Don't You Worry Child

There was a time, I used to look into my father's eyes

In a happy home, I was a king I had a golden throne

Those days are gone, now the memories are on the wall

I hear the songs, from the places where I was born

Up on the hill, across the blue lake,

That's where I had my first heartbreak

I still remember how it all changed

My father said

Don't you worry, don't you worry child

See heaven's got a plan for you

Fresh Off The Boat

"Oh, you have a new Chinese guy? Where's the old one, what happened to him?"

He's gone off to sit for his exams

"So the new Chinese guy is to replace him?"

Yes, he's our new pre-reg student

"These Chinese, they're all over the place aren't they? Taking over everything!"

Yes


Yes yes yes. Yes, we 'Chinese' are taking over everything. We're coming over in our derelict junks in mass emigration droves to escape an oppressive, abusive government for the prospect of a land where the streets are paved in gold. The White Man's land.

I expected the pharmacy to be the last place I'd ever hear such a thing.

It's hurtful in a way that these people don't understand the amount of professionalism, education, time, money, qualification and skill that has to be put into the job. Instead of a badge of merit, all they see is a skin of colour.

I'd close one eye for the sake of that man's age (he's probably from an older generation mired in a segregation-al way of thinking), yet it's heart wrenching when you hear racist comments being thrown about as casually as boobs at a Madonna concert, no matter how much thick skin you think you've grown.

Growing up in a world with ever-increasing dissolution of borders made possible by the Internet and ease of travel, being small-minded and bigoted is definitely no means to survive. Maybe it's naivety or the fact that I don't see it as a problem, I do get surprised at the amount of hostility shown by human beings to one another over something as trifle as race.

If you do as they do, you're branded as one who has given up their own identity to curry favour with another nation - a traitor to tradition.
Remain as you are, and you'll probably be the stupid chink behind the counter with the weird accent no one can be bothered to understand.

And in my job, you need to get people to listen.

Sadistically, I do get an awful jolt of glee, especially in a country that prides itself so much on freedom, democracy, equality and merit. At the end of the day, it is this system, YOUR system, that enabled me to do what I do today. It's pathetic to think that so many abuse the system to live on benefits and handouts, or wallow in their own pride refusing 'demeaning' jobs thereby depleting the workforce, and foreign nationals have to step in to do what you don't want to do.

And then the blame game continues, a vicious cycle.

So let's be clear. I provide a professional service that took a considerable sum of money in education and living expenses to obtain the credentials for. I work hard, I am polite, I am law-abiding, I pay taxes.

In short, I do my job. A job I earned.

And you have no right to demean me for doing so.



Sir Andrew Green, Migration Watch chairman, said migrants from the eight former Soviet-bloc countries which joined the EU eight years ago, including from Poland, Slovakia and Lithuania, "tended to be disproportionately young, well-educated, prepared to work for low wages and imbued with a strong work ethic".

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/finance/jobs/9003320/Immigrants-are-not-causing-UK-unemployment-says-NIESR.html

It's funny how those qualities are represented to be a negative thing in this context. It's times like these you really wonder what the hell is going on with the world.

Paths

"A single rose can be my garden; A single friend, my world."

-Leo Buscaglia

I'm glad that our paths in life crossed.

:)

Revolting

We'd crash and burn,
Like angels did in Revelation,
God forbid our star would shine,
Our fate turned.

Gazes, gazes, gazes,
To me to you.
Ne'er did they met the eye,
Appalling, atrocious, unpleasant.

Wonder thereof,
The problem within.
Is it me is it you?
Is it them.

Chitter chatter
Splitter splatter


Tick tock

Tick tock

Tick tock

Tick tock

Tick tock

Goodbye, farewell,
Sayonara, do not dwell.
Merciless
Forgetful

Whisk a-whash

Away we go.

Vanilla Twilight

The stars lean down to kiss you,

And I lie awake and miss you.

Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere.

Food For Thought

an·ger   /ˈaNGgər/

Noun: A strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, or hostility.

Synonyms: noun.  wrath - ire - rage - dander - fury - irritation

Anger. We've all had it. Whether it be the slight irritant of something not done just right, up to the furious amalgamation of modesty outraged. Anger.

A primal human emotion.

When a person gets angry, they outwardly turn in to themselves. They may direct their rage at somebody else, at an object, by physical means or through a psychological barrage. They may materialise their displeasure or bury it under layers of civility. Each expression of anger varies. It differs between individuals, it differs within individuals. 

And yet, in this day and age, what does it bring us? 

