Ode to Ferrero Rocher

Ferrero Rocher, Oh chocolate cream
Melts in your mouth like a chocolate dream
Layers of milky chocolate wrapped inside
If the factory shuts down, I will suicide

Walnut chunks in chocolate so fine
Eating so many, it feels like a crime
Wrapped in gold paper, rip it off quick
Mouth of chocolate, divine and thick

Every mouthful, a frenzied bite
Makes me head feel giddy and light
Waves of chocolate simply flowing
If heaven has doesn’t have it, I ain’t going

Boxes and wrappers all over the floor
Munching Ferrero Rocher behind locked doors
Heaven on earth, oh blissful delight
The God of Chocolate has blessed my diet

Showering the world in a chocolate kiss
Oh, Ferrero, its perpetual bliss
Ferrero Rocher, so creamy and fine
Oooh Ferrero Rocher, you?re all mine!

Keep on munching, end up high
Lost in chocolate dreams, I fly
In comes my mother and yanks it away
She took my Heaven! Oh, she will pay

"Enough of this nonsense" she says to me
She takes the chocolates and takes her leave
My tears start to fall so hard and fast
My chocolates becomes a thing of the past

The Name in the Sand

The name in the sand will not last

The waves come rolling high and fast

And washes all the lines away

It will be just another day

The foamy waves, the sky so blue

Slowly fades into memory true

Where sky meets the horizon vast

Melts into the distance, soft and fast

The day will fade and the night will come

And soon those memories under the sun

Will be fading whispers and shadows old

The setting sun glowing like molten gold

One step forth on the sandy shore

The voices, those voices! They haunt no more

Looking back, see the waves crash down

A sweet, melodious, haunting sound

The name in the sand will not last

The waves come rolling high and fast

Fading into eternity forever more

Those wonderful memories let loose, they go

The name in the sand did not last

The waves came rolling high and fast

And the footprints that were left behind

Were just footprints in the sands of time

Broken

Tears cascading down her pretty face
Amidst boxes full of clothes and lace
As I stand there, she sits and cries
I try to cheer her with a few white lies
What is the matter? I do not know
How do I know why she's crying so?
She's sitting there, sobbing her poor heart out
Something is very wrong, without a doubt
I sit by her side and hold her hand
But honestly, I really don't understand
So I open my mouth to say a word or two
And I end up staring at my shoe
I shake my head and wonder why
What terrible thing is making her cry
Tears are falling, hard and fast
I want to do something so this doesn't last
I paced the room, up and down
I stared at her with a little frown
Contemplating, thinking hard again
I wondered what was causing her so much pain
So then I went down on my knees
And asked "What's wrong? Tell me please"
She looked at me with red rimmed eyes
But, yet, I still couldn't realize
What was wrong, again I asked
And handed her some tea in a thermos flask
She sipped the tea while she sat on the bed
She breathed slowly and then she said
"Please don't get mad, don't rant and rail
The truth is... well.. I broke a nail"

Addiction

I say addiction. You say fight it. Addiction can be conquered.

However strong your addiction is, somehow, humans have the will power to fight it.

Drugs?

Quit them.

Alcohol?

Give it up.

Pornography?

Get over it.

Yes, it does seem that addiction can be countered. Addictions. They take control of your life for some time, weeks, days, years. Yet, you can fight it. Resist it. Challenge it and get your life back on track.

But what if your form of addiction is a person? A living breathing human? Can you fight it then? Can you conquer it?

As long as that person takes up space in the most vital organ of your body, the heart, that person is an addiction. Maybe even a life time addiction.

What do you do when the way he says your name is an addiction? What do you do when his smile acts faster than marijuana, to affect your brain?

Why is that even the touch of his hand is an addiction? The way he looks at you, the turn of his head, his sparkling eyes, his hold on your hand...

When they are all addictions, what do you do?

Could you fight it?

Could you deny that longing in your body?

Can you ignore his intoxicating smell?

Can you shield yourself

from the rush of adrenaline in

your system when he kisses you?

Could you confront the feeling of addictive bliss when his mouth is moving against yours?

Is it possible

to be immune to the immeasurable pleasure he gives you when he kisses your neck? Tell me, can you fight it?

