All Art, like all Love, has its roots in Heartache.
Solitude
Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow it's mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.
Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.
I fell in love with you the second I layed eyes on you, it had nothing to do with the way you looked, there was something in your eyes, then I found out what was in your heart.
This blog is dedicated to several people.
Clan LegO
Michele Cheow
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Poetry and major works archive
The Michele Cheow Collection
Fragments Of A Song
And the End
Ocean of Madness
A Millon Pieces
This Night
One Day
Regret
Once Upon A Song
The Musing In Between
A Friend's Lament
Supernova
On A Dish
Green Eyed Monster
Cloud Castle
My Love For You
The Moth And The Candle
The Marble, Brook and Star
Footprints
A Night Of Magic
Imprisoned
Masks
Inspiration
The Songbird And The Maestro
Hydra
Apple
Skylines
Strings
Fragile
If Only You Could See The Geometry
A New Light
Deus' Magnum Opus
Rain
Impulse
In-toxication
Duel
Hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all
The world will not end when God grants it.
It will end when the last heart is broken
I'm planning arson. 2 weeks from now.
posted @ 4:08 AM
Sunday, January 11, 2009
For Yvonne
In another time, in another love, our memories, our histories, like falling leaves of autumn, are scattered haphazardly in the wind, murmured words passionate in their conception, are left to drip in the wombs of the earth, forgotten by all but we who cast them there, the only strings that bond together, our yesterdays and today.
In another time, in another love, Our experiences, our futures, like wine maturing and mellowing, flows fluidly through time, as vows exchanged in greatest solemnity, are proclaimed in church bells and resounds across creation, cherished by we who stand waiting with fingers crossed, hearts entwined together, awaiting the break of day.
Wong Wen Pu 30.12.2008
I don't know how to title this. Suggestions welcomed.
And dex, i'm writing a reply on your post. Wait for it.
posted @ 2:37 PM
Monday, December 15, 2008
The sky is deep, the sky is dark, The light of stars is so damn stark. When I look up, I fill with fear. If all we have is what lies here this lonely world, this troubled place, then cold dead stars and empty space...
Well, I see no reason to persevere, no reason to laugh or shed a tear, no reason to sleep or ever to wake, no promises to keep, and none to make. And so at night I still raise my eyes to study the clear but mysterious skies-- that arch above us, as cold as stone. Are you there, God? Are we alone?
posted @ 8:13 PM
Thursday, November 27, 2008
You know, when i run in the rain, it's because i dont want people to see me crying?
posted @ 1:37 AM
Monday, November 24, 2008
Well, i was bored
You Can Definitely Spot a Liar
Maybe you have good instincts. Or maybe you just have a lot of experience with liars.
Either way, it's pretty hard for someone to pull a fast one on you. You're like a human lie detector.
Saturday, November 01, 2008
I find myself engaged in 2 of my previous favourite pasttimes from 3 yearsn ago again. Reading and writing unrequited love poems.
Edit: I absolutely fail to understand why so many unrequitted love poems i read end with and opistmistic note. I want to read sad poems, for goodness sake, not "but we'll get over it one day".
posted @ 8:30 AM
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Am setting up a drama and theatre company. Non profit for now. Need actors and crew. And someone who is handy with, and owns, a film recorder. Interested please contact me at 81192399 or genkaku_han@hotmail.com.
People who have expressed interest:
Cast Myself Dexter Eu Ginn Joanna Surfee Hariz JiaWei Eggy
Crew Engyian HuangZhi Hariz Siti
Tentative Hazel(cast) DongWei(crew)
I await the sms(es).
Also, anyone who has suggestions as to what to name e company, please tag/email/sms/let me know somehow.
posted @ 8:33 AM
Monday, October 13, 2008
I guess Most people are familiar with Pablo Picasso, the great abstract artist?
Yep, that's him.
Yep, that's a sample of his work.
But today, I introduce to you, dear readers, abstract art of a different sort.
Dont ask, i dont know what it is. I think its a storm cloud though.
Electron orbitals?
Hold your breath, there's more!
Your guess is as good as mine.
And my favourite, of course, is the basketball.
I think i'll post the artist picture next week?
posted @ 2:39 PM
Saturday, October 11, 2008
I dread the end of the exams. Because after that, i will have no more reason to ask you out anymore.
posted @ 4:34 PM
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
I suppose I should thank those who wished me a happy birthday?
In the order in which i recieved their well wishes
Rachel (13sept, then 19) Yvonne WeiRong and Glenn Eng Yian Dexter TingJun
I was gonna post something else, but i forgot what, so never mind.
posted @ 4:14 PM
Friday, August 22, 2008
Probably my best memory of BPGHS.
Btw, my new favourite hobby is going to LT4 (the biggest LT in my school) when its empty, and play songs through the microphone.
posted @ 12:29 AM
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Some little monster wrote this, and i thought it was kinda amusing, so here it it, verbatim.
The story of the wonderfully tragic death of WenPu, the self proclamied angel, and it is agreed by some(actually it's only himself), and disagreed by many(all except for himself) that he is sweet. He didn't die an expected death, and although a failed assassination was carried out by a noob sniper who needed glasses, he escaped unscathed. Being an idiot, he went out in the rain and was struck by lightning. However, he did not die, due to reason still unknown, although it has been suspected by some that his neopet has created a bubble of resistance that protected him, and the onmy damage that he suffered was from a small jolt, and since then he became terrified of light. Having cheated death for countless times, he he was finally wiped off the face of the earth one fateful day when he recieved the results of a Maths test. He actually topped the class, and he died from shock. After his death, some scientists were still mystified as to why he didn't die after being strunk by lightning, as they wanted to proof the existence of neopets. And thus, they cut him up, and made a shocking revelation - he did not have a heart at all, which would account for why he didn't die from a broken heat when his neopet got eaten up by a dinosaurs. He was then displayed in a famous museum, where countless tourists with no life flock to, bringing their irritating brats with them, and they would gawk at him, and take pictures. From then on, teachers would bring their students there to teach them that the heart was never part of the circulatory system, and the textbooks were filled with rubbish. In conclusion, the end.
posted @ 5:42 AM
Friday, July 25, 2008
I've been cordially invited to participated to take part in the NE quiz. Precious few people have been shortlisted. I feel so honored. I was probably chosen because I am such an angel with good words for everyone, and certainly have no complaints against having to stay for 4 extra hours to foster a strong sense of belonging to my country. I shall do my best to answer the questions to the best of my abilities and with utmost sincerity. I can foresee myself singing praises to the country.
On their heads be it.
I hope MOE calls to enquire who was the young man who has exhibited such strong opinions. I will be famous then.
I am going to hell, and you, my friends, shall be along for the ride.
posted @ 1:39 AM
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Maths paper 2 Exam duration 15mins You may use a calcualtor, any calculator, i dont care.
1.∫Maths paper was hard. [4] - refer to formula list below.
2. The chances of wenpu turning up for any H2 maths paper is 90%. Today, he went for his paper and answered 25marks worth of questions, of which 10marks he has a probability of 50 getting credit, 5marks 95% probability getting credit, 7 marks 60% getting credit, and the remaining 10% change getting credit.
i) Construct a probability tree to illustrate the information above. [3]
ii) Calculate the probability that wenpu gets all 25marks. [2]
The average mark a PJ student would get for this paper is estimated to be 63, with standard variance 10 marks. It is assumed that wenpu got 18marks out of 100.
iii) Illustrate the above information with a normal curve. [1]
iv) If a student is chosen at random, calculate the probability he has achieved a score higher that wenpu [1]
WenPu made a bet with dexter regarding his paper 1. Dexter betted that wenpu score is less than or equal to 10. Wenpu better greater then 11. Wenpu answered a total of 16marks, 8 questions 2 marks each. If dexter wins, there is a 10% chance that wenpu will forget all about the bet. What is the probability that Dexter will get his neopoints? )Assume that each mark is as easily gotten as the next) [1]
Formula List
∫Maths paper was hard. = WenPu failed maths.
posted @ 11:42 AM
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Did not really want to post this, but i was tempted.
For Yvonne
Duel
In a stance of en-garde, each watchful and wary We stand our ground, in thrust and parry. In touché and riposte, we each try to gauge The other’s mettle, in this duel we engage
The other’s intention we try to espies An attempt to read each other’s eyes An epiphany in the other’s designs A drawing of blood, a crossing of lines
Point after point and bout after bout Each other’s case, we would attempt to rout. But duel after duel, in this verbal swordplay You would always have your way
For each time we fight, you knew you would win By waiting for me, out of love for you, to give in
Wong Wen Pu 14.06.08
posted @ 8:03 PM
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
I feel like one of those Romantic poets, using so much natural imagery. Archaic words also attract me now. I think i have discovered a new source inspiration.
