Blue

Maybe baby, blue isn’t such a bad color.
A rainbow isn’t a rainbow if it ain’t got blue,
The sky isn’t beautiful if it ain’t got blue,
And maybe baby,
The color of all our hearts is blue.
So baby,
You’re beautiful even if you’re blue.

Love Makes the World Go Round

Under the light of the street lamp across the street, rain pelted down like bullets. I wouldn’t want to be out there right now, she thought. Thank God for a roof above my hear. A cold wind causes the curtain to flutter and she enjoys the breeze. The books cluttering her desk grabs her attention and she a certain kind of dread fills her heart. Why oh why. She hears fragments of conversation between the newbie in the block and her mother. The past few days have certainly been eventful.

God said love thy neighbor as your brother or your sister. Love your enemies for he will cast his wrath on them when the time comes. But seriously. You’d think doing it is as easy as how he said it. What’s so difficult about that. It’s just love. Yeah right, just love. In all its simplicity, it’s twines stretches vast and far, it catches and traps you, teases and suffocates you. Honestly, this four letter word screws your life so much more than other four letter words.

Just the other day, I was pondering why. Why oh why, does love plague us. It consumes the better of us and reels our irrationality, tugs at your heart strings and yet, has the ability to cut these strings and let you fall and crash and burn. We truly love, deeply love. We hurt gravely and horribly. This very thing that we place in the center of our lives, be it consciously or subconsciously, feeds us as we feed on it. Yet this love that plagues us, the one that we feel about a certain someone in this special way is what Tumblr revolves around, what silly love songs sing about. And we thrive on it, pictures, words, fantasy, you name it, we want it. To feel that love from that someone, to receive what we’ve been looking at, hearing at, watching at. Sure that’s love.

But that’s not all to it.

Yeah you say, I love my family, friends, relatives and my dog. Oh, I love pink. And all that kind of lovey-dovey stuff. Love is a part of me. I say, totally. In the most bimbotic sense that I can muster (which I can pull off quite well).

Try loving a stranger. Not in a romantic love kind of way. Loving this person, just because, this person is another human being in this planet, or another creation of god. Easy, you say. Try it. At the same time, add in all the worst circumstances possible. Take for example: this is your examination period (even if you’re an arts student,we seriously study too okay), she speaks no English and you speak shit-ass chinese, she’s been spoiled and pampered all her life and you on the other hand have been conditioned to keep afloat by your own means. She steps into your life at the worst possible time and asks for help. She needs you. You’re all that she’s got. You really want to help her but, you’ve got to do this, you’ve got to do that. Forsake her and let her fend for herself? I suppose you would help her, talk to her, help her get around. But, the question is, are you willing to go that extra mile for her? This stranger that you won’t be seeing in 2 weeks time, this stranger who is taking up your precious time. Sure you say, you’ll do the extra, just help a person in need for a little more. Let’s take it a little further. You’re losing your patience. You’re lagging behind in your study plan. There’s a cultural divide that makes it difficult for you to get her and vice versa. Not only is she pushing you to your tipping point, but she’s dragging the people around you down too. Just because they’re your friends and it’s helping someone in need. We all need a little help sometimes, plus it doesn’t hurt to be nice anyway.

But because you’re giving and giving, it becomes emotionally draining. And it’s tiring. Now, where’s the joy in that?

Well. I suppose I found out why today. Simply because we’re at the receiving end too. We always assume that we’re giving and giving and not receiving. But that’s not true. You know that. And so do I. There is someone else who gives so much, loves so much. That we as littler beings, should share this love. More so, because we are His messengers. Telling and showing people why we can do what we can. It’s all because we have received so much that it’s bursting at our seams. That this act of befriending this chick from China who’s asking a little more from us is just some extra loving that she needs. And some extra loving is what she’ll be getting. For He so loved the world that he gave a gift so precious. How can it be compared to my attempts at giving or sharing this gift to another.

Sandy said I was fucking amazing. But that’s not me. It’s my pillar of strength that’s amazing. This time, last night, I was so drained out. Now, I am still tired, but filled with something I can’t describe. I’m not sure if it’s strength, but I’m happy. I think. Or I’d like to think that this happiness is pure and it stems from pure happiness. Even after starting this post at 9, and shuffling in between to listen to her talk, laughing with her, in my oh so broken chinese, I’m done. Three hours later. That’s love for you mate. Easier said than done. But He did it and now, I’m just sharing the love.

these words i say to you,

in the pale light, his tan skin contrasted against the pearls she wore. his hand gently stroked her face. she felt him close, and his breath against the back of her neck. his hands moved downward slowly, holding her close. his hands were her favourite. she pulled him close in the night and felt his hands hold her tight. nuzzling in the nape of his neck, she breathed in his scent and held her hands close to his heart. she heard it beat. its pitter-patter sent chills down her spine. oh how she yearned for him, the night was waning and darkness came. he turned to his side and she felt everything slip through her fingertips. she opened her eyes and whispered into the darkness, for just one more day of his happiness, take one away from mine. let him smile for just one more day. she reached out for him but all she felt was an empty pillow. he didn’t believe a thing she said. his shadow lingering in the darkness was all she could see. light never came, for it was only in the dark that she saw him with her.

the string that was tied never broke. it ran around in circles, went off a cliff and climbed back up. what once was taut became loose. to find it meant to lose. nobody had a clue.

in the darkest hour of the night, she whispered these three words for whom to hear, come what may. was what he said. everything came and everything that might, went away as the sun began to shine.

i hope you don’t mind, i hope you don’t mind what i put down in words, you’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue. they’re brown and you’ve forgotten how they look to you.

she went to depths unknown, became a flower on a planet with 53 sun-rises. the 53rd sunrise, was the best the planet had ever seen, but no one saw it. she swam back into the depths and he never cared to look back.

what once was taut, now loose, waiting to be found, now lost, hiding in the dark, yet shining bright for all to see. tears fall down like jewels and we’d become millionares. in the little red book, were the scars they inked onto pages that no one could see.

