'There is Nothing Either Good or Bad, but Thinking Makes it So'

Spidery lines,
Inky rhymes,
Blue raping white;
This is how I write.

Fast and furious
Strokes across each page,
Words unfurling from
Fingertips of rage.

Cramping wrist and furrowed brow,
This is it, my time is now.

It's now, it’s now.
It’s now I must write.
This is my inky escape,
My papered fight.

A papered fight? A papered flight!
Aesthetic anger and all my might,
All my might to muster my thoughts.
My thoughts, my thoughts,
That nobody knows,
My thoughts that become immortal in prose.
In prose? In prose.
And poetry too.
Thoughts about me and thoughts about you.
Thoughts about fear, thoughts about fate
Thoughts about love and thoughts about hate.

Thoughts I can’t speak, but only write,
Thoughts that only come out at night.
Like bats they fly from the crevice of my mind,
Like snakes they twist, and squirm and writhe.
They squirm, they writhe. They are my pride.
My pride? My pride; I’ve got nothing to hide.
But safe inside myself they lie,
And are only released when I decide.

'All Art Is Quite Useless'

I used to draw quite alot a couple of years ago. Not seriously or anything, but it was just something I really enjoyed doing. I'm not very creative, so none of what I've done is entirely original; they're all drawn by me, but are a copy of something I've seen.

Here are a few I dug up:





This one's unfinished. She was meant to have a face and wings, but I got bored. Also, I'm pretty bad at drawing faces.


I miss it.

Go Hillary

Lately I've been involved in numerous heated debates with those possessing the Y chromosome about the US democratic primaries. Almost every guy in school echoes the same sentiment; "Women just aren't cut out for leadership". What I find frightening is that they aren't making these sexist remarks simply to annoy me - they actually mean them. When I retaliated by asking about Benazir Bhutto and Indira Ghandi, the response I got was, "They dead." As much as I'd like to, I can't brush aside the issue by telling myself that there's no point arguing with ignorance. I find their views especially shocking since we are from the country that produced the first female prime minister in the world!

So I'm asking myself, what makes some men think that women are less competent than them? The answer I've got from most was that women are too emotional; see Hillary Clinton, New Hampshire. Perhaps it was a clever publicity stunt, perhaps she was just being human. Either way, the shedding of a tear does not make her any less than a man. After all, she did end up winning New Hampshire, so she clearly did something right. In addition, Greek legendary hero Odysseus, King of Ithaca, wept frequently throughout Homer's epic, 'The Odyssey' but was still hailed by Greeks as an inspirational and heroic figure. David Beckham sobbed after losing a match in the 2006 FIFA World Cup, at which he captained England; In 2007 he had the highest salary of any MLS player, indicating that no one doubted his skills simply because of a few buckets wept. It therefore leads me to the natural conclusion that perhaps Hillary's tears were commented on as a sign of weakness because she was actually held up to a higher standard than these strong men. Ha, if only.

It's suprising that my male peers are surrounded by the successful and powerful women of today's world, but can yet be so flippant in their attitudes towards us. I can't discern whether these spring from hidden feelings of intimidation and threat, or the true belief that we're an inferior sex. The former is some sort of denial, but the latter is unfair, and unfortunately seems more prevalent.

I don't know if they can be wholly blamed for thinking the way they do, since even the religion seems ambiguous in this respect. The New Testament of the Bible expresses diverging viewpoints on the status of women. 1 Corinthians 11:8-9 reads, "For the man is not of the woman; but the woman of the man. Neither was the man created for the woman; but the woman for the man." 1 Timothy 2:11 also says, "Let the women learn in silence with all subjection. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence." However, Galatians 3:28 says, "There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus."

So can we blame men for being sexist when religion itself is so equivocal in its sentiments? Perhaps there is some deeper meaning to the above passages, but to the average reader like myself, well, we end up confused. Also, isolate a passage like 1 Corinthians 11:8, and a man can confidently claim that the Bible sets women below men. Female subjugation exists today. It existed yesterday. And it will exist tomorrow. Even a teacher at my school heartily agreed with the boys that a woman simply cannot be a good leader. I think that's what disappointed me the most; a schoolteacher, someone who has the influence and power to shape young futures, essentially said, "A woman cannot do it" to a female student.