The Wishful Flowers Of Spring
Sweetly the callings of adolescence Heralds in the blooming of flowers in spring And for thee I shed my mask of indifference Offering in stead my arm, while joyous lovebirds sing.
Glided monoliths of cold stone pale in comparison Unnoticed they would pass beneath thy charms, Aphrodite greens in envy at thy countenance. Never could I have imagined thee in my arms, Gaea herself stand in ovation of you and I.
Rippling of rivers and aspen leaves doth tell our stories, Untruth of words doth decorate my lines, I only wish what I wrote was true, not wishful thinking of my mind.
There was this once i thought I misheard you But I oft wonder if what I heard was true Wong Wen Pu 19.03.08
WeiRong favourite type of poems, if I recall correctly. Naturally, he will know for whom I wrote it.
posted @ 4:48 AM
Sunday, March 16, 2008
For GuangRui
In-toxication
Poisoned blood is coursing along my veins In-toxicated by thy fine visage For over me you doth command tight reins Reins for a tamed willing beast in a cage The venom keeps me awake through the night Thy kage haunts me- my pain, my endorphin A sensation from which there is no flight Like a snared butterfly, with wings pinned
I am a hostage and you hold the keys To my escape, to clear my confusion Of your mind I only wish could see Your subtle move of unseen intention
I feel ambivalent, a wing clipped dove But of you, I think I can come to love.
I write to thee, my paramour I only wish I knew you more WongWenPu 16.03.08
This picture pretty much sums up what I'm trying to say.
On a secondary note, that was my first sonnet. Please let me know if I miss out some features a sonnet should have.
posted @ 5:21 AM
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
So sweet.
posted @ 4:11 PM
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Some amusing statements i read recently:
WP: A reason why the Allies went ahead with the Atomic Bomb even though they were afraid they might start a nuclear chain reaction that cannot be stopped, blowing up the world. -Might the atmosphere catch fire? Probably not. (but that was not the main problem). The big worry was that if the allies didnt get nuclear fission working soon then the Germans would beat them to it. Given choice between our blowing up the world and the enemies blowing up the world, it was obvious what to do. WP: There, beat that.
Scientisit always asks the wrong question of, 'why does it happens?'. For example, they might ask, 'why do zebras form herds?' and following which they would analyse the zebra psyche and all that crap. Now, if we asked a simpler question, the direct opposite of the former, 'what if zebras dont form herds?', the answer become glaringly obvious. Because they will become lion's dinner'. (will refine this later, its midnight and I have chem to do)
posted @ 12:11 AM
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Another cute girl went to cut her hair. Wad a pity. Long hair is nicer
posted @ 11:47 PM
Saturday, February 16, 2008
The last memorable dream I had in recent years was in sec4. It was this gothic dream where Gina(my dance inscructor) was chasing me all over the place. My dreams are mostly like such, frightening and unhappy.
Of late, Im glad to say that I had this really nice dream, nice enough for me to blog about. I dreamt about this person called Jiawen, and i must say, it was my best dream in a long time. Very nice indeed.
posted @ 11:41 PM
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Fragile
If our tenure, my friend, on this stolid earth Is so transient and insignificant Then why do we not induge in what we love But tethered to chains of convention?
Oh is a crime to drink and make merry? Surfeiting, it quenches life's melancholy And though righteous men doth question my sanity Of relasping a simian ancestry
I shall not fear the notoriety Hurled by this scrupulous society Accusation of abandoning propriety And of entertaining an immorality
Like a candle our lives are burning Each day an eventual death threat Each moment is a point of no returning Each day life doth brims of dread
Life is a debt I owe but to myself I shall live to please myself, and no one else
WenPu 05.02.08
posted @ 1:23 PM
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
The following is in part in response to tayyi's 18 january post, and in part my take on the Zackery issue. Unlike tayyi though, Im going to take a stand. Which might see to my face being plastered all over the school with the captions not 'READ THIS' but instead 'DRAW ON HIS FACE'.
After today's assembly, I have to say, I see some of the things Zackery is driving at(refer to tayyi post). I refer, of course, to the two councillers promoting the sale of their new merchandise, the silly new skirt. Let me first describe what they did that irked me in particular.
Criminal Offense No1. -putting on an accent I dont them, but I know for a fact that they are not Britons, not Americians, and certainly do not sound like either when they speak normally. I wonder, therefore, why they would bother with a poorly imitated accent. Seriously, are they so worried of their 'disgusting chinese phrases' that they have to bother with an accent?
Criminal offense No2. -Extremely poor choice of diction I now know why people percieve PJ students as having '0% class, half the self respect(of others), no sophistication to save (their) lives. Honestly, as councillers in a public announcement, they had to use words non-existent in the dictionary such as 'ah-lian'? Is such is not crass, nothing is. The reason why PJ students are different from other JC students in terms of how they hold themselves is because there is no effort to improve their etiquette. As Glenn once mentioned, any speaker in ACJC would be throroughly ashamed of himself if he ever had to resort to such poor words. But no, PJ's leaders of tomorrow sees it(their lack of etiquette) as a joke, and seem mightily proud that they managed to use such superlicious words in their descriptions.
I am no elitist, but I find myself ashamed ands looking down such a poor public display. Is that what we want others to see us as- finding humour in crude jokes? I hope not.
Tayyi has decided to sit on the fence with regards to Zackery's post. I have decided to take a stand, and I will say that I agree with Zackery(especially the last paragraph), although I might argue with him over his choice of words too. But quintessentially, Pj students in general are unable to carry themselves with grace, and such disturbs me, not unlike how it annoys Zackery.
I also salute Zackery for his courage in voicing his views, as well as the courage to apologize. I want to point out that it is sad how his views are so badly criticized simply because he was being vocal. We try to advance our society towards greater freedom in speech, but anything slightly more radical is condemned. I suppose, the way he wrote makes Obama and Clinton's debate look like conversative child's play, to elicit such a vehement response. Increase liberty in speech, my head.
Some criticise Zackery as a elitist, but i would differ. Every society needs someone to propel it, and I find that it takes a person with a clear idea of what is respectable to drive society to greater eloquence. The LKY mention that it would not be within his life that he would see Singapore a gracious society. I would agree, sadly. After all, when people fail to carry themselves with grace, someone who has higher expectaions criticise. Instead of accepting the criticism, they reject it, beliving that what they are doing is perfectly fine. How would we improve like this?
I know some PJ students read my blog (so sue me; oh wait, plaster my post all over PJC). Im quaking in my chair now, what if they decide to down me like they did to vocal Zackery? I guess, I'll just have to live with it, as I usually do.
posted @ 11:17 PM
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
So as Cze reminds me, I ought to have a post. But no happy new year, I'm afraid, as there's nothing new(wads so new about school?), and nothing happy(wads so happy about school?) about 08. In any case another poem.
Impulse
Are thou my foe or my friend? Smooth liar, times and again Of mine senses you swiftly rob Foolish heart, you throb and throb
Mine eyes, in conspiracy Leads me to this fallacy Always a same fantasy But never be mine destiny
Mine tongue, I realize, EuTu Thy faith no more remains true Guided by a befuddled mind Strange words you do speak, I find
Mine heart sought the forever ever Mine mind knows the never forever Oh my heart, you throb and throb On impulse, in pulse
Wong Wen Pu 06.01.08 For the girl whos name I still do not know
posted @ 7:25 PM
Sunday, December 23, 2007
For ShuHui
Those who read Dicken's 'A Tale of Two Cities' will see exactly what I mean in this poem. There are some elments of 'A Tale of Two Cities' in this poem.
Cards do not Love like You and I (If Only You Could See The Geometry)
They have come together In many groups of four Four men sat in high benches Forty odd make the floor To witness a verdict passed On weak and worthless things A man who foolishly grasps To love on broken wings
The man sat in mild silence Well aware of the cost All he felt was sympathy For the poor unloved lost Emotions they know not of Never to feel Love's part In a man's life, poor souls with Emotions that of cards
The floor, they knew their justice in spades But they knew not Love Their reasons crystalline as diamonds But Love needs no reasons Their clubs are weapons of war against his likes But man should make Love, not war For Love is neither skill not art But stem from within the depths of one's heart
The man leaves the room, as the Hearing comes to a close On the stage lies not red of Acquit, but guilt's black rose They walked him to the gallows Convicted and to hang As the traitor body dance With the wind, he wore a smile Gratified for the chance
To set a guilty loved one free.
