Just A Moment with A Star

Look up for a moment, 
Just for a glimpse of the night sky,
There are many stars up there,
Flashing, blinking, winking at you;

Indeed it is a starry starry night;

There are clusters and there are groups of them,
They shine bright – you name them after Greek gods and goddesses, 
Each holding a name deserving of the light they shine,
Showing the world what it means to illuminate and twinkle; 

There is a lone star at the corner of the night sky, 
If you look closely enough you can see it radiating faintly,
Maybe it just formed or perhaps it is in its twilight stages, 
It cannot shine as brightly as the others and it is almost not there; 

Take a moment – remember, 
There’s a lone star somewhere,
In need of some attention and some affection,
Catch it right and you’ll re-ignite the brightest star in all the universe;

Just a moment with a star. 

Mr. P (and Tom)

We asked him what talent is and what he made of it, 
He said it is ‘finding someone to love who loves you’, 
That there’s no better thing in life than love and companionship, 
And through the glory all that matters is someone there to share it with; 

He told us there’s value in being skeptical about life,
Perhaps we never really saw it in the way he did, 
Having fifty year of life more (or less) than what we do,
Maybe we didn’t want to see the realistic part of life behind the optimism;

I can now see why Waterland meant so much more to him,
The entrapment of the past is indeed haunting and melancholic,
Imagine having a life situation in some ways similar to what is written,
That perhaps the story of his life is not so different from what is unwritten;

The painful chains of the past prevents the pen from writing a future,
And its clutches does indeed stop the ink from flowing in the present. 

Another Vibration

I feel the movement many times and many ways,
Each time my spirit lifts and I look up to see if pinky stirs, 
But time and again pinky stays asleep at the corner of my eyes, 
And after each time my eyes look down again to face the dull numbers and words; 

All day long with each shake of the table I look towards pinky, 
But she stays in her slumber no matter how many times I look,
And as pinky stays dark my disappoint becomes a given with each glance,
Expecting something each time knowing that there would for me be none; 

To my left and to my right screens light up alongside the faces of people,
Through it all I continue staring at lonely figures and dejected alphabets,
Hoping for pinky to light up soon so that my face will brighten too, 
Hour upon hour she stays not with me but elsewhere without anything for me; 

Maybe there weren’t that many instances,
Perhaps in my anticipation and yearning I imagined a couple of them,
Thinking that maybe with the next one pinky would flash your name,
That perhaps finally my waiting would be over and my wish fulfilled;

Another vibration. 



(Hope you enjoyed the little scribblings up there, but the next vibration indeed was from my phone – the battery died and it was the vibrations of it shutting down. Haha to the imagery of darkness and solitude comes the imagery of death and conclusion. How humorous really, what an afternoon)

Four O’Clock On A Sunday

It’s four o’clock on a Sunday (it sounds like a song) and the music plays,
The soft chatters coming from all round occasionally allow the tunes to filter through,
Yet the melody is foreign and the voice strained but mostly unknown and uncared for
While the guitar rifts gently flow as frets and glances are exchanged across tables; 

A boy and a girl sits close by at six o’clock staring into each other’s eyes,
sipping love potions through straws and getting lost in other worlds,
Many more around stare at chemical symbols under mood lighting,
Hoping to find the right formula to answer life’s biggest questions;

You sit elsewhere drinking coffee while I sit here wondering where this is all going; 

The sun shines outside and a set of notes is dropped,
Every table a different feeling, a different conversation, a different group,
Sitting together in the same space taking in the same tunes and smells,
Yet everyone is living a separate life experiencing a separate feeling and taste;

What do you want to do with your life, 
At four o’clock on a Sunday? 




Just a simple boy with a simple dream,
To meet a simple girl and together do simple things;

Take away the complicated scene of  social interactions,
Do away with the complex setting of unstable emotions;

Imagine the innocent picture of a boy and a girl walking in the sunset,
Their hands held tightly together with hopes and dreams strolling towards the light;

O how bittersweet it is to imagine something so simple,
Yet know that things never are that easy or straightforward; 

Very often it is the shadows of yesterday that affects the hopes of tomorrow,
Where the sunlight of today is masked by the swallowing darkness of past sorrow;

Not Simple. 

Bayside High.

I don’t do reblogs here but I have to say I grew up liking this car and if there ever was one street racer car which I knew.. this was it.


The Best Around.



BNR34 Skyline GT-R in traditional Bayside Blue with NISMO front lip, side skirts, Wing, Volk TE37s, BREMBO F50 BBK, TRUST T88, exhaust, soooo Damn good.

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To My Left

I look to my left – a weariness and a frown,
The smooth contours of your face distort into creases of frustration,
The pain in your eyes overshadows the glow which were to be in its place, 
A pout forms over your lips as you take another sip from the cup;

You don’t deserve to have to go through it all,
This heartache and sadness never was meant to be yours to bear,
You could be much happier doing something better elsewhere, 
There is no need to have to go through this hardship on your own; 

Incoherent is what the A levels has made me today,
To my left is a picture of what the O levels has painted in the fray;

This makes no sense, 
Neither does it to my left.