They sound like knowledge.
And they feel like a way to escape.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Famine
If famine was food,
If lazyness was labour,
It would result in equalisation.
World peace.
40 hour famine. Support it.
If lazyness was labour,
It would result in equalisation.
World peace.
40 hour famine. Support it.
On top of the World
If stars were the rungs of ladders,
and the sun was my ball of want,
if the moon was my everlasting hope,
and the glittering sea was my faith.
If the mountains were my highs and lows,
If the clouds were my doubt,
and the sky was my security.
If snow was happiness,
and my love was peace.
The world would be right,
and I'd be on top of it.
and the sun was my ball of want,
if the moon was my everlasting hope,
and the glittering sea was my faith.
If the mountains were my highs and lows,
If the clouds were my doubt,
and the sky was my security.
If snow was happiness,
and my love was peace.
The world would be right,
and I'd be on top of it.
Home
Home is where the heart is,
the heart is in your chest.
A dusty chest in your attic.
You find the key.
The key to your heart,
the key to home.
the heart is in your chest.
A dusty chest in your attic.
You find the key.
The key to your heart,
the key to home.
A true friend is someone which whom you can spend time, and the silences are never awkward.
Hi, Xinran here
Blogs from last year's students:
1. roxannebottom.blogspot.com
2. gracestarspear.blogspot.com
3. emma121.wordpress.com
Just recording what's happening with media - Emily, Wei Wei and I have decided that because our journals are so different, we'll each create a section of the library specific to our journals - that reflect the characteristics of our journals, and are used for different purposes - and link them together to form one library.
My journal INSIDE uses the techniques of layering semi-transparent panes of different opacities to create an interesting texture with varying depths and light filtering effects. I'd like to use this idea in building my library because it will provide a constantly changing façade depending on the light and viewer's perspective.
My other two journals l'Arca and Urbanistica are both in italian so I'll just have to make do with what I can deduce from the images!
l'Arca seems to have a focus on non-conventional building shapes, specifically with curves and curved architecture. I like the flowing ambience of curved architecture, and the reflective effects it could have (must remember to stay away from reflective concave façades - don't want to burn any poor soul who lingers at the focal point!). I'm not an expert at Second Life construction yet, so I'll probably keep my curved design simple.
Finally, Urbanistica has images of a city map and city lights. I've always loved the bright fluorescent neon lights of a city at night, and who knows what fantastic constructions I can make in Second Life - defying gravity and all!
So yeah that's it for now, will upload screenshots of library asap, and hopefully I can return to my OWN blog soon =)
It had gotten around.
The guy at the dairy started it.
He smiled at the milkman, as the icecream was dropped off in his shop.
The milkman petted the dog at the door. He smiled at the woman at the end of the leash.
She laughed at the local clinic, and the doctor caught the virus. She grinned.
At lunch the grin was still there, and whizzed up the hill as the nurse bought some lunch.
The cafe lady showed off her dimples, as she picked up her daughter from school.
The daughter waved and winked at her best friend's brother.
He beamed and raced down the hill, to buy some candy from the dairy.
The smile was still there as he puffed into the store.
The guy at the dairy started it. He smiled.
He smiled at the milkman, as the icecream was dropped off in his shop.
The milkman petted the dog at the door. He smiled at the woman at the end of the leash.
She laughed at the local clinic, and the doctor caught the virus. She grinned.
At lunch the grin was still there, and whizzed up the hill as the nurse bought some lunch.
The cafe lady showed off her dimples, as she picked up her daughter from school.
The daughter waved and winked at her best friend's brother.
He beamed and raced down the hill, to buy some candy from the dairy.
The smile was still there as he puffed into the store.
The guy at the dairy started it. He smiled.
How to make a Good Day
It's really quite easy to make a good day.
Wake up, and make sure you're looking forward to something.
Make sure that theres atleast something yummy to eat.
Smile, and use the term "My hair looks great!"
Ignore the pimple on your face.
Dress smart. Stand tall.
Before bed, name 3 good things that had happened.
1. I had lasange for lunch.
2. A stranger smiled at me.
3. I've finished all my homework.
And then it's impossible to have a bad day.
Wake up, and make sure you're looking forward to something.
Make sure that theres atleast something yummy to eat.
