Exceeded Excrete Life

“I’m at an age where I’m supposedly marked ‘safe’. There’re no urges I cannot explain, I don’t ogle at freshly baked muffs, and I walked around gleefully, pretending to look young but inimitably, all my good ol’ features kept wasting away and cranking at the joints. In a few years time, I will be entitled to benefits accorded my age. Civil society had it all thought out already- designated foot paths, regular health checks, cinema and travel concessions, stuffs which are ironically more useful to me when I was younger. All except for that which I grimace and longed to have, but quite incapable of performing.
Age does strange things to one’s eyesight really. Wrinkles vanished completely from everyone you gaze at and older women suddenly looks sweet and desirable. At times, you see multiples of them instead of one.
Alas! and after I have exceeded excrete life and my opinions no longer reverberates the eardrums of my dear shadow cabinet congregating at the regular coffee shops, the only muscle flex I’d be left with would be the drool flowing down the corner of my mouth each time a temptress straddles by. It’s so surreal really.
And what do you know? My whole person is already stammering but my beloved bloke snugging in between my crotch still thinks he is the next superhero!
Come to think of it, getting older could be fun. When you’re asked to do something that you’re lazy about? and you point to your neck or wherever while cringing your face..
Anyway, the rest of my time I guess would be spent monologuing and bumping onto furniture corners.. Then wait for the day when they tagged me with a champagne glass’ and an ‘umbrella’ symbol followed by ‘This Side Up’. “


“Don’t erect a replica to replace that which had been demolished. Leave that sculpture in your memory as a reminder of some better times. Print limited edition copies of its image to fund raise an artist collaborative so called an artist Union where concerned artist can join and unite to keep watch, address and confront issues like this.
Personally, I feel that without the personal supervision, consent and approval of the rightful artist, we are only erecting a new sculpture that has no soul in it.
And you’re only giving dbkl leeway to commit more hideous defacements in the future.”


the sweetest thing  about  man  is

being absolutely  clueless   about

the needs of  a  woman  falling  in

love    that     inevitably    frustrates

that  woman  to  initiate   the   way

after the hunting  has  died  down

and entraps his soul which is truly

connected to the woods which he

so loved to hunt..




pillow of my dreams

veyouiloveyouilo                    youiloveyouilove

 ouiloveyouiloveyouilove             veyouiloveyouiloveyouil

oveyouiloveyouiloveyouilove      veyouiloveyouiloveyouilovey












you are the pillow of my dreams

in my dreams you are the pillow





our relationship  and  attachment  with  this  world  depends

entirely on our relationship  and  attachment with its  people

and of how they relate and attach  themselves  to  the  world

by   their   relationship   and   attachment   with   its    people.