It was only until these last two days that have passed that a nagging part of me has finally been exorcised; I'm really glad i'm not an officer, but a specialist in this army indeed. Previously i used to question myself repeatedly, scrutinise the two vocations' benefits meticulously and lament on the inequalities ALOT with my fellow trainee specs but NOW i'm truly glad and relieved i'm not one of THEM.

I mean our thinking and doctrine are so very diff, prob bcos of the training methodology we were exposed to. Specs are like so on -the- job, unoe "a little less coversation a little more action please" while occifers r somehow much more concerned with ardous, meticulous planning over EVERYTHING.

So it has been quite a frustrating week i must say and what's coming up is even more challenging in MANY ways, we'll c how tings go....

Specialists
With Pride We Lead

Kite flying

I came upon a colourful kite
a spritely kite it was that jumped
almost as if it had a life of its own

I wanted to fly this kite
this mischievious boy i was
yet it was a heavy kite indeed
so i was told

With a mighty thrust i threw it at the gods
how hard could it be to fly a kite
it only has to catch a draught

Yet they were cruel and not a leaf moved that day
i kept thrusting, almost pleading

Sure enough i heard the reel moving in my hands
it had caught on to a draft, yet another, flung further, soared higher, speedy gonzalez, wowee!

My pride was in the air, almost heard faint applause from the gathered crowd
how could such a scrawny boy launch such a mighty and glorious kite they murmured
There i was beaming, my shield in the heavens, a giant umbrella, a golden beacon

I held firm onto the reel which was still galloping wildly in my palms, titillating...
My kite was very high, very far by now, a speck in the horizon..no i was losing it...
No i could feel its tension still, it was still in my control, my string muzzling the beast

Suddenly a serpent fell from the sky, hissing at the crowds throughout its descent...mocking
it was a long black serpent, its scaly exterior shining in the sun
i held on to the reel still, though it felt light
it didn't feel right, just too light
...Mighty flighty kite...

I couldn't keep up the act anymore
Soon the crowd will notice
Swiftly i sneaked out of the mob
Like crazy fire ants they were hot on my pursuit
I dashed into the woods

The whispering trees that surrounded me
seemed like it was another realm
i hobbled feebly towards a lake
a calm, tranquil body that awaits the thirsty deer

I dipped my blistered palms in for a sip
the ripples disturbed some moving things
these diamond figures were fighting
Entangling, disentangling, touching, playing?
Finally in blessed union, they wandered slowly away

A fog started to form, shrouding all the forest
and i lay there amidst the smooth rocks
contemplating, comprehending
The sweet liquid flowed through the gaps in my palm ever so quickly
i could never capture them

This has been a short and sweet week, with my unit celebrating its 37th bdae, one whole dae of games followed by a free movie in town, shiok lah, in a true s'porean kiam4 peng3 fashion! i just lurrrrvv it here man, tough training it is yes but welfare and comfortable bunk in return...done deal!

Caught e newest Jackie Chan flick New Police Story, which proved to be fantastic in many ways really. Firstly it did not overemphasise on the tangy love story like some action flicks do somehow. Secondly it strays from being purely an action flick akin to Jackie's previous works, portaying Jackie as an actor who really had matured from being a cool stuntman to being one with more emotion and character depth...okie maybe he not that seasoned yet but i do admire him for trying out such a radical move at this age, for such a controversial dive into less stuntman roles may have proved disastrous.

But no, it has broken Hong Kong blockbusters and has pushed off Terminal from S'pore's top movie(well at least till Resident evil opens tonite i guess). Jackie also fought amazingly clumsily in the first half of the show, in order to fit the broken policeman role he played, then later fought off those punks effortlessly once he knew the great failure wasn't his fault n upon the death of his beloved...does show how cinematography can do wonders about a person's capabilities on0screen eh?

And also of course the witty and seamless twists in the movie, conveyed well by superb cinematography that got the crowd cheering topping the simple reverse storytelling style, this is THE MOVIE to watch this month man!

AhA,
significant dae to suddenly publish a blog again, after a what, 6 month hiatus???? that's crazy, some may sae, in todae's hi-tec, wi-fi, neterrifying world of cyberspeed.

yup 6 mths have just zipped by lidat...lotsa significant tings have happened, a BIG pity i havent had time to jot em down. perhaps a blog is realie the most convenient way to pen it down like a diary; it's been extremely hard dor me to craft both drifting emotions and fiery feelings into so-called poems...that partly explains the hiatus.

Yes yes, todae is 3rd anniversary of that much-publicised terrorist kawabunga that shook the ol' cowboy up. All i realie hope for is that nothing much of copycat incidents or other terror acts will occur all around the world todae...especially now with my dear brother in UPenn and beloved teacher Mr Lim in New York!