Smile, and use the term "My hair looks great!"
Ignore the pimple on your face.
Dress smart. Stand tall.
Before bed, name 3 good things that had happened.
1. I had lasange for lunch.
2. A stranger smiled at me.
3. I've finished all my homework.
And then it's impossible to have a bad day.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
To my Sister
To my sister,
I love you.
When you cry,
I'll cry too.
When we laugh,
the sun shines bright,
and lasts on,
through the night.
To my sister,
I want you to know,
I'll be there,
sun or snow.
A shoulder to lean on,
a reason to smile.
A light to follow,
mile after mile.
I pinky-promise,
to lead you through,
if you'll swear
you'll do it too.
To my sister,
my forever friend,
I'll be there,
to the end.
I love you.
When you cry,
I'll cry too.
When we laugh,
the sun shines bright,
and lasts on,
through the night.
To my sister,
I want you to know,
I'll be there,
sun or snow.
A shoulder to lean on,
a reason to smile.
A light to follow,
mile after mile.
I pinky-promise,
to lead you through,
if you'll swear
you'll do it too.
To my sister,
my forever friend,
I'll be there,
to the end.
Monday, April 18, 2011
That's Auckland
Wake up, it's sunny.
Perfect weather for the beach.
"Lets go out." We do.
Step out, clouds turn grey,
rain washes over our heads,
say, "Storm's here." Bad luck.
Perfect weather for the beach.
"Lets go out." We do.
Step out, clouds turn grey,
rain washes over our heads,
say, "Storm's here." Bad luck.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Two Months Away
An angel sent to us.
When he was here,
he was discriminated.
Yet he still loved the world,
which didn't love back.
Only the children, in their innocence
could see him for what he was.
And when he was not appreciated,
God took him back.
And then we realised,
what we had done.
But it was too late.
When he was here,
he was discriminated.
Yet he still loved the world,
which didn't love back.
Only the children, in their innocence
could see him for what he was.
And when he was not appreciated,
God took him back.
And then we realised,
what we had done.
But it was too late.
Stars II
Do stars look at themselves, and think of no other?
Do they even know their family?
Their father, their mother?
Do stars smell of perfume, and the clearest breeze?
One that us humans, are unable to freeze?
Do stars taste freesome?
Does the other taste the magazine to which they've made haste?
Do stars hear the whistle of paparazzi?
Do they listen to the whisper of the wind?
Do stars feel like they're alone?
Do they feel pain? Neglect? Do they groan, moan?
Do they even know their family?
Their father, their mother?
Do stars smell of perfume, and the clearest breeze?
One that us humans, are unable to freeze?
Do stars taste freesome?
Does the other taste the magazine to which they've made haste?
Do stars hear the whistle of paparazzi?
Do they listen to the whisper of the wind?
Do stars feel like they're alone?
Do they feel pain? Neglect? Do they groan, moan?
Do stars?
Do stars have branches that reach into the night?
Do stars have battles, that they have to fight?
There's the stars that shine, who have no name,
There's the stars that shimmer, on the walk of fame.
Do they all live on a sheet of navy blue velvet,
Do they all look at the moon and wish for something they don't have?
The stars in the sky, on blue velvet or silk,
are free and beautiful,
they are like angels in stone, or marble in life.
Stars are guardians,
they congratulate and forgive,
forgive and forget.
Shimmering, glimmering, glowing stars,
like gems in infinite space,
like jewels in a screen of moving pictures.
Why do we want to be like stars?
Do stars want to be like us?
Do stars have branches that reach into the night?
Do stars have battles that they have to fight?
There's the stars that shine, who have no name,
There's the stars that shimmer, on the walk of fame.
Do stars have battles, that they have to fight?
There's the stars that shine, who have no name,
There's the stars that shimmer, on the walk of fame.
Do they all live on a sheet of navy blue velvet,
Do they all look at the moon and wish for something they don't have?
The stars in the sky, on blue velvet or silk,
are free and beautiful,
they are like angels in stone, or marble in life.
Stars are guardians,
they congratulate and forgive,
forgive and forget.
Shimmering, glimmering, glowing stars,
like gems in infinite space,
like jewels in a screen of moving pictures.
Why do we want to be like stars?
Do stars want to be like us?
Do stars have branches that reach into the night?
