The system called

• Author: kissfendi
• Filed under: Travel
• Date: Mar 29,2005

Some home you can’t call home.  Aceh hit by earthquake around 8 richer scale. Anitta drove us home from Dinner. My head stop spinning. Spring is coming and I think it’s already here, in next several days crocuses will be on their full swing, blooming in different colours covering the ground. What’s happening for the past days? Slice of cake has been thrown in the bin the next day garbage truck came to pick.

What?! I miss The Island Philippines. I am beginning to dislike eating potatoes and Pastas! I was born for bamboo shoots and Pineapple vinegar. I was born for sleeveless shirts and thong not with the winter clothes and oven-like room. I miss sleeping with the windows open, feeling the sea breeze and midnight wind hitting the palm tress nearby where you can hear the hissing. I miss being bitten by small crab and I miss the heat of the sun. I almost have no memory of how the mountain smell like and how dark the moonlight shadow. I am losing the memory of how the coast line looks like during low tide…

I miss to feel the romance between nature and mankind, the colour of the atmosphere when the sun about to sleep. I miss the feeling of excitement while waiting the rainbow to show after the rain. I miss the kind of longing. I miss the wise men for their kind of wisdom they have. I miss the dance of the rain and waterfalls. The sound of the coconuts when they fall and specially the silence of the night. I even miss the bitterness of sorrow and the loveliness of just being alone.

I long to go back home where my world belongs to its own system and where my system can only work in its own world.

Death means

• Author: kissfendi
• Filed under: Fendi, Kiss Bloggs
• Date: Mar 16,2005

Walking in the colds is not really my kind of thing. Snow hates me so
as the sun. Again I have found time to read my old journals from 1996
almost a decade now. Friends have been asking about my writing dodo (
As in going extinct Dodo birds ) is going on and I always say nothing
much I have written so far since I moved my solitary soul in this cold
place. As what everyone doesn’t know that writing to me is some kind of
darkness rather than sunshine. I have realized that I have been writing
much than I think of doing so. So that means I’m walking into darkness
with out giving notice. At least I write 7 long emails in one day, An
entry sometimes here in multiply.com or a short entry to my new
journal. So still I write. All writings seem being just covered by
shallow and flattering moments I have spent with time just to get
carried along with but to see more…still emptiness.

But today,
I realized that I must go back into writing to think that I have lost
countless times. I would have then 13 Journals that means 2600 poems
which I have only 600 so that means long way to go for small mind
reality entries.

I was on my bed with my old journals. My
Journals have traveled as much as I did so keeping them away is not
possible. Just reading the old entry of thoughts almost ten years ago
while looking at the bottle of sparkling paint brush cleaner near me. I
realized that I have painted only few for the past days. I humm myself
and think that if I drink that sparkling brush cleaner I am afraid that
it won’t kill me right away. I checked its back label and it says in
Swedish and I don’t understand any swedish at all. So I still have a
chance to read of my entries.

My old entries remind me of what my mind thought and what my early years been through.

What I have read today?

That was back in 1996
how old was Fendi?
young means getting old
getting old means, what have you done?
to remember is to feel
to feel means home
killing means something.
happiness is too elusive
darkness is so vague
lamentation is everywhere
abomination is what I always hear about.
agony is what I see
torture of oneself is not new
bravery matters in short time
loneliness is a constant companion
crowd is too little to give joy
joy is somewhere
someone to know is to know nobody
secrets are kept
pain means sorrow
and sorrow means universal
emptiness means nobody
to live means to suffer
and to suffer means more perseverance
hatred means nothing
grudge is yet unknown
dungeons is too deep
so as the ocean is blue
candles are running out of…
wind is fast blowing
faith means believing
and believing means keeping on
to move on is not to hold on the past
to let go is too hard
strangers are too many to know
faceless crowds, still a mystery.
journals are friends
old friends are vanishing
new ones just somewhere¨
real ones are hard to find
trust means death
Death means with dignity
and to death i have to trust!

————————

DEjavu

See where the road goes?
Tell where it ends?
To cross the line is to take distance but not ends.
Only the end can tell where the road goes and ends.

———————–

Spoiled Porridge with Strawberry jam in the morning

• Author: kissfendi
• Filed under: We.Blogs
• Date: Mar 16,2005

Hatred becomes agony so as agony from hatred causes my porridge with strawberry jam spoiled!
Many
soured souls to think these days, seems a much kept friends becoming a
so so nuisance or second hand cars downloading at the wrong port with
less evasion tax. I have to leave my sea-sick emotion to the silence
keeper to wait for a temporary admittance or longterm rehabilitation.
Days not really favoring me and I hate confrontation. I am obliged to
walk away from burning candles to place my stem at rest.

Many
things to attend to, and devote my becoming ashes time. I need not to
wait for sundown to get these few things done. To think about friends
is less Onion than lemon so I vowed to tendency of depreciation.

Here! I give four counts of dismay and 26 counts of  disappointment!

The jury find the accused GUILTY!

Anyway……….Happy to have friendster Blog and my first entry taken from my other bog site!
To  myself…
Still proud that my Father is a MASON and I am proud as a De Molay!