What do you do when the object of your addiction is a person? Can you get over it? Where in the world do you find rehab for addiction to a person? How can you love him with all your heart and never feel like you love him enough? How is it that you will ward off the serene calm he gives you when he's around?

How can you resist it?

How could stop your addiction, not indulge in it when he loves you more than anything? You tell me, can you stop it?

I say addiction. Do you still say fight it?

Love and Hate?

Isn't it such a paradox that we don't love to be hated, but we love to hate? We live in a strange world. We hate to be hated, but we love to hate. Love and hate. Such polar opposites. It intrigues me. The Universe; this unending expanse of unfathomable glory that burst forth was created in such a way that each thing had an opposite.

Light had darkness. Hell had heaven. Man had woman. Bitter had sweet. Superman had Lex Luthor and Harry Potter had Voldemort. We live in a world of opposites. And like all opposites, one becomes redundant when the other ceases to exist. The is no good without bad. No heaven without hell. No thin without fat.

Likewise, no love without hate. Without hate, love cannot exist. Without love, hate cannot exist. Isn't it strange?
We can hate a person with a passion and yet we humans are capable of loving a person just as much. We are supposed to spread love, not hate. That is the good thing to do. But without hate, what would happen to each personal definition of love? How would we know what love is if we didn't know what hate felt like?

Similarly, how would we know what hate is if love didn't exist? How would we know? How would we know what light is if darkness didn't exist? It works both ways. One end of an opposite cannot exist alone, just like you can't clap with one hand. It truly is a strange world. There will surely be no balance.

This is why utopia cannot exist. Because what's happiness without sorrow? How would we recognize happiness if we haven't felt sorrow? How would we identify sorrow if we haven't experienced happiness? This is true to all paradoxes. This is the simple rule of opposites. One cannot exist without the other. It's a fact.


There should always be some hate to understand love and some love to understand hate.

Love and hate are an old married couple without a divorce policy and share inextricable ties. Each time you say that you love a person, you have hated someone or is still hating someone to know that you love the other person. And the deeper your love, the stronger the hate.

We learn to hate from love and we learn to love from hate.

Love and hate: They cannot exist without each other

Reflections

From a cracked old mirror, what I see
Is my old tired face, smiling at me

The frame is tarnished, the glass is cracked
As I go to my past, reminiscing back

From a new shiny mirror, on the wall
In the hands of a lady, young and tall

Was my baby self, with fat little feet
Covered in a soft, white, cotton sheet

From a mirror that hung for eight long years
I see a child with so many fears

The beautiful smile still etched upon
From the mirror that hung since I was born

From a mirror with a slightly aged frame
I see my young face, and it's not the same

A rebellious teenager stares at me
Black hair, brown eyes, a pout, I see

An older mirror, but yet the same one
Reflects the rays of the golden sun

As I stand in front, wedded in white
I see myself in a whole new light

The mirror gets older, as I too age
My life book opens at a brand new page

I see my baby son in my arms
From the mirror that reflects all the calm

The mirror with the glass, beginning to crack
Reflects my children with large back packs

Going out to the world, far away
The mirror seems to preserve each day

The age old mirror, since I was born
Hangs in its gilded frame, all alone

As my little grandchildren crowd around
And makes such a racket! Oh what a sound!

The time is passing, it has nearly gone out
The mirror reflected all, without a doubt

As life passed by, the mirror so clear
Reflected my smiles, my laughs and tears

And from a cracked old mirror, now I see
Is a life well spent, smiling at me

The Little Things

"The little things you do to me are taking me over".

Muted and far off, Colbie Caillat sings in the background. A softly strumming guitar. The line itself conveys these unexplainable things. Yes, it's all made up of little things, some good, some bad, but together makes something so beautiful.

Maybe it's one text message beeping its heart out. Or maybe it's the sweet words in the text message itself. Or maybe it's those little arguments. You know, the petty little fights. The jealous insecurities. Or maybe it's the reassurance to those insecurities. Maybe it's the kisses. Or maybe it's when we hold hands. Or maybe it's the hugs. It could be the stupid jokes we make. It could be something. It could be anything. It could be everything.

