The Path of No

Fade to the background I go

To a place I let go and let flow

I have no control, oh wait, I do

But I opt for the path of no

I watch as the world unfolds

I listen as the words are shown

I witness. I observe. I nod.

I go to the path of no

Questions and shadows followed

This vast Universe unknown

Eyes closed, I breathed in more

And found I'm already home

Thank you Google Image for this.

I'm Not A Train Station

I'm not a train station

That stands and waits

While trains pass me by

I am that moving train

With many stops ahead

And multitude of passengers

I move through time

Places, spaces

And faces

I rest sometimes but finally stop

When newer train comes

And continues the cycles

I am that moving train

And the world 

Is my eternal track

Image was taken in Paris (2008) at the Chaville Vélizy station

If I Can Only

If I can only speak two words
Let them be "Thank You"
To all the souls who have taught me how to live

If I can only move one part of my face
Let them be my lips
To smile upon the blessings which have chanced upon me

If I can only give one thing
Let them be my question
To realize that answers are there all along

If I can only feel one emotion
Let them be love
To let me know that all is supreme

Promises Like Pie-Crust

I am mesmerized by Carla Bruni, her life, her songs and her creativity, after my teacher shared one of her work - Raphaël - which apparently was kinda inspired by her own love life.
She used to be a model who then gave up her modeling career to pursue her passion in music. She's also the first lady of France at the moment after marrying the President Nicolas Sarkozy.

One of her album, No Promises, which majority of her songs are actually adapted from poems by deceased authors. I stumbled upon "Promises Like Pie-Crust" which was written by Christina Georgina Rossetti. Can't help it but to get lost in the words.

Hope you'll enjoy the words as much as I do. I've also embedded the song version. If you are unable to view through email, click the following link - http://www.donnadaritan.com/2008/10/promises-like-pie-crust.html.

Promises Like Pie-Crust

by Christina Georgina Rossetti
(1830-1894)

Promise me no promises,
So will I not promise you:
Keep we both our liberties,
Never false and never true:
Let us hold the die uncast,
Free to come as free to go:
For I cannot know your past,
And of mine what can you know?

You, so warm, may once have been
Warmer towards another one:
I, so cold, may once have seen
Sunlight, once have felt the sun:
Who shall show us if it was
Thus indeed in time of old?
Fades the image from the glass,
And the fortune is not told.

If you promised, you might grieve
For lost liberty again:
If I promised, I believe
I should fret to break the chain.
Let us be the friends we were,
Nothing more but nothing less:
Many thrive on frugal fare
Who would perish of excess.

What Good is A Religion?

What good is a religion?
If it doesn't stop one to lie
What good is a religion?
If it doesn't stop one to disrespect

He can go to church every week
And be the nicest men there
When he's back home
He's worse than an atheist

What good is a religion?
If he has no courage to speak the truth
What good is a religion?
If he shows hatred when pride is hurt

What a shame
Such man exists in close proximity
I don't blame the religion
But the man that he turns out to be

My Friend, Fancy

This humble poem is dedicated to my dearest flatmate, Fancy. She's my MSN, Plurk, Facebook, Friendster, hanging-out, anything-goes kind of buddy. (We can do all those all at the same time, next to each other too). So, it's time for me to do something "nice" to her.

*Evil laughter*

Here we go ...

My Friend, Fancy

Her name is Fancy
Her nick is Panci
Her beau is Franky
Her car is Suzuki

Her mind’s quite blurry
But she ain’t a dummy
She thinks she’s groovy
We think she’s "clownie"

Her blood is AB
Her jokes are crappy
Her life is funny
But never lonely

That’s my friend Fancy
Who is quite lovely
Even though she's silly
Still a GREAT company

The Dead Ones Did Not Die

I would like to share an excerpt from a beautiful poem (though in French) written by a Senegalese poet - Birago Diop (1906 - 1989). In the following poem titled "Les Morts ne Sont Pas Morts" which based on the online translating device means - The Dead Ones Did Not Die - he addressed the popular African belief that those which and who have died (e.g. ancestors), are still present in the natural world.

Hope everyone will enjoy this beautiful poem which translations I've put after the French version. As the translation was quoted from online dictionary, it may not have been depicted accurately but the gist of it is still there.

Les Morts ne Sont Pas Morts
by Birago Diop

Ecoute plus souvent / Listen more often
Les choses que les êtres, / To the things than the beings
La voix du feu s'entend / To the voice of the fire, Listen
Entends la voix de l'eau / Listen to the voice of the water
Ecoute dans le vent / Hear in the wind
Le buisson en sanglot : / The sobbing of the shrub:
C'est le souffle des ancêtres. / It's the breath of the forefathers

Ceux qui sont morts ne sont jamais partis / Those who died have never left
Ils sont dans l'ombre qui s'éclaire / They are in the shades that become clearer
Et dans l'ombre qui s'épaissit, / and in the shades that thickens
Les morts ne sont pas sous la terre / Deaths aren't under the earth
Ils sont dans l'arbre qui frémit, / They are in the tree that quivers
Ils sont dans le bois qui gémit, / They are in the wood that wails
Ils sont dans l'eau qui coule, / They are in the water that runs
Ils sont dans l'eau qui dort, / They are in the water that sleeps
Ils sont dans la case, ils sont dans la foule / They are in the huts, they are in the crowd
Les morts ne sont pas morts. / The dead ones did not die

I Know?

I know "this"
I know "that"
I know enough
To speak and laugh

Strangely
I feel a gap
In my knowing
This space
That I can hardly grasp

I thought I knew
But actually I don't know enough
About the subject
Which named
"I"


This poem or ... erm ... piece of rambling was struck upon me when I realized how much I think I know and how much I want to know about stuff. I read. I watch. I listen. I ask and I am constantly learning. And the realization comes upon when those I inquire are not really about me. If I were to ask myself the question - Who am I? - I seriously don't know how to answer the question. So ... have I grasp the realm of knowing? May be not. But suddenly at that moment, I remember what Joni Mitchell has summed up in her beautiful song - Both Sides Now, which said,"I really don't know _____ at all". What's filling the blank? In my case ... I really don't know me at all.

Do you know YOU?

i carry your heart with me

Hi everyone
Surprise ... surprise ...
Yes, it's been quite sometimes since I let my creative juice flows effortlessly in this platform. I've been "stung" by the lazy-bug which only cure lies within myself ... and I'm still recovering slowly.

First of all ... I would like to thank all of you ... my subscribers and also my readers who've been faithfully checking into my blog regularly though in the end found nothing was updated. I apologize for the trouble you've experienced ...

But to all of you who've been faithfully waiting ... and to especially 2 souls who've been screaming and yelling at regular basis and asked,"why is there no new post on your blog??" ... I dedicate this post to all of you ... I know who you are ... and I may not know a few of you ... but whatever it is ... this poem which was written by legendary (and one of my favourite poet) E.E. Cummings ... I hope you'll enjoy it and I promise ... I'm on the path of recovery to revive this blog.

i carry your heart with me
by E.E. Cummings

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)