background noise
·
A special message for that someone out there who is supposedly busy burying his nose in piles of notes.
For lack of better words
our tempers swallow us.
For if we were to speak,
rattling words of never-ending tongue twisters,
our ears would fold.
An air tight lock to stop the bleeding.
Focus.
Drift. The storm pasts.
Still, I can hear your thoughts.
Like daggers to my heart.
The stirring of pain in your voice.
Impatience.
Is it me?
Am I too difficult?
A tight grasp of hands.
A promise of forever discovery.
Forever love.
Haunts me.
The image clings to my pounding head.
A sway of hips,
a toss of perfectly refurbished hair.
My vision takes a stab at the blur.
The yearn, the conformity.
I am nothing like them.
How will you love me?
Face it,
the truth
I am permanent.
and I love you.
swirling clouds in violet haze
·
Starry
starry night
paint your palette blue and grey
look out on a summer's day
with eyes that know the
darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills
sketch the trees and the daffodils
catch the breeze and the winter chills
in colors on the snowy linen land.
And now I understand what you tried to say to me
how you suffered for your sanity
how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen
they did not know how
perhaps they'll listen now.
Starry
starry night
flaming flo'rs that brightly blaze
swirling clouds in violet haze reflect in
Vincent's eyes of China blue.
Colors changing hue
morning fields of amber grain
weathered faces lined in pain
are soothed beneath the artist's
loving hand.
And now I understand what you tried to say to me
how you suffered for your sanity
how you tried to set them free.
perhaps they'll listen now.
For they could not love you
but still your love was true
and when no hope was left in sight on that starry
starry night.
You took your life
as lovers often do;
But I could have told you
Vincent
this world was never
meant for one
as beautiful as you.
Starry
starry night
portraits hung in empty halls
frameless heads on nameless walls
with eyes
that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the stranger that you've met
the ragged men in ragged clothes
the silver thorn of bloddy rose
lie crushed and broken
on the virgin snow.
And now I think I know what you tried to say to me
how you suffered for your sanity
how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen
they're not
list'ning still
perhaps they never will.
you never fail to make me see what a beautiful song this is.
and maybe it is right.
They would not listen and they would not understand.
Perhaps they never will.
hold on
·
but your mind is a mile away.
Which planet do you thread on?
Do you see the footprints you leave on the shapeless terrain?
You run for a brief moment,
your hurricane heart skipping a beat.
The thin air revealing no signs of your muffled cries.
Nothing seems to matter now.
The orbital continues.
Glorious rays mapping their paths,
burning their way into the cold shadows.
You feel just like the sun.
From the moment I knew.
I hold on.
Life's a feast
Labels:
food,
restaurants
·
On a recent food galore session at 10@claymore situated at the recently renovated Pan Pacific Orchard, my stomach rode the ups and downs of thrilling indulgence followed by guilt stretchings at the end of the night. I have never dealt well with buffets, now thats the truth. Blame it on the faulty limit receptors.
Together with the rest of the hungrygowhere staff and other invited guest writers, we savoured the offerings of the modern bistro and grill, harboring even greater expectations for the 'plates of pleasures'; after the impressive introduction from our hosts.
As you would see in other international buffets residing in other hotels, there were the staples, mussels, clams, fresh oysters, sashimi, salads, lobsters and roast beef. I must admit that I found the latter rather good, especially with the myraid flavors of seeded mustard in a mish mash of aromas.
In heartstabbing honesty on this page, the rest of the offerings of the hot items on the buffet line were painfully mediocre. I could have ignored those entirely in place of the cold items. These shall not be reviewed here.
The plates of pleasures as advertised came in the daintest of portions. Lovely idea given that you could sample a portion first prior to re-ordering the specifics in larger quantities free flow. The gratinated chilean diver scallops were amazing, the gratin providing a sensous textural contrast to the tender pan fried scallops. My only gripe would be the over use of chinese spinach in most of the seafood dishes making the dressing of majority of them a boring repetition of each other. Discontent aside, I'm moving on the ala carte menu at our beck and call. I bask in the strong spotlight of conciliation.
The oven roasted bonito cod with honshimeji mushrooms, pea spouts (bah) and a garlic shoyu sauce was a sure winner in my eyes irregardless of the rather inauspicious edible flowers garnishing my dish. The cod's fatty consistency accentuated by the sweet salty flavors of the shoyu sauce, it's sensuous characteristics played up by the slow dancing of the bonito flakes straddling it's back. I swooned, pushed away the tiny mould of pea sprouts from underneath and continued in my mild hypnotic act of savouring it's sweet flesh. *two thumbs up*
ooo.. desserts. jars and jars of sweet delights greet the eye. Damm i get distracted too easily.
Okay. So, perhaps some salads to work up and appetite? With a library full of sauces, dressings, oilves oils and ingredients to be mixed in. We went trigger happy on the salad, mixing a kaleidoscope of rainbow colored ingredients and a good measure of bacon bits in for extra joy. Lovely.
In a major operation to taste all the a la carte offerings available to our eager-beaver palates, we ordered, shared and laughed at the table action. The CLAYMORE Grain Fed Australian Beef Rib eyes was fantastic, well aged and featuring a solid cut, swimming in the goodness of the herbed butter melting in it's feverish glory. Another winner was the beer battered black cod fillet with fat chips and tartar sauce. I could wax lyrical about the fries all day long. thick, crisp on the inside with smoky moist innards, i dug in like a hysterical refugee.
The other mains such as the wagyu beed burger came across slightly disappointing with it's premium make up of wagyu beef overshadowed by the doneness and compactness of the patty. So I continued rifling through the frites.
room for desserts anybody? I sure do have some.
A pedestal of assorted fresh fruits and petite sized cakes meets the eye followed by a magical waterfall of death by chocolate. Nothing too out of the ordinary but do save space for a blueberry and peanut butter crepe. made à la minute. resistance is futile.
10@Claymore
Address: 10 Claymore Road, 2F Pan Pacific Orchard, Singapore
Tel: +65 6831 6686
buckets of emotion overflow
·
Sometimes its hard.
I blink a tear away.
Crying isn't a sign of defeat, it's an act of recognition. Isn't it better than ignorance?
Emotions sets each of us apart. What makes us different from robots if we were to shut them out?
It's okay not to be okay.
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