I am lucky. I am blessed. I am happy. I am loved. I am dreaming. I am smiling. Slowly, traveling to those three happy hours. Those golden three hours. The one hundred and eighty minutes of happiness. The ten thousand eight hundred seconds of wordless, priceless, expressive, pure love. The soft kisses on my forehead and neck that carried so much of love. The hugs that conveyed so much of joy and the deep connection of hearts and souls. The wondrous utter bliss of every minute, second and millisecond we were together.

Or maybe it's just the way you looked at me.

Every little action, every everyday word magnified a thousand million times. The splendid golden rays of the sun streaming in through the open window, highlighting our hands and faces like a pools of molten gold dancing in a bubbling brook. Like being trapped in an encasement full of enchanted magic fairy dust.

Maybe it's the way you held my hand the whole time. Maybe it was the way you kept giving those secret smiles of yours. Maybe it was how your hands wrapped around me with room to spare. Or was it the way you said I smelt like strawberries?

The perfect time, the perfect place. The rich smell of brewing coffee. The warmth of your skin against mine. All our favorite songs playing in the background. The feel of soft kisses on my forehead and lips. The overwhelming sense of strange exhilaration. The breaths we drew together in contented sighs.

Yes, it was all made up of little things. A hundred million different little things, like puzzle pieces, glued together in amazing balance that make the perfect moment so imperfectly beautiful and complete. Was it the way you said that you love me? Maybe it was the way you whispered in my ear. Or maybe it was the way our eyes found each other, our hands fit together perfectly with each other and our hearts beat in a timeless, perfect rhythm.

"The little things you do to me are taking me over"

The Eclipse

The Sun. The big, bright, bold, golden sun, with its healing rays and joyous warmth lights up Earth, the pale blue, serene planet. Adds joy to life on Earth. So many lives depend on the light of the sun that penetrates darkness surely. He is invincible.  

An Eclipse. A dark, terrible Eclipse. Blocking the light of the sun, it remains, like a stubborn, exceedingly obstinate child, refusing to move. Life is darkness. Everything is darkness. How can it not be when the sole source of golden comfort, the sun has it's golden halo blocked and forced away? The Eclipse covers all. The dependable sun, which shone its light unstintingly unselfishly, has bee devoured by the self centered Eclipse, which cares not at all.
 
The Earth. The Earth with its hues of blue and green, beautiful as ever with her serene smile and wreath of air is innocent. She used to be innocent. Her smile as vanished. Her vibrancy and beauty, all has faded away. Corruption and contamination has overridden her. Engulfed her. She is maimed. She is lonely, sad and frustrated. 

The Eclipse, she doesn't realize, is her own selfish soul. The Earth, the blue beautiful planet is decieved by her own evil. Evil known as the Eclipse, which won't allow the sun into the Earth's life. The Sun is persistent, but the Eclipse resists. Does the Earth know that the Eclipse is merely a wall she herself built around her with her jealous insecurities and self centered-ness? The Eclipse is a barrier. The Earth doesn't want to let the Sun in, so she trapped herself within the "safe" confines of a dark, enveloping Eclipse. Yet The Sun is persistent. The Earth is in darkness. The Earth is scared, so very scared to let the molten gold rays of The Sun in, to heal her, to console her. No. She doesn't trust stars. How many of them beckoned to her, twinkling beautifully in the distance, only to fade away into nothingness when she drew close? How many of them promised to light up her dark skies and yet gave only enough light for themselves to shine? How many of them had assured her that they were shining for her and yet were always shining for other planets?  

And yet, the sun is different. He is not afraid to shine. Not for his own benefit, but to help all others around him, to comfort them with her angel-halo band of molten gold light. He doesn't want to shine for the Earth and fade away. He wants to shine for her forever. Light her up so that she won't be in darkness. He doesn't want to leave. He won't leave. So through the Eclipse, he keeps on shining. The desolate Earth is confused. Why isn't he leaving? Why is her still testing her defenses? She is not breaking. Or is she? He is trying to convince her. To persuade her. Let him through, he will heal her, console her and comfort her. The darkness will disappear. The light will remain.  

