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2008/8/6

Penguin Rising

Cycles within remind me that the work isn't done. The soot on the bricks is revived with fresh sweat. I see familiar bars on the window too high to reach. I need a new web, new eyes. I must learn to fly again. The taste in my mouth is gone. I've forgotten my last meal.

Tempted. Restrained.

Prevented. Sustained.

Silence is my weapon against your self-ignorance.

Penguin DNA doesn't disappear with global warming. We just adapt, dormant, until the return of the storm.
2007/3/20

Memories

They were simply sitting there, each on their own bench, completely oblivious to each other.  Two lifetimes of memories faintly lingered behind them like a vague mist in their minds.  One wondering if there was more than this to life, the other wondering what good they had accomplished in theirs.  Two strangers, two thoughts.  The cold was getting deeper as one shivered and the other waited patiently.  Day after day they came here, yet never noticed each other.  Some would say they were permanent fixtures.  Two lifetimes of memories eager to be shared, yet neither glance ever crossed over.  Four generations of families forever disjointed.
 
Then came one day when one of them never showed up again.  Not long after, neither did the other.  And all of a sudden, nothing happened.
 
__________________________
Trackbacks aren't registering....
 
 
2007/1/4

No Further than Two Inches Away

I stared at the wall.  No further than two inches away from my nose.  There it was.  I stared at the wall.
 
The paint had minuscule pits.  Like the surface of the moon.  Small etchings from the underlying plaster.  Little cracks.  I stared at the wall.
 
Thr wall stood vertically beneath the perfectly horizontal stucko ceiling above me.  But the ceiling was not my friend.  I stared at the wall.
 
A spider crossed my view angle, no further than two inches away from my nose.  There it was.  But it never saw me.  It simply ignored me.  I stared at the wall.
 
The night came and the wall became quite difficult to see.  When I closed my eyes, I couldn't remember what the wall looked like.  When I opened my eyes, I couldn't see what the wall looked like.  I stood there in the dark, confident that the wall was still standing there in front of me.
 
Morning came and the wall had a new water stain created by a drool from the unfaithful ceiling of stucko above.  Be not afraid, my wall.  For I will not falter and abandon you.  The wall stared at me with the mark of a dried tear down its length.
 
You smelled of ten thousand egg and bacon breakfasts, ten thousand chicken soup lunches, and ten thousand roast beef dinners.  But the treacherous kitchen was no more.  You stared at me with the smell of lost purpose.
 
They came to take some other walls away, the ceiling too, then most of the floor.  I held fast to you, no further than two inches away from my nose.  They can take away your kitchen, they can take away your ceiling.  They can take away your floor, but you'll never be without me.  I stared at your silence.
 
I tried to stay.  I tried to hold on.  But my eyes were torn away from you with the sound of a thousand phone books being torn in half.  Your vast emptiness reached out to me, but I could not reach back.  I'm sorry I have failed you.  I was overpowered.  They forced me into a small room.  I stare at a new wall.
 
This new wall, no further than two inches away from my nose, is a colourful and vibrant beige.  It radiates total and unconstrained boredom.  It screams nothingness.  It smelled of the deeply inebriating fragrance of empty shelves in an abandoned pencil warehouse.  If given one of these missing pencils, it could write endless stories of its visitors past, filling the upper left part of a single page.  I stared at the padded wall.
 
I stared at the padded wall, no further than two inches away from my nose.
2006/8/15

The Woman on the Iceberg

Head intoxicated.  There's something I shouldn't see, something I shouldn't approach, something I shouldn't do.  If it is my mind which lusts, then why is it my eyes that burn?  My eyelids are useless.  The light still hurts. 
 
Denied.  Deprived.  Your familiar shadow still stands beside me, yet, as a stranger, warns me.  The pain once given to you now echoes back within me.  Because of your past now my future lies in a shambles.  It remains within me to be passed on, and infect the unsuspecting virgin.
 
But it stops here.  Self-inflicted deprivation.  I won't pass on to her the buzzing in my mind that betrays the blood-stained violence that you once bathed in. 
 
Too weak to live your pain alone, you inflicted it upon others.  Your life doesn't seem so miserable when you have the satisfaction that you have made someone else's life a tormented existence.
 
