Merry Christmas!

Season's greetings to all fans, loyal readers and supporters of my blog out there! Hope this Christmas is a wonderful one for you and have a happy new year ahead!

To those who had been there at my performances, THANK YOU so0 much, really appreciate your time and your support. Hugzzz :)

Take care and God bless!

Ben

Dear all,

it's the time of the year again to share some holiday cheer and bring out the Christmas spirit of joy and hope. For you music lovers and a cappella fans out there, here's a lineup of christmas caroling for your entertainment pleasure.

18 Dec (Sat)
2:30pm - Consonance @ Harbourfront
5:00pm - Notations @ Bugis Junction

19 Dec (Sun)
5:00pm - Notations @ Bugis Junction

20 Dec (Mon)
6:30pm - Notations @ Bugis Junction

21 Dec (Tue)
2:00pm - Consonance @ Harbourfront
6:30pm - Notations @ Bugis Junction

22 Dec (Wed)
6:30pm - Notations @ Bugis Junction
8:00pm - Consonance @ Esplanade Concourse

23 Dec (Thu)
2:00pm - Consonance @ Harbourfront
6:30pm - Notations @ Bugis Junction
8:00pm - Consonance @ Esplanade Concourse

Hope to see you there! Merry Christmas!

december storm raining down my neck
with all the shelves of absorbent counterpoints
of refrains in the multitude of clustered jingles
specked in daylight fritters joined by choruses
of mountainous debris of time
Listening to the rhythm of the echoes
in the walls of my overworked heart
seems like the endless war of the
good and evil that forever fractures the world
and punctures the fervent soul of cosmic revolution

"life's like a toilet bowl, i like it better when nobody shits in mine"

- Saffieology

Update

This period very busy. Got carolling, school's busy with internal concerts, prize-giving ceremonies, Notations performances, rehearsals and endless practices & meetings.
Nothing else to report.

End

Danny Boy

Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
from glen to glen and down the mountain side;
the summer's gone and all the roses falling
'tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.

But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
and I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy I love you so.

And when ye come and all the flow'rs are dying,
and I am dead, as dead I well may be.
Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying
and kneel and say an 'ave' there for me.

And I shall hear tho' soft you tread above me,
and all my grave will warmer sweeter be,
for you will bend and tell me that you love me,
and I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.

Oh, Danny boy, Oh, Danny boy
I love you so.

Jazz & Coffee

effacing the claws of steel
in the hearts of stone
will be the brew of authentic brubeck
with jiving auroma from dancing ivories
on a fine walking bass line
watered down by the oh-so-swell smell
of the beans from the carribean
that neither saints nor monks could resist
the need to indulge and submerge thyself
into the sheer pleasure of soaking up every note
of the life's undoubtedly riveting potion of joy
that jazz and coffee bring to mankind

From a wise 14-year-old who reminded me of how to live life:

"Cherish life as it is, you'll be happier.
If there's one I believe in, it's that
everything happens for a reason."

Thanks for lighting up my life :)