Well it may sound childish that i still prayed for world peace yesternite on my bed in the bunk, yet i almost never fail to do it on nites when a terror incident is fresh on my mind....what with the recent bombing of Aussie embassy in Jakarta....hiyaz. Sometimes i dunt mind being childish n retreatring to my own small little world and space, take a step back in life n try to look at tings simply, thru the eyes of a child....

okie enaf, the sardonic, melancholic n sadistic john didnt like get possessed or anything....just feel an urge to express this softer side that sometimes props up...yet revealed to few...

Robert Frost: The Man and His Work - 1923

"Sometimes I have my doubts of words altogether, and I ask myself what is the place of them. They are worse than nothing unless they do something; unless they amount to deeds, as in ultimatums or battle-cries. They must be flat and final like the show-down in poker, from which there is no appeal.

My definition of poetry (if I were forced to give one) would be this: words that become deeds."

"All poetry is a reproduction of the tones of actual speech."

"There are two types of relists: the one who offers a good deal of dirt with his potato to show that it is a real one, and the one who is satisfied with the potato brushed clean. I'm inclined to be the second kind. To me, the thing that art does for life is to clean it, to strip it to form"

"A poem begins with a lump in the throat; a home-sickness or a love-sickness. It is a reaching-out toward expression; an effort to find fulfillment.

A complete poem is one where an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found the words."

We have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints; we spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less

We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time; we have more degrees, but less common sense; more knowledge, but less judgement; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less wellness

We spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom

We have multiplied our possesions, but reduced our values

We talk too much, listen so too seldom, love too little and lie too often

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added more years to life, not life to years

We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication; we've become long on quantity, but short on quality

We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbour

We've conquered outer space, but not inner space; we've done larger things, but not better things; we've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul; we've split the atom, but not our prejudice; we write more, but learn less; plan more, but accomplish less

We've learned to rush, but not to wait; we have higher incomes; but lower morals; more food but less appeasement; more acquaintances, but fewer friends; more effort but less success

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men and short character; steep profits, and shallow relationships

These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure and less fun;more kinds of food, but less nutrition. these are days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but broken homes

These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one-night stands, oveerweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill

It is a time when there is much in the shop window, and nothing in the stockroom

Indeed it's all true. think about it. read it again.

-written by anonymous

Maybe Baby

Yet if i should play this game
again
It must be by a challenge

I guess i've seen enough of this
game
I should know the basic rules

But unlike investments, these
returns
May not be clear or even tangible

But i'd only play with my
heart
Not much of my head

Ah, that's where i got
check-mated
Perhaps

Yet if i should play this game
again
It must be by another way

Flowers are nice to have
Yet
It passes like the weather

I'm the insecure type who
loves
to live in a house of bricks

Maybe i can plant
Flowers
But never trust to sleep on their bed

Ah maybe this door hasn't
Closed
Yet; i'm still feeling strange

But this door holds only a
Furnace
Whenever i look back

I hope i don't knock at a
monastery
Nor scorn at such a beautiful notion

Some people live only for such a
notion
A presumed symbol of peace, happiness

But what if God is a big
Chicken
Oh i wouldn't want to break that to them

Some say that's what really makes the
world
Go round, not money

Well i never believed in money
but
Maybe now not even Honey

Maybe Barney is good enough for
me
At least he always tries to be funny

Yet if i should play this game
again
It must be by a miracle

Sleepless in shuttle

Find it hard to sleep tonight
Can't quite tell the worm inside
Holding my bolster, squeezing it tight
I wonder why ther's no moonlight

This night the wine was ripe
I only feared to meet with snide
Though no one seemed to take a side
Least i've nothing more to hide

This small step i've taken to fight
These queasy notions that are stuck inside
I hope will make me crawl again
And one day master this cruel game

Yet for now i trot this milky way
this space, this world, his murky place
I choke on dust and watch the world go by
Stars born, stars die, i've got starry eyes

I'm getting incomprehensible
A galaxy on asthma
Inhaling whole systems
Vomiting asteroids at times

Though i can't see you, Sun
I hope you'll always be there
Tirelessly, selflessly giving up yourself
For all life, for unconditional love

Supernova

Light sears my eyes tearing through my vice
White, black spots, specks fingertips probe and scratch
Around a wall of love, static stasis
Rules my palace i shut my lids and pray
Struggling against the placental bubble
I long for that which never came as near
Red vial of manna my Cup to drink
Ah Abba, how wouldst thou show thy fury?
I must see the light of day, guilt stabs me
I will do it my way, something tells me
To emerge for air and rise a phoenix
Or sweeten my buds in hell i immolate
i shall stem the flood and hold Atlas' load
Will fossil him to serve no one but You