what is the purpose of knowledge? why are people inspired and why do people seek answers? is knowledge finite, and if so will we ever grasp it all? is that possible? why can't we just be ignorant and be happy with that? are we already fully ignorant and happy about it?
it doesn't take a philosopher to ask these questions but if you haven't asked this to yourself, then maybe now would be a good time to think - why is it that we know anything at all? and with the more knowledge, realise that maybe we don't really know anything and we make things up as we go along, grasping to dilapidated constructs and building upon them to serve a primordial instinct - one that fools us into believing we actually know, and that is comforting enough.
i don't ask these things in hopes of answers, but that one day, when i am on my death bed, god will tell me the answers. or possibly in an afterlife. because, really, if i don't believe in such things as a higher being... i would have no comfort of and about knowledge, not in this life, or in a non-existant otherworld.
Wednesday, 15 February 2012
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
good mistakes and bad decisions
sometimes, i like to look back on the things i've said and done, and pick out the terrible mishaps that have taken shape. more often than not, they're result of my own doings, but once in a while i think i can pin it on karma or just the universe pms'ing for no particular reason. in any case, sometimes i see these mistakes far ahead of time, even before they've taken place. like a raccoon or some wild animal blinking into the headlights of an oncoming truck, knowing that becoming roadkill is just a long honk away. these are the times when you get to prepare well and brace yourselves for the impact of said decision (or similar whim). kind of like how palliative care for cancer patients doesn't cure the disease (or even alleviate the pain, sometimes), but you run through the motions anyway, in hopes of divine intervention.
sometimes you never see it coming, and even in retrospect, you think to yourself (at least i do), 'wow, did that actually happen? did something go wrong somewhere? because i still have an image in my mind's eye that everything's just fine'. it's these times, which, unfortunately aren't all that rare, that i realise that you can't really expect it to have been any different. how could you expect life not to throw you the odd curveball (against your favour, of course), if you expect things such as serendipity and (un)holy guidance? no, it is very unfortunate that with the sugar, must come the salt; with the optimus primes, the megatrons; with the mercuries, the biebers; with the gandalfs, the edwards. and so, though i may not learn to accept these decisions, i will have to live and let slide all the silly mistakes.
maybe, one day, when all is set, i will be able to look back and think that all of it was just a dream, and nightmares cannot hurt you anyway.
sometimes you never see it coming, and even in retrospect, you think to yourself (at least i do), 'wow, did that actually happen? did something go wrong somewhere? because i still have an image in my mind's eye that everything's just fine'. it's these times, which, unfortunately aren't all that rare, that i realise that you can't really expect it to have been any different. how could you expect life not to throw you the odd curveball (against your favour, of course), if you expect things such as serendipity and (un)holy guidance? no, it is very unfortunate that with the sugar, must come the salt; with the optimus primes, the megatrons; with the mercuries, the biebers; with the gandalfs, the edwards. and so, though i may not learn to accept these decisions, i will have to live and let slide all the silly mistakes.
maybe, one day, when all is set, i will be able to look back and think that all of it was just a dream, and nightmares cannot hurt you anyway.
Saturday, 4 February 2012
flight of the last pegasus
this piece took me a lot longer than it usually takes me to write. It had been swirling in the primordial soup of contemplation for weeks (months, now) and every time I’d tried to jot something down, I would end up trashing it and starting from scratch. So, for the umpteenth try, here I go, and I hope it finally does the effort justice:
gallop,
gallop,
stay your wings,
feathers folded, tucked and stored;
faster, faster, gather speed,
into this run your heart is poured.
the forest clears into a plains,
now seen, their heckles scream disdains;
shots fired, shots fired! whizzing by,
stead your eyes upon the sky.
come images of dying herds;
not stallion, colt, or mare was spared,
those lives, those hearts, those souls were bared.
a reverie now takes its hold,
make timid equine souls be bold;
that angels’ wings may come unfold,
and speak of destinies untold;
which harsh winds grasp but cannot hold,
as released free to sunset gold,
so night may come at hours untold,
and bring within a deathly cold.
but steady,
steady,
steady beat,
this breeze will carry one last feat;
cross a ravine, down rolling hills,
the mob gives chase still for its thrills.
for all the green and yellow grass,
is tasteless now, and seems so crass;
in moments all that’s left is blue,
beyond and yonder, clear and true.
across the ocean’s mirrored waves,
cast shadows slight, like sneaking knaves;
past when dusk ends, and twilight sleeps,
when moon and stars do play for keeps.
not unlike ballads ill-rehearsed,
where takes you, erst, my pegasus?
bid spoken fallacies unknown,
please make this life, this love, your own.
