I also have bad
I'd first go with the latter
Cos by understanding it better
I can seek out the former gladder
I always had played co-ordinator of activities for a cicrle of friends. Once we were four good buddies, but for some misunderstanding, two of them were down to three.
So Sdr Loo and Desi tried to bring the Other two back to the original circle.
F4.
But the two were reluctant.
So we remain still at TWO groups of Three!
So by now you have had an idea of what's going on?
It's sad when two buddies go their separate ways, and in doing so, they also affect other mates within their set.
We two asked one of the reluctant one -- Why?
"It's hard to tell the whole story."
I asked: You mean just like that?
He remained quiet.
No regrets? Forty years of friendship.
He said not a word.
Long pause.
Uncomfortable silence.
Then the sad Voice said:
I don't believe in friendship any more.
I prefer to go it alone.
So admant. So dismissive.
Of giving friendship a Second Chance.
On reaching home after the dinner which was earlier planned to celebrate someone's "breakthrough" in a long business venture, Desi could hear the following refrain, popularised by Simon&Garfunkel, playing through the mind tonight.
(Just past midnight I began typing this Post, with many unanswered questions.)
El Condor Pasa
I’d rather be a sparrow than a snail
Yes I would, if I could, I surely would
I’d rather be a hammer than a nail
Yes I would, if I only could, I surely would
Away, I’d rather sail away
Like a swan that’s here and gone
A man gets tied up to the ground
He gives the world its saddest sound
Its saddest sound
I’d rather be a forest than a street
Yes I would, if I could, I surely would
I’d rather feel the earth beneath my feet
Yes I would, if I only could, I surely would
I also wandered off to sweetspirits' Blog to try to recall one
Saddest Poem
I once read, and it impacted my sub-conscious deeply.
No, I couldn't find it, but I found -- a pleasant surprise! - that my soulmate from Down Under had lately resumed her postings, which Desi was not aware of, as she abbounced taking a hiatus, a "long" one.
So instead. I picked up these short NutGifts --
Today I "borrow" some words of wisdom collected by sssssspirit.
I know she always has a prayer for Desi, and I assure her I for her.
And I for an yee (transforming from an eye)
And inverting the M in Me,
We've got a We!
Nutgigt1:
Farewell, My Friend and Confidante
by Nicholas Gordan
Farewell, My Friend and Confidante
Farewell, my friend and confidante!
As you go, so must I
Return upon the well-worn path
Each soul must travel by.
Wend where you will, my wanderer,
Even as you stay
Long-treasured in my lonely heart,
Loved well, though far away.
Posted by sweetspirits @ 12:10 AM
Nutgift 2:
Lost N Found
by Johnny
There is a storm in my heart
It tears my inside apart
I am bleeding and I am hurt
Like a wingless little bird
Then it turns dark
And for a moment I see
The pain that was inside of me
And on a journey I embark
In search of answers
In search of truth
In search of understanding
In search of you
My guiding star in darkness
Like a little stream in the desert
Everything about you seems flawless
But that is what causes the hurt
Your perfect features do not belong to me
You do not deserve my chains
You need to live and see
What it means to be free
So spread your wings and fly away
For I can not fulfill your dream
But if you should fall one day
I'll guide you and be that little stream
So go and discover it all
And know that wherever you go
Whatever you do and might feel
The only thing you need to do is call
Posted by sweetspirits @ 12:09 AM
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Nutgift3:
"A wonderful realization will be the day you realize that you are unique in all the world. There is nothing that is an accident. You are a special combination for a purpose -- and don't let them tell you otherwise, even if they tell you that purpose is an illusion. (Live an illusion if you have to).
You are that combination so that you can do what is essential for you to do. Don't ever believe that you have nothing to contribute. The world is an incredible unfulfilled tapestry. And only you can fulfill that tiny space that is yours."
~~Leo Buscaglia
"The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain."