Tis better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all Wong Wen Pu 23.12.07
posted @ 8:56 AM
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
For GuangRui
Rain
I love the falling rain It reminds me of a pain A callous sensation Of past sweet intoxication
I recall waiting in the rain For a melancholic bide in vain For she made to avoid my sight Or never turned up at all that night
I saw you after the rain alone A forlorn I had always known Your expression lone and tender Beauty, an unspoken splendor
Tonight I sent you home And after I bid you shalom I still stood in the rain a moment Savoring your lingering presence
WongWenPu 17.12.07 I missed the last bus home But do not worry that I will roam For surely of you I shall write As I might not be able to sleep tonight
posted @ 6:06 AM
Thursday, December 13, 2007
For Pui Shan
My Love For You
Doubt me if you will, This face that I put on. Or suspect that I am, Not as brave at heart. One day if I should, Forfeit your respect, Or if you would question, The integrity of my words. All these I would accept, With open mind and heart, So long as you never doubt, That I ever loved you.
Wong Wen Pu 13.12.07
posted @ 6:50 PM
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Since im out of stuff to write, Shakespeare shall do the writing.
The Rain it Raineth Every Day
When that I was and a little tiny boy With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came to man's estate, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came, alas, to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came unto my beds, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, With toss-pots still 'had drunken heads, For the rain it raineth every day. A great while ago the world began, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, But that's all one, our play is done, And we'll strive to please you every day.
Do you think this is a happy or sad song?
posted @ 8:08 PM
Friday, December 07, 2007
For ZhengRui
The Moth and the Candle
The long lithe candle stood alone By the table side A moth flew by and was sorry For her lonely plight He fluttered closer to the candle Enchanted by her slender frame And as he watched he fell in love With her dancing flame Closer and closer the moth flew Even though his velvet wings were singed Nevertheless, he persevered And to the candle sing' 'Keep away', though the candle cried 'Come no closer should you try, For this flame will burn your wings And you will surely die.' But the moth was too enraptured To heed her advice And to ease his infatuation He was prepared to pay the price And the candle watched in horror as The poor moth's wings burned Another victim to the altar of love A lesson some would never learn
Martyrs are sown, not made Wong Wen Pu 06.12.07
posted @ 9:10 PM
To fully understand this poem, the crown of my collection, one has to refer to my previous writings over the past two years. Read 'One Day', 'Regret', 'Ocean of Madness', 'A Million Pieces', 'This Night', 'At The End' and 'Once Upon A Song' to fully appreciate this poem.
Fragments Of A Song
Once upon a time there was a song A collage of many colourful ensemble Its lyrics warbled my life's theme Of my many hopes and dreams
One Day out of a rainbow you came along And it was then you saw my song You took it into your graceful hands And I thought we might perhaps be friends
But such was my own fantasy Against the flow of destiny And I Regret to say, as you turned around On thy visage painted a frown
You opened you hands and let fall My crystal song onto the floor An Ocean of Madness engulfed my hopes and wishes As my song fragmented to A Million Pieces
And This Night At The End I am left to collect That was Once Upon A Song, and to reflect On what I had done that was wrong Standing amidst the Fragments Of A Song
Wong Wen Pu 06.12.07 Still picking up the pieces
posted @ 3:01 PM
Thursday, December 06, 2007
For Shandy
Cloud Castle
Sometimes at night I would wake in bed The nights would be cold and the city dead Much would have been dreamt but naught been said Of a future only the brave may dicate And though my dreams come in cacophony They always leave a taste of melancholy And for poor and weak individuals such as I May only live to hurt and die For lacking in courage to embrace Trips and falls in the great Race
Often I wish that I would venture Against all odds in face of danger Into the mayhem and the fray To fall adversaries and seize the day And into my being I would always delve To conquer the fear that defeat myself But each time before the battlefield My will would crumble, my courage fail
Though its a path that many have trodden I much fear to join the fallen To succeed would bring neither wealth nor fame To fail is a bitter shame Thus from this deed I would flee Such brave deeds not meant for me Only the brave worthy to pursue these dreams I contend with my lone requiem
For dreams are dreams and unlived dreams hurt But how I wish I have courage to put those dreams to deeds And not just words
Reflections after being in a semi awake state When caution is thrown to the winds And full of courage But all is lost when I wake up
Wong Wen Pu 06.12.07
posted @ 10:28 PM
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Strings
They hang suspended now, the puppets To the ceiling of the shiny set Behind the screen there would sit a man The puppet master with a grand, grand plan Where he would make the puppets song and dance And to prance, to prance, to prance, to prance
The puppets have to perform each day Different roles they had to play And with each role they did have fun Be it that they were kings or beggers' sons But each story would always end With a prince and princess hand in hand Riding off into a grand sunset With all foes banished or dead
Thus they relive daily a happy end By the guidance of a doll master's hands But the strings that made them folk and lore Would be their master forever more
Wong Wen Pu 03.12.07 Please tell me the answer Is fate unchangable?
posted @ 9:27 PM
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
The Marble, Brook, and Star
A polished slab of marble stood Upon the banks of a warbling brook Where each day the water would gently lap Unto the marble's shiny edge And dawn to dusk the brook would greet Where verses of the good bad and ugly meet But most of all the brook would sing Of love and of romantic things To win the marble's exquisite praise And find favor in the marble's gaze
But the marble was a fine haughty lady Over the brook she would not tarry And to the brook's songs of love and lore Such romantic serenades she thus ignore For she held the brook in disdain Of being a hedonist untamed And all summer and winter the brook would song To a lady who would of it not condone
Then one night came a shooting star And set the cold marble heart afire As the marble watched the comet fly With bright, starry, wistful eyes She arranged her most elegant poise And called to the star in a mellowed voice To join her on the stolid land Where they could shine hand in hand
But the star gave a tinkling laugh To the marble it gently rebuff I am one who will not stay down For I rather sing and dance around To soar and through the heavens run For life is all about play and fun.'
And then it saw the merry little stream Almost as though out of a dream 'And that is the one for me Merry make we can together be And right into the water it splashed And at the bottom came to rest
But the brook had eyes for non other, alas For it's love for the marble will always last
A whimsical tale written in melancholy What an irony. Wen Pu 19.11.07
posted @ 7:34 PM
The below poem took me 3mins to write while i was feeling bored on the plane. There was this chap flirting with a chio girl, so i could not resist writing this.
For Princess GeHui
Green Eyed Monster
I will hurt you, I swear I will Should you accomplish in what I fail For that you would from me steal What to me means a great great deal So should you take what I mark as mine I promise you that you will surely die For whoever would lay a finger that I hold dear Would surely wish that they had never met her
Hands off, buster. Wong Wen Pu 28.11.07
This piece is for humor, so that my blog is not too tragic. Try reading it aloud.
posted @ 5:16 PM
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Skylines
The Ferris Wheel towers over a Silent black sheen of water Unperturbed and calm; cutting A wide arc in the city skyline Its sister the cold sallow moon above Its doppelganger quavers ever so slightly In its watery grave below The wheel is silent now; Its cabin Coffins suspended in midair Lights blink and flinch Swallowed by the night
The fairground is deserted now A stark, stark contrast to the surrounding Long sleek buildings, tombstones Frenzied beasts roam between the stones Yowling, making merry A gross travesty of life Before the night is over they will return Empty and Jaded Which no liquor can make a man Forget.
A pearly white, ivory bridge Connects the fairground to the city Connects the dead to the damned The stars sparkle a life more vibrant
But see now!
Captured in the black mirror Stars staring out of the inky depths Bridge the land and the heavens A thread from heaven to hell
A breeze blows and disrupt The calm The bridge is no more
I am cold.
Wong Wen Pu 13.11.07 Jaded
The end will come not when god grants it, but when the last heart is broken.
posted @ 8:28 AM
Thursday, November 08, 2007
For ZhengRui
Deus' Magnum Opus
The deed may seem small A innocent and negligent gesture Nevertheless lighted a flame which
Zealously I kept conflagrant Her lithe silhouette effuse Elegance and poise Nonpariel exquisiteness God's sculptural chef d'oeuvre
Reading her mind is at times querulous Unpredictable and volatile I am tired of this game
Wong Wen Pu 08.11.07 Dedicated to her who lighted a flame My femme fatale
Ps. My dear WeiRong will of course recognize this type of poem. Damn hard to write
On another note, any volunteers wanna teach me how to bake?
On yet another note, here's a survey for my next post. As we all learnt in our favourite lesson PW, surveys are quintessential research material. I thank you in advance for providing honest answers.
Qn: Your best friend and another is fighting. You have no idea who is in the wrong, and have no means to find out, since they are both singing to different tunes. Would you
1)Decide on the spot that your best friend is right.
