Lana Del Rey - Video Games

"Video Games"

Swinging in the backyard
Pull up in your fast car
Whistling my name

Open up a beer
And you say, "Get over here
And play a video game."

I'm in his favorite sun dress
Watching me get undressed
Take that body downtown

I say, "You the bestest."
Lean in for a big kiss
Put his favorite perfume on

Go play a video game

It's you, it's you, it's all for you
Everything I do
I tell you all the time
Heaven is a place on earth with you
Tell me all the things you wanna do
I heard that you like the bad girls
Honey, is that true?
It's better than I ever even knew
They say that the world was built for two
Only worth living if somebody is loving you
Baby, now you do

Singing in the old bars
Swinging with the old stars
Living for the fame

Kissing in the blue dark
Playing pool and wild darts
Video games

He holds me in his big arms
Drunk and I am seeing stars
This is all I think of

Watching all our friends fall
In and out of Old Paul's
This is my idea of fun
Playing video games

It's you, it's you, it's all for you
Everything I do
I tell you all the time
Heaven is a place on earth with you
Tell me all the things you wanna do
I heard that you like the bad girls
Honey, is that true?
It's better than I ever even knew
They say that the world was built for two
Only worth living if somebody is loving you
Baby, now you do

Now you do
Now you do
Now you do

Now, now you do
Now you do
Now you do

It's you, it's you, it's all for you
Everything I do
I tell you all the time
Heaven is a place on earth with you
Tell me all the things you wanna do
I heard that you like the bad girls
Honey, is that true?
It's better than I ever even knew
They say that the world was built for two
Only worth living if somebody is loving you
Baby, now you do

Now you do
Now you do
Now you do
(Now you do)
Now you do
Now you do
Now you do 

 

http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/lanadelrey/videogames.html

The longest wait Draft 1

The longest wait is when your love does not reply

Your letter goes unanswered and you do not know why.

Email, whatsapp, facebook, messenger, SMS, phone, skype

We have one million ways of communicating today

But her heart is one million light years away

And nothing will reach her.

The longest wait is when your love does not reply

You speak, you shout, you whisper

But its all in vain

You're just talking to the air.

There is no one listening.
Still you try.
No one is listening
But sadly still you try.

YMC 31st August 2013.

My love is shameless Draft 1

My love (for you) is shameless
It is like fire
It consumes me
Torments me
I am on fire
And they laugh


I am beyond caring any more.
My love for you consumes me
It drives me to despair
I am trapped in this train and I can't leave.

My Desire is like a freight train roaring through my heart
In the darkness of the night
It stops for nothing
It just keeps on going
Blaring its industrial horn
I'm like a passenger inside this beast.

You can hear it howling.

It terrifies you and you flee
I am so sorry
I cannot make it stop
The fire within me can't be quenched easily.


My love for you is shameless
It does not care about me
It humiliates me, torments me, consumes me.
Burning me to destruction.
I am on fire and you flee.

YMC 29 August 2013.

Sometimes the affection you have for that one person suddenly drives you to do the most outrageous things that shock even the one that you like or love or are infatuated with.

I'm a romantic and when I like someone - I may do things which seems silly, stupid.

And the saddest thing is that the more I talk or say, the more she is repulsed and turns away.

Walk Away with me Draft 2

The road is long
My burden is heavy
I speak but I might as well be talking to the air
The ancient map we have is flawed
It makes no sense

But my cruel companions push on
I walk in silence afraid to speak
It makes no sense
My complaints are answered with platitudes
It makes no sense

I close my eyes but the questions never stop muttering
It makes no sense
We took a wrong turn again
But we don't stop

I try and argue but they laugh
Is this a joke?
It makes no sense
I cannot go on. I cannot.

My religion does not make sense
I cannot subscribe to beliefs I do not believe in

I will not carry on walking with people who believe in such things.
I do not worship a book
I worship a living God
I must get out NOW.

Then as we pass a shadowy overhang
I slip away.


And find you in the darkness.
We've never met yet it seems we have known each other forever

We walk and I hold your hand
And we share the sunset together.

I feel you touch my heart
It glows slowly then burns brighter than the sun
But you look away with a smile.
You look beautiful in the twilight
But you already knew that.

