Google engineers come face to face with my jinxed luck :P
Monday, March 24, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Lonely Hearts Club
Darkness descends on 22 Maple Drive
and so do a motley band of men & women.
With heads covered and eyes bent, they arrive
bringing shame in their stride.
Inside, a roomful of candles flicker
casting their gloom on the guests as they enter
one by one
and fortify themselves with liquor.
They know, in the ordeal ahead
It’ll be their only succor.
Sooner or later someone had to start.
A brave soul stepped forward to be the guinea pig
He said, with one last swig:
“It’ll smart, when we part
I don’t know how I’ll survive
Kept like this from her
apart.”
Another took up the tale:
“Could they be more perfect
our friends used to wonder
Then the unthinkable happened
and we were torn asunder as if by thunder
He, full of fury
I, full of misery
Brought on by an innocent blunder.”
And so, the confessions continue
A broken heart here, a forgotten spirit there
The stories are nothing new
and when it comes time for the review
with an understanding nod, a kind smile
do they the storytellers faith renew.
Now it’s nearing daylight
Just as they came, they all depart
one by one
so as not to give the neighbours a fright.
But mostly because
they know, solitude is their only right.
and so do a motley band of men & women.
With heads covered and eyes bent, they arrive
bringing shame in their stride.
Inside, a roomful of candles flicker
casting their gloom on the guests as they enter
one by one
and fortify themselves with liquor.
They know, in the ordeal ahead
It’ll be their only succor.
Sooner or later someone had to start.
A brave soul stepped forward to be the guinea pig
He said, with one last swig:
“It’ll smart, when we part
I don’t know how I’ll survive
Kept like this from her
apart.”
Another took up the tale:
“Could they be more perfect
our friends used to wonder
Then the unthinkable happened
and we were torn asunder as if by thunder
He, full of fury
I, full of misery
Brought on by an innocent blunder.”
And so, the confessions continue
A broken heart here, a forgotten spirit there
The stories are nothing new
and when it comes time for the review
with an understanding nod, a kind smile
do they the storytellers faith renew.
Now it’s nearing daylight
Just as they came, they all depart
one by one
so as not to give the neighbours a fright.
But mostly because
they know, solitude is their only right.
A Moment Lost
I have
no rhyme, no meter
On the threshold of greatness
I falter.
I must
think up, write down
Imbibe the visions that come
with renown.
I pray
for wisdom, a word
Instead what comes out
is turd.
I wake
up, realise
the moment has passed me by
I sigh
time for me
to awake.
no rhyme, no meter
On the threshold of greatness
I falter.
I must
think up, write down
Imbibe the visions that come
with renown.
I pray
for wisdom, a word
Instead what comes out
is turd.
I wake
up, realise
the moment has passed me by
I sigh
time for me
to awake.
What dreams may come
I close my eyes
and I say goodbye to sleep again
as I drift back to where it all began.
Outside, it’s starting to rain again
And I see you
lost in your pain again
as I do what I can.
But we both know
I’ve missed the train again
Maybe if I’d been more of a man
we could’ve sung the refrain again.
Then I open my eyes
and thank God I ran.
and I say goodbye to sleep again
as I drift back to where it all began.
Outside, it’s starting to rain again
And I see you
lost in your pain again
as I do what I can.
But we both know
I’ve missed the train again
Maybe if I’d been more of a man
we could’ve sung the refrain again.
Then I open my eyes
and thank God I ran.
Twenty-Six and a Day
Year after year, I am reminded
we are ageless.
Our skin grows old and wrinkled
But the smile remains timeless.
Backs get bent
Gracious gestures live on.
Hair falls out, teeth follow
The twinkle in your eye never does.
Hands shake
Strength of character does not.
Memories and bowels grow erratic
Love just grows.
Legs become weak
Not the desire to stand tall.
Boobs sag, ears flap, lips droop
But the person inside shines through all.
The frame shrinks
While the contents multiply.
Day after day, I am reminded
we are priceless.
we are ageless.
Our skin grows old and wrinkled
But the smile remains timeless.
Backs get bent
Gracious gestures live on.
Hair falls out, teeth follow
The twinkle in your eye never does.
Hands shake
Strength of character does not.
Memories and bowels grow erratic
Love just grows.
Legs become weak
Not the desire to stand tall.
Boobs sag, ears flap, lips droop
But the person inside shines through all.
The frame shrinks
While the contents multiply.
Day after day, I am reminded
we are priceless.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
A Singular Truth
Truth is. Lies are.
A linguistic aberration? A whim of chance? Or something more?
Can it be that grammar teaches us the indivisible nature of truth? And the recurring, many-headed character of lies?
One God, one Truth and only one measure of success. We are taught this in a world where all that we see is a contradiction of all three. There are atheists and there is polytheism. There are gypsies and there is the Housewives Association of Victoria. And there are many versions of Truth – each one equally real and alive to its owner.
How about Lies then? They multiply, duplicate, add-on, and ultimately – divide. We have all experienced the futility of killing a lie, while so many of its insidious relatives fill the world, like Indians filling America.
The question is – have few ever really triumphed over many?
Perhaps the clue to the identity of the final victor is also buried in grammar. You lie. But you have to tell the truth. Or be truthful. The first comes naturally, but the latter needs conscious effort. Truth costs us.
Then again, perhaps it’s not really a victory for Lies as much as a reversal to his true nature for Man.
Because the real Singular Truth is: Lies are us.