2)Decide the other party is right, cauz ur friend is a noob who is always in the wrong.
3)Sit on the fence.
4)They are both wrong.
Pls reply to this survey by tagging.
I.e. Response to survey: 1
posted @ 4:25 AM
Friday, November 02, 2007
There is no more efficient weapon than a woman’s tears. - Wilson Mizner Enough said.
On A Dish
Reflected in the deep dark pools Two bright moon Sparkling and quavering
Two narrow stream converge Where pure crystals meet The pearls on a scarlet bank
Thin curved groves Cut deep into a palm And trembling slightly
The waterfall pours out A clean brook forms With soft incomprehensible murmurs
And when it comes to this Gaea is presented on a dish To you
Wong Wen Pu 01.10.07
posted @ 12:27 AM
Sunday, October 07, 2007
I am extremely touched.
I felt hungey in the middle of the night, so Rachel made me food. Nothing great, perhaps, but it is the thought that counts.
Thank you, Ray
posted @ 2:12 PM
Thursday, October 04, 2007
After being challanged by a poem on a certain Miss S.S blog, the devil naturally has to show off a little of his accomplishment, as well as the evil of man. Read then, about the betrayal of man.
Apple
In a Land beyond man's meausre Is a Garden of pleasure and treasure And Beneath a great tree lay a Man The Fruit of one mighty Plan
He was the very mirrior of Perfection The one of the Creator's affection So the Maker gave him a companion To ease him from his lone destitution
And once when the Master was out one day The sly serpent came and lead man astray He offered the man the greatest of temptations And beyond the reach of Good's redemption
And the evil in man inherent Planted in him the seed of rebellion The nymph of his fell for the hook And from the tree an apple she took
She raised it to her lover lips And the strand of Good in man trips The Evil in man in audacity Succumbed to his voracity
In the evening when the Lord returned He was aghast to find loyalties turned The Most Ancient Adversary Had corrupted his emissary
Through the tempting of an apple
Wong Wen Pu 4.10.2007 See the evil, disloyal, unhonest nature inherent in all man When a man can betray the All High, friendship means nothing to him
posted @ 8:23 PM
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
First things first. Mos burger applepie rocks. School suxxor.
I am posting this under the assumption that you have lived on Earth all your life, and has read the whole of the harry potter series. If you do not belong to this planet, go buy the 7 books, read it, and come back. The reason I post it only now is because I dont want to spoil it for anyone.
The themes of the harry potter books are quite obvious. Love predominates, her fight against discrimination and her criticism of leaders. Lets look at the last point first.
Fudge denies all the problems. He is a fool who tries to pretend that all is well. Reminds me of Tony Blair's all is well strategy. Scrimgeor is the guy who play force. If Scrimegeor leads any country today, he would send forces into Iraq to capture the oil fields, push people around, and lie his ass off. Snape is a mytar. He sacrificed all he could, but earnt only hatred. His greatness is only noticed when all is well again. Kinda like Gorbarchev huh? I point this out. You think about it.
Discrimination is obvious too. Against part humans, giants, merpeople. These, in today's context, is discrimination of different racial groups. Discrimination against muggles, however, brings the discrimination to another level. I take it as discrimination of social class. Again, i do not want to eleborate, but think about it.
Love is the biggest issue. The whole plot spins around love. Harry's love. Dumbledore's love. Snape's love. Voldermort love for power.
Where Harry is concerned, I feel very little for him. He lost his parents, true. But his loss is not as tragic as, say, Dumbledore. He suffered no pain. He cant lose what he never had. No, harry is not the main person to look at when we talk about love.
Dumbledore says that love is to be extended to everyone, but did he love Lord Voldermort? he asked harry,' Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Voldermort'? He did not pity Voldermort in the least, considering how he treated the thing at king cross.
Snape enjoys, and suffers, a one sided love. His love is tragic. In a sense, he lost his love over and over again. When Petunia gets pissed, he loses the friendship of Lily briefly. Then the heartbreaker where he calls Lily mudblood, and losing his love to a long time rival. Kinda add insult to the injury. The last and greatest lost is his causing Lily's death. His love is more tragic.
However, while broaching on the theme of love, I feel that these people are not the people most in need of love. I think that it is Voldermort.
Voldermort has never known love at the hands of anyone. Unlike Harry, he had no friends. Even dumbledore did not trust him. I question, had Voldermort grew up with parents, would he be so devoid of love that he would commit such horrendous acts?
He murdered his father, because he resents his father failure to love him. Clearly, he wishes for a love he never had. Moreover, his desperate search for his parentage tells us of his great desire to find anchorage in the memories of someone.
Moreover, the Gaunts were noted for their violence. Dumbledore himself said so. Therefore, could Voldermort's violence be stemmed from this?Is he to blame?
Voldermort failure to understand love is because he never experienced it. He underestimated it because he so badly wants it that he eventually rejects it as something he cannot have. He is a truely tragic figure, most unloved of men.
I know this is scant. Will expand on this later
posted @ 8:40 PM
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Hydra
The immortal lion I have benighted The stables I have cleaned Eleven quests I have performed And only one last remains To seek out the vile Hydra And extinguish its sundering flame
And you came along, my worthy friend To some murky abeyance Together we would wine and dine And together we would feast and jest Your smile, my friend, so charming Gladly a thousand ships would sail for your sake And we arrive at this wretched swamp The lair of the beast
Finding for you a harbor from the scourge I head for the kill And encountering this foul obscenity The cleavers glint a cruel green Staining fluid And a silenced crown thuds But like Prometheus, the Hydra’s stump Kept itself an a state of miraculous repair And spawned two other evil Ends And it was then that I realized
This beast is no one man’s match And so I retreated to your covered cave To formulate a battle plan I would severe the creature foul vent And you smelt the spewing channel dead You nodded, you smiled- the smile of Helen You drew your blade
And when I turn my back you sank Your accursed blade in me Oh foul deceiver, destructive Trojan Horse A Faustian pact with the Devil Vile serpent, you have fallen me With poisonous fruits Sweet juices you had spoke of Eu tu, three faced Muses? Dark conspiracies With the vile serpent
Hydra Hydra Many faced brute You are victorious Fair and square
Tratiors and backstabbers, I shall remember this 13.09.07
posted @ 9:41 PM
Saturday, September 01, 2007
4 July 2007 -The Place
I have been in this place as early as 5.30am. And I have been in this place in the dead of the night. I have faced terrors, experienced pressure so great it would have crushed Altas's back, wrestled with tiger(s) in this place, but today would probably be the last time I would be back again.
I stand before this place, the campus of BPGHS which is to be torn down and rebuilt again. Like a phoenix, BPHGS reborn into something newer, perhaps better. The building may be gone, but the spirit of the place still dwells within the hearts of the people it had housed and nurtured- the BPian spirit. The spirit of deligence in study and practice when we march forward onto glory. The spirit of of the conservative, of willing bloodshed, of burning midnight oil (and when the oil is all burnt, we BPians burn our candles at both ends).
This is the place which I had lived and toiled in, shed tears and and lost blood. This is the place with the discipline master who makes it a point to talk to me periodically, the place found true friends, the place where I met the good, the bad and the ugly. The school's department heads know me by name.
This place is a place of fond memories. I had fought wars, waltzed, and sang. I had struggled with deadlines, wrote parodies, and performed. I had been a libarian, a wolf, a rogue, a thespian, a student, a miscreant, a vocalist, writer. I had met Michele. I have been to camps, failed tests, and as a true BPian, complain and complain about school policies.
I recall that on graduation day, Dexter and I hung out late in school. After most of the people had departed, he and I were singing the school song aloud, over and over again, for the last times as a BPian. And my eyes were perspiring slightly.
This is the place which I had grudgingly called my school for four years. And this is the place which I would proudly continune to call my school for many years to come.
30 sept 2007
I went back to BP for the Teachers Day celebrations. Ironic that in the past, I would have whined and griped about having to go, but today, I went willingly.
The campus is different, by the spirit has by no means changed. There is still the annual Food Delight, a tradition of BPians. I looked onto the unenthuiastic faces of my juniors and is amused to think that just last year, I felt that Food Delight was an insipid idea.
I recall that I use to be one of the many students who would, after the concert, go straight back to class and wait till 12, then rush home. Today, I see a repetition of this scene, students waiting till 12, then leaving the place as fast as possible. A few years from now, they will probably be like me, looking at their juniors, and wishing that they were BPians again.