At some point in our lives, we've been angry, but not directed at the right thing, not at the right time, not at the right place. We may be angry with our boss, nevertheless to keep the job, we lash out at our friends, children, pets, partners. Everything may be going wrong, yet we choose to silently curse at the young girl who took a tad bit longer with the cashier. 

Anger poisons us. 

It may serve its purpose by giving us what we want in the short term. But anger, constant fury, will only blight whatever sense of enjoyment we were entitled to own at a certain time. 

I feel that anger nowadays is misunderstood. 

We have replaced true anger with petty feelings of jealousy, with impatience, with squabbles. True anger empowers us to rise against injustice. 'Anger' today serves its selfish purpose of making its wielder the centre of attention. 

And when that doesn't happen as planned, we get 'angrier'.

We get 'angry' at the colleague who ignores us when we see them on the high street. We get 'angry' when the signal on our mobiles go off. We get 'angry' when our Facebook is peppered with game invites and reposts. 

We get 'angry'. Period.

Inadvertently though, instead of a tough empowered will to right what is wrong, our silly issues turn us into niggling hens that squawk, that boister and push, eventually settling down into the humdrum of pecking at sand, while that little period of hoo-hah kills us a little more inside. 

Our 'anger' gives us the opportunity to be rude and obnoxious in our pretentious world held together by a common, fragile social law. Our 'anger' allows us, for that split second, to break away from tradition and truly be ourselves - 

To be self-centered big-headed bigots.

Which funnily enough, is perfectly natural.

And so, it begs to ask the question. Has our civilisation really reduced us 'intellectual' beings into creatures of low morals and morale; or has it suppressed our primal instinct to make ourselves a priority, when society today prides itself so much on sacrificing, giving and making others feel comfortable in a decorated decorum of niceties?

Is our 'anger' a form of 'evolution' born from the quintessential need for self-sovereignty that is being severely suppressed by the dictatorship of intellect?

Are people nowadays behaving worse because society expects us to be nicer?

I stomped the earth

I stomped the earth,

I screamed out loud.

I looked around,

Nobody did come.

I stomped the earth,

I seethed in rage.

I threw a fit,

None a battered eyelid.

I stomped the earth,

I climbed the stairs.

I reached the top,

Nobody cared.

I stomped the earth,

I tripped on a step.

I cried out in pain,

All in vain.

I stomped the earth,

But alas I couldn't.

For the feet that gave me strength,

At last they've wounded.

And when the dust cleared,

I see the stinging eyes,

Red with forlorn;

The burning noses,

Runny with disappointment.

I see the scratched skin,

Sore with abuse;

I see the parched throats,

Weary from thirst.

I stomped the earth,

But all I raised.

Was soil that hurt,

And blinding dust.

And for that, I want to stomp the earth,

For it gives me strength.

But I won't anymore,

A horrid cycle of addiction.

I'll stomp the earth,

One last time;

For memory's sake.

For retribution, fate.

But shall ne'er I stomp again,

For it hurts those

That has taken the liberty,

To stand around me.

For it hurts those,

That has taken the faith,

To wait for me.

For it hurts those,

That has taken the trust,

To befriend me.

For it hurts those,

And it blinds me.

For dirt stirred,

Does nothing but to choke and cloud your vision.

Never again.

Human Nature

Need, want.
Require.
Survival, pride.
Satisfaction.

I could have everything yet nothing at all.
I could have nothing and everything at the same time.

Need/ Want.
Need : Want.
Need = Want
Need to want.

What it needs is to want less, what it wants is to need less.

Thereafter, peace = inner, outer, transcendental.

Thereafter, a chance for happiness.

Thereafter, a reason to smile.

Whatever

No point asking me something when you already know my answer.

Greece,

Switzerland,

Venice,

Rome,

Germany.

You know I'd consider you first.

But it's not like you'd ever do the same for me.

Please, whatever.

Never Be There

If you ever had the heart,

Just talk to me,

And I'll be there to speak

If you ever had the guts,

Just smile at me,

And I'll be there to laugh

If you ever had the doubt,

Just ask me,

And I'll be there to answer

If you ever treasured us,

Just appreciate,

And I'll be there to reminisce

But you never had the heart,

Never had the guts,

Never had the doubt,

Never regarded anything.

So sad to say, as it were now

I'll never be there

Just like I knew you never were.

The Perfect Little Rose

I saw a perfect little rose,

Lying on the ground,

Cut from its stem.

It was red,

It was green,

It was delicate,

It was perfect.

Yet it was cut from its stem.

Could you?

Could you overlook the obvious,

And appreciate the detail?

Could the rose ever be perfect in the eyes of you,

Or would cynicism magnify your in-satisfaction,

Until it overtakes your sight of fore?

Could you?

Would you?