Poetry rush
Divine high,
Gates shut.
Tempest's sail,
Clouds high.
Rhyme in ditch,
Flow in mud.
Built upon mountains,
seen and not touched.
Hidden behind clear veils,
Speaking behind walls.
Moving in shadows,
never found.
A dark and stormy night
Whispers of wind and toil;
soil deep and drenched,
so my soul tears,
and thus I lend to sleep.
Sleep - within winds so steep,
so sharp they bleed,
so dark i weep.
Never imagined, a sleep so eternal,
yet a sleep so wretched.
Witch, wind, weary wretch;
I fail and fall within my dream;
grasping winds in storms so dark,
all is bare,
and all is lost.
I don't mean what I say
Ah, my dear readers. It is good to be back, spilling sardines on what time has encapsuled, and speculating on what time will! Indeed this shear ecstasy rejuvenates the deepest springs within my highest wells. Forgive me, while i wallow in the overflowing radiance of my brilliant glory. Sometimes, it is good to rant, and sometimes it is good dinner that makes you healthy.
Ah yes! This old feeling, the gentle caress of a past eternity, so euphoric! so incredulous! so utterly jaw exploding! Ah! and ah again indeed. And again, ah. When words fail, and shouts cease to reverberate in vacuumed clusters - type and again I say, swim.
Alas, while my senile tendencies have subsided, my formal address shall become thus, more inclined in all appropriations. Hence, my address to you very precious readers:
Ages, grains of sands, they have withered. Eras have risen, monuments fallen - times ever a changing. I have seen countless souls, a myriad of dreams... endless strings of hope, mindless insanity, ingenious mediocrity, insane laughter, war, terror, pride, 54 species of fishes! The list goes on.
All in all, what I am trying to say is this. Time is only lost. It waits for no one. Age is time's best friend; and it has caught on. While memories and dreams - both good and bad - remain in sandy waters; drying on forgotten shores, i make a last attempt at rebuilding dilapidation. Beware I say, of random logic. It is math that steals the glory of science.
All in a bigger all, what I am trying to say is, time has left me stranded, but enriched. And while I would love to share with you my past innocence, she is but a whore; a beautiful bauble. If you haven't already realised - yes, this may very well be the last issue, the last idea, the last opportunity. And I will seize it with violence and unshakable adamant fists. And then with all casualness I will let it slip.
It's been awhile
To my dearest, old love.
It certainly has been awhile. I really miss the sound of you thinking; the sweet dance of words, so elegant and serene. Ah, at last my insatiable passions... you soothed, when you invited me back; to be lost again... O but what joy. My love, my love, you may have ceased and changed, but once a bud; now a flower. Ah! what passion in passion! RRAAAGE in tranquility. MADNESS in reality. Yes, that's pretty much the deal here. The truth is, I'm just really smart and crazy.
Dr Chua