© Amanda Lee 2011

My, my my my

“How few among our race have given this thought it’s weight. That in a slender moment hangs our everlasting state.”

Engraved on a tombstone, where a husband and wife has been sleeping since 1929. Tell me, how can it not shake me. The grilled square fence, white brick that has turned yellow, earth that has not been moved for almost a century. How it has survived the sun, rain and harsh winds. How, out of all the tombstones I stopped in front of this and noticed the reader. How can I not notice the supreme power of God, who gives and take away has kept the fool that I am here, walking beside him, watching me stray away, gently steering me back in the right direction – never domineering, patient and kind. Displeased as I play with fire, applying first-aid as I burn myself. Protecting me, holding me up when I fall, stroking my hair as I cry to sleep at night.

Do I not see?

I saw today at a tombstone. The wonderful gift that I have chosen to believe in.

he said “then stand again friend. I will hold your hand.”

He said “hold his hand but I will carry you until you’re ready to stand.”

under the covers, in the dark,

Through the frayed curtain at my window a wan glow
announces the break of day. My heels hurt, my head weighs a
ton, and something like a giant invisible diving-bell holds my
whole body prisoner. My room emerges slowly from the gloom.

–The Diving-Bell and the Butterfly, Jean-Dominique Bauby.

Penso che la vita è preziosa e voglio fare la vita bella per lei.

Lonliness, is music to the ears.

That I discovered, last night.

Last night. I attempted something which was, out of the ordinary I would say. Oh maybe not. I attended a concert all by myself! Well. Yeah. It was my first concert of an artist that I really wanted to listen to in awhile.

Her name is Kimbra and she is so good. So so good. Her music is a mix of jazz and a little electro pop. Her voice is amazing. Her stage presence is worth every penny of the ticket. Like how Adele was so fresh in the music scene, Kimbra is a performer with a voice to boot. It’s just something about her music that draws you in, intrigues and enthralls. She is good like that. When she sings, it’s like her music is consuming her, eating her and she transforms this energy into song. Plus. I saw her live at a sold out concert. Alone. What can beat that. I’m quietly relishing the fact that I went alone. Very brave Amanda. It was definitely an experience. And I’m secretly glad that I decided to attend the concert despite the fact that no one would have gone with me. At the beginning, I felt a little awkward but after awhile. I was good. The only thing was that people around me were eating popcorn. I was dying. The aroma of those freshly popped corn was swarming around me…

My first concert.

Lonliness was music that I heard.

 

Venice decompressed

“The Piazza in midwinter monochrome, its facades texture-mapped in marble, porphyry, polished granite, jasper, alabaster. This city of winged lions and and golden horses. This default hour of  grey and perceptual dawn. She could be alone here, ”

-from Book

See the strings, how they hold.
How you pull against the fish who swims away
Sand that slips through the gaps of your fingers
How it scars your hands but never seem to bleed
“Bright everywhere, no place dark. Bright like mist, “

189

Sharp breath. Inhaled.
Stomach squeeze.
Sinking feeling.
Wrenching.  Must be.
Exhale.

Steeled eyes.

Because I must.

A Labour of Words & Love

From ‘可惜不是你’: 可惜不是你　陪我到最後 曾一起走卻走失那路口 感謝那是你　牽過我的手 還能感受那溫柔

Tell me the same thing.

So near, yet so far. We’ve been running round in circles.
We took each other for long walks, not knowing where to go.
Sitting and looking at each other, we searched for something, somewhere.
Somewhere seems really far and the tears,
they keep on flowing.
The show’s over and it’s time to leave.
One last look, through a screen
Fingertips, from afar.
What was this story that we’ve written or wanted to write?
It’s the end of a chapter but not the end of the road.
What an irony. That only at the end, it all came back.
The thread snips, the wind blows all memories through
And I feel them all.
Flooding my veins.
Take a deep breath and
And I know.
That I know and I am looking forward to a sweet kiss from my alien lover.
I keep your heart in mine.

Too

Wake up to the sound of your fleeting heart
When you go, what you leave is a work of art
On my chest, on my heart

We made plans to kiss the sun at night
Hopeless dreamers, hopeless times

Can you hear my heart beating like a hammer?
Beating like a hammer?
Help, I’m alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer
Hard to be soft
Tough to be tender

So I’ll go but we know I’ll see you down the line
And we’ll hate what we’ve lost but we’ll love what we find

And there it is now, he enters the room
It guts like a fish to see how he’s grown
Saw me go out onto the town to mess around

We wear our bruises like watermarks
The life and the death of the wild at heart