* * * * *
in actuality, a twist!, a sordid, somber, fleeting lie, that escape was never to be, for all earthly things come to die;
oh dear, my pegasus, how wrong, this world has treated you – don’t cry – but rest now all your heavy heart, and bid this cold, cruel being goodbye.
gallop,
gallop,
stay your wings,
feathers folded, tucked and stored;
faster, faster, gather speed,
into this run your heart is poured.
racket, rumpus, clamorous din,
glory-hunters preach your sin;
silence is but all you hear,
a heartbeat conceals overt fear.
the forest clears into a plains,
now seen, their heckles scream disdains;
shots fired, shots fired! whizzing by,
stead your eyes upon the sky.
give chase still, these wretched beasts,thus makes you pray unuttered words,
to make your flesh a morbid feast;
and flay the skin upon your bones,
then take that too, for ivory thrones.
come images of dying herds;
not stallion, colt, or mare was spared,
those lives, those hearts, those souls were bared.
with this thought strength rises anew,
empowers blood, strengthens sinew;
so faster,
faster,
faster still,
until your grit is at last will,
and body’s form behest mind’s screams,
though break apart it at its seams.
a reverie now takes its hold,
make timid equine souls be bold;
that angels’ wings may come unfold,
and speak of destinies untold;
which harsh winds grasp but cannot hold,
as released free to sunset gold,
so night may come at hours untold,
and bring within a deathly cold.
before a blink has taken place,
and solace spelled upon your face;
comes gravity to pull you down,
reality back in its place.
but steady,
steady,
steady beat,
this breeze will carry one last feat;
cross a ravine, down rolling hills,
the mob gives chase still for its thrills.
but how could they keep up this chase?
of last affronts and lost efface?
as shadows cast farther from you,
the ground takes on a lifeless hue.
for all the green and yellow grass,
is tasteless now, and seems so crass;
in moments all that’s left is blue,
beyond and yonder, clear and true.
so weightless this corporeal form,
that keeps through twilight ‘ternal warm,
and long is lost the lust to feed,
desire sustains the lonely steed.
across the ocean’s mirrored waves,
cast shadows slight, like sneaking knaves;
past when dusk ends, and twilight sleeps,
when moon and stars do play for keeps.
infernal hours thence pass by,
despondence makes a shrill-pitched neigh;
of heart, of soul, of mind is won,
symbolised by an orange dawn.
not unlike ballads ill-rehearsed,
where takes you, erst, my pegasus?
bid spoken fallacies unknown,
please make this life, this love, your own.
* * * * *
but tricksy, all these affairs are,
your mind has carried you too far,
moreso than body ever could, a soiled, deformed and sullied mar;
a blazing light of white and red,
has filled your eyes, and then your head,
before your flight had taken place, that meadow was to be your bed.
in actuality, a twist!, a sordid, somber, fleeting lie, that escape was never to be, for all earthly things come to die;
oh dear, my pegasus, how wrong, this world has treated you – don’t cry – but rest now all your heavy heart, and bid this cold, cruel being goodbye.
Sunday, 29 January 2012
i'm meltinggggg
i asked them, all the pallid pales,
the polar bears and great blue whales;
of how they managed to beat waves,
of heat, of sun, of kings and knaves.
they said, you have pragmatic be,
with air-conds on till shaketh knee;
or hop a public transport when,
it costs all but a dollar ten.
alternatively, said the whale, you could,
swim in the sea just like any whale should;
but, proper, the rhinoceros said,
think with your nose, not with your head!
and sit (or sleep) in library,
it's cold and nice and so very;
sophisticated, you won't grow old,
just maybe tired and slightly cold.
i think the moral of all this, is take the day off, take a treat;
and blast that a/c to the max in an attempt to beat the heat!
i don't normally give a commentary or summary on my own poems (there being a conflict of interest that i would rather people interpret it themselves; not that anyone does), but i feel it pressing to at least mention that this one is because this summer is so frscking hot. 45C hot. and dry. the animal symbolisms are of friends. and now, i sleep -_-
the polar bears and great blue whales;
of how they managed to beat waves,
of heat, of sun, of kings and knaves.
they said, you have pragmatic be,
with air-conds on till shaketh knee;
or hop a public transport when,
it costs all but a dollar ten.
alternatively, said the whale, you could,
swim in the sea just like any whale should;
but, proper, the rhinoceros said,
think with your nose, not with your head!
and sit (or sleep) in library,
it's cold and nice and so very;
sophisticated, you won't grow old,
just maybe tired and slightly cold.
i think the moral of all this, is take the day off, take a treat;
and blast that a/c to the max in an attempt to beat the heat!
i don't normally give a commentary or summary on my own poems (there being a conflict of interest that i would rather people interpret it themselves; not that anyone does), but i feel it pressing to at least mention that this one is because this summer is so frscking hot. 45C hot. and dry. the animal symbolisms are of friends. and now, i sleep -_-
Monday, 23 January 2012
spinjury
what is a sports injury.
you can't expect to play a contact sport and never have an injury. it's like wanting to sunbathe but not think of skin cancer as a potential consequence. it's like eating meat all day every day and not expecting to get colon cancer somewhere down the line. it's like telling your best friend she's amazing every morning and not expecting her to fall for you. it's like pirating intellectual property over the internet and not being worried of governments clamping down on online privacy. excessively.