The darkness fallsYour smile fades
And I lose sight of you.
I call out your name but you do not reply
The blackness of the night shrouds my sight
In silence I wait for the dawn
YMC June/August 2013

I am not your son Draft 1

I am not your son
Even though you gave birth to me.
Our thought patterns are not the same
Our desires are so far apart
The things I love you detest

What I have done
The great deeds I have performed
You scorn
You mock
You destroy

On the altar of your pride
I have gathered the bonfire wood
You sacrifice your very own Issac
Eagerly you stab the blade down
Rejoicing as my blood runs out

And the angel stood aghast and wept

Poetry as Therapy: Rachel McKibbens at TEDxFlourCity

Pablo Neruda-I Like For You To Be Still (Narrator/Glenn Close)

I just discovered Pablo Neruda's work - and wow, I'm impressed. His poem "I like for you to be still" is so beautiful. Well, I admit I'm a diehard romantic. I don't watch football on TV or for that matter any other sport... except perhaps skiing and surfing. But I do love the sound of good poetry. Hope you enjoy listening to this. I certainly did.


I like for you to be still 
It is as though you are absent 
And you hear me from far away 
And my voice does not touch you
 It seems as though your eyes had flown away
 And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth
 As all things are filled with my soul
 You emerge from the things 
Filled with my soul
 You are like my soul 
A butterfly of dream 
And you are like the word: Melancholy 

I like for you to be still 
And you seem far away 
It sounds as though you are lamenting 
A butterfly cooing like a dove 
And you hear me from far away 
And my voice does not reach you 
Let me come to be still in your silence 
And let me talk to you with your silence 
That is bright as a lamp 
Simple, as a ring 
You are like the night 
With its stillness and constellations 
Your silence is that of a star 
As remote and candid 

I like for you to be still 
It is as though you are absent
 Distant and full of sorrow 
So you would've died 
One word then, One smile is enough 
And I'm happy; 
Happy that it's not true.

Singapore 2004

Soft is the velvet night sky
Quiet is the black night
A gentle breeze passes by
In stillness I patiently wait for Dawn

 YmC Sophia Road, April 2004 

I wrote this poem by my balcony back in 2004. I had returned back to Singapore because one of my very close relatives had lost a tremendous amount of our family estate's wealth gambling on the stock market. It was a sum most people will never see in their life time yet this person who is so frugal with her pennies somehow managed to lose a colossal sum in a matter of years. It was a fucking huge sum of money. It wasn't just all gone. She had also managed to mortgage our properties to her debt. We were in deep shit.

To compound matters - she was unrepentant. It wasn't her that called me back - it was the bank credit officer who did. She didn't even have the courage to let us know we were being made bankrupt through her ineptitude. The interest we owed to the banks amounted to an annual salary. I could not walk away from this disaster because of the family legal connections.

The relative refused to admit that she fucked up and kept on insisting that I hand over more cash and to let her handle it. The utter stupidity of her request was really beyond her comprehension.

Clearly she was deluded and verging on insanity. She refused any form of counseling and refused to talk to anyone who did not see the situation her way.
 
But I managed to convince her to go back home to Australia and let me take care of the problem. And so I took over the problem, sent the relative back home, and tried to settle the debts. I remember thinking back then - "How the hell am I going to fix this shit up?" I may have even promised God a few things I couldn't really deliver - go figure.

But I do remember sitting by my balcony, and enjoying the tranquility of the night air (with the exception of those pesky mosquitoes.) It had a certain calm, cool, fragrant, even enchanting delightful feel.

After about a year I managed by the Grace of God to make an untenable financial situation very bearable. Amazingly enough!!! Good heavens I felt I was the king of the world. I fixed it!!!! It was going to be alright!!!

Unfortunately my close relative didn't see it that way. Once everything had been settled- she kept back with a vengeance. Like a demon out of hell she dragged us back into the bonfire again, except this time - it was even worse. So I guess I'm still waiting patiently for Dawn again.

The wait is long. And I'm tired.

Pablo Neruda Sonnet XVII

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Pablo Neruda

I don't get parts of this poem. The references to salt-rose and topaz might as well be chewing gum and badminton.

But the other parts to this poem - I get it. The ones in bold.