Immersing in the BPian spirit is a great feeling. There is a sense of belonging. Hardly something a non-BPian would understand. Even in JC, I feel a sense of enstrangement. People are too concerned with grades, work, and other stuff. There is no college spirit. We have a college dance, and everyone get hyped up dancing, but at the end of the day, its just a dance. It has no soul. In BP, all we have is the school song. We do not even recite the creed. I myself do not know the creed to this day. But even as we sing our school song reluctantly, we wear our identity proudly as BPians.
This is the place I belong. I am home again.
Kudos to good old BPGHS
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Deligence in study and practice. Intergity.Teamwork.Responsibility.Learning.Service.
posted @ 12:45 AM
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Who am I? What is my true reason for being? What is my destiny?
These are the words that I can recall most clearly from all of the pokemon movies that I have watched. And now, I find myself admiring MewTwo again, because of his desire to carve a destiny for himself, a reason for his being.
I always abhored it when someone addresses a group of people as 'People'. I find myself wondering, why is it that society is so eager to preach conformity and denounces individuality? In Shakespeare's time, Mark Anthony addresses the Pelebians as ' Friends, Romans, Countrymen'. There, we see a sense of pride at being a Roman- being a Roman is their identity, and they take pride in it. Today, there is no longer any sense kinship between men. We are just another person in society, just a person out of a group of people. The ideal person today is striped of identity, faceless and forced to conform.
I admire MewTwo. He is able to break free from the tight reins of social constructs, to pursue and discover his reason for being, his identity. He posesses a desire to discover himself. It is a lamentable fact that most people today no longer wishes to discover himself. Instead, they have fallen into the trap of conformity, of false pseudo 'perfection'. This is quite evident in our society, where spiked/rebonded/dyed hair outnumbers the people who have natural hair. Society preaches that not questioning is a virture, and it has made us retards today. Social etiquettes set in place have became formal decroums, to be strictlyt observed. This following of rules is a form of stripping away of one's identity, for one, under the restrictions of these decorums, are forced to put on a mask. Since everyone observes the same set of decorum, the females giggles shyly when spoken too, all the males clad in dark suits discussing big buiness, they have conformed. In conforming, they have found perfection.
Naturally, we see a group of people that try to break free of the shackles of social constructs. They are known as rebellious youths. Sadly, I feel that they too, have inadvertly conformed. Think about it- they do not want to follow social norms, so instead, they follow the more rebellious, unorthodox group of people. They have conformed, not to social norms perhaps, but in the quest of finding their own identity, they have still adopted another's identity as his own.
I admit that to survive in today's society, one does have, to a large extent, conform. It is inevitable. It is a survival skill. However, I do feel that in this jungle of social constructs and norm, one can remain true to himself, by being what he wants to be, and not adopt another's mind for his own.
Hence, my friends, my readers, set forth, and carve in your own hearts, a personal destiny.
posted @ 12:36 AM
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Call me a dreamer, perhaps, but i am a person of ideas. And heres another of the dreamer's idea.
Introduction: I realize that the Arts CCAs in BPGHS are seriously underrated and unappreciated. Seriously. Hence, im wanna propose the establishment of an Arts Circle in BP. It should consist of the choir(and the alumni choir im trying to form), drama society, dance, and the other arts ccas. Oh, perhaps a Writers Circle can be founded as well, for nutters like me who like to write. All these will be headed by the Arts Circle board.
All right, if you think im wasting your time thus far, please leave. The rest is the further devlopement of my idea,
Rational Vincent volleyball fellas haf new jerseys and a scary teacher in charge. The band has a collarpin and the liberty to make a helluva noise(no offense here, but i always got irritated by the band playing after school). The Uniformed fellas haf their own observation days, and alot of unjustified(at least to me)CIP. The poor Arts CCAs members, however, are unsung and might I venture to say, unappreciated. Hence, I feel that the establishment of a Arts Circle might help to promote the (political) status of the Performing arts (no im sorry performing band, you dont count)in BPGHS.
How I think it should work The plan is not really devloped, and this is just my preliminary ideas. The Circle's commitee will be run by alumni and students alone, with as little interference from the school as possible.
Part1: The Board Sphere of influence: Within the school The Arts Board will be ran by representatives form the various CCAs and their leaders. Eg: Choir prezzi, vice prezzi, dance prezzi n vp, and so on so forth. This will be the board within the school.
Part2: The executive council Sphere of influence: The Arts Circle, consisting of both alumni and current students Represented by: Alumni from the various arts ccas.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alright, that was the Introduction and Rational of my plan. More indepth below. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The first thing any organisation needs is funds, right? The choir needs to buy scores, dancers costumes, and what good is a writer's circle if no one reads the works? Yeah. This problem is rather hard to get around with, as it is a vicious cycle.
Need funds -> raised through concerts/sale of publication -> requires money to book venues/publish works -> Needs funds Lo and belold, we're back to square one!
I propose that we get the school help us through the initital stages. Get them to organize our first few play/concert/prerformance. Part of the proceedings goes to the school. The remaining, we keep for the Arts Circle Funds. Don't worry, I will not install gold taps at home or stay in extravagent hotels, trust me. Nor declare bankrupt and run away either. This way, we can slowly build up our funds where we can eventually stage our own performances without aid from the school. Sounds good?
Feasability This plan is rather feasability, if everyone has a common goal and works towards it with passion. BP may be an elite school, but it lacks SCHOOL SPIRIT. Time to build some, don't you think?
And oh, I promise you will get recognition if the Arts Council is established. Really.
I'll at least get us a collarpin.
Email enquires to genkaku_han@hotmail.com. If you're interested, email me too. Otherwise, the number to sms is 81192399.
posted @ 5:41 PM
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
A poem on the wretchedness of life. And for those who realize it, this poem is also about love.
The Songbird and the Maestro
Beneath the tree on a park bench Sat an old man, wizened and bent When passing by one would have seen The old man and his violin
In the tree sat a songbird Graceful, elegant and demurred Her beautiful voice could enrapture men As well as the old man and his instrument
The old man took out his fiddle and bow Preparing a song to sooth his wasted soul Hovering above him were the black crows The only audience to this forlorn show
And the man played a beautiful tune As colourful and cheerful as a child's balloon For a moment beneath the tree His heart was truly free
And as the final note wanly faded The old man sat down once again, jaded For though music could give his cold soul life But life itself, to him was a lie
The songbird's voice lifted into song Telling the tale of one who do not belong An unholy melody of infinite sadness Reminding the maestro of his cold loneliness
And as the songbird ceased to sing It spread its pair of glorious wings And took flight into the fading night And out of the wistful maestro's sight
WongWenPu Insight after a discussion with ShuHui 20/06/07
posted @ 3:57 PM
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
This is my final writing to Michele. As I do not think that she reads my blog (who does nowadays anyway), would someone please direct her here please. It is my address to her directly, and I do hope that she reads this.
...And the End
We stand at crossroads, Michele. Though our paths converged briefly for a moment, the short road has arrived at the inevitable parting, and we must each go out separate ways. Though the path splits here, I do hope that in the future,this our paths might cross again.You had yourself advised me to move on. Moving on is hard and painful. Moving on is sound advice. But to hear it from you, however, only amplifies the pain. And though I try to move on, to forget you, I have failed.But now, I know the reason for my failure. Though I convinced myself that I wanted to forget you, I had never wanted to let go. I realized that my want to forget you is but a lie to myself. My mind wanted to let you go, but my heart holds on firmly. But yes, you are right, and I should just forget you and move on.For the past two years, you had been rather hostile towards me. But seeing that we would probably not meet again, I would like to part on a friendly note. I once again extend towards you a hand of friendship, and I do hope that you will take this hand of friendship I offer to you this time round.In addition, I would like to apologise if I had caused you any discomforts or unhappiness in the past two years.Moreover, I would also like to thank you. Despite all that has come to pass, you were still a beacon of light to me in the past two years, and would continue to be a source of inspiration to me. Also, I thank you for your tolerance with me for the past two years. I am glad that I have met you. I would also like to express that i appreciate the role you had in shaping my life, and I appreciate you for who you are. I want you to know you will always have a place in my heart. If you should find yourself in need of help, I profer whatever is within my abilities.I read in a book, this statement, "will you follow me into the darkness?" Well, if you ever want someone to walk with you into the darkness, I am with you.
With Love Wen Pu 05/06/07
There are 15 posts in this blog before this, of which 7 are related to Michele. They are, in the order which i wrote them- Ocean of Madness, A Million Pieces, Supernova, This Night, One Day, Regret, The Beginning
posted @ 6:27 AM
Thursday, May 24, 2007
For the rejected
For those who had watched 'The Phantom of the Opera', we will probably feel quite sorry for the phantom. He is ostracized by society, and he seeks love, but finds only rejection in the one he loves. I shall not be a spoiler, and tell you what happened, but I shall just tell you that the Phantom did not win Christine hand in the end. However, he loved Christine to the very end, for at Christine's grave many years later, we find a rose and the ring of the Phantom. Touching ending, it made me almost want to weep for the phantom.