~~Lord Byron
DESIDERATA knows that it would be about 5AM in the Perthian Haze, or up northeast by the Macquarie Lake, so I did not disturb the sweet spirit now nestled in zzzzzzland.
I know for sure -- as sure as the sun rises first over Oz land and four hours later down Fu Rong way, SS would not mind my "stealing" the Nutgifts in the steal of the night.
PS: I know what I must do tomorrow. Send this Posting to the Other Two!
UPDATE @ 12.21PM:
Its this another Nutgift-X or NutCase? You decide!
Saturday March 18, 2006
Umno Youth to act as mentors
SEREMBAN: Umno Youth will act as mentors to bright Malay students, to help them excel further in their studies and in their career.
“We want to help deserving Malay students pursue their ambition,” its education bureau chairman Ahmad Ikmal Ismail said.
“Hopefully, someday when they have succeeded they will help others.”
Umno Youth will also help deserving students who did well in their SPM examination get scholarships, he told reporters after visiting Muhammad Izwan Zulkifli at his home in Seremban 2 here yesterday.
Muhammad Izwan emerged as the top SPM scorer at SMK Keat Hwa, a well-known Chinese secondary school in Kedah that regularly produces top SPM and STPM students.
He scored 11 1As, making him the first Malay boy to earn such an honour at the school.
The eldest of four siblings said he enrolled at the school after scoring 8 As in his PMR examination at Kolej Sultan Abdul Hamid in Alor Star.
“I had always been amazed at how Chinese students always did well in their exams, so I enrolled at SMK Keat Hwa,” he said.
“The secret of their success is in their commitment. My classmates did not waste time in empty conversation. That alone sets them apart.”
DESIDERATA:
Before I started Journalism fulltime, I taught Scince in a secondary school for about two hAPpy years.
My experience tells me the performing students (top of the leading Science-streamed class, out of maybe 5 to 100 classes in the same form..., depending on the size and popularity of the School) DON'T NEED ANY EXTRA HELP!
You know why?
They already would spend some fixed minimum number of hours doing post-schooling work, with usually of course level-headed parents/guardians. Also, most of tem excel in extra-curricular activities, because they know what "balance" is in daily, normal healthy life.
Hey, it's the children from the disadvantaged or less-privileged sectins of the community who need our assistance the most. Kids from the kampong and town squatters, still using ol lamps and fire-wood for a fire. Trudging barefoot for 10km everyday to school, remember?
Don't you thnk UMNO Youth or any other well-meaning samartitans would select the "poor-performers" - laggards-lah - to give them help, on why I have been promoting here all the time on CivilIssues, on a NEEDS BASIS!
What menorship can UMNO Youth offer to secondary studens, but corrupt their idealistic minds? Political propaganda-ganda wang anda?
If their MCA youth counterparts get in the act, you know what would hAPpen?
"Eat, Drink and Be Merry" will lead the performing students to the Karake joints and then they have to make emergency calls at nght, or evn afternoon -- very hot lah, need some Air-CON at the lounge/parlour! -- to some Datuk, ton/tonne to "bail us" out...!
Mercy, if it's nto a Nutcase, it reminds Desi of the saying (but this is too deep for UMNO/MCA Youth minds...)"
"The pathwy to hell is paved with many good intentons."
4 comments:
Hiz Desi
Yes indeed steal whatever you like hehe.
I'll tell you something..
When Skye was little there was a song we use to sing together it was called
Friends Are Like Flowers In The Garden Of Love.
Of course some flowers wilt, some die,
some are beautiful ,some have thorns.
Some don't stay in the Garden Of Love
they are moved to another place and of course they are then gone.
But of course some stay and be near but not so close.
Can you read between the lines and understand what i mean.
If not i'll tell you via email.
I also found a poem i'd like to share with thee.