But I won't let you.  If you think you'll continue to live on inside my mind, you've chosen a dwelling of thorns.  Though a great distance separates us, you have chosen to live too intimately with my thoughts. 
 
You will not get passed on into my new life.  You will die when I move on. 
 
2006/6/3

Silence and Obscurity

The last notes of your symphony's finale drift past the wilted desk lamps and remind me of the spring rain falling in my open mouth as I spread my arms, trying in vain to soar with the birds.  "Too late", said the gnome in the flowerbed, "You've missed the last flight out".  But I tried.  I tried to take you away with me, away from the blood-stained graffiti walls, away from the wet metallic whispers hovering on the street below your bedroom window.  My wounded body can no longer bear the weight of both of us, and I must leave one of us behind.  I tried, I promise you I tried my best.  By the time the next moon rises from the East, you will be so far ahead of me.  I would only slow you down.  Close my eyes in the rain, the same rain that will wash away your memory of me. 
 
When I wake up, an eternity from now, I will look far across the sea from the edge of the world, my dream of peace having laid itself down as far as the eye can see.  I will search for you in those old familiar places.  The graffiti walls will be shrouded in flowery vines, and the gnome at last, will be king of his very own castle.  No  more metallic whispers, only the sound of the waves crashing far below the window of your empty bedroom.
 
You carried on, far beyond what I was capable of.  How much further than me did you make it?  How much more than mine will your personal paradise be?  I'm sorry I disappointed you, letting you down where you thought I would shine.  You shone much brighter than I, brighter than eye could endure.  My wish for paradise is likely unattainable, too ambitious.  I will be granted life, but not love.  I will have your music within me, but I will not have love.
 
I will often wonder if you think of me from time to time, the way I think of you, and if you remember me as your soulmate, he who once completed you.  And yet, a world apart from you, I can only wonder what was your desire, where you chose to live for eternity, and if that wish from your heart was granted to you.  I will wonder, I will...
 
How long have you been standing there?  How did you get here?
2006/4/18

Talking about Let me down

Know who to trust your emotions to.  Be aware of your health and your long-term well-being.  Picture yourself twenty years from now.  How did you get there?  Who has helped you to get there? 
 
Truly love and you shall be loved truly, even if by only those who know true love.
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Reaction to Rogue's Let me down
2006/4/3

Morning

Another morning at the kitchen table.  Another sunbeam strikes the mosaic and warms my cheek.  The smell of coffee and buttered toast permeates the air.  That's all I need to get my day started.  My wife still sleeps peacefully upstairs and Diesel the cat hunts its first meow mix of the day.
 
My mind is clear of worries and I have a plan for the day.
 
Sometimes happiness can be found in everyday routine.
 
2006/3/13

I've Survived

I've survived.
The cold touch of the dead of winter.  A new season of thaw is just around the corner.  I resisted to the successive salvos of frost and to the northern chill.
I've survived.
I lay here breathing my first breaths, witnessing my first sunrise of the new warm season.  Icicles at my window drip an endless stream of crystal blue teardrops, mourning the end of winter.
I've survived.
What will it be this year?  What have I been incarnated into?  What has this metamorphosis birthed me into?
I've survived.
And it's all thanks to you.
2006/2/8

Random Thoughts

In a world where everyone was telepathic, no one would need names to address each other.  You would always know who is "talking" to you because you'd be able to read their minds. 
 
Pet peeve: People who get new e-mail addresses every few months.  You never know which is the "address of the month", and your address books are always out of date.
 
Venus has phases much like the Moon.  Often, it will appear as a crescent in the night sky, either shortly after sundown, or right before sunrise.  However, it's practically impossible to see a "Full Venus" from Earth because the Sun is in the way.  Sometimes, if you're lucky, you can spot it during a solar eclipse.
 
On Windows, I don't like seeing my Recycle Bin with stuff in it.  I must empty that thing about 10 times a day.  Then, about an hour later, I realized I accidentally deleted something but the Recycle Bin's already been emptied.
2006/2/2

Assisted

This is your desire, your last wish. You've reached the end. The end of your pain, and everything else it entails. Your last resort in this fight against illness and despair. I will hold your hand as you exhale your last breath and slowly leave your carcass behind. Please don't hold me responsible despite my aid, my chemicals, my compassion, for you are the one leaving this world, on your own terms. I will be once again alone in this sterile room.