Crumbs

~~~~~~~~~~

An ode to the lowly lifeforms

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the

crumbs

of yesterday

and tomorrow

they fill my sorry life

need I elaborate more?

we live, eat, breathe them

and they are what sustains us

not the banquets or feasts of aristocracy

nor the lavish silverwear of the princes and kings

but we live on the left over bits and pieces of apple crumble

that fell to the pits of morality's tumbler with a faint and subtle

rumble that bubbles into nothingness when the winds flutter by the

sad sorrowful window panes of my weary and exhuasted mental faculty

Double Trouble

Adapted from Shakespeare's Macbeth
for ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Something wicked this way comes.

Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing.

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Something wicked this way comes.

In the cauldron boil and bake;
Fillet of a fenny snake,
Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witches' mummy, maw and gulf.

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble,
Something wicked this way comes.

Miraculously, I can blog again,
God knows what has happened to my computer,
it has healed itself.
But thank God,
I am able to pen (electronically) my thoughts again,
and indulge in verbal diarrhoea!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Today is a good day!
The sun is not shining,
but it's cool and a little misty,
makes it feel like Christmas,
did I say Christmas?
Well mooncake festival is round the corner,
and after while, Christmas will be here,
And yes,
it's gonna be the most hectic time of year for me,
but I'm not complaining, coz
I LURVE my job =)
That's all for now,
Will be back for more
VERBAL DIARRHOEA!
Stay tuned!

A Fool's Lament

White waters rage in the mid autumn whispers
Steals the bread away from me.
Do I dare ask for an apple?
If Icarus didn't know
what tragedies would befall him
How can I know when not to
step on a piece of stone?
The dove dives low but misses the worm,
The hand ceases no wrong sandals puts them on.
But the feet feels no ground beneath them
tramples onpulling the roots out of the soil,
Massacred bushes yell in the wilderness
Grouching tigers mourn
for the moon swallowed the sun
The limping fox staggers in the eyes of its prey
Feeling numbed and terrified of terrific tremors in its
Underground veins
White waters still rage in the mid autumn whispers
The clock ticks...
Wells dry up

Copyright ©2004 Benedict Goh

The beacon of resignation weakens
The pillars of determination
Tearing down the towers of decisiveness
Like a rod from the heavens

Copyright(c)2004 Benedict Goh

When the Sun Sets Again

When the sun sets again
And the night like a victorious serpent
Consumes the sky
Extinguishing the blaze of day
I travel the lonesome road of reminiscence
Remorse reverberates in the wells of untold misery
I sink
Freely
Into the pit of anxiety
Closing in on me
Are the claws of conscience
Gobblins of reason and irrationality
Eating into the recesses of my battered soul
Every minute
Until the moon is down

Copyright(c)2004 Benedict Goh

Haiku

It's morning again
Sunlight on my window pane
Draws me out of bed

copyright (c) 2004 Benedict Goh

The apple of the eye
has frozen in concrete
lamplight of the boozing sorrows
When true blaze of the heart
Cannot find the way to burn
The breaking of dawn seems
like darkening of the hour

copyright(c)2004 Benedict Goh

Hanging on the threads of pining
brings back the stings of rewinding
into the dark spells of
yesterday's whining
do the sparkling reserves
of life's spastic pleasures
lift a wanton soul to paradise?
let heaven decide

Copyright(c)2004 Benedict Goh

Grey skies smiling at me,
nothing but grey skies do I see.
Do I hear a thunder
humming in the distant horizon?
Let it ring,
Let it ring, for
Grey skies are the reason
that coolness breathes;
In this sweaty island
it is heaven.

Copyright(c)2004 Benedict Goh

Perhaps

Perhaps stars are just whispers
blown away by lonesome hearts
Perhaps wind is just a whimper
of an old quiet bard
Perhaps sunlight is a golden broom
that sweeps the dusty doors of time
and winter is but a requiem
that ring in old London town
Perhaps sand is all our memories
that steals across our dreamy lives
Perhaps seas are only tides of change
that cleanse our souls of dust

Copyright©2004 Benedict Goh

seagulls call out
to the brisk breezes of sunset
the breath of the sea must
send waves of untamed temper
on lonesome vessels
where the sky meets the sea
the clouds seem to weep
the fisherman's eternal sleep

Copyright©2004 Benedict Goh

been there, on the high road
now sinking low
on a rocky boat
isn't it a fallacy
to believe in tomorrow
where you don't even know
what day it is now?
been there, doing the same
old usual mundane packing
of wasted dreams in a sleepless
jungle of untamed lunacy
float, float away
on a funnel of
subway cigarette smoke

a horse on a rainbow
sat on dumbo
then lost his jumbo
to limbo
Faints

when ever a cloud
appears to consume
the sapphire sky
the winds will chime
with vigour and pride
the dawn of the storm
the rise of the tide
then rain will come
like pharoah's horses
upon the earth