I get it. You can meet a million women and then suddenly this one - this one attracts you like no other. There is something in the way she talks. The way she thinks. The small gestures she makes. The sound of her voice. Her smile. And you don't care what she does.You don't even care that she has just broken your heart. And you have no other way than to just tell her the plain truth. Already your body, your speech betray your heart.

The Boat and the Sea

“To put meaning in one's life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire--
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.”

Edgar Lee Masters

http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/283960-spoon-river-anthology

All my possessions for a moment of time

"All my possessions for a moment of time"  was apparently the last words that Queen Elizabeth the 1st said before she died. Some people speculate that she was wishing for her ex-lover Robert Dudley.

I wrote a poem along those lines a couple of months back - no relation to recent events.

All my possessions for a moment of time  
A moment to reflect 
A moment to ponder  
A moment to weep for what was lost
All my possessions for a moment of your time 

A time long gone 
A lover that cannot love back 
A moment lost forever
 
All my possessions are useless to me 
My gold, my silver, my palatial palaces 
They cannot love me, they cannot return your affection
I would trade all my possessions  
To hear your voice say my name kindly again 
To feel the touch of your hand on my cheek 
To sleep on the warmth of your chest.
No more. No more. You are gone.  
Dust. And all I have are my possessions.
What good are they to me now?
  Yauming Chiam April 2013.

5 years ago - A wedding poem 10th August 2008

I used to do most of my blogging on another site called "www.multiply.com" - but it has since changed direction and ejected all of the bloggers.

I have had to import all my blogs from that period over to blogger. A lot of them are just junk. But I wrote some nice stuff as well - like this one:


It seems very sad that as wedding ceremonies/ honeymoons become more and more elaborate, fantastic, and expensive, the greater the number of divorces.

Beautiful wedding ceremony - pity it didn't last as long as the expiry date of the cake.
Perhaps too much attention is being paid to the exterior, external surface of marriages, and less on the actual integrity of the relationship. You can see all that on the Woman's Day magazines - glamor glamor glamor... omg wedding rings, designer wedding dresses, wedding dinners of the century, celebrity guests... and then... what happens?

(Having said that - I believe that marriages in ages past - were often iron rod legal contracts - in which both parties never knew each other - in which women were treated as a commodity, property, not as a human being... but custom, traditional, and misogynistic factors kept married people together - which seems fubar to me.)

I would think that before all marriages or even engagements take place - simple exercises ought to be taken which address 1. Mutual Respect, 2. Amicable Conflict Resolution, 3. Intolerable individual Traits and Practices - my, that was a mouthful.

Marriage is after all more than just a love affair - its a partnership - you're working together to build up a relationship - eventually - a family/children - will come into this relationship. But if the core values of the partners are not right - its going to be a short and bitter journey.

Here's something I made up just then:

By the shores of the water we walk
Hand in hand
As the sun sets, so we bid farewell to our past lives
Let us greet the sunrise, this New Day, not as individuals with our own separate plans
But together as one, heart and soul, body and mind, devoted to one another
Caring not for our own selves but for each other.
Hand in Hand, Heart to heart
Our Destinies Entwined
We greet the faint rays of the Morning dawn as One
My Love, hold me close.

I think the essence of a successful marriage or just a good relationship starts off with good communication and respect. Treasure such friendships. They are Gold.

The Old House - a short story

It happened in the evening as I was walking in the garden with my friend Sarah. The roses and lavender were in full bloom. It was sunset, and the sun had bled the sky a fiery red crimson. We stood in respectful silence and watched, and enjoying the moment together.

We walked back to the grand house, that red brick fortress of tranquility. The land had been in my family since the 1930s. It wasn't just a home - it was an heirloom with soul. The hard edge tiles of the slate grey roof was covered with paleolithic lichen. The front teak door still bears the marks the harsh scars of a Japanese soldier's rifle. Walking inside you'll first feel the sleek dark hardwood flooring cut from ancient mammoth trees in Borneo, then walk upon the Boukara Persian carpet given by a Prince from Mecca before gazing upon that fabulous Turquoise mosaic fresco that grandfather ordered from Jaipur.