If Christine had given the Phantom a chance, an unconditional chance, we might have a different ending, instead of the Phantom condemned to live a life of loneliness. All it might have required is Christine's one chance, and both her life, and the Phantom's life, would have been significantly different.
Back to the subject of my post, what I want to discuss is this one chance.
For the rejected, do we not often wish that we were just given that one chance to prove our devotion? This one chance might have meant alot to both parties, and much of one's life might be significantly different. Just as we wished that Christine had given the Phantom a chance to love her, and we wished that Christine had recipocated his love, we, too often wish that we were given that one chance that has been declined to us, for us to prove our devotion.
How ironic that in order for love to devlope, the basic requirements seems to be that there is aleadry mutual attraction. Take, for example, that if I were to ask someone out, and she, unfortunately, is not in the least attraced to me, she would then say " I'm sorry, but we are not meant for each other", and hence, it is quite impossible for a relationship to devlope; from what to devlope from? So does it mean that for us to be "meant for each other" we must be, at least be attracted to each other? Does it also mean that two persons were not made for each other, simply because they are not attracted to each other? If a chance had been given to one party, would the situation be different?
I'm sorry if im being vague, but I'm refraining from using a lot of words, or I will sound more whiny than I aleadry am. Anyway, read on.
If you are a girl, I say to you this- If a boy should ask you out, he probably has to muster alot of courage to even raise the topic. It s not a on-the-moment impromptu kind of thing. He would have consulted all his peer if it would have been a wise move, spend many sleepless nights thinking of the 'right' approach, and many hours wondering what your reaction would be like. When he askes you out, much is on stake-hopes, dreams, pride. When he askes you out, it is a BIG thing to him, so please, do not just brush him off without consideration. Each proposal should be weighted out carefully, and not a 'no' on the spur of the moment. It would be doing a disservice to both you and the poor boy. In addition, should you ever change your mind, you will be hard tasked to get a proposal from him again. A boy knows when enough is enough. When you say no, he will most likely not want to risk his pride and everything else on what he thinks is a lost cause again. Hence, please weight out each proposal carefully. Sleep on it, think about it, chew on it, and make a wise decision. And trust me, rejection hurts.
Do I sound bitter? Perhaps I am feeling bitter, but let me continune.
Too much of love has been stereotyped today. On television, we see love blossoming out of nothing, like two arch-enemies falling in love. Almost impossible. Michele Cheow won't even look at me today, and to have her talk to me face to face would have made me the happiest person on Earth for many days. But the point is, don't talk to me of love developing between two parties aleadry attracted to each other. There is no room for such development- the space is aleadry occupied by infatuation. Such devlopement takes place when you removes the facade and love the person for his flaws, or rather, love his flaws, then there would be a development of understanding.
I recently met a girl who tells me that she had once liked a guy, but he had then turned her down. Only recently, he changed his mind, only to discover that the girl had changed hers as well. Ah well, you cant expect people to wait for you forever to discover what you want, you know. People move on, and they will try to put the past behind them, and find someone new. Now consider, if that boy had weighed out his options carefully initally, and discovering then what he only discovered how, both parties would have been better off. Now i can only imagine the hurt the girl is feeling- as i said, to be rejected is painful,but now he pain has to be revived through the insensitivity of the boy. Somethings, you have only ONE CHANCE. Treasure it.
I find it rather ironic that I can be good friends to girls, but make lousy 'better-than-good-friends to them. Perhaps that because I'm too much like a girl. After all, a girl can have good girl friends, but she will normally not date a girl.
Okay, the last paragraph was meant to be a joke. Now let me continune my discussion.
When you give someone a chance, you are doing everyone a big favor. You help the person who proposed realize if your are really made for each other, as well as yourself see if he has the qualities you are looking out for, and by that i do not mean he looks like 'whoever girls find nice looking nowadays'. It is an eye opener for everyone.
Finally, on my last note, I want to make a pledge and a promise.
I pledge that i will treasure you I pledge that my loyalty is true I pledge my commitment I am grateful for the chance you have given to me
While i cannot promise that you will be happy with me, I promise to do my best to make you happy. I promise that I would never beak your heart, but I am perpared for you to break mine anytime you wish, as long as it finds you greater happiness.
I realize that love is not everything there is to life, but iI am willing to give all my life to pursue love.
P.s. My final piece of writing on michele cheow is under way. Soon, I shall embark on a new chapter in my writing, more on life and death. Check back soon and have a nice day, and hopefully be given a chance to pursue your heart's desires.
Touched and enlightened and bitter WongWenPu 24May 2007
posted @ 1:26 PM
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Okay its been ages since i wrote prose, and i was forced to write this for a competition entitled 'Inspiration'. Yeah well please comment, help me detect spelling errors, typos, and poor grammer (my english is damn lousy, you see- yes weirong this is for u). Oh yeah and please tell me if i should include the last paragraph, because i am unsure if it will make the story better, or if i should exclude the last paragraph. Constructive comments appreciated. Please tag to comment(if u haven figured out yet). Presenting: Inspiration
Btw, also insight into my life; emo kiddo
Inspiration
He was inspired. Lying on his bed in his hotel room in New York City, he was listening to the radio, brooding over his life, when he came over this song. The song struck a chord with his heart, and he felt an unfathomable urge to act upon the lyrics of the song.
'Sick and tired of this world, theres no more air.Tripping over myself, going nowhere,waiting, suffocating and i took a dive' sang the radio.He smiled as he placed a foot onto the ledge of the balcony, feeling the warm night wind ruffling his hair. Gazing into the night sky, he saw thousands of stars illuminating the heavens. Looking down, he saw a similar scene mirriored in the dark city- spots of lights beautifying the landscape. Peering into his heart, however, he could not detect a vestige if light- all he saw was darkness, the lights of his life swallowed by a yawning black void of nothingness. Feeling a rush of adrenaline, he placed his other feet onto the wall, and balanced himself percariously over the verandah. It made him feel alive, placing his life in danger. He resisted the temptation to take the dive- the dive that would put an end to all his sorrows.
It would avail little to her anyway, his girlfriend of four years, who had just broken up with him over the telephone. The light of his life, his inspiration, his love, his Amy, had just left him. Here he was, in a foreign land, due to return home to his love, whom he had to leave after recieving an overseas scholarhip, only to discover on the eve of his return, that her heart had been bequethed to another man. To add insult to the injury, the man who had stolen his love was none other than Freddie Yap, his childhood rival.
Freddie had played second fiddle to him since as long as he could remember; They were ten- he would always be the top his class in tests while Freddie had to be content with the second position. They were fourteen- they contested against each other in the schol sports meet, with him emerging as victor.They were sixteen- he was elected president of the school's student council, while Freddie became the vice president. They both applied for a prestigious scholarship upon graduation from their junior college, and he was selected for the scholarship, not Freddie. He had thought it was the perfect coup de grace then, the ideal way to end the many years of rivalary. To cap it off, he had successfully persuaded Amy to be his girlfriend; Amy, for whom both he and Freddie had nursed a soft spot for. Ironically, at the climax of his life, his graduation from Harvard as valedictorian, she had left him for a man who had played second fiddle to him for all his life.
He felt betrayed, broken. In his mind, he could see all his hopes and dreams, his plans for the future with Amy at his side, fall into flames. He could see Amy's face clearly; the dark innocent eyes, long black hair. Her face fell into the flames ravaging his hopes and dreams- he wanted to forget her, to eradicate her from his mind forever. And Freddie, he could feel his blood boil at the thought of Freddie- he watch in his mind as Freddie too, fell into the scorching flames, twisting in agony. Let Freddie burn! The pain he could imagine Freddie feeling was nothing compared to the pain Freddie had imposed on him by stealing his girlfriend. And out of the flames rose an urge to do something reckless- to prove himself worthy of her, to prove that it was her loss to give him up. All this he thought as he stood on the ledge of the balcony.
'On the way down, i saw you, and you save me from my self. I wont't forget the way you loved me', sang the radio. He smiled a bitter smile- who would save him if he fell now? He could picture her guilt, Freddie's guilt, should he lose his footing now.
He shifted into a seating position, still perched on the ledge of the balcony. He carried the radio on his lap, indulging himself in songs of love, trying to drown his sorrows.
