Whatever...

Sunrise

I've always hummed this tune when i was kid, oblivious to the lyrics.. it escaped my level of comprehension, it was a total blur.. Finally.. i've learned how to read...

Sunny Day
Sweepin' the clouds away
On my way to where the air is sweet

Can you tell me how to get,
How to get to Sesame Street

Come and play
Everything's A-OK
Friendly neighbors there
That's where we meet

Can you tell me how to get
How to get to Sesame Street

It's a magic carpet ride
Every door will open wide
To happy people like you--
Happy people like
What a beautiful

Sunny Day
Sweepin' the clouds away
On my way to where the air is sweet

Can you tell me how to get,
How to get to Sesame Street...

How to get to Sesame Street

How to get to.....

Got Milk?

The cow happily graze in the open field, under a magnificant blue sky, occasionally letting out a sigh of "moo". It was happy - happy that the grass was green and tasty, happy that earthworms have evaded his munch (or at least i'm happy), and most importantly, happy that it is free from the ape. The cow is happy.

Soon, bells rung with joy, and a ape with a long crooked shaft walks towards it, hailing also a bucket and a stool.. it walked straight up to the happy cow and sat down right behind its.. behind. The cow cared not of mindless apes and their ill-witted actions, so what is wrong with some other species admiring my butt. The cow is happy.

But soon to be, the ape started helping itself to her, squeezing out every drop of milk for the day. The cow barely twitched as the ape continues what seems to be a common phenomena. Soon creamy fluids filled a bucket, and the ape left with a smile. The cow is still happy.

It was a long forgotten past since the first ape took hold of a cattle's bossom for a good drink, but as a mum has told its calf for generations, "it's something we cows will never understand". The cow mooed when it thought of it's "beefy" mum. The cow is happy.

The ape then brought back what was to be a calf's lunch back to his small little farm house, and he served it to his wife and kids. Smiling and thinking of his great achievement of squeezing and filling. And that was just another for the happy cow grazing in the field.

The circle of life

Chicken  > Egg
   ^             v
Egg     < Chicken

The slaughter house...

There's always a destination in life. For a chicken it's usually hell on earth: the slaughter house. Death is seldom sweet and swift, while halls are echoed with dying clucks of dismay.

Why oh why do those primates love my meat so? why is that colonel in the white suit and white bushy beard (though with his pleasant disposition), brings an uncanny feeling; a chill of a spine rather...

Well some things in life, we just can't understand, it exceeds our capacity to comprehend.. Some things in life, we just have to grasp on to faith and hope, and let them guide us through the darkness. A cleaver may sometime slip from its wielder's hands and fly towards the sky....

Of Ambition

The chicken laid there, rested, thinking about its Shell. From the day he thought he has found freedom from a wretchet confinement of calsium, he is brought into a bigger Shell, of even greater pressure and obstructions. The Shell didn't seem all so bad after a while, though it was known that it usually get shipped in large quantities to bakeries....

Though that wasn't really what it was thinking, its chain of thought dwell on the more philosophical. Why did "i" break from the Shell? And what now? Do i break from this bigger Shell? Why is there a monkey approaching me with a cleaver? What's beyond that fence in the horizon?

Yet another attempt

Amidst upcoming distress,

entangled in unrest,

torment lies abreast,

with this uncanny test.

Hours pass so swift,

with the mind adrift,

the pen lay unlift,

success's but a myth.

Shan't i be granted a saviour,

to bless my endeavour?

Shan't i be granted hope,

to help me cope?

Shan't i be granted motivation

to strive for perfection?

Why can't i bring myself to study,

to achieve my degree.

Of profound resentment

The stigmatic gradient of the evening sky,

so cynical compared to the glorious day,

why does time flutter swiftly without cry,

leaving the despair lurking in dismay.

Agony and defeat emits in the horizon,

Yet, their fiery multitude strikes no chord

Have success become but a mocking motion?

and hope and dreams a sickening vogue?

Alas, cries shall go unheard and regrets will loom,

but the tides of fortune has never been frail,

be it i subdue that within which brings doom,

then, the last strand of spirit will prevail

Chicken Cow Issue

The cow saw the chicken in the distant, cow just breathed a generous sigh of anguish and hopelessness, and continued grazing. Afterall it's just a daily routine.

The chicken was at it again, attempting rigorously to reach the top of the barn house. Tries after tries, his dreams did not avail, but in the process it found clucked with joy as it was awarded that short glimpse of the horizon over the hedge every once in a while when it pushed itself a bit more.

The cow conitnued grazing, whilst the sound of a chicken flopping its "wings" slowly blended into a steady insignificant rhythm.

Both the cow and the chicken served a greater purpose, the cow for its milk from its b**bs and the chicken for its shelled offsprings from its a*se, both an integral part of the equilibrium of the farm house. Different, but common.

Soon the sun chose to head west for bed, and the cows moved towards its barn, taking shelter. The ever inspired chicken followed suit. Coming towards the entrance, the two crossed path, glaring at each other, amazed by the eccentricity of their lifestyles, yet, deep down inside, they're just the same.

The End

Irony

Irony...

It's like a cold solid steel, with a polished clear surface, swishing pass your ear, just an inch away. You survived it, yet it made a mark.

It's the eerie feeling of screeching metal, scratched together, a pitch incomprehensible, and yet understood.

It's the cracking of a iron column, buckling due to its own weight, crashing down and burrying all in ruins.

Secret to Happiness

"The secret to happiness is not doing what you love, but loving what you have to do"