A flash. A blinding flash of realization. The barriers are gone. The Eclipse is no more. It fades away as the Sun moves in with his warm pools of golden light that shine upon the dilapidated Earth. The Earth faces him as he shines on her. Shined for her. A stream of unwavering energy, comfort and warmth, all intermingled. The Earth dares him to move. But it's redundant. He won't move. Not now, not ever. He broke The Eclipse to shine on her. To shine his light. He won't back out. And so the Earth takes it in. She is healing. She is slowly regaining her vibrancy, beauty and colour. The Sun remains unchanged. Her world literally revolves solely around him now. As she dances around him, dances for him, in happiness while he smiles, shining his light on her, she realizes... He is here to stay. Deep inside her, there was a part that knew this. Only it took a leap of faith and a test of courage to see it. 

The darkness has faded. And The Sun shines.

Laid

Look at her, she has a gorgeous face
Look at her, not a hair out of place
Look at her, or the smile on her lips
Look at her and the sway of her hips
She looks at you, an alluring smile
At once, your mind is at a million miles
The curvy hips and slender waist
She beckons you, and of course, you haste
You make small talk, you're mesmerized
A woman that men would fantasize
She leans forward, and you look down
Curvaceous breasts, skin tanned brown
She strokes your hand, you stare at her eyes
Pools of light blue, shining like ice
Amazing, the way she holds your hand
It's easy, she leads your mind to another land
You stop, she presses herself against you
Look very close, her eyes sparkle ice blue
She holds you close, too close, to tight
Suddenly, the lights in the room are too bright
She kisses your lips, you splutter in your mind
She walks away, you follow behind
On to the soft, large bed you sink
She leaves you be, with a lustrous wink
She comes back, barely covered in lace
Your breath gets short, your heart beat; a race
Seductive movements catch you off guard
And soon, things start to get feisty; hard
She sits on your lap, she holds your face
Your hands tugs and pulls at the lace
That impish smile seems to never fade
The room, now, is in a dim yellow shade
She kisses your lips, she kisses your neck
And you start thinking, Oh, what the heck?
If it means you're getting lucky tonight
What's the difference between wrong and right?
You kiss her back, you don't hesitate
Your pulse is racing at a tachyon rate
She smiles and traces patterns on your arms
You're overcome with a sudden sense of calm
You bite her neck, your hear her moan
You dip lower, to her collar bone
And so it happens, an electrical night
Charged like a thunder bolt, powerful light
She leads you in that sexual dance
Where both minds are caught in a hypnotic trance
Her body in clinging so snugly to yours
Her breath comes out in gasps and moans
It stretches forever, going on and on
The need, the passion, the fire, so strong
Lust is hanging heavily in the air
As you pause for a fraction of a second and stare
Her thirst for you doesn't seem to quench
You hold on to her, you fidget and clench
Slowly, the night is coming to a close
You lie next to her, looking at the pool of your clothes
Your heavy eyes droop, your tired and spent
Her arms her around you, her body bent
As you both fall asleep, the sun comes up
You think of your usual morning coffee cup
Through the window, the sun filters in, so bright
You smile, because you got laid last night

Crystal Heart

She was confused. Confused and sad. This little drop of confusion had been nagging her at the back of her mind, continuously. Like a parasite, it had been latched onto her thoughts, hurting her without her full knowledge until it came to breaking point. She didn't know. She had to figure out what was wrong.

She loved him. She did. But her confusion and fear of losing him masked it. Every time she traveled in her memory to the times she spent with him, tears sprang into her eyes. She was happy. He was happy. He had called her his "darling". He had told her that he adored her, just the way she was. But now? Did he love her still?Yes he did, she thought.But not in the same way. It had changed. It had all changed.

Her hand fit perfectly in his. She was the lock and he was the key when he held her in his arms. They fit so well. She spent some of her happiest moments with him. The kisses he traced on her forehead conveyed so much.

But now?

She stared at herself in the mirror. She wasn't a magazine beauty and yet she had a mystic allure in her own way. She had a voluptuous figure and soft cheeks which accentuated her slightly pouting mouth. Her best feature, out of all, was her eyes. They glimmered, a dark coffee brown, twinkling with wisdom beyond her age, glittering with warmth and naive, innocent, vulnerable love. Shining specially for him, conveying a vista of thoughts he understood.

