Summer Snowflakes

Suburban Legend

2010-10-26T12:34:00.000+08:00

blood splattered on the windshield,wiped it off
with a cracked open tear bottle,seeing something wrong
cleared the bloodshot eyes,rolled down the power window
knowing not what he was in for,saw her unconscious
with skin glowing in betrayal scars
asked not who she was,rushed to the doctor
he adopts her in his arms,kept her warm
felt her drenched,that's when he realized the storm
that was smudging her eye liner
got in the patient line,"got a name sir?" "i doubt it"
said he found her by the roadside,nurse called the cops,
wouldn't wana let the con slide,"hey stop"
skidded off left the poor child
hoping to see her soon but he's gotta go now
got his own problems,left a secret note
in his jacket blanketing the sleeping beauty,and she woke up

light years from her last recollection
lightheaded from both the poison and the injection
from the nurse,she came through
like a hearse in the afternoon traffic
hit the red light district police asked for details
frustrated they were as she could only speak braille
but as they seek help to figure her fingers out
she sneaked the hell out,drugged the nurse so she wouldn't shout
took the next bus to the suburbs
single track mind on a mission but her face read 'love hurts'
got at his place,creepy how she knew
like destiny did a song called this is how we do
doorbell rang,he came defenseless
cupid-shot through the heart,'POW' left him breathless
she took out the note,it read 'you kinda look familiar'
well he raped and left her for dead in the past life,"now we're equal"

Take(s) Two

2010-10-05T19:52:00.000+08:00

a dope in the race,quits while a dick head leads
and my train of thought pleads guilty
of heart break applications untimely,
suck at waiting untie me dear ventriloquist
my punctured esophagus
flutes apologies,humming a silent opus
hopeless 2nd guest in your decisions
making processions scramble from the devilish diction
airing out the curtain calls
when the dust smites the clean slate,
dissolved is the problem of non-conflicts
and questioned is our content with the contents
of being apart by continents of time
float parallel but paddles alone through the unkind
unsigned but silence agreed to
that one side pierced means it bleeds two

This Is Why I Write

2010-10-04T14:30:00.002+08:00

feature verse from the ATP joint coming soon:

frustrated and much debated,
it's lust equated,but it must be sacred,
the way it touches hatred,
and turn it to amplitude fluctuations,and pump my veins with-
solitude,solid fusion of silent feud chronicles-
and calming tunes,
held together by a solemn truce
and fortitude against the hardly true.

fight to choose the path that lights-
the bruising past of hiking through life's atlas,
mapped the cruise in scars and bulging veins,
hold the pain,bolt and chain it up in age,
it'll fade after the flame alters the rage-
threshold and thickens patience,
page fold marked for another chance-
to glance at it later with a better understanding,

it ends with writing in a language of-
cursive cuts to commemorate the repercussions,
reaping crushed vents of thought streaks,
and thrusting sparks of talent digging for soul deep,
with the oath to parallel the depth-
with a skillful tone though it's treats you cold,
and paint with pain the perfect picture-
of peace made between heart and art of masterpieces.

Soul Mate

2010-08-30T07:21:00.001+08:00

we've been together 22 years but i'm still kinda wishing

that i knew your true fears lending you ears,

give a hand to hold back the cruel tears

soak my heart with it,don't want your wake up make up to smear

coz i understand you sitting on insecure

choose the years in the time machine when technology flies through here

but mind who's near,it's the unbreakable bond

strong fusion nuclear

met at birth,mad at first

the pain you got me going translated to blood that bursts

out inked chain letters back home

sending my miss yous to my miss universal that's cold

lack modulation in predictable timeframes

learning curve fluctuates as my mind changes

knowing there is no escape we make it happen

by slapping the veins and piercing our scaly atlas

scary backlash when you back slash the codes

to back stab my progress to get at me at last

but that's the fun in living to unknown dates

they soul search while my soulmate is my soul,mate

Backtrack Mind

2010-08-04T15:58:00.000+08:00

written on this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTXdg-NKOyo

sits down to write the wrongs on the left behinds
when he fronted the whole imagery though sublime
was the consequence still getting stressed
knowing answers but never read the questions in the quest
feeling blessed half the time cursing himself
bursting intense drama more intricate in flesh
in depths of know nots he found wisdom
wrapped around lies soaked in truth serums
washed the past off looked into the mirror
more like a prism,refracting different faces in his mental prison
he sits down to right the wrongs about the left out
when he ousted the whole chemistry in her mind
now the cons outlasted the professed textual
outcomes the darkness,behold the heartless
dearly i parted ways so each part of this day
hoping your scars wouldn't grin in disdain