Your soul and body are now separate. I take your body away, send it back to the Earth whence it came so that your matter may continue to serve a purpose beyond your grave.
__________________________________
... with the tacky ending removed.

2006/1/26

Rekindled

As the last cold drop of blood drips from your lips and into my hand, the cycle is complete.  Where once you were the giver of life, you have now exhausted your inner spirit, that delicately scented candle, that beacon in my ocean of doubt.  With this last drop of life, you pass on the torch so that I, in turn may become a lighthouse for the lost, an anchor in the night. 
 
I will not fail, I will honour you.
2006/1/16

Penguin Made Fudge

Penguin made fudge and brought some to work to share with his work colleagues.  Should have made more.  The real white fudge taste, just like my mom makes.
 
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup 35% whipping cream
 
In a microwave-safe dish (recommend 6-cup capacity, e.g. large pyrex liquid measuring cup), stir everything with a wisp until it's a uniform mix.  Put in microwave 12 minutes (based on a 750-watt oven) or until a candy thermometer shows about 240°F, 115°C.  When done, add nuts or vanilla if desired (or get creative and mix in some smarties, skor, etc...).  Mix with hand mixer a couple minutes to cool it down.  Pour into a buttered 7" square cake pan and stick it in the fridge at least 15 minutes before enjoying.
 
People have asked me things like "Is this low-fat fudge?" or "How much sugar is there in here?"  Well look at this this way, there are three ingredients, and two of them are sugar, the other one is 35% milk fat.
2006/1/12

Letting (Yourself) Go

You let me into your room for an agendaless week.  Nothing to do, nothing to think about.  At times I couldn't tell if it was morning or night.  My normal routine was just a nagging voice muffled behind the velvet curtain.  Your mother's piano, now out-of-tune, still echoed from down the hall, playing sonatas from moons past enriched as their sound traveled across the warmth of the pine flooring, reminding you of better days.  The smell of morning toast, marmalade and coffee, or maybe a pork roast from the night before that still linger in the air, but is gradually being replaced with the odor of failed TV dinners.  Where has it all gone to?  What has happened? 
 
You've let yourself go ever so slowly.  You never noticed.  The wallpaper is lifting at the corners.  There are soot stains on the air vent grills.  The prints on the walls are rippling inside their frames, screaming to escape.
 
This downward spiral, this new world order is doing me no good.  I am far from home and have reached the point of saturation.  I've let myself get sucked into this vortex you have weaved.  A hole so dense not even love can escape.
 
The only window to the real world is the occasional weather report.  The recycled air and processed food are poisoning my mind and letting it slip into passivity.
 
Please, I beg you, let me open this window.  The sidewalk far below beckons me.

Turn Heads, Change Minds

Are we being told what to worry about, what to think about everything in our society?  Are we being given spoon-fed pre-cooked opinions, as healthy as the happy meal we enthusiastically wait in line for?  Do we really need an ugly mental image of someone so we can dislike them as much as they want us to?  One day everybody's happy about something, then one day, everything turns around 180°.  What was once thought to be good is no longer and must be disposed of.

They take up our time, numb our minds and suck the life out of us only to further their own. Relax.  It's only a diversion to draw us away from what is important to each and every one of us. 

What makes you happy in life?  Truly happy, a lasting happiness?  What is your number one unfulfilled childhood dream, and what is standing in your way of accomplishing that?

Think about it.  What are they bringing into your every day life that makes you grateful to them?

Speak up, ask questions, fill your mind with truth, not with someone else's recycled lies.

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Inspired from Center of Attention

2006/1/4

Separated

Broken, lost, separated, divided.  East and West across the concrete wall.  Heaven and Hell across the dwelling space of the present, here on Earth.  My arms feel the scorching heat as I reach for you across the void.  I call to you across the fields of perfectly linear knee-high crops, but you only hear those in the same space as you.  You're surrounded by a black wooden frame hung on my grandmother's living room wall, trapped in a snapshot which will never fade, but only whose fashion will become outdated.  As a dove takes flight in slow motion from your shoulder it smudges the paint still wet from your surroundings.  It shatters the glazing that separates you from sanity as the shards fall and stab the floor, giving it a new wound to bleed through, forever drowning it in a merciless infection that spans the space between my heart and my mind.

