Such flawless skin:
Few women can inspire
The flow of my pen
In the way that you do;
I can trace out
The contours of your collarbone
As I feel my hand down your neck
Towards the side of your arm;
I am reminded of Everest:
The fairness of your skin resembles
The beauty of the snow caps
Basking in the warm radiance of the sun;
I feel a rush in me as I
Desire to reach
The peaks of excitement
With you and only you;
I feel my pen disintegrating
My stanzas not making sense
As my heart pounds harder and harder
Just looking at you
Sitting there alone touching
The back of your hair
And at the moment
Oh I wish that hand touching you
Oh thy glorious skin!
As I struggle to catch my breath
In you: my universe is found.
Equal measures of comfort
Separated ineffably by a bus route;
Perhaps all we can seek is comfort:
Happiness is too much to ask for.
While at my maiden Boxing session today, I did a couple of silly things which I can’t help but laugh at during and afterwards.
- I didn’t know anyone there when I arrived, so I picked one guy out of a gym of many people to ask if it was also his first time and if he knew how to box at all. Turned out that the guy was the instructor.
- I can’t box or punch to save my life, so I tried to be clever and chose the scrawniest guy wearing a checkered shirt and berms (why would anyone do that? Can’t be experienced right?) to be my shadow / mock-sparring partner. Turned out that he had prior training and experience in boxing back when he was in China. Chinese boxer? I immediately thought of Bruce Lee.
- Because of (2), I had to box, exchange points and ask him to punch me in mandarin. I am totally blaming the panting if he didn’t understand what I was saying. Ha ha.
- I bought the club tee and discovered that it was XS when I reached back to hall. They probably ran out of S sized ones by then too. Here’s to not checking your goods.
Here is a small slice of my life as an NUS Student; a silly slice that probably doesn’t have the strawberry or maraschino ha ha.
Or finger wraps. Did I tell you I was the only one who shadow boxed bare-fist without finger wraps?
The irritation lies not in
The question you ask or
The things that you say or
Anything about class really (secondary);
Perhaps the irritation lies in
The way you behave and
The way you ask me questions and
The way you are around her (primary);
Maybe we’re just elitist but
You’re not one of us.
(At least not yet/maybe never)
Freaking Waffles of a place
That a student’s ability is measured
Through a mention of its name
By a mere whisky of its fame;
So what if we didn’t?
What is a student worth then?
More than a school name surely,
More than a great badge really;
By association we are no different:
We belong in the same league
Play by the same One Waffles street
Considered too the same Waffles breed;
What is the individual then?
What is the collective then?
I have no right to complain:
I graduated from there just the same;
But make no mistake:
We succeed by ourselves
Supported by a great place
To run ourselves our own race.
(Disclaimer: I love my school; I’ve always loved it. I did reasonably well and I had some of the best schooling years there. It’s a lovely place, and all other stereotypes are needless. I’m proud of the school, and someday the school shall be proud of me too. To transcend the school reputation and make good as an individual to live a life of kindness and purpose, that is what I believe to be the reason for the greatness of the school.)
This post is made up of sentences and excerpts from a blog that I know pretty well; thought it’d be a good idea to share some of the decent lines here. I’m probably splitting it up into a few parts because there are too many of them.
“A commonly visited leisure spot once upon a time has turned into a deserted playground of broken swings.”
“I’ll wait, til the day is mine.”
“There are days when you feel punched out, and today’s one of them.”
“It’s not a monologue.. it’s just a dialogue without response.”
“Behind every cynical person is a sad story unbeknownst to others.”
“Crack lines; try as you might to fix them, they’ll always be there somewhere.”
“The moment before I fall asleep is the happiest moment of the day; it is as though dreams have merged with reality. I feel alive and awake, but live a dream and a fantasy.”
“Accept and like a person not for what he is, but for who he is.”
“It’s like… after a person has made a wrong choice, you should let him choose again so that he is more clear about what he wants and will this time, make the right decision and appreciate the right decision so much more and never allow himself to decide or choose wrongly again.”
“There’s a reason why you should run after the bus, and not be lazy and convince yourself you won’t be able to catch it.”
“50% here and 50% there will not get you 100% anywhere.”
“… My fantasy is your reality.”
Twelve thirteen eighteen
Twenty sixteen twenty-six:
They say age is a number
(But in this I don’t think so?)
Eight years apart
You doubled the age gap
From five to ten
(Who’s the one without sense?)
What about them
Young school girls
Do you like
(Looking for some lost innocence there?)
You irked me once back then
Now you just grossed me out again
(Is this about me, you or who?)
Leave them alone won’t you?
The wise men say
What goes around comes around
(So you better watch out!)
(I don’t usually do dedication posts because I’d rather thank and show my appreciation directly to that person, but for this one I think it’d be appropriate because I have a lot of respect for this man, and for the things he have done for his students over the years. He was one of the key figures of my junior college years, and I believe the impact he has left on me will continue to be felt in one way or another, years down the road. Here’s a quick post, but I don’t think words are enough to even start describing anything. Retirement never looked the right word for a man with such abundance of energy. Haha.)
Twenty-five years with the college:
You would have seen so many classes throughout the years
Faces you (probably) wouldn’t recognise some years down the road
Names you would (likely) struggle to remember as you try to recall
People that you have tried your best to make into better humans;
We step through the college doors and we see a tall big British guy
With so much enthusiasm and energy at his age that we wonder
If he is the teenager instead of us and how he seems
More passionate about our learning than we are ourselves;
You had so many of us but we only had one of you Mr R.
Yet you tried to (and did) form a warm relationship with all of us
That many years on when we look back at our junior college years
And specifically The Humanities Programme..
We probably wouldn’t remember (oops) the Economics you taught us
Nor the moments when you scolded us for sluggish afternoons
But we will definitely remember Bhutan and Mt Ophir
As well as the fun and laughter we’ve had out of the classroom;
When we think Humanz
We think Mr R.
Not just now
But decades on too.
We run, and we run. We run all the way across the parade square, to the spot where our younger selves used to sit.
I’m in brown again, no longer the military green that I was clad in a moment ago. I feel like I’m in all white back in my junior college again, a proud young man ready to take on the world at breakneck speed.
I look around, and I notice this isn’t the elevated parade square of my recent two soaring years. This is the parade square of my childhood years, an old but happy place of endless running and jumping. A place where I felt (and still feel) truly free.
We reach our spot, and we giggle like we used to all those years ago. Silly we seem, but happy we are.
“Here?” I ask with a smile spread across my face.
“Yeah, here” you reply with a sincere laughter.
I never felt free like this in a long time.
The next thing I knew, 8:40am. Blue stained sheets, old yellow blanket. I groaned, as all sense of happiness and freedom vanished into thin air in an instant.
I walk down those familiar aisles and take in the familiar smell
Of times and moments past that never will return nor be relived again
Like a distant memory washed away on a lonely shore
Taking the form of a bottle left in the sand – buried and forgotten;
I turn the corner and I can almost see us sitting there giggling
On all those afternoons where we turned obligation into fun
Injecting laughter into boring subjects of dull repetitions
Knowing that at the end of the day we are all in this together;
Yet just as we were about to concretize and come alive again
We vanish at the blink of an eye right before my very eyes
Bringing me back again to the present and to reality
Where what we were stays hidden in the chronicles of time;
Nevertheless I smile at how everything once was
And I’m glad that it all did happen faintly
Once in a distant memory.
(Here is a post dedicated to a special place that I will always remember, a place with memories and good times that I will always cherish. Today I learnt that in life we win some and lose some; tomorrow I will tell you what winning is about.)