He used to understand

Does he anymore? She was doubtful.
And yet, here she was, loving him with all her heart even though the world was throwing a million contradictory reasons and well sensed arguments at her.

Why?

Why does she still love him? Why does she still love him when she is not sure whether he loves her back in the same way anymore? Even she herself couldn't understand that.

She wanted his love. She did not need it, but she wanted it. She was getting it, but not in the way she wanted. Not in the amounts she wanted. His attention was divided. He had less time for her. Yet, in her naive, unselfish heart, open heart, she forgave him for all that. She was turning into a doormat in his life. She's fading into faint memory. Yet, when she tried to let go, he would tighten his grip at the last minute and pull her back up, wanting her again in his life.

So what was she to do?

It was a fork in the road. Which one should she take?

It was tough navigating the choppy, rough water of life. It was harder when one had no means to stay afloat.

They met. The usual place. The place that was a sacred coven of memories to them.

His hand in hers melted her heart, but she fought off the feeling. She did not need anymore distractions. She did not need more inflicted on her soon to be broken heart.

They stopped.

It was just one sentence. She took a deep breath. One simple sentence.
He was not much taller than her, but she looked up to his beautiful eyes. She felt her heart crack into a million pieces, into small shards as she said

"If you love me, let me know. If you don't, gently let me go"

Silence.
The grey area between yes and no.

Their gaze, locked on each other, never wavered. Neither broke away.

Her heart was like a piece of paper caught in a tight fist. It was getting crushed. It was breaking. A torturous break. Piece by piece, breaking off slowly.

But she had a spacious heart. A big heart.

"Let me go. Don't hurt me" she pleaded.

Another piece of her heart fell off as the silence grew longer.

She has such a beautiful heart.

So like soft crystal in a world of hard glass, the way her heart shattered into glistening, diamond like pieces at that moment was beautiful.

Painful.

Yet beautiful.






"What do you do when the person who broke your heart is the only one who can fix it?

Roofies I: Rooferoo

It is 1 a.m.

I feel like Anthony Bourdain from the Travel and Living channel. I seriously do. Because what better way to spend the midnight in the midst of untamed, untouched beauty with something spicy to munch on?

Okay, fine, there isn’t any untamed or untouched beauty. Well, not on this roof anyway. Yeah, you heard me. I’m on the roof of my house and I tell you, it feels GOOD! I am on the top of the world! Er, well, that would be on Mt. Everest…. well… I am…. on top of the roof!

Okay, wait, can you say on top of the roof? Or is it just on the roof? Oh, well, I suppose I might as well say on the roof.

So. Back to the roof. Well. No need to raise your eyebrows in apprehension (or some of you might be wondering whether I am psychotically damaged to be on a roof… fine fine, be cynical, I don’t care. Okay, fine, I suppose I do suffer from cases of brain redundancies).

Yet, it is the truth. I really AM on the roof. Accompanied by a jar of mango pickle I snuck from the kitchen and a note pad. Moi being on the roof is the cold hard truth. (Does cold hard truth seem unconventional? Because it’s usually cold hard cash or cold hard facts, not cold hard truth… people normally say bitter truth. But I think cold hard truth is just as expressive as bitter truth. Pfft. Whatever. I don’t care what others say. Much).

Why am I talking about cold hard things anyway? Hmm… If you lived in the Arctic regions or in a freezer, everything would be cold and hard wouldn’t they? Except maybe boobs. And, um, some other things I could mention :P. Anyway. Hmmmm….. Oh, wait, I can see someone in the neighboring house.

Okay fine, I know I am not supposed to be Peter the Peeper (who the hell is that anyway? Oh yeah, he’s in my imagination) but I can’t help it. Oh. Its THAT house. I think it’s that house. I have to squint. Wait…. OH YES! It IS that house. It’s the house of the Kid Who Wears Green Shorts on Sundays. Let me tell you something about this kid: His life’s greatest love is carrots.

Yes, carrots.