The Dream
by Lord George Gordon Byron
I
Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world,
A boundary between the things misnamed
Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world,
And a wide realm of wild reality,
And dreams in their development have breath,
And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;
They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts,
They take a weight from off waking toils,
They do divide our being; they become
A portion of ourselves as of our time,
And look like heralds of eternity;
They pass like spirits of the past -they speak
Like sibyls of the future; they have power -
The tyranny of pleasure and of pain;
They make us what we were not -what they will,
And shake us with the vision that's gone by,
The dread of vanished shadows -Are they so?
Is not the past all shadow? -What are they?
Creations of the mind? -The mind can make
Substances, and people planets of its own
With beings brighter than have been, and give
A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.
I would recall a vision which I dreamed
Perchance in sleep -for in itself a thought,
A slumbering thought, is capable of years,
And curdles a long life into one hour.
II
I saw two beings in the hues of youth
Standing upon a hill, a gentle hill,
Green and of mild declivity, the last
As 'twere the cape of a long ridge of such,
Save that there was no sea to lave its base,
But a most living landscape, and the wave
Of woods and corn-fields, and the abodes of men
Scattered at intervals, and wreathing smoke
Arising from such rustic roofs: the hill
Was crowned with a peculiar diadem
Of trees, in circular array, so fixed,
Not by the sport of nature, but of man:
These two, a maiden and a youth, were there
Gazing -the one on all that was beneath
Fair as herself -but the boy gazed on her;
And both were young, and one was beautiful:
And both were young -yet not alike in youth.
As the sweet moon on the horizon's verge,
The maid was on the eve of womanhood;
The boy had fewer summers, but his heart
Had far outgrown his years, and to his eye
There was but one beloved face on earth,
And that was shining on him; he had looked
Upon it till it could not pass away;
He had no breath, no being, but in hers:
She was his voice; he did not speak to her,
But trembled on her words; she was his sight,
For his eye followed hers, and saw with hers,
Which coloured all his objects; -he had ceased
To live within himself: she was his life,
The ocean to the river of his thoughts,
Which terminated all; upon a tone,
A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow,
And his cheek change tempestuously -his heart
Unknowing of its cause of agony.
But she in these fond feelings had no share:
Her sighs were not for him; to her he was
Even as a brother -but no more; 'twas much,
For brotherless she was, save in the name
Her infant friendship had bestowed on him;
Herself the solitary scion left
Of a time-honoured race. -It was a name
Which pleased him, and yet pleased him not -and why?
Time taught him a deep answer -when she loved
Another; even now she loved another,
And on the summit of that hill she stood
Looking afar if yet her lover's steed
Kept pace with her expectancy, and flew.
III
A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
There was an ancient mansion, and before
Its walls there was a steed caparisoned:
Within an antique Oratory stood
The Boy of whom I spake; -he was alone,
And pale, and pacing to and fro: anon
He sate him down, and seized a pen, and traced
Words which I could not guess of; then he leaned
His bowed head on his hands and shook, as 'twere
With a convulsion -then rose again,
And with his teeth and quivering hands did tear
What he had written, but he shed no tears.
And he did calm himself, and fix his brow
Into a kind of quiet: as he paused,
The Lady of his love re-entered there;
She was serene and smiling then, and yet
She knew she was by him beloved; she knew -
For quickly comes such knowledge -that his heart
Was darkened with her shadow, and she saw
That he was wretched, but she saw not all.
He rose, and with a cold and gentle grasp
He took her hand; a moment o'er his face
A tablet of unutterable thoughts
Was traced, and then it faded, as it came;
He dropped the hand he held, and with slow steps
Retired, but not as bidding her adieu,
For they did part with mutual smiles; he passed
From out the massy gate of that old Hall,
And mounting on his steed he went his way;
And ne'er repassed that hoary threshold more.
IV
A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
The Boy was sprung to manhood: in the wilds
Of fiery climes he made himself a home,
And his Soul drank their sunbeams; he was girt
With strange and dusky aspects; he was not
Himself like what he had been; on the sea
And on the shore he was a wanderer;
There was a mass of many images
Crowded like waves upon me, but he was
A part of all; and in the last he lay
Reposing from the noontide sultriness,
Couched among fallen columns, in the shade
Of ruined walls that had survived the names
Of those who reared them; by his sleeping side
Stood camels grazing, and some goodly steeds
Were fastened near a fountain; and a man,
Glad in a flowing garb, did watch the while,
While many of his tribe slumbered around:
And they were canopied by the blue sky,
So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful,
That God alone was to be seen in heaven.