washing all dirt
on every flower
when that is gone
the birds will sing
their joyful song
of new beginnings
and a bright new morn
across the heavens
the throng of light
will give all life
a rainbow bright

Take a pinch of salt
and put it into water,
what do you get?
Salt water
Pour some water
into a bowl of salt,
what do you get?
Salt water

we can't change the way people think
but we can think that people change

green is the colour of the day
not because i'm feeling environmentally friendly
it's the colour of algae growing on the walls of
my worn-out faculties
reverberation ceased to exist
waiting, wanton spirit, for dooms day

It's a blizzard out there
and in here
there's a melancholic shower
that washes the dim lit alley
of my wasted soul

The whirlwinds of living never beats any faster
levelling all sparkle of this mundane world
before sunsets of the heart starts to trickle
there is not a single drop of wonderment left
or any flicker of the weak flame of the mind's eye
battered, bruised and blistered
are the frames of disconcerted spirits.
losing its line of sight
quickly
in
eternity

The lenses of my senses
were kept in pretenious fences
it takes not one but many chances
to uncover and recover the faithful branches
of sanity which the strength of Venus
could not contain the bold untamed monsters
bursting from entrapped glasses
they crawl undisturbed in midnight masses

the silence is deafening
belting out in resounding emptiness

Syncopated Subversion

Prevailing in a non-sequential absentia
the pillar of boredom throws daggers of dementia
that splits the vaults of prudent jocularity
into funnels of raging immorality
subjectivity is flung out of the window
by flippant throngs of anti-gravity disability
guarded frustrations battle the sheer forceful freudian impulses
that consume and ravage the naked truths of human frailty

Constipated Entanglements of Neurological Impediment

contaminated filters of the mental faculty
cannot resolve the weight of improportional injustices
clouding in the sphere of crashed crumpled indecisiveness
only the withered battered laundry of sorrows
could enclose the wounds of yesterday's beer bottles

it's just another day today
so is yesterday
and the day before yesterday
and the day before the day before yesterday
and so is tomorrow
and the day after tomorrow
and the day after the day after tomorrow
in a nutshell it's a day
which is like any other day
and you'd say
it's not fun anyway
because it's not gay
which maybe here to stay
or go away
in a distant way
that might sway
with dismay
to skies of grey
come what may
stacks of hay
may just be a ray
of light on a bay
which i pray
today
in this month of May
that things will be gay

the wind is in harmony today
except it is a dissonant chord!

What shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world?
- anonymous

liking the likeness of a liking
is a thing to behold for a being
that treads softly on this soil for freeing
the pleasures that bind earth's mighty fling
to sting your heart with a pinning
grinding
seeds of satisfaction beneath the surrounding
moment searching for blistering
breath of tomorrow

risen early today
but the sun is cloaked in a grim blanket of grey
almost resisting to show its face to the world
the freshness of morning mist is consumed
by crashing needles of rain
wonder when
the sun will reign again

The rapturous ring of razzamatazz
echoes in the reign of reluctant riddles
that pierces through cells of roaring roasting
in reason's robust reverberation
captured in razor blade sharpness
of time's relentless hand

there is always a cup that is half filled
one that is empty
and one that has a broken handle

Everything is hanging on a thread
that slips through my fingers
in time's relentless flight

Plato's plate was plushed with pinnacles
who would notice the wriggling sandflies on the seashore?
but he whistles a tune on the moonlit summer's night
that breathes the soft tunic soiree of mon a mie to her death

The Strings of Silence

Listening
reason starts to float into
the ballads of dancing notes
played on strings of forgotten resting place
brothers of dangling sparks of firewood
clings wistfully on brooks of spring
Yonder, lies bedtime stories
distant bells that chime of worries
that sink into immortal remembrance
Fading

Awaiting the End

time, refuses to go any faster
like an old battered snail
on the upslope to everest
sinking its fangs into my skin
with every micrometre it trods

Blemished Blasphemy

Blaming the black bleak sky
For taunting us with rain
Reinserting irrational bullshit
Into the red rusty rumours of yore
Colouring the crimson crowns of creased crutches
In the windows of mentality
Freeing the forceful fiery frost of the gruelling gambles
In eternity’s redefined predisposition
Aimless extrapolations juxtaposed with torn tenacity in premature perceptions
Cling on to mortality

The Road Not Taken
by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 20

Waves

They sing nature's endless symphony
Sometimes in call and response
Sometimes in echo to they own reassuring ballads
Sometimes in a luscious and dramatic chorus
Belting out in joyous harmonies
The multitude of earth's timeless magnificence