Well, he loves carrots, for some reason, unknown to moi. And how do I know this? Why I see the fellow sitting on the steps of his house, munching on carrots every single afternoon of the week, week-ends and national holidays excluded. What more proof do you want, really?

Okay, so I might have been mistaking orange Jumbo Jolly for carrots. One can never say…. But you don’t crunch on Jumbo Jolly do you (unless you’re The Type That Bites Ice Cream)?

Which leads me to wonder…. could this boy possibly been a rabbit in a previous life? Who knows… It could be possible. Maybe Maggiya down the lane was a troll in her previous life.

Mrs. Maggilin I mean (Note to cerebral cortex: do NOT call the woman Maggiya)

Ahh… I remember what happened the last time I called her Maggiya. I was six and there she was, in my grandma’s house just next door, and I called her Maggiya in her presence. How was I to know it would offend her? I was six, I didn’t even know what offence meant! Puh-lease! So, well, she was so offended that my grandma punished me.

How was I punished?

Well. Let’s just say that my butt has never been on fire like that ever since. Not even the time I sat on a radiator. Injustice I tell you. She and The Maggiya were bosom friends since they were kids, back when world was inhabited by dinosaurs. Those two mother henn-ish meansters deserve each other. Evil Hench Twins, that’s what they are.

Oh look. The moon. Hmm. I see you moon! Woohoo! Helloooo! Hellooo Moonlings! Hello Tiny Green Moon Men! Helloooooo!

Okay, they can’t hear me. I’m slipping back into the house for some more mango pickle and then to continue my sweet and sour hours of midnight solitude on the roof.

Hmmm.

" I used to be love drunk
But now I’m hungover
I’ll love you forever
Forever is over "
- Boys Like Girls

Dear Ex-Lover

Dear You,

I am writing this letter to you today because I hope to bid adieu to you forever. I found out about your secret addiction to Popsicle sticks. I cannot be your ubiquitous, t-shirt painting slave forever. I am done washing your sequined hats and stacking your encyclopedias. I am moving out of the minuscule matchbox you call a house and moving into a new perspex and polyester home with vinly blue water proofed glass walls on the lower floor. I believe this is ideal for me as there are no soup bowls getting under my feet.

I would like my hot pink hair extensions, green broken light bulb, glow-in-the-dark panties and my Greek God trophies back by next Saturday. You have betrayed me in more than ways imaginable and you are a microcosm of a liar. I can not believe I went out in public with an oik like you! I guess that was because those days, you were very oily voiced and oleaginous.. but oleaginous is the last thing you are now! You are tiresome and odious! Your disturbingly stupid habits and ways tax me both mentally and physically to a large degree. Personally, I think you went through and Oedipus Complex phase when you very young. Honestly, getting as far away as I can from you would be very salubrious and beneficial to my health! Living with a flea like you is like living in an oubliette.
I expect a pay back of all the money I ever spent on you. I will be expect a check for a full reimbursement by next Thursday. If you do not pay the exact amount, I will send bounty hunters and tsetse flies after you. I have ruminated this issue for very long and to tell you the truth, I am too rubustious for you.. you are stupider than an Alpine Ibex from Yemen. You are very recusant.

I think you need to get over this salad day phase of yours. I think you have a bad case of Schizophrenia. You never appreciated my tempura and sushi making skills. Our relationship was tenacious, but now it's zilch. Please leave me alone without making my life tedious or I start to burn effigies in your form.

I am very sui generis, but you can't see that. Your head is full of unreal temerity. You vacillate too much for my taste. You are like a fluctuating thermometer. Also, it pains me to say this, you are seriously lacking in the buttocks department. You remind me of a terracota tercel. You are an unctuous ass until you get something. You are very unlikely to be uxoroius. Please note there will be no one to arrange your fridge magnets hereafter.

I am vehement about this decision. You are a gormless, neo-fascist varlet! You hate my gouche drawings and there you are of no use to me since you do not appreciate me. I need a vade mecum to keep up with your stupidity. You look like a rabbit with myxomatosis when you cry. Please note, I think you are an idiosyncratic zebu. I will have an idyllic life without you or the likes of you. I am sure.

Sincere Sufferings,
Your ex-girlfriend

PS: Give my regards to your grasshopper Andy