Did a poem. A side-tracked one. Was meaning to rant about peace and nature. Turned out to be a love poem, with wind and flowers as personification. Well.

Do you like flowers without petals?

And days without the sun?

She pranced around the prairie

He chased the rain in the clouds

Nature O’ Nature, make room for the knights

Descending O’ Cascading, tribute from above

Venus, you Beauty, Elitist no more!

Poppies and Daisies. Wild and free!

Twirled and Whirled. Gone with the Wind.

Eyes, eyes, those beads of Opal

Flit! Flit! Met with the breeze

North. South. Magnets that attract

Dance. Flew. Into their arms they ran

Embrace. Tight. Love is such a Fad.

Marraige of Nature. Pretty Fly.

Weaves and Carasses the Flowers, petals short.

Scents and Nourishes the Wind that flits by.

Summer. Autumn. Winter.

Spring. Petals return. Never again the same.

Summer. Still air. Going, Going, Gone.


I found my song. Something I will never get tired of, nor will I be crazy over. I believe that we can only own things that we have absolute peace with. Which means that everything we own is part of us and defines us, part-made-whole for us. I’ll safely say that my bag is me, my file, my pencil, my bottle. Sounds absurd but its more than true. I get really flustered when I lose my pencil, the blue Pilot one. And on no account will I leave my bottle on rough grounds, figuratively and literally. Now it still looks new, blue nalgene. My bag too, i changed several cos I feel uncomfortable with them and this one’s gotta stay (: But I haven’t found my pencil case. I have loads, in fact 5 or 6 at least. All less than 2/3 months old. But they’re not me.

Haha, I’m being neurotic but I’m like that.

With my pencil, I wrote this and that poem, essays that star. I need something that I’ll belive in and the rest will succeed. If I believe in my case, there’s no doubt it’ll be the best ever that can be. That’s why putting me against my beliefs is gonna work Zilch.

Snow (hey oh) by the Chili Peppers and Drive  by Incubus is Peace and I’m really fond of them. They don’t change you, they maintain equilibrium.

I’m standing on the same spot, the same one where thousands of people each day try to rob me off, where cars try to knock me down, but they drive through me, cos I’m invisible, I’m faded, I’m etheral, less of a human. I linger everywhere. Who knows I’m not in front of you, watching, your face, your moves, how you cringe, how you curse. I shake my head and leave. Not the place for me.