A Tale Of Two Flowers

He was dazzled, aroused by its beauty
An innocent bloom, lost
Amidst a jungle of stone
Solitary but for its brethren, spread afar
And so he tended, regardless

Though not his to own or of his own
Not his to aspire for
It was somehow, his duty, his task
To give all, to bear all
For it was an efflorescence unlike others before

And so the orchid bloomed more beautiful
With each touch, each caress, each concern
Shown of true sympathy, purity of empathy
Without askance of repayment
Save for comforting counsel in lone times

And as time sped, a rush, a dash
As when all things flowed
In times of shared serenity
Of oneness in scintillating bliss
Would come a period of halting

For it took but an oversight
A moment of weakness of the mind
To scar, to scrape its brethren
An injury beyond repair, despite
In spite of his efforts

And so the orchid turned
Away from its tender
Away from its carer

He, abandoned
A deep pain inflicted

And as he thought his heart dwindled
Came another

A bloom much greater
A brilliance of independence
A shining resplendence of life

It was a pink rose of hope
His hope

This Sunday, Good Sunday

Maybe I did it to move on. Maybe I did it because I was pissed off. But surely, beyond certainty, I did it because I was fascinated, if not intrigued. And it was definitely more than pleasant.

It began a few days ago on Friday night. I got an unexpected request for chat from someone I tried to get in touch with in November last year on an online dating site (Yeah I signed up for those...for fun...really). It was chaotic as I wasn't subscribed and nor do I want to be and...... well...long story short... I finally got to talk to her on Saturday, yesterday. I have to say it was one of the most intellectually stimulating pieces of conversation I've ever had (current close friends excluded of course) in .......... a freakishly bloody long time.

And so we met up today at Downtown East, after some improvisations here and there with regards to time and place. There's really no words for me to describe the exhilaration I felt - the calm, the intellectual stimulation when we shared, when we discussed. I can't even believe how I lost myself at times, most times, when I was there.

To be honest, I didn't want it to end though it had to. And I surely hope it wasn't an end of anything. Yet hope can, at most times, be a double edged blade.

The Failed Knight

It was mandated, made law
Not by kings of lands and borders
Not by emperors of free will and free men
But of a sovereignty much greater
The rule of his heart

For it was in her eyes
That he was knighted
A peasant made honorable, commendable
Deplorably humble beginnings dwindled
Previously amounted sins, obscured

It was in her smile that he was armored
Gauntlets of strength clenching valor's blade
Chest-plated courage entwined with meshed bravery
Dauntless his helm and resolve his shield
A gleam of silvery gold, a shining of righteousness

She, the enchanting siren

Binding his heart through songs
Of melancholic despair, of love, torn
A virtuous, untainted beauty without compare
A purity untouched, pristine, immaculate

Mauretania, the maiden, his love
To protect and safeguard against the world
For she hailed not from this realm
But one of pure innocence

A vanguard he was
Against the Princes of Charming
Whose nobilities were but novelties
Sharpened daggers hidden
Beneath dazzling, concerned smiles

Alas, the knight was late

For the maiden, already wounded
By a Prince from long before
And struck again by a younger Prince of now
The wound before, gaping more
Without remedy, without prescription
For no physician was he
Just a self-proclaimed knight to his lady love

And as she began to fade
Beyond his sight, beyond his grasp
Refused her guardian, she did
Preferring the comfort of her murderers
Trusting in the falsities of their concern
Reveling in their designed deceptions
Her heart warm to their slaughter

For those were valued more
Than the sincerity of his care, his efforts, his love

Mauretania, no more

The knight, now without his lady
Devoid of purpose, of armor, of heart
Whom once was a peasant, is now again

Without love
A peasant, forever shall he remain

Upgrading Program - Phase 1

I don't think any of you have noticed but the old MyBlogProductions section on my blog had long since been removed, along with all the blogs within it since I switched over to the new blogger. It was quite a hassle trying to convert the format of the new blogger and to try and make it look the same. That and the fact that I wasn't able to update it as much as I'd like - insufficient relevant content, if you even understood that.

I decided to start it up again, sort of, under a different name but at a much slower pace this time. And this time as well, it would be more related to things I could actually blog about (the doing Reviews thing I haven't actually gotten the hang of doing yet, though I'd definitely love to start it up again some time in the future).

Anyway, if you were to look in the sidebar there's a new section called Azarian Realms Presents. This is where all my works will be placed in. For now there are only two other blogs there, one of which is still under construction. I will provide an explanation below on what each of those are.

Azarian Tales - You know those poems (or poem-like writings) I wrote before? Well, I'm compiling all of them there. Sort of like a chronicle of them, if you will. I'll still be posting whatever musings that comes to my mind here first but for ease of finding, I'll copy it there once a more current post takes over poem's place in this site's main page.

Rutilus Exercitus - Red Army. Basically its about Liverpool FC. My thoughts and feelings on their achievements (or lack thereof), new players and old, results, previews, etc. This site is not fully up yet, so don't expect anything much now even if you do visit it.

There'll be more to come, like Movie Reviews, Music Reviews, Book Reviews, Food Reviews (that is if I am blessed with enough time for them) and maybe even a Comic Strip (been thinking about doing this for a long time now).

I'll post updates to these sub-blogs of mine in small footnotes in my normal posts here so that you'll be updated without the need for me to syndicate those blogs.

Either way, let me know what you think of these.

Ciao for now.

Truth Starts With a 'T'....... Really

Amidst the controversy of Singapore's Health Promotion Board's latest 'Quit Smoking' campaign advertisement (click here to view it - WARNING: FREAKISHLY DISTURBING IMAGES) and its authenticity as well as the sense (or lack thereof) for the advert to run during prime time making it accessible to all (inclusive of young children) comes the point I have been stressing on.

People, and I do mean people, generally ignore the truth in most of its forms. The truth hurts as the saying goes. Well, its kind of hard to be hurt by something that one makes him or herself oblivious to. It is only when truth gets exaggerated and falsified does it garner the attention it should have had in its purest form. I mean, come on, if an advert was made on the valid statistical findings on the cancer causing effects of smoking instead of this, how many of us would have even took notice? How many would have been wailing from the pain inflicted by such truth?

The truth hurts but most of the time it is ignored.

There is no crime in Singapore? No beggars, no impaired persons busking for alms? No homeless, no mentally impaired? No elderly sick? No needy? No afflicted children? No slums? Or do we choose to ignore them even when they are in plain view?

How many would have donated had not a certain monk done death-defying stunts, year in, year out on National Television? Would we even know that such a group of needy and afflicted people existed?

There is no blame to be assigned here. People will ignore truths and will continue to do so, for the eyes of the masses are easily captured by the falsities of life's mesmerizing dance.

And is it not that we ourselves, as individuals possessed of our own truths to disregard?