and so, it happened last week, though not at an inopportune time (i believe in double negatives). the field was not very flat, and my skills (or lack thereof) are not very admirable, so when my friend clipped me ever-so-slightly as i was running with the football, i fell awkwardly and sprained my ankle. aside from the initial groaning in agony and not being able to walk for a good half hour, i cannot say this is anything anyone hasn't experienced. it was not life-shatteringly painful and i was up and about in an hour or so. the pain and swelling was worse come nightfall, and even moreso the next morning, but this was all to be expected. full recovery in a week? i would imagine so.
i would like to point out my friend's reaction at having injured me, though. amidst the jeering and calls for 'fake injury' (damn you, van persie), my friend who clipped me was thoroughly apologetic and extremely (if not excessively) worried about it. i think, i wouldn't mind everyone having the odd spinjury that good sportsmanship and fairplay come to the foreground. that being said, maybe i just haven't seen how bad things can get, and all the persons maimed and scarred for life would beg to differ. so, speaking for myself here, i'd like to (over-the-internet-anonimously) thank my friend for being such a good chap about it all. even though you did out of desperation knowing full well that i owned you like a boss. and that i will surely find the perfect opportunity. when you are dribbling like a legend. goalbound and already victorious. to slide you with a tackle from the worst angle.
and.
break.
your.
bones.
you can't expect to play a contact sport and never have an injury. it's like wanting to sunbathe but not think of skin cancer as a potential consequence. it's like eating meat all day every day and not expecting to get colon cancer somewhere down the line. it's like telling your best friend she's amazing every morning and not expecting her to fall for you. it's like pirating intellectual property over the internet and not being worried of governments clamping down on online privacy. excessively.
and so, it happened last week, though not at an inopportune time (i believe in double negatives). the field was not very flat, and my skills (or lack thereof) are not very admirable, so when my friend clipped me ever-so-slightly as i was running with the football, i fell awkwardly and sprained my ankle. aside from the initial groaning in agony and not being able to walk for a good half hour, i cannot say this is anything anyone hasn't experienced. it was not life-shatteringly painful and i was up and about in an hour or so. the pain and swelling was worse come nightfall, and even moreso the next morning, but this was all to be expected. full recovery in a week? i would imagine so.
i would like to point out my friend's reaction at having injured me, though. amidst the jeering and calls for 'fake injury' (damn you, van persie), my friend who clipped me was thoroughly apologetic and extremely (if not excessively) worried about it. i think, i wouldn't mind everyone having the odd spinjury that good sportsmanship and fairplay come to the foreground. that being said, maybe i just haven't seen how bad things can get, and all the persons maimed and scarred for life would beg to differ. so, speaking for myself here, i'd like to (over-the-internet-anonimously) thank my friend for being such a good chap about it all. even though you did out of desperation knowing full well that i owned you like a boss. and that i will surely find the perfect opportunity. when you are dribbling like a legend. goalbound and already victorious. to slide you with a tackle from the worst angle.
and.
break.
your.
bones.
Thursday, 5 January 2012
play me chopin.
http://www.smbc-comics.com/index.php?db=comics&id=2454#comic
this is how i feel about persons of the opposite sex on most days.
walking death
today i woke up with the most beautiful images of my life flashing through my head. it was forced, raw, primal and awkward; but it made me happy for that fleeting moment before my brain comprehended that all was but a dream. or what similarity dreams have with thoughts, in that they were purposeful, not random.
then i sat in bed, and thought of this (and this is right now, at this moment). i realise something so beautiful (this collection of memories, much like a slideshow) was actually cold and uncouth and ultimately ugly, because they were mostly not of my life - but my recent life, spent dwelling and contemplating of a future so uncertain, that i had forgotten the beauty of prior years. truly, if all is lost, then i have these years to blame.
much like every morning, i check my mail and between the mundane and bothersome ones, there is one of (but not from) the dream of my life. this must be a (if not the) root of evil, which makes me realise that i am not happy because of all these beautiful images, but i am just apathetic - the images were only because i have finally witnessed the final moments of my lived life. i am dead.
i wish i literally was. every day.
then i sat in bed, and thought of this (and this is right now, at this moment). i realise something so beautiful (this collection of memories, much like a slideshow) was actually cold and uncouth and ultimately ugly, because they were mostly not of my life - but my recent life, spent dwelling and contemplating of a future so uncertain, that i had forgotten the beauty of prior years. truly, if all is lost, then i have these years to blame.
much like every morning, i check my mail and between the mundane and bothersome ones, there is one of (but not from) the dream of my life. this must be a (if not the) root of evil, which makes me realise that i am not happy because of all these beautiful images, but i am just apathetic - the images were only because i have finally witnessed the final moments of my lived life. i am dead.
i wish i literally was. every day.
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