A linguistic aberration? A whim of chance? Or something more?
Can it be that grammar teaches us the indivisible nature of truth? And the recurring, many-headed character of lies?
One God, one Truth and only one measure of success. We are taught this in a world where all that we see is a contradiction of all three. There are atheists and there is polytheism. There are gypsies and there is the Housewives Association of Victoria. And there are many versions of Truth – each one equally real and alive to its owner.
How about Lies then? They multiply, duplicate, add-on, and ultimately – divide. We have all experienced the futility of killing a lie, while so many of its insidious relatives fill the world, like Indians filling America.
The question is – have few ever really triumphed over many?
Perhaps the clue to the identity of the final victor is also buried in grammar. You lie. But you have to tell the truth. Or be truthful. The first comes naturally, but the latter needs conscious effort. Truth costs us.
Then again, perhaps it’s not really a victory for Lies as much as a reversal to his true nature for Man.
Because the real Singular Truth is: Lies are us.
God's Greatest Deed or: What the Owl told the Rabbit
A long, long time ago, God created our world. He then filled it with a multitude of wonderful creatures – on land, in the air and under the seas. He also created all manners of flowers, fruits and trees so that they may thrive and multiply. And his heart was gladdened when he saw all that he had accomplished.
But no deed, however great, is reward unto itself – even God needs recognition and praise.
So it came to pass, that He called all the creatures of heaven to look at his work and witness all that he had created.
And as He wished, so was it done. The Sun and the moon, and all the stars, along with all the angels from heaven came to look at the world, and all were awed by its many wonders.
But there was one amongst them who was envious. He could not abide the adulation the others lavished on Him. And so he spoke out:
“Your creatures are many, but they are not varied. All are meek and resemble one another. They will eventually run out of grass and fruits to eat, multiplying unheeded.”
But God, in all his glory, was not put out. He merely smiled, and then created all manners of predators. Surely the Cheetah’s speed, the Eagle’s skill and the Lion’s majesty would be enough to silence anyone.
But the one was not quelled. He again spoke:
“These are just dumb killing machines – they have no cunning, no artifice. Perhaps you can only create what you know, reproducing parts of your own qualities in these inferior copies.”
God created the Snake.
“Clever, but still a mere copy – this time of me. Let’s see you make a creature that surpasses them all in cunning and depravity of purpose. The greatest killing machine invested with the choicest of unholy qualities, so that it may bring all of nature itself to her knees. Then, and only then, will you be the true Creator.”
God created Man.
And that’s how the devil ensured the destruction of God’s greatest deed.
But no deed, however great, is reward unto itself – even God needs recognition and praise.
So it came to pass, that He called all the creatures of heaven to look at his work and witness all that he had created.
And as He wished, so was it done. The Sun and the moon, and all the stars, along with all the angels from heaven came to look at the world, and all were awed by its many wonders.
But there was one amongst them who was envious. He could not abide the adulation the others lavished on Him. And so he spoke out:
“Your creatures are many, but they are not varied. All are meek and resemble one another. They will eventually run out of grass and fruits to eat, multiplying unheeded.”
But God, in all his glory, was not put out. He merely smiled, and then created all manners of predators. Surely the Cheetah’s speed, the Eagle’s skill and the Lion’s majesty would be enough to silence anyone.
But the one was not quelled. He again spoke:
“These are just dumb killing machines – they have no cunning, no artifice. Perhaps you can only create what you know, reproducing parts of your own qualities in these inferior copies.”
God created the Snake.
“Clever, but still a mere copy – this time of me. Let’s see you make a creature that surpasses them all in cunning and depravity of purpose. The greatest killing machine invested with the choicest of unholy qualities, so that it may bring all of nature itself to her knees. Then, and only then, will you be the true Creator.”
God created Man.
And that’s how the devil ensured the destruction of God’s greatest deed.
The Soldier
The sun beats down my back
sweat drips off my brow
and I feel my companions hot breath on my neck
as we march, foot after foot
mile after mile.
Each step brings us closer to the hour of battle
closer to honour
to pieces of metal on our chests
and to the stench of death.
We halt for the night
with an extra tot of rum
and, for the lucky few, opium.
We talk of honour, morality, justice
to pass the idle hours before daylight.
But in the thick of battle
there’s only the heat
and a job to be done.
A leg carried away by canon shot
an arm lost in the charge
another friend cut down by my side
and the only thought I can spare
“Today it’s him
tomorrow it may be me.”
And so it’s done.
Another battle lived through
another one to look forward to
and we move on.
No loyalty, nor patriotism
Not even a heroes welcome keeps us going
What we crave, is clean linen and a warm bed
after our march, foot after foot
mile after mile.
sweat drips off my brow
and I feel my companions hot breath on my neck
as we march, foot after foot
mile after mile.
Each step brings us closer to the hour of battle
closer to honour
to pieces of metal on our chests
and to the stench of death.
We halt for the night
with an extra tot of rum
and, for the lucky few, opium.
We talk of honour, morality, justice
to pass the idle hours before daylight.
But in the thick of battle
there’s only the heat
and a job to be done.
A leg carried away by canon shot
an arm lost in the charge
another friend cut down by my side
and the only thought I can spare
“Today it’s him
tomorrow it may be me.”
And so it’s done.
Another battle lived through
another one to look forward to
and we move on.
No loyalty, nor patriotism
Not even a heroes welcome keeps us going
What we crave, is clean linen and a warm bed
after our march, foot after foot
mile after mile.
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