For how long he sat in that position, he had no idea. It could have been minutes or many hours, but he would have sat there longer if the lyrics of another song had not caught his attention. 'Join us in this land where there is no more pain, no more tears, in this land of joy, this land of eternal beauty'. He look up into the night skies and saw a starlit land of eternal beauty. The soft wind brushed gently into his face, as though encouraging him, pushing him,into the nothingness beyond the balcony.
'Come join us, this land of joy' sang the radio.
'Come join us, this land where there is no more pain', he sang softly to himself,' no more pain...'
'A land of eternal beauty, where there is no more pain..'
He tilted his body forward, and felt himself plunge into nothingness. He could see the starlit skies, he was falling spread eagle, with his face to the heavens. The fall seemed an eternity. His life ran through his mind even as he fell- he could remember the first time he rode a bicycle, the results of his first test, the feeling of elation as he won a scholarship. He could recall clearly his friends faces, all of whom were eagerly awaiting his return to Singapore. He could see his parents proud faces when he was declared valedictorian. He could picture all these scenes in his mind, and he found himself regretting taking the dive. It was a bittersweet feeling- having found the beauty of life, but will have no chances of enjoying it.
The heavens shone gloriously above him, even as he felt the wind rushing past him. He wanted to gaze into the skies with another person, share this beauty with another woman! He wanted to live! He could feel a fire buring within him, the same fire that burnt his hopes and dreams, the same fire that he had pictured ravaging Freddie, the fire that he had used to set flames to his memories Amy. This flames reignited his desire to live. For the second time that night, he was inspired. The first time, it was a want to die; the second, a desire for life, but it was too late for such reflections now. Damn! He wanted to live! He felt tears brimming in his eyes, blurring his vision, distortion the heavens above him, making the light of the stars glaring, and he shut his eye, tears streaming down his face, as he awaited the mantle of eternal sleep to fall upon him.
The Singapore Times 21 july 1995 The Singaporean prodigy John Goh, President scholar and top in his year at Havard law faculty, commited sucuide from his room by plunging 40 stories to his death. Family have declined comment on what they think might have led Mr Goh to commited sucuide. His friends Amy Ang and Freddie Yap noted that he was an emotional man, but they were shocked that he would take his life. In an interview with them, Amy, in the arms of Freedie, said between sobs, 'I simply can't understand what drove John to his death. He was an inspired young man.'
posted @ 12:33 AM
Friday, April 20, 2007
This is a song i wrote myself. To hear it, ask me to play it for you (tag me and i'll know u wanna hear it). I think its quite good.
For Michele
Ocean of Madness
C G The day I saw an angel Am Em Was the day which I met you F C And it was then that I knew F G Then and forever, I love you
C G But my love was not meant to be Am Em Between us an eternity F C And ever since you turned me down F G You left me all alone to drown
C G To be lost in an ocean of madness Am Em To be found in a moment of sadness F C All I want is, All I want is F G All I want is to see your face
C G Am Em F C F G
C G The day you turned your back to me Am Em I was blinded, I couldn't see F C Ever since you took my light away F G All my life in disarray
C G To be lost in an ocean of madness Am Em To be found in a moment of sadness F C All I want is, All I want is F G All I want is to be with you
Am Em In this daylight, In the dark night Am Em I see your face, haunting my dreams Dm G Haunting my dreams, plaguing my nights F G And all I dream is to be with you
C G Am Em F C F G
C G To be lost in an ocean of madness Am Em To be found in a moment of sadness F C All I want is, All I want is F G All I want is to be there for you
A G F G A
Music by WenPu Lyrics by WenPu
Dedication to Michele My darkness and my light
posted @ 9:46 PM
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Masks
Hidden in this secret corner I keep my many masks I have a mask for each occasion Be it a joyous or sad one And in this one long rendezvous I don my many masks And the fellows all around me Are decked in their fancy dress too I move amongst the many people Making conversation with each of them To some i borrow the visage of a clown Others, an intimidating frown And together everyone of us Take part in this grand charade Where each of us wear a fancy dress And pretend to be someone else In this secret corner of my heart I hide my many masks To each person I light a different face As they present themselves too In this fancy dress And in this grand masquerade I wear my many masks For a am a man for many faces And this mask i wear is just one
Inspired by people trying to be who they are not Wong Wen Pu 23.03.07
posted @ 4:27 PM
Monday, March 05, 2007
A million pieces
Let me light you a million candles To illuminate your darkened path And let these million candles warm Your journey in life so tough
Let me fold you a million paper cranes As white as your purest heart Set these million cranes to take flight And together sorrow and pain depart
Let me count you a million stars As alone I lie under the starlit sky Look at these million stars through sad eyes Their beauty in tears in tears magnify
And would you take this broken heart Shattered into a million pieces And meld it till its whole again With the warmth and heat of a million candles
And would you give this heart the wings Of a million pure white cranes So that this mended heart may fly To an infinite skies, a million stars
With you
Wong Wen Pu 04.03.2007 Inspired by Rachel Low's idea of folding a thousand swans for Michele And Dedicated to Michele
posted @ 12:10 PM
Friday, February 23, 2007
Imprisoned
The fishes in the bowl looks up And behold A clear glassy surface above it The water surface And to the fish One water is the same to the other And bound are fishes to water For eternity In water, fishes find their home
The mouse in the cage running The eternal treadmill Moving, yet going nowhere Though to the mouse That which is its universe An imaginery destination on the treadmill In a fool's dream the mouse finds comfort
The dog lives a life of servitude In the house of man Yet it lives in warmth and comfort And it sleeps in peace And to the dog All in its universe To live well and comfortably In a life of blessed peace, the dog rests
The bird in the cage Looks out Into a blue sky And it does hope and dream to spread its wings and fly to the edges of the blue sky And to the bird There lies its universe All in its mind's eyes In hope, the bird dreams
The wolf in the winter white Forages in the snow for food For it would rather live off the land Than to be imprisoned by man and do his bidding And to the wolf The definitions of its universe Is freedom And in freedom, the wolf dwells
The Man looks up to the sky And wonders The purpose of his life on Earth For to the Man Mystery is life greatest gift and curse Man look to Science To solve the mystery of life The purpose of his existence In the cosmos Man shoots spacecrafts and rockets Into the skies and beyond To seek the meaning of life To find a home for the soul Which craves for the answer Life greatest question
The beasts Have all found their peace
But man imprisoned by his own soul His Shadow Has no place to call home
Wong Wen Pu 22/01/07 Inspired by life questions
posted @ 6:47 PM
Friday, January 26, 2007
Supernova
A myriad of colours flash Across the lonely world Illuminating in momentary glory The dark empty universe Painting a picture of warmth and hope The brilliance of a supernova
But even stars are not Immortal
The glorious colours fade away In place darkness once again reign The moment of glory is over Banished cold seeping back once more The shadows cast over warmth and hope In the wake of a supernova
And you are a Supernova
You came into my shrouded world Angel of light and warmth Thawing this cold hard frozen heart With the warmth of your friendship Expelling all my fears and insecurity As i immerse in my love for you
But love is a Sham
And just as supernovas eventually cool The dying flames of our friendship Extinguished And I plunge once into darkness And all i can do is dwell In bittersweet memories
Of haunted past while waiting for my next Supernova
Inspired while stargazing with Rachel Low Wong Wen Pu 26-01-07
posted @ 2:33 PM
This Night
Set aside this buried light Of candle, torch and burning wood See the black void of this night Shroud in darkness this hollow world
How cold is this empty night, love The dripping warmth of tears not withstanding Fleeing away like a frightened dove Frost layers this glazed glassy world
Echoing words resounds in this dark cavern Slicing into this lonely night Your cold words shredding my glorious heaven Leaving my being in this hostile world
I look up with unseeing eyes Searching the constellations for hopeful signs But even stars in this impartial skies Casts shadows unto this unliving world
And lying in slumber undreaming The dark abyss soothing emotions in turmoil I dream of you so unfeeling Deepening the darkness of night in this lost world
This forlorn world of eternal night The realms of this world benighted Sees a suffocating seeking light Drowned by stifling darkness
Yes this weeping world of my darkened heart Blinded and drowned by your black night Still, listening, stumbling to find a part in the dim alleys of your life
Inspired by Michele Wong wen pu 25-01-07
posted @ 1:32 PM
Monday, December 18, 2006
One Day
One day should you come back here After searching all these years Seeking every corner, turning every curve A quest in search of true love And as you gaze into the fading night Looking to the stars for guiding light Perhaps you may then understand The reason for my foolish stand
One day arriving at the crossroads Bearing in your heart many a heavy load Burden from a search for a love so true Much scarlet blood did this seeking drew So walk down the path of your memory lane Forget all the new found pain Let love be the heart of life's theme Sink back into this dreamless dream
One day you will come back here This haven of laughter, this ocean of tears You will remember me and comprehend This heart masked by all the pretense And why I had bore with the sadness Shed tears of bitterness Plunged into the darkness And loved you with such madness
Inspired by the darkness Wong Wen Pu 18-12-06
posted @ 5:59 PM
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
It was a night that will forever be etched into our memories. It was a night of magic, a night of romance. It was a point where fantasy and reality merged. It was the night of the musical.