Back to Hillary. Even if she does become president, I don't think that these attitudes of male chauvinism are going to change. Most men will forget the fact that she inherits a flawed administration, and blame her for its problems all over again. They will blame her for the troops in Iraq. They will blame her for not solving the economic recession instantly. They will blame her for being a woman. After all, why address the root causes of a problem when you can so easily pick on the cosmetic one?

I think the best example to illustrate this point is something my history teacher once said: The world is a ship steered by men. As it approaches an iceberg, the men allow the women to steer. If the women steer the ship to safety, the men claim the credit for making the decision to hand over the reins. If the ship hits the iceberg, the men blame the women entirely.
Basically, we can't win.

Although I do think Hillary Clinton better suited for the post than Obama based on their experience levels and policy, I have to admit that it is partly the latent feminist in me who craves to see a woman become president of the most powerful country in the world.

Flowers

I hate flowers.
Don’t give them to me because you love me.
Flowers wilt.
I hate flowers.
Don’t give them to me because you’re sorry.
Flowers shrivel.
I hate flowers.
Don’t give them to me because you think I want them.
Flowers die.

They were dead when you gave them to me.
They are dead when I place them in a vase.
They will be dead when I press their petals into a book.
I hate flowers.

Flowers mean that you don’t know me.

14/2

Why should I buy you a rose today instead of tomorrow?
Why should I write you a poem today instead of everyday?
Why should I use today to tell the world I love you?
We should celebrate our love every second, not just today.

I hope he'll buy me a dozen roses,
I hope I'll get more than her.
Today the world will know he loves me,
And today I'm going to feel better.

Everyone has a Someone,
But I'm here all alone.
I can bear it quite well on most days,
But today I know I'm on my own.

You secretly hate Valentines Day.
You say things you feel you have to say,
And you feel like a sham 'cause you know you've just won
The leading role in this stupid commercial play.

The cynics, they're just jealous,
'Cause they have no one to woo.
If they felt the way that we did,
For sure, they'd want to celebrate too.

I am the Lover of Love.
I am the Lover of Now.
I am alone.
I am a lie.
I am proud.

On Fourteen/Two,
Which one are you?

beLIEve (Briony's Song)

I sit here quietly, waiting for someone to say
“I wish that the past never happened this way;
She is not who you are, she’s only who you were.”
But I hear not a whisper, a sigh or a murmur.

I tried to be God, I believed my own lie.
I committed a crime; I don’t even know why.
Did I do it for Cee? Was I misunderstood?
Or did I just do it because I knew that I could?

I sent him away and that’s where he went.
He went far away, and came back almost dead.
In fact he did die, and my hand tied the noose,
I had triggered a bomb that I could not defuse.

I cannot atone and you cannot forgive,
But Cee, just know, there isn’t a day I don’t live.
I don’t live, I don’t breathe. I don’t laugh, I don’t smile.
And any efforts I make, they turn out futile.

And try as I might to suture this wound,
It’s too late for my words to now be impugned;
It’s too late to take back that lie that I told,
Or try to say, “Cee I’m sorry; I was out of control.”


I’m a little bit broken, I’m a little bit frayed,
Still you knelt beside me and together we prayed;
That I would be fixed, and white as snow.

But I’m actually faithless and you never showed.

Tomorrow Can Wait

Together we sat
On the cool, white floor.
Beers in our hands
And hoping for more.

We held hands,
We danced.
We drank more.
We laughed.

Merrily twirling
Between swirling lights,
Watching rainbows and hues,
All blissful as kites.

In this place we’re happy,
In the place we’re free;
Giddily tripping on our
Own camaraderie.

We held hands,
We danced.
We drank more.
We laughed.

We were drunk on happiness,
Friendship, and fun.
Drunk on the thoughts
Of being always young.

We held hands,
We danced.
We drank more.
We laughed.

We danced til the sun
Caught up with the night,
We danced til it was time
To go home and sleep tight:

To go home and dream
Of all that we had,
To relish those moments
We could never get back.

Kirimetiya

I never listened when my grandfather told me that his estate in Kirimetiya was beautiful. On my first visit I just stayed in the house all weekend and watched Ally McBeal. I was pretty bored, and judged the entire place by the house; which was far from spectacular.

On my second visit, I did some exploring. On my second visit, I did some discovering.

I'm ashamed to say that it took me two whole visits to finally understand what my grandfather was talking about.
My revised opinion: Kiritmetiya is a beautiful place. It is lush and verdant, and the climate is perfect. It is quiet and peaceful. It has some of the most scenic views ever.

I can tell it's going to be one of my favourite places. I can't wait to go back.