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Thursday, July 22, 2010
Winter War; Summer Soar /2:10 PM

Alas, the winter's chills tingles my spiny bones, that it crackles with every source of heat introduced, so much so it will disintegrate into nothing more than the summer's scorching heat..

And yet the ocean settles with the heart-warming knowledge that tomorrow marks a new weekend, and it retains its optimism, hiding all worries and stress beneath the ocean floor. But nothing ever stays still and soon the sand will unfold, the truth will recover it's menacing purpose and born defeated shall the ocean bear new creatures.

But enough of plain allegories that bring us thus far and no where further.. Venturing back to reality, today was relative smooth-going in terms of lessons. Despite it being a day of core subjects filed to the brim, I can easily say that it was once of the better days I have had since school began (not like jail's always promising happiness right?). With periods of boredom like History (sad to say I began to lose my deep-seated interest in history already...), Chinese (though I hate my mother tongue, lessons somehow always turn out fine) and Social Studies (not many questioNS on my mind today and perhaps it was clear from fog so that I was actually listening and understanding) turning out alright, my spirits are just slightly lifted. I hate to begin all the mounts of work waiting for me but it has to be done sooner or later. All this procrastination just confirms my MBTI type as a perceiving person.. and yet I somehow love to plan my schedules in advance... Irony in life. Tonight's gonna be a long night with RLP training and whatnot but I still stand in fear of Sunday, the actual Hair for Hope event. Doubt has encompassed my mind so I am still indecisive but I will make the right choice eventually..

And shitz, tomorrow's pioneering test for scouts?! And Joel, the masochistic good-for-nothing (:D), designed a trestle that's suited for a dwarf... Ah well, life goes on whether you win or lose, it just affects whether it's a good life or not ;)

And so winter commences its brutal advance, walking straight into a death trap. Soar with sumer, blaze your passion and kill the blizzard with our burning desires.. And when winter melts, dissolves into the silhouettes casted, the light will blind us from misery but show us the path of light to salvation

Poem for your enjoyment (hope it appeases you)

Memoirs of the Black Death (as recounted by Marty, a victim of this tragedy)

Bitter nostalgia chills me to the bone,

Whilst the whispering wind knocks on my stone.

Hitherto gloom, the erratic weather, an omen, rich funeral tune,

And hear thee pleas, black smoke approaching hither.


Black rain pour’d on, that drench’d paper sheet

A plague worthy of the name bestow’d upon it.

From Asia to Europe and dear old England,

The darkness painstakingly but surely took each by hand.


To dictate the situation, sorrow drowns thou,

But embrace this grief with boldness as did England how.

“Science blame’d bubonic, fleas and black rats,” for tis black light

But England was burie’d, conceal’d from sight.


“An automatic remission of sin, the Clement VI decree,

The invisible sword claim’d victims too rapidly…

The menacing pandemic was insatiable; its greed grew bigger

Catastrophic melody bellows, come forth hither

Non-absurdity—nonchalantly stealing Europe in size.

Blessing of headaches, chills, fever and vomiting, cower

Blistering sores that seem’d to fester forever,

Drowsy fatigue kill’d their consciousness,

Thou find peace in blatant ignorance

Bleeding tongues that wag such insolence,

When terror worst hits the many villages.

Plain not the irony the joy of death for the victims (what foolery we claim it to be!),

And agony sweeps the family to lose yet another kin (shouldn’t they be numb by now?)


Holler thee, our food supply is diminishing (amidst death like no other)

They won’t sell us grain, no matter our shameless pleading.

France prohibits transactions with us, the rest

Suffer from crop failures lacking manpower, best

Those curs’d pirates looting for black markets

Sound the incessant war cry, Scotland befalls,

And all reserves activate, this is the call

Drown cries of trivial inflation and money issues,

Malnutrition, poverty, disease and starvation when war ensues


And god lost all goodness, religion a joke

Hear ye, welcome the secular groups’ folk.

The Jacquerie Rebellion, Ciompi and English Peasants revolt,

The unsightly uprisings, laugh at the ravaging colt.


The ordinance and statute of laborers restrict’d our wage increase,

The government threw us in jail lest our whining won’t cease.

But bless depopulation, and the devil it bore-shortage of labor,

We surviving laymen grew in power through demand, rotten core

Soaking in a period of cheap welfare, degeneration soar!


Renew’d religious fervor and fanaticism bloom’d,

Christians blame’d Jews (and others), in the fire of stupidity they consum’d (anger)

The Jews and lepers were condemn’d as guilty,

Spare not even the gentile creatures (women) God plann’d to be.


Holler at the Church, who promis’d divine cure and yet grossly fail’d,

Retribution for false proclamation-a disgusting alienation of religion and rebellion-hail’d

Welcome new ideals, flagellants-still undeserving of any intellectual capcity

Sanity die’d with each flog, but revive the plague it did, utmost imbecility!


And one last gift did this plague beset upon us, the inculcation of morbidity

Into culture that was once so pure! We kill’d the cats for they wrought

This monstrosity on our souls (and let the rodents survive). Wipe out

Alchemy-it worsens the plagues and still, kill the cats…” Ha!, the blasphemy, the irony!


And so here ends my tale, I hope you’re satisfi’d and perhaps,

A tinge still alive and kicking no? Reckon it’s not a tale

Worthy of perishing? Then if this gruesome poem

Didn’t kill you, perhaps the Black Death will

-Sean Sum (Sumz da King)


Man in the Mirror
Sean (:
Confirmed 2010 'Alexander'
God's Given Child
Eighteen
02 Scout & Raffles Player


"I am not young enough to know everything." -- Oscar Wilde



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