A Night Of Magic
Many a months we had all prepared Many experiences we had all shared Many a character was our role A tale of romance to unfold
The epic of Belle and Beast Worked out by us piece by piece Each person had his own duty To paint a picture of beauty
We wondered: How long could we last As practice sessions rained down hard and fast Yet the practices were not all toil For plentiful too were the moments of joy
We laughed at the beast hedious suit Whiched suited his character down to boot We were taught unarmed combat Clobbering each other with a bat
But we waltzers had the best deal The best instructors, the most drills Gina taught us to time our pace She taught us to dance with grace
And in just a few short weeks Each and every waltzer will eagerly seek A chance to dance to the song By which we had practiced for so long
Ninteenth of July was the night Where many wet eyes were hastily dried It was the beginning of the end The parting of many new found friends
As each of us waltzed our last Memories of all that has come to past Helped each of us find our peace In the song of Beauty and the Beast
Special Thanks to: Gina Glenn Weirong Sandy Siew Ling Grace Yeoh Sabrina
Inspired by a moment of magic Wong Wen Pu 19/09/06
posted @ 11:35 AM
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
This poem was written by me after I met a friend whom I have lost contact with for four years and I was unpleasantly surprised by the changes she had undergone, thus I wrote this poem to express my sorrow.
A Friend's Lament
You look the same, friend, as you were before Yet you have somehow changed Your heart which was once so pure Now filled with vices you once abhorred
The flow of time have changed you much What you had once believed in is no more You were never one to hold a grudge Yet in you bitter resentment is all I saw
The you I once knew is deceased The you before me is a stranger Seeing you now fills me with unease The perfect image I had of you smashed apiece
Those old days are over my friend We have went our separate ways Our paths will not cross again For all those good things have come to an end
Yet I shall remember you my friend For only you stood by me then So I want to know how you fared I want to you to know that I cared Though three years of friendship all we shared
You are a shadow of your past self You are not who you used to be I knew the girl from those old days But I do not know you now For you were the girl from those old days But I do not know you anymore
The image I had of you is jaded But perhaps I have been too shrouded by past memories To realize that the world would have changed you And now that my eyes are finally opened Perhaps Its time I let go of those memories after all
Wong Wen Pu 10/04/06 Inspired by a past friend
Typed out by: LWR
WR: I just acknowledged myself, cus... I TYPED IT OUT IN 1 MIN!!!! COOL!!! MY typing speed as increased!! Haha, ok... Wp: I thank Wr for helping me type this out seeing that I do not have the time to go online.
posted @ 10:19 PM
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Foorprints In The Sand
I walk by myself on the beach Leaving my footprints in the sand The waves rushes upon the shore Washes away my footprints in the sand
I walk by myself in the street The cold night air brushes against my cheeks Stinging my skin, bring tears to my eyes Not of pain, but of grief
I am not alone in the world But yet I stand alone There is no one to share my joys and pains Forgotten like my footprints in the sand
All these footprints in the sand They are a reminder of my life One set of footprints in the sand The one set of footprints I leave as i walk alone
As I walk along the lonely shore It was there that i found you You walk with me along the beach Another set of footprints in the sand
You bring about joy in my life With your unfailing love You pull me out of the darkest pits Out of the darkness into the light with you i stand
You are my friend, my only sanctuary You are the one who gave your life for me You gave me hope and eyes to see You are my shepherd, the only one for me
Now as i walk along the sand You are there to walk beside me The waves washes upon the shore Erasing two sets of footprints in the sand
Inspired by God in a moment on melancholy WongWenPu 19-03-2006
posted @ 5:55 PM
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Regret
Regret is not loving someone wholeheartedly when you had the chance to, and the chance is gone together with the wind. Regret is when you realize that life is better off simpler, but you realize this after making your life complicated. Regret is when past memories are better than now. Regret is when you realize that love is not all there is to life, but you would still spend your whole life pursuing it. Regret is when your heart yearns for more, but you know that your chance is already over and will never come again. Regret is not following your heart, but your mind, when making choices. Regret is when you look back at your life and wish that you did not have any regrets in your life. Regret is loving someone whom you should never have loved.
Wong Wen Pu 19.01.o6 Looking back and regretting
posted @ 7:37 PM
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Once Upon A Song
Initially, she did not seem beautiful to him. She was just another plain, normal girl. Plain, perhaps pretty, but certainly not beautiful. They were passing acquaintances, they laughed at the same jokes, hung around the same people, but they were not close, and had only spoken to each other briefly before. He knew her only well enough to exchange greetings when they passed in the street.
Fate is a cruel thing. It would bring people together, toy with their feelings, then tear then apart. Such was the case with them. They both went for the same camp, both with a different group of friends. That was when he first began to notice her. He was curious about the petite girl and inquired about her. His discoveries shed a new light on the girl.
Their personalities could not have been anymore different. He was arrogant while she was pleasant. He was aloof while she was friendly. He was the solitary sort while she was gregarious. He was passionate while she was demure. This made his even more interested in finding out more about her.
Over the course of the next year, his interest in the girl grew. By a strange twist of fate, he joined the girl's church through a friend's invitation. The friend suspected that he liked the girl, but it was untrue as he was not attracted to the girl. Not just yet.
He had spent his life seeking beautiful things, and when he found something of worth, he would go to the ends of the earth to aquire it, regardless of the cost. His persuit included many things; musical instruments, trinklets, many things of great material wealth, for he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but never was he to imagine that he sould soon be seeking something no amount of wealth can give him.
They were involved in many activities together. She had tried to join a group, she was unaware that he too was involved, but unfortunately, another organisation she was in had disallowed her to join this group. See how fate had placed them together, then tore them apart? Fate was enticing him, toying with him, enjoying his feeling of torment. They even lived within a stone's throw away from each other. Always so close, yet so far.
The mind is a curious thing. What u believe in something it will become a reality for you. When he first began the think that she was beautiful, she did not seem any different from what she was, but as time passed, her visage became more and more beautiful to him. He saw that she conducted herself well with a femine air, graceful and elegant, matured yet innocent. Through his eyes, she became a princess, the person of his dreams.
He knew that it was folly to seek after her hand, as he knew that she felt nothing for him, yet hope spurred his on to declare his feelings for her. The few minutes spent waiting for her reply was the longest minutes of his life. He had, after all, bared his soul to her, and the prospect of her reply hung over his anticipation like a sword of Damocles. Her reply, although anticipated, pitched him into the deepest, darkest abyss. He was miserable, he felt that it was his fault, for gettting close to new people so quickly. For his best efforts as he saw it, he had been rejected and dumped.
For the following months, it was simply pure torment even to see her. He felt unworthy of her, as if was a swan, and he was simply the ugly duckling, wishing to join the swan, but felt himself unworthy. Who was he, after all, to think that he was worthy of her?
Their relationship grew more bleak as time passed. She avoided meeting his eyes when they met in the hall, gone were the days when she graced him with her sweet greetings, but was now replaced with a cold indifference. All of this had happened within a short space of nine months. Nine months to become, from casual friends, to complete strangers.
Many would expect such a story to have a happy ending where the girl accepts the guy and they live happily ever after. This however, was not the case for the individuals in the story. The girl has yet to forgive the guy while the guy has yet to win the girl approval.
Sometimes, there will come a someone in your life that will create such an impact in your life that you will never be able to forget that person. Wounds at the heart may heal, but the scars will remain etched there forever, every throbbing, every waiting for the person who had first inflicted the scar to come and sooth the pain. More often than not, that person will never appear. The protagonist in the story is still waiting. I am still waiting. You see, the guy in the story is me, and i am still waiting, holding on to my faith, still hoping for a miracle to happen. As it is said 'Look to love and you may see, and if it should leave, then give it wings'. But if such a love is meant to be, hope is home, and the heart is free.
If one is able to empathise with me or has a comment, please feel free to tag my blog, but if what u want to bear is contempt, then please keep the comments to yourself and refrain from tagging this blog.
Inspired by Michele in a moment of melancholy on Chirstmas Day WongWenPu 25-12-2005
A mighty pain to love it is And 'tis a pain that pain to miss; But of all pains, the greatest pain It is to love, but love in vain. Abraham Cowley