And then I saw him, standing by the stained glass windows of the attic. The translucent teal colored glass almost hid him. But there he stood. Unmistakable. Arms akimbo - as imposing as Raffles' statue. Surprisingly, Sarah saw him too. "Who is that? She whispered. I didn't know we were having guests."
"That's not a guest.  ... That's my father."
"But I thought he was dead."
"Yes, he was. 10 years ago."
"Then...?????!!!!!????" Her brown eyes widen in disbelief and horror.
"Yes. Then." I replied. I'm not sure why. But I didn't seem surprised. Oh, he's back, the thought ran through my head.

I quicken my pace and walked straight up to the attic. Sarah, with a great deal of vocal trepidation, followed closely behind. She didn't want to go. I told her to wait downstairs - but she didn't want to be alone; she was terrified now of every little sound the old house with its teak flooring made. I told her to make up her mind without due care.
She was about to launch into a tantrum  but terror swallowed her wounded feelings as I raced upstairs. She gripped my hand tightly like a frighten child.
"I guess you don't want to be alone." I teased.
"Shudup." She snarled.
I wisely did.
The wooden staircase leading to the attic creaked and groaned like a grumbly old Cantonese amah woken up too early to do a morning chore. Dust from eons of neglect rose up to greet us. Here and there a frightful spider scampered.
I pushed aside the old European oil paintings (kept there because they upset my Grandfather's superstitious 2nd wife) - brushed away the cobwebs. Light from the dying sun gently glimmered against the stained glass windows where my father stood. But he was not there.
An unfathomable spasm of fear gripped me all of a sudden. Did it just get so cold??? It smothered my desire to call out to my father. What would happen if he actually appeared? Would he look like Obi-wan Kenobi and talk to me about some crazy secret like... "There is another Skywalker." Nutty thoughts were making a Bangkok traffic jam in my brain.
I walked deliberately and slowly to the window. And gingerly stood in the same place my father's ghost had stood. How bizarre. How utterly bizarre. Surely we weren't dreaming this up. I looked out. My God what a view. You could see the whole estate from here. The sun gleamed molten gold as it disappeared behind the horizon. Now why? Why here?
Sarah was the first to notice it. "Oh Look. A pretty wooden box", she said. Her eye for beautiful objects had overcame her misgivings at following me up this dark loft.
It was under the window, by the wall. It was very, very old. And it had been sitting there waiting for me for the longest time.

(This is a fictional story)

Counting Sand - 2010

If I could
I'd cross the sea
on Albatross wings
Flying like Icarus
I'd touch the Sun
Then Crash into the Sea
And stay there for a thousand years
Living in a sea shell on the Ocean Floor
I'd count time by Ocean rhymn
And whisper conversations to the Seahorse
When it is The Day to make amends
And account of all I've done
I'd point to the counting sand and say
My work has barely begun.

YMC 17th November 2010

I met a Muse back in May

I met a Muse back in the Month of May
She caused my heart to sing in a wondrous way
It grew wings and flew and soared
But my delight terrified her
So she ran away.


Like Icarus I came too close to the sun
I felt the heat it kept me warm
But like a fool I flew closer.

For a moment my feet were not bound to clay
For a brief moment I touched the sun's rays
Briefly.
And now she's gone.

I wish I didn't like her so much
I wish she irritated the hell out of me
I wish her voice, her laughter, her sheer presence annoyed me instead of bringing me delight.
I wish that I had not grown to like her pretty face
I wish her presence didn't give me increasing joy
I wish she had given me another chance
I wish she would come back to me

But like a moth clawing at the flame
You know the answer
It is always the same.

 YMC Monday 24th August 2013.3rd draft.

My name is Calypso

My name is Calypso
And I walk here all alone
Along this sea shore
My feet mark the sand
Shortly erased by an unseen hand
I walk towards the rays of Dawn
I never look back.
Yauming  Chiam 2012. 

(I took this photo of my niece in 2012) 

Inspiration by Suzanne Vega 

Together

I wrote this poem back in the Winter of 1991.

It was a wet and cold winter. It rained so much. I had to catch public transport to Uni - took me sometimes like 2 hours to get to school. Made worse by the cold wet winter weather.

While I was waiting for the bus at the Heidelberg train station, standing in the rain, I saw a pile of brown leaves caught near a drainage hole. And this came to me:


Leaves scattered on the ground
Spent, their time past
They live out their dying moments
Withering on the ground
Gathered in small piles as if to comfort each other of their fate
They live and die
Together.

Heidelberg, Victoria 1991.