Do stars have battles that they have to fight?
There's the stars that shine, who have no name,
There's the stars that shimmer, on the walk of fame.
Night
The light flicks off, and through my closed eyelids I see the golden, comforting glow of the bulb drift away into the black tunnel of my imagination.
In the dark, my room is someplace else. On good days, it was the wings I flew with over hills and valleys and white drifting clouds. On bad days it was the demon under the bed, and the man walking slowly, cautiously up the creaking staircase.
Today was a bad day.
Through the open door of my wardrobe, I see my hanging coats, shoes lined up in pairs underneath, and hats placed on the invisible shelf. I see people. They stand there, just waiting, their nonexistent faces staring out through the wall beside me, the shoes never walk, the hats never tip, and the coats are never shrugged onto shoulders, but they're there, I know it.
I'm afraid to move. If I roll over, I'm afraid the squeaking springs on my mattress will alert the man, the coal black man waiting on the landing. He stands there all night. One sign of life, and he'll come barging in and will silence me. I've never met him before, but he's there, I know it.
The shadows stretch onto my floor, glistening columns of moonlight filter through the eerie curtains. I see the mound of laundry that I was menat to sort. The silhouette of the pile forces the image of a hunchback into my mind.
I look away, and find myself mesmerized by the elegant 'cirque du soleil' mask gazing at me through empty hollows of eyes. The jewels wink at me and my heart thumps against my pajamas. I'm sure the sound would wake up the cat, black and slinky at the foot of my bed. Then she'd blink at me with sparkling pupils like full moons and perhaps stalk away for her witch.
My comforting teddies are in threatening poses, their arms stretched out. In the sunlight, they'd be begging for a hug, but now their grins are evil, and their paws are itching to smother me... It's too much, way too much. I need to go pee! But my footsteps will only awaken the army of rats with glinting ruby eyes. Then they'd all scream as they come in a massive furry wave, thousands of nails click-clacking on the floor.
If I made it out of there, I'd only be faced with the nocturnal Loch Ness Monster which I'm sure has found it's way to New Zealand and up our toilet! Beads of sweat race down my forehead like the Jaffas in the Jaffa race. I would have found if amusing, but all I see is a sea of thick, oozy blood pouring down the read.
My own scream wakes me up. I just have time to register the quick pattering of the man on the landing, coming for me! Before the door clicks open and the figure looms towards me. I gasp, he's got something in his hand! Metal ! A knife! 'Argh!' I choke, I struggle out of my duvet. Too late. He grasps my arm in a firm grip and the other hand holding the thing rises, before the torch's beam lights up the face of the man. Dad.
"Hello!" he says cheerfully. "Just came to check on you, think you had a nightmare."
In the dark, my room is someplace else. On good days, it was the wings I flew with over hills and valleys and white drifting clouds. On bad days it was the demon under the bed, and the man walking slowly, cautiously up the creaking staircase.
Today was a bad day.
Through the open door of my wardrobe, I see my hanging coats, shoes lined up in pairs underneath, and hats placed on the invisible shelf. I see people. They stand there, just waiting, their nonexistent faces staring out through the wall beside me, the shoes never walk, the hats never tip, and the coats are never shrugged onto shoulders, but they're there, I know it.
I'm afraid to move. If I roll over, I'm afraid the squeaking springs on my mattress will alert the man, the coal black man waiting on the landing. He stands there all night. One sign of life, and he'll come barging in and will silence me. I've never met him before, but he's there, I know it.
The shadows stretch onto my floor, glistening columns of moonlight filter through the eerie curtains. I see the mound of laundry that I was menat to sort. The silhouette of the pile forces the image of a hunchback into my mind.
I look away, and find myself mesmerized by the elegant 'cirque du soleil' mask gazing at me through empty hollows of eyes. The jewels wink at me and my heart thumps against my pajamas. I'm sure the sound would wake up the cat, black and slinky at the foot of my bed. Then she'd blink at me with sparkling pupils like full moons and perhaps stalk away for her witch.
My comforting teddies are in threatening poses, their arms stretched out. In the sunlight, they'd be begging for a hug, but now their grins are evil, and their paws are itching to smother me... It's too much, way too much. I need to go pee! But my footsteps will only awaken the army of rats with glinting ruby eyes. Then they'd all scream as they come in a massive furry wave, thousands of nails click-clacking on the floor.
