Fables and Revelations

The word concentration always seemed like such a quizzical word when instructing children. What is concentration? I had kids telling me concentration is; a. Thinking about something really hard b. Closing your eyes like the way my mummy does it c. Looking at something for a long time d. I don’t know? Dictionary.com defines concentration as seen below:; Main Entry: con·cen·tra·tion Pronunciation: "kän(t)-s&n-'trA-sh&n, -"sen- Function: noun 1: the act or action of concentrating: as a : a directing of the attention or of the mental faculties toward a single object b : an increasing of strength (as of a solute or a gas in a mixture) or a purifying by partial or total removal of diluents, solvents, admixed gases, extraneous material, or waste (as by evaporation or diffusion) 2: a crude active principle of a vegetable especially for pharmaceutical use in the form of a powder or resin 3: the relative content of a component (as dissolved or dispersed material) of ...

A blanket of fatigue clouds my mind as I settle down in front of the mac in the quiet of the office. Just tired of the whole world, just want to lie down to rest my little head and heart. Life is just so fragile and it’s sad to know that it takes tragic deaths to constantly remind us of that fact in life. A loved one passed away of late, of poisoning. It’s queer, he was always there and I would take it for granted that these individuals are like part of an age old paining that would never fade away. That they would live as long as I would, as much as people tell us how passing is such a normal thing, it’s hard to accept such negative change, to never hear his whimsical conversations, to never see him in his strange china man grey suit and his big wide grin every new year, when my family pops by for our yearly visit. He would entertain us with such enthuisaium and such joy. His smile was always one of so much sincerity, which he would give so freely year after year the stories of his tr...

The fear, like the pounding of a hammer on the walls around, eats at me like a child nibbling on an Oreo cookie. In small tiny bits savouring every single piece he nibbles, ensuring that he consumes every minuet crumb of cookie on the plate. It grinds and pounds and it does not go away. Even in my sleep, he is there grinning and grasping that fear in his hand like his favourite cookie waving it around my my heart in his hand. He strolls around the room like the impish mischevious Puck with a ball bouncing and bouncing as I tried to study and recall, all the facts and figures and dates and names, all the brilliant minds who are dead, that’s quite a shame. He’s walking around with that ball in his hand tossing and turning and making a bang. He would not go away, he would not leave, unless that heart of mine is calm and at ease. This anxiety of mine, that little fear like a horrid nasty little brat who deserves a good thorough spanking is constantly near. I push him away, he runs back to ...

Life as some would see it is a life of perpetual pain and sorrow. Humans fight endless battles to achieve the happiness that they wish so hard to acquire but only to have their ideal fairy tale ending turn into an everlasting waking nightmare of fears and tears. It is prevalent almost everywhere I go. I see it in people and with people like a ball and chain dragging them through each step of the way. People get trapped in this constant swinging of the cold metallic pendulum that engulfs their hearts and hardens the soul into these polished, gleaming objects that feel like the touch of ice against your skin. A parent’s longing for their child’s presence turns into annoyance and frustration and eventually anger when a child is unable to meet their needs. Their anger would create animosity in their child, as they channel their frustration towards him like a meteor from the heavens, splitting the poor child’s’ heart into a million pieces and leaving everyone in shambles. At the end of the ...

Plugged into my ipod, I sat staring out at the dark rolling clouds behind the windows of a cab last evening. The was a dark, gloom day with a huge menacing fluff of grey cottonballs hanging in the sky, it looked almost like a giant of a raging stonefish that just got trampled on. A strange musky smell engulfs me, gagging me. I tried holding my breath till my face would have tuned into a shade of groovy pea green colour. When I step into a cab, they always seem to have a different lingering scent on them, some pleasant and some just so awful, I would gag or tear. The cab had an odd sourish, sweet odour; hanging like a bad piece of damp, sweat filled laundry. I tried concentrating on my music to take my mind off the foul smell. I wanted so much to wind down the windows but it was raining. The droplets that had landed on the windows trembled in a backward motion pulling themselves thing across the windows, like tiny creatures spreading themselves across the glass pane. I imagined a piece ...

I wish someone would leave him on aphelion and forget about this impish creature. When I say imp, I’m not talking about mischievous children or grafts, but these little demons like beings that roam the earth and annoy us to oblivion. Standing in the sardine tin can of a train last evening with masses of overworked and monotonous beings staring blankly into the emptiness in front of them as if reading some sort of cryptic message that only they can see written in the nothingness, I heaved a sigh and waited for the train door to close behind me. The irritable beeping, warning of the closing train doors rang like the whiling over my head. Everyone was all impatient for the train to move on when like a jack rabbit on fire, this impish creature from hell ran head on into the already tightly packed trained pushing the passengers over in this domino like wave. People staggered and swayed, some trying hard to grasp the poles and handles around them to catch their fall. I let out a quick orgasm...

The chameleon sat across me blinking, she then opened her gapping mouth and croaked at me. She changed from black, to green, to blue, to pink, to red and now she was angry. She would not stop croaking, she had to unload her anger and her fears, her pain and her loss. They all fell into a heap in front of me and piled up like a mountain of laundry, all damp and foul smelling. She would not stop and will not stop until she could no more feel any pain and anger. She became yellow, as bright as the sun, and she smiled a charming smile. The chameleon was not a silly chameleon, nor is she brilliant, but she could twiddle her mates around her thumb like a clown juggling bowling pins at ease. It strange these mates of hers who had crowded round her and watched her changed in sheer delight as she constantly became someone else. Perhaps, her skills in transformation enticed them? Perhaps it served as a refreshing change for them. They loved her so. This physically colourful chameleon with a dull...

The mornings come slow and hazy, as struggle to open my eyes to greet the new morn. Just lying there bequeaths me with such a sense of serenity. The soft humming of the standing fan as it blows the cool morning air into my face and the subtle twittering of the birds just paints a portrait of life’s sweet moments. As I drift in and out of sandman’s domain, the barrier between reality and dreaming comes to a blur. I wish I could lie there forever, with my skin again the cool soft sheets and the bed like a womb cradling my body, as I rest in silence and assurance of the day to come.

I wonder if all these flu bugs, one such is the H1N5 bid flu, that are travelling around like a businessman on the first class flight around the world is just a huge conspiracy. All the scare of this pandemic that would kill half a million individuals, is it as real as the soil beneath my feet? I was tuning in to virgin radio UK which is half way round the way and there I have Pete and Jeff on the morning breakfast show talking about the huge bird flu scare in Europe. Just a creeping curiosity if this entire scare is a scam by some huge conglomerate trying to make a kill. The bid flu was here a few years back, and so was SARS, which took the lives of mostly the elderly here and the sick. It came and on and the only individuals that profit was the huge med corps that produce the vaccine and health kits which was snapped up faster then decaf coffee at the morning coffe joint down the road. In Asia, so far an estimate of 60, mostly poultry workers have been killed in the mist of the flu p...

It's strange how things in life always come one full circle, the events that have occured seemed to have taken such a whirlwind of a turn in this life of mine. When reality becomes stranger then fiction and life can be like a step into chick flick, a feel good drama serial or a rock video of anguist and hate. The events that have occured are downright melodramatic but as real as the smell of coffee beans at the down town starbucks that dance under our noses and spiral out of our latte. Well, this is a sort of release or mine to talk about these queer events that choose to take place in this world of unfortunate events.