Connect the Dots

We think circles around truths to unthink thoughts we don't dare.
By unthinking truths, we create a vortex of care--
Void of appearances, the abstract remains there--
Yet within grey matter, its absence is rare.

Soldiers with batons, we are all meticulously trained.
At the end of the day, some feel more ready while others remain.
Lub dub and love doves: sounding identical when echoed again.
Two beats of the same vein: are we preparing for battle, or is it only our brains?

We live fast to not die slow while standing under rainclouds waiting for snow
So we push to go faster and we push ourselves to grow;
Maybe we also push so hard that we push the important things below.
Perhaps to really live, we should take risks like that of dying slow.

Time is relative -- like the people around us, whether or not they are related.
Love is a mother tongue that people have created,
And the language of time is one that space vacated;
Both are complex, universal languages that we understand untranslated.

Counter and clockwise; maybe we think circles to un-unthink thoughts,
Similar to moving in reverse to untie our knots.
And when we finish, we find things no longer in their original spots.
Through the lengthy process, we hope to have connected the dots.

Connect the Dots.//.07.28.12.//.Carma C.

They Say I am a Dreamer

They say I am a dreamer:
This is true,
For I have dreamt many dreams where I would sing and dance unbound
With lovers and sinners until dawn breaks in, and we collapse upon the ground.
We would rest momentarily and watch the sun rise while the hill is crowned.
With the newfound light, faces become shapes, and colours turn to sound.
There is no love, and there is no sin.
He is her yang, and she is his yin.
They are related: they are estranged kin.
If we have nothing, we cannot win.
I see nothing; perhaps because my eyes are closed.
This is Eudaimonia; a well-trained skeptic would know.
Equivocated, I wake up in disarray.
I am not a dreamer.
It’s better this way.

They Say I am a Dreamer.//.03.17.11.//.Carma C.

Legs.

I probably should upload this picture! I haven't been updating anything very much recently for the usual reasons. Also, I'm starting a new job soon. Yay!

This one is a matcha latte, and the art was inspired by the snow that day. I ran out of foam for the legs, but oh well. There is always room to practice and improve!

Latte Art

Won't be working for at least a week, so these are all the pictures for a while. <3

Smart Cookie

There lives a boy who rocks this world
And loves to squish his favourite girl.
They sing and laugh, and dance and twirl;
Then he holds her ‘til her toes are curled.

He always looks with bright green eyes,
At cats and bunnies, and squirrels nearby.
The boy is cute, and sweet, and wise,
Yet stubbornly remains reserved and shy.

Fragments of futures flitter freely for he,
As he daydreams over earl grey black tea.
He shakes them off, returning to study,
Because they can be his, upon earning degree.

To him, he’s poor, and much too short,
And big, and old, without purport—
Which are lies, as he is nothing of the sort.
“He is just right,” says eyewitness report.

The boy has talent, and love, and soul;
Smart and witty, he is opposite of Pro.
He knows it deep down, beneath Jew-fro,
Yet he walks modestly while looking at crows.

In spite of all, the boy lives happy.
In spite of all, he also lives spite-free.
Cute and happy, he squishes main squeeze.
Perhaps he is just right, this smart cookie.

Smart cookie.//.10.25.10.//.Carma C.

Starbucks.

“Large, dark coffee please.”
“Oh, you mean venti?”
“What’s this, Italy?”
Starbucks is not for me.

I gave a try and ordered chai,
And luckily did not die.
Espresso’s weak, I will not lie;
Hot chocolates: do not buy.

Frapps aren’t bad, and I want more
Of blended creamed sugar.
My gaining weight can be ignored
‘Cuz i can walk through door.

Every corner, every day,
Love or hate them, that’s OK,
They know we’ll go in anyway.
And I’d like a medium soy latte.

Starbucks.//.10.19.10.//.Carma C.

For the record, I'm not actually a big Starbucks fan. I'm a Blenz girl who sometimes has no choice but to drink Starbucks because they're EVERYWHERE! This was a writing prompt by Google Trends.

UFOs Over China

We are aliens when drifted overseas;
So like youth in Asia, you are foreign to me.
Gone you are, from familiar home country,
And gone you are too, from life in captivity.

I wonder sometimes, if euthanasia frees,
Because right and wrong can be hard to see.
For our youth, there is right in humanity,
But there is wrong too, as we live subjectively.

I’ve stood on this land since I was three,
And they’ve fed me my share of negativity,
Between bites of rice and bok choy leaves,
Until I begged, “No more!” and ate broccoli.

UFOs over China are not Chinese–
To stand on land does not mean nationality.
They are strangers, who somehow have keys,
And neighbours see them as infectious disease.

Appraisal is arbitrary upon what we perceive;
X is X until we pass the threshold for Z.
We all do it to make judgments of ease,
While believing our assumptions are guarantees.

Rules are guidelines, like grandma’s recipes.
I make my cheesecakes with matcha green tea,
And rice cakes with syrup of the maple variety.
Like food of fusion, I am an amalgamated me.

Diseases can be overcome by building antibodies,
And foreigners seem less foreign if they know the ABCs.
Time and effort can cure, with help of diplomacy–
Until everybody can pass the threshold of XYZ.

UFOs Over China.//.10.17.10.//.Carma C.