If I made it out of there, I'd only be faced with the nocturnal Loch Ness Monster which I'm sure has found it's way to New Zealand and up our toilet! Beads of sweat race down my forehead like the Jaffas in the Jaffa race. I would have found if amusing, but all I see is a sea of thick, oozy blood pouring down the read.
My own scream wakes me up. I just have time to register the quick pattering of the man on the landing, coming for me! Before the door clicks open and the figure looms towards me. I gasp, he's got something in his hand! Metal ! A knife! 'Argh!' I choke, I struggle out of my duvet. Too late. He grasps my arm in a firm grip and the other hand holding the thing rises, before the torch's beam lights up the face of the man. Dad.
"Hello!" he says cheerfully. "Just came to check on you, think you had a nightmare."
Eating away History
The pancake rocks,
created by nature,
to be eaten by nature,
kept for nature,
forever.
Layers of history, piled on top of each other,
rippled levels of rock.
Hidden by the constant showers from the blowhole,
A swirling pool of currents.
Slowly, sea ate away at the salted meal,
chip by chip,
year by year,
and when we're all gone,
foot prints washed away and the path crumbled to sand,
yet the limitless ocean will continue to eat,
forever and ever,
chip by chip,
year by year.
The Looking Glass
Everything its name suggested,
a ridge of snow topped hills, dark chipped chocolate dusted with frosting.
Underneath, a perfect replica of itself.
To the last snowflake, in a darker, shadowed town.
Nothing was given away at the looking glass,
save a pair of ducks, and the whispering ripples in the glass water.
but under the mountain, a deep rumbling power jostled out of sight.
I thought I didn't have expectations,
but I must have been expecting something,
or the Mirror Lakes wouldn't have made oxygen catch in my throat,
and stay with me forever.
The Daisy Chain
Through bristling branches,
a golden sword of bright light,
filters into sight.
The sun warms my arms,
cold goose bumps flattening out,
like sand on a beach.
Lime green grass and leaves,
sway under my treading feet,
smelling of fresh earth.
White spots dot the scene,
pollen faces reflect joy,
the joy of a chain.
Linking, one by one,
stem by stem, forming a ring.
Delicate petals.
Held up to the sun,
they glow, sprawled on the blanket,
white, transparent ovals.
Each spring the joy comes,
of creating from nature,
the joy of making.
A daisy chain.
a golden sword of bright light,
filters into sight.
The sun warms my arms,
cold goose bumps flattening out,
like sand on a beach.
Lime green grass and leaves,
sway under my treading feet,
smelling of fresh earth.
White spots dot the scene,
pollen faces reflect joy,
the joy of a chain.
Linking, one by one,
stem by stem, forming a ring.
Delicate petals.
Held up to the sun,
they glow, sprawled on the blanket,
white, transparent ovals.
Each spring the joy comes,
of creating from nature,
the joy of making.
A daisy chain.
Scarlet Wonderland
A pale blue pastel chalked the sky,
trees sang their morning hymns,
the wonder-bird trilled an accompaniment, like a crystal triangle,
perched among the six shades of green.
Yellow drifted in a breeze, too soft and small to feel,
scarlet leaves littered the ground as nature's own waste.
They crunched and cricnkle in a bored sort of way,
as if they'd gotten tired of us standing on them.
The soggy leaves of brown and gold, fluttered limply and k-flumped.
The smooth spring green flax laughed, the white fluttery roses giggled, and the dewy grass chortled.
A family reunion of greenery shared their limbs, rough spiky leaves, silver ferns disguised as a shade of sea-foam.
Small green cut-outs jiggld and shivered in the crisp, still interior.
The chocolate bark carpet slept deeply too heavy and sodden to move.
The air was chilled.
Rough bricks of a light caramel constructed a towering fort, and simple cottages dotted the hills.
On a large slope, higher than any other, a pearl white palace look over it's land.
It must have been Jack Frost's fort, or Mother nature's castle. Only they could rule such a pretty garden.
A growing noise revved up, and the grass leaned away from the sound, rooted to their spots.
I stumbled over knobbly twigs and fell into a tree.
Hiding from the monster as it whisked through the meadow.
