Flowers blooming on the walls
Beckons the unsuspecting
The rush of the first steps

Intricates understood and loved
Barriers cracked and burned
Not looking back, forget the paths taken

A dead end
Walls cave in
Flowers withering
Concrete showing
Lost.

Walking turns to running
Whispers to screams
Panic sets in
Ceased roads

Clawing at the corners
Till blood drips from the nails
Blindfolds fell
Ear piece held in warm embrace

Futile attempts to escape
Await the last breath
Liberation.



i was just wondering how you define good poetry..

like i was watching friends and monica dated this guy, who in the middle of their date stopped to write a poem.. about an empty vase

so monica thought he was refering to her being empty yadayada cos she was dense about poetry..

i'm sure they teach you in lit school how to interpret a poem right?.. darn, what am i doing in science.. who cares about chemical reactions anyway?!!

i wonder if i'm dense about poetry.. questioning myself though, aren't literary works a mere expression of the author's inner turmoil? who then should be allowed to judge if it's a good work of art or not?..

i wanna study art.. but i can't.. cos i have to go learn about magnets and light now..

but then again what is science and art but mere categories made up by man.. the great philosophers like aristotle and plato were geniuses in both areas.. oh boy, this makes me wanna read.. and yet, a strange sense of inadequacy overwhelms for i know i comprehend little in the vast sea of knowledge..

There is a foolish corner in the brain of the wisest man.
-Aristotle-

hmm...


*then hunger distracts me* i wanna go scout for food now...

this is why i'm fat and dumb -.- hahahhahah

(: