Feeling

Everyone's blogging about something, so I've decided to do some justice to my vacated warehouse of empty thoughts and vain rants.

Nothing substancial enough to keep you readers grovelling for more, unlike best-selling novels and blockbuster movies. But maybe some thoughts and rants for the scrutiny of curious cynics. The world is endlessly spinning on its axis, and if it hadn't been moved for milleniums, what difference could a grimacing writer make? Moreso when its a composition short of impish bits and pieces of random thoughts, fed with short glances back in memory. Is this piece of literature worth your time? You decide.


Its funny how a weird permutation of simple formulated scribbles can represent entirely different fragments of understanding. Just when you think you're UP to the task and you're all SET for successful. An ironic concatenation of them both leaves you all ready for an UPSET. Kewl play of letters, as we are by what else but the neverending gyration of the world on it's own axis. I'm hard-pressed, perplexed, persecuted, struck down. What happened to the not crushed, not in despair, not abandoned, not destroyed? When the skies turn grey, the world darkens. Your beautiful pearl vanilla canvas would inevitably take on a shade of matt nickel. U thought you were a STEP ahead, but you were SETUP for a cliff drop instead.

I'm done with poems. They strike a chord only with the wise foolish who lock a world of understanding amongst themselves hoping someone would see their plight through tightly-woven shreds of cotton. Blind sight. A mad dash to the finish, only to realize you hadn't started in the first place. File the memories locked to time, only relive them when you're too old to feel grief. Having nothing isn't perpetually bad. An itsy increment is an infinite fold. If you find your itsy some day that is. Good luck trying.

Some people have IT. Some people just don't. Some people were born for IT. Some people just aren't. What gives me this great honour of being so inconspicuously distinguished? I don't understand, my dear Maker. I don't understand, I can't comprehend. What must I do, what have I done? Who on this spinning axis can I give the gyrating world to talk to... everyday... again?

For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. Which, therein, do I choose?

I want both :)