
For you, I am stronger.
When my heart stops,
it will never, for you,
at a million miles a minute."
I'm only getting started.
"New" 12.9.11
By me.
"Ever neglectful to time, you waited.
Offering temporary relief.
A sense of joy
that only the autumnal winds
could bring.
As the dust settled,
the fires calmed.
The wartorn place
is quiet as words travel.
Peace in formulated time.
The city
it finally does sleep.
Alas, minds cannot.
They drift beyond the water.
Sanctuary in the sea.
The sun will rise;
there standing on the horizon.
Let birds carry message.
Fetters unbound,
bare feet to the ground.
We,
as new.
The same,
as one.
We are."
By me.
"Ever neglectful to time, you waited.
Offering temporary relief.
A sense of joy
that only the autumnal winds
could bring.
As the dust settled,
the fires calmed.
The wartorn place
is quiet as words travel.
Peace in formulated time.
The city
it finally does sleep.
Alas, minds cannot.
They drift beyond the water.
Sanctuary in the sea.
The sun will rise;
there standing on the horizon.
Let birds carry message.
Fetters unbound,
bare feet to the ground.
We,
as new.
The same,
as one.
We are."
Saturday, September 3, 2011
how long am I supposed to wait?
"Reality Ate My World and Me"
September 4th, 2011.
"Hand on hand.
Touch your face.
What could one say?
Infinite pools of cerulean.
Matching Atlantic.
Size, colour, distance.
What if one said
your face was carved by the angels themselves?
One meaning everything.
Peachy and a way with words.
Pulling one towards you.
Desperate, clawing, more.
What if one said
your limbs are like branches.
Shadow over one; ultimate protection.
Long, rough.
Tight, more nerves.
Shot off; one's head begins to spin.
But one feels like none.
Redundancy begins to set.
One's heart beats for another only.
Because one saw the dark shroud fall in before.
And once again,
one's world became familiarly shadowed."
September 4th, 2011.
"Hand on hand.
Touch your face.
What could one say?
Infinite pools of cerulean.
Matching Atlantic.
Size, colour, distance.
What if one said
your face was carved by the angels themselves?
One meaning everything.
Peachy and a way with words.
Pulling one towards you.
Desperate, clawing, more.
What if one said
your limbs are like branches.
Shadow over one; ultimate protection.
Long, rough.
Tight, more nerves.
Shot off; one's head begins to spin.
But one feels like none.
Redundancy begins to set.
One's heart beats for another only.
Because one saw the dark shroud fall in before.
And once again,
one's world became familiarly shadowed."
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
get away.
"Untitled 14"
28.8.11
Written during the power outage as the sun set. I was almost about to run out of light.
"If this is jealousy,
then I want no part.
With a cynic smile,
I predict the worst.
It is more than distance,
for it is substance.
Greed and glutton;
arrogance and aggrandized ego.
I cannot say you were
my creation.
Bore from a kiss,
no guidance is all I have.
All of your kind end as one.
Monster."
28.8.11
Written during the power outage as the sun set. I was almost about to run out of light.
"If this is jealousy,
then I want no part.
With a cynic smile,
I predict the worst.
It is more than distance,
for it is substance.
Greed and glutton;
arrogance and aggrandized ego.
I cannot say you were
my creation.
Bore from a kiss,
no guidance is all I have.
All of your kind end as one.
Monster."
But I guess it's really over now.
"Under Wraps"
15.8.11
"I will never forget the way your chest smelled.
The crickets,
the churning of the water.
Your eyes were like oceans.
I couldn't look long,
for I did not want to drown.
And I shake at your thought.
To keep everything about you
hidden.
Murder.
I will run.
'cause nobody will know."
15.8.11
"I will never forget the way your chest smelled.
The crickets,
the churning of the water.
Your eyes were like oceans.
I couldn't look long,
for I did not want to drown.
And I shake at your thought.
To keep everything about you
hidden.
Murder.
I will run.
'cause nobody will know."
Thursday, August 18, 2011
taeyang.
"You say that you love the rain,
but you open your umbrella when it rains.
You say that you love the sun,
but you find a shadow spot when the sun shines.
You say that you love the wind,
but you close your windows when the wind blows.
This is why I'm afraid,
you say you love me, too."
"I Am Afraid" by Anonymous.
(Translated from Turkish).
but you open your umbrella when it rains.
You say that you love the sun,
but you find a shadow spot when the sun shines.
You say that you love the wind,
but you close your windows when the wind blows.
This is why I'm afraid,
you say you love me, too."
"I Am Afraid" by Anonymous.
(Translated from Turkish).
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