And when a glinting silver shape on wheels, emerges into my vision, I hurtle into the present
- I was at school after all.
With my scarlet wonderland behind me.
trees sang their morning hymns,
the wonder-bird trilled an accompaniment, like a crystal triangle,
perched among the six shades of green.
Yellow drifted in a breeze, too soft and small to feel,
scarlet leaves littered the ground as nature's own waste.
They crunched and cricnkle in a bored sort of way,
as if they'd gotten tired of us standing on them.
The soggy leaves of brown and gold, fluttered limply and k-flumped.
The smooth spring green flax laughed, the white fluttery roses giggled, and the dewy grass chortled.
A family reunion of greenery shared their limbs, rough spiky leaves, silver ferns disguised as a shade of sea-foam.
Small green cut-outs jiggld and shivered in the crisp, still interior.
The chocolate bark carpet slept deeply too heavy and sodden to move.
The air was chilled.
Rough bricks of a light caramel constructed a towering fort, and simple cottages dotted the hills.
On a large slope, higher than any other, a pearl white palace look over it's land.
It must have been Jack Frost's fort, or Mother nature's castle. Only they could rule such a pretty garden.
A growing noise revved up, and the grass leaned away from the sound, rooted to their spots.
I stumbled over knobbly twigs and fell into a tree.
Hiding from the monster as it whisked through the meadow.
And when a glinting silver shape on wheels, emerges into my vision, I hurtle into the present
- I was at school after all.
With my scarlet wonderland behind me.
A Tale of Gold
In the grass, look closely! I see
a buzzy bee, gazing back at me.
I stare into his holographic eyes,
and see a land of cultural ties.
I see cities of gardens and ports and sails,
Towns of geysers and ice and whales.
They welcome traditions and cultural religions,
They honour the kiwi, tuatara, and pigeons.
The young stringray with a tale of gold,
Sits un-named on a map, so old.
They live un-noticed, under a cloud of riches,
"Aotearoa" they sing, in a chorus of pitches.
a buzzy bee, gazing back at me.
I stare into his holographic eyes,
and see a land of cultural ties.
I see cities of gardens and ports and sails,
Towns of geysers and ice and whales.
They welcome traditions and cultural religions,
They honour the kiwi, tuatara, and pigeons.
The young stringray with a tale of gold,
Sits un-named on a map, so old.
They live un-noticed, under a cloud of riches,
"Aotearoa" they sing, in a chorus of pitches.
In the Infinite black
Do you think we're not alone?
That there's something out there, that's our foe?
I've heard that there's a rock out there,
That could some day, blast us into air.
I think it will happen, it doesn't matter when,
Because I believe, we'll be safe by then.
In the infinite black, theres a galaxy,
There are trees alive, a green canopy.
This planet has no yet been discovered,
our men are working to having recovered.
There'll be seas of blue where we'll swim and surf,
And they're calling this new planet earth.
That there's something out there, that's our foe?
I've heard that there's a rock out there,
That could some day, blast us into air.
I think it will happen, it doesn't matter when,
Because I believe, we'll be safe by then.
In the infinite black, theres a galaxy,
There are trees alive, a green canopy.
This planet has no yet been discovered,
our men are working to having recovered.
There'll be seas of blue where we'll swim and surf,
And they're calling this new planet earth.
You told Us
You told us to always share,
We've been taught to all play fair,
"Be kind and that's how they'll treat you too,
do unto to others, as they would to you."
But you turn your backs,
on the helpless pleads,
why can't you follow,
your own leads?
Your generation is killing ours,
using your age as your limitless powers,
but can't you see, the innocence in me,
I speak for the children,
our home,
please.
We've been taught to all play fair,
"Be kind and that's how they'll treat you too,
do unto to others, as they would to you."
But you turn your backs,
on the helpless pleads,
why can't you follow,
your own leads?
Your generation is killing ours,
using your age as your limitless powers,
but can't you see, the innocence in me,
I speak for the children,
our home,
please.
Leap of Joy
A dashing jump,
on a lit stage,
outstretched legs,
perfect jete,
curtains close,
and they know,
it was just a leap of joy.
on a lit stage,
outstretched legs,
perfect jete,
curtains close,
and they know,
it was just a leap of joy.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
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