V
A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
The Lady of his love was wed with One
Who did not love her better: in her home,
A thousand leagues from his, -her native home,
She dwelt, begirt with growing Infancy,
Daughters and sons of Beauty, -but behold!
Upon her face there was a tint of grief,
The settled shadow of an inward strife,
And an unquiet drooping of the eye,
As if its lid were charged with unshed tears.
What could her grief be? -she had all she loved,
And he who had so loved her was not there
To trouble with bad hopes, or evil wish,
Or ill-repressed affliction, her pure thoughts.
What could her grief be? -she had loved him not,
Nor given him cause to deem himself beloved,
Nor could he be a part of that which preyed
Upon her mind -a spectre of the past.
VI
A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
The Wanderer was returned. -I saw him stand
Before an altar -with a gentle bride;
Her face was fair, but was not that which made
The Starlight of his Boyhood; -as he stood
Even at the altar, o'er his brow there came
The selfsame aspect and the quivering shock
That in the antique Oratory shook
His bosom in its solitude; and then -
As in that hour -a moment o'er his face
The tablet of unutterable thoughts
Was traced -and then it faded as it came,
And he stood calm and quiet, and he spoke
The fitting vows, but heard not his own words,
And all things reeled around him; he could see
Not that which was, nor that which should have been -
But the old mansion, and the accustomed hall,
And the remembered chambers, and the place,
The day, the hour, the sunshine, and the shade,
All things pertaining to that place and hour,
And her who was his destiny, came back
And thrust themselves between him and the light;
What business had they there at such a time?
VII
A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
The Lady of his love; -Oh! she was changed,
As by the sickness of the soul; her mind
Had wandered from its dwelling, and her eyes,
They had not their own lustre, but the look
Which is not of the earth; she was become
The queen of a fantastic realm; her thoughts
Were combinations of disjointed things;
And forms impalpable and unperceived
Of others' sight familiar were to hers.
And this the world calls frenzy; but the wise
Have a far deeper madness, and the glance
Of melancholy is a fearful gift;
What is it but the telescope of truth?
Which strips the distance of its fantasies,
And brings life near in utter nakedness,
Making the cold reality too real!
VIII
A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
The Wanderer was alone as heretofore,
The beings which surrounded him were gone,
Or were at war with him; he was a mark
For blight and desolation, compassed round
With Hatred and Contention; Pain was mixed
In all which was served up to him, until,
Like to the Pontic monarch of old days,
He fed on poisons, and they had no power,
But were a kind of nutriment; he lived
Through that which had been death to many men,
And made him friends of mountains; with the stars
And the quick Spirit of the Universe
He held his dialogues: and they did teach
To him the magic of their mysteries;
To him the book of Night was opened wide,
And voices from the deep abyss revealed
A marvel and a secret. -Be it so.
IX
My dream is past; it had no further change.
It was of a strange order, that the doom
Of these two creatures should be thus traced out
Almost like a reality -the one
To end in madness -both in misery.
Desi
Sis and Emile are up 4 the wkend so i really don't wanna be online too much.
But we'll catch soonies i'll email ya 2morrow night
cheerz
tcz
hi sweets:
Dream, I dare venture often
Life yes,sometimes ignoramus-ly
Death -- ah, you delight me with a generous spread
Verse-y for Desi
Thanks a million
While I sit back wityh my extended
Sundae's
CON
BF for a socialist-most times
blardy helluva Capitalist sumtimes.
One must place lIfe's BETS yes?
ENJOY
sssssspirit's DHLed pome
with lots of RutBir!:)
I love the poems!
Great writing from you too.
A nice blog, really.
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