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Inspired by memories.

2005/12/24

Happy Christmas!

I would like to take the time to thank all of you who have visited my blog from time to time.  And I wish each and every one of you a happy Christmas, Hannukah, or winter solstice,  and a fantastic new year!  It's been an incredible year 2005 for me (new house, wedding, job transitioning) and I'm looking forward to a nice 10-day break from work to spend with my wonderful wife, and our families.
 
I hope you all have a wonderful time with your families and loved ones.  It's a time for giving, so give a little bit of yourself to others this holiday season.  You can't buy that in any store.
 
Take care of yourselves, and each other.  Be careful on the roads, and watch out for those who might have partied a bit too much for their own good.  If you live in snowy areas, careful on those roads too.  Smile, and penguin hope to see you all in the new year!
2005/12/19

Guilty As Charged

A droning silence buzzes in my head and numbs my thoughts.  My palms and my fingertips still tingle from the impact of landing on the wet stone floor, thrown by your careless words and selfish motives.  Things taken for granted for some might not be second nature for others.  Don't punish me for the knowledge I lack that you believe I should have been born with. 

Every day that goes by feels like an elephant in my lungs, monopolizing my vital space, spiriting away my breathing air, and trampling over my thoughts, my dear and last possessions.  You've created the monster in my closet; now I can no longer sleep soundly.  You've birthed this horror to me without reason or a fair trial.  But you've sentenced me to this cell where I live in the shadow of guilt and my only advocate is the mold that covers these dripping stony walls.

Kill me now, end this agony so that I may, in return, become the monster in your closet.

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Inspired From answer me.. please...' Need to know... Why?

2005/12/12

The Perfect Curse

Around every rock and every tree I had to look over my shoulder, for out of nowehere they could appear. They knew my name, knew my motives and could anticipate my every move.  I tried to hide outside the city, off the busy streets and into unmarked lands.  But they have eyes in the sky and in the trees.  I had to escape their reach. 

Yet, they found me, captured me, transformed me, controlled me.  I lost my sense of direction.  I was gasping for air and grasping for freedom, but taking in nothing but dirt, and choking, one muffled cough at a time...  I became rooted. 

I can't move.  I can only watch from where I am.

They now use me to find and capture others like me who are trying to escape. Escape the system.

 


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2005/12/5

Burn

A toxic drop through my gut burns.
To feel her heat my body yearns.
The seeds are sown. A desire for possession
Soon turns into an unruly obsession.

The promise seems so far away.
And hour by hour, day by day
Further away it seems to get

The runaway feeling that our bodies never met.
Confide in me, release in me, Let your flesh be freed upon me.
Feel how my soul tears itself in two
And how both halves reunite in you.

Impatiently I wait and long for her warm rain,
For her blood to run through my own vein.
Hopeful is the day when there will be no pain,
Hope without which any fool would go insane.

_________________________

Something I wrote earlier this year, but had been left behind...
 
2005/11/28

Used

Alone at the mid-point of this bridge interfacing solace and lechery, I stop to watch the ice cold black moonlit river flow far beneath my feet.  I need to stop and catch my breath, running from the hotel room far behind me where I tried to cheat life, betray the very meaning of love, and defile its definition, only to satisfy my own craving.  I thought I could fool myself for a moment, and secretly indulge in the temporary passion of hedonism.  But instead they violated me, choosing to use me for an equivalent disposable pleasure, my sense of foresight having been far less than the price of my flesh.  Like an apple they consumed me, but left my core to rot.

I close my eyes and wish myself back into the arms of forgiveness.  But all I can see are the dark walls of the hotel room, where the moonlight was choked by the curtains and the abused open bar fridge stared at me in my shameful nakedness.

I wait in this freezing cold to be taken away.  The snapping pain of the glacial wind on my face will only be the first of many acts of penance I will take against my flesh to chastise myself for this treachery I have been found guilty of.