dear delilah








Fathers, be good to your daughters; daughters will love like you do.

you are the strength and the weight of her world

poetry

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Stream her with roses and daisies, dear mother,
let all that she speak be all that that she hears.
For no higher, no higher let her forehead doth grow;
and so dote, dote my mother, my mother so dear
and let her run free with a conscience so clear


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Listening


Sunday, 6 May 2007

I realised that despite the mistakes we made together, and the pain we endured, it is because of you that I am who I am today. Also, I am still holding onto you.


Directed to General, really.

Tonight was a beautiful night, my brother, sis-in-law, sister and I went for dinner, to celebrate my sister's birthday, which falls on the 7th May. The place picked out was a restaurant at CHIJMES, and was beautiful. I've never been there before - its like a little piece of France in a backyard of a Church. Beautiful.


Moving on.

I guess many of those who know me will know that I don't let go of things. Perhaps it is self-delusion. I have convinced myself that my misery is my bank of creativity. My memories, good or bad, are the seeds of my work, the beauty I'd like to think I cultivate are from the fact that all the events are based on real events.

he told me that I've done alright
and kissed me till the morning light