forgive me for giving this forfeit an excuse
i never was fit for the grown up suit in my youth
hope you're not confused of my childish side
as me being funny in the height of this starlit night
sit down right,the wrongs i have left is mine
but confront it slow i don't mean to be the kind
to destroy dreams of our happily heaven afterlife
but our love's a wake up show with a bastard child
pass the smile to another husband-to-be
we've lasted miles but don't bother calling to see
if the guardhouse heard our pleas
i too have been on all fours,it wasn't pretty pleasing
bent over backward minded parental guidelines
only good in one aspect and that's the night time
asshole at best just your average jerk
one man's journey leaves yet another dame hurt

spits out to right the wrongs of my left behind
where i fronted this whole image which wasn't mine
and in so i have failed the test
but life goes on so on to the next

Musical High

2010-07-13T06:48:00.000+08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5GwRaB7Nno

sugar bang drops,it's another man's prop
setting nicely done,starring feisty ones
shooting stars when nights begun
lights in camera actions,being silently shun
with no con to sequence the consequence
builds up the confidence of the convicted
caught in deep shit,tongue been stung
by the stench that'll stem stimulants strung
to the similar sinister editorial,though the real
slipped knots are shot in emporiums
dead before dishonoring the empire
set fire on the social attire,flaming desire
to resist heat from the winter if it's
tearing shit in terrific time just kick it
live and direct to the on point,
score with the violin,appetite leviathan on fours

on tour guide lines on core
digging deep is what they call for
emerge and see further away
team building home ground at play
dough still rule out casting candidate
speech impediment embedded in dates
sexual trance get shit done fun
times two soul mass is when you're done,hun
labour pain staking out comes magic
potions snuffed high,cool,detached the child
smile for the silhouette shell,welcome
you made it out of sanity,well done,son
of a glitch in the system but we will fix that
try to run from us,destiny will get back
at you,turn around town,folks just wanna be down in
any sound wave length of minimal drowning

Down To Earth

2010-06-16T07:25:00.003+08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fXNTMGY8p4

jumping off the ledge,taking off the edge
with a little taste of death draining down your waist
bottomless waste,diving in, snorkel through the bullshit
head first bursting into birth,all that pool of spit is worth it

death sentence written in cursive body language
hoping the bullhorn manages the thorns in the message
managing age in this age is like organizing rage
off the top,falling to a footnote in the last page
insignificantly in sync with the heat signatures

of individual snow flakes till you melt and get matured
scaling off innocence in a sentence of oath
spoken on a podium of creative ignorance that's moated
and while you're on your way down,say hello to hell
go to well known shortcuts and get some scars you can tell off
and if the ground felt soft,check your numb luck
defying gravity was easy till the shooting stars struck

Relativity

2010-05-12T00:51:00.002+08:00

this may take multiple readings to grasp.enjoy
_______________________________________________________

Two cycles 'round the sun,packed in a second hand box,
trolling through the hardest goodbye i never planned to face.
Amputate physical ties when they stamped my pass,
final turn,capture glimpse,hoping we're meant to last.
Walking monitored,heartbeat flat,as i crossed the platform,
that i once landed on.
These tracks of tears, it tears my flesh,
and formed the veins that forms myself.
His story screams but i couldn't care less,
memories fade with each blow from the train's breath.
Once the pain evaporates i looked out the window,
sonic boom of the cabin kicking dust as the wind blows.
Passed by many colors.The nation's past life is shown-
on my journey back home.
Emotional stir shaken by the screeching brakes-
and horns,but we went on,couldn't afford a delay.

....

Married to a manacle,proposed her portions-
of love in hardship,even though they lived poor,still
they strolled through the bills,and grow their own stilts,
and despite some fights,they still loved the kids,
but when the storm comes he escapes with the spirits,
while she resides with the roar from the train visits.
Admires the steel muscling through her backyard,
once every meal time,it's the only home they can afford.
Fate had it's way,he cancelled an outing,
still in her make up when he left the home shouting.
Stone cold,broken promise,shattered holding glass,
it's the kind of breakdown that will be her last.
Woke the little ones,"we're going for a movie",
waited on the tear tracks and headed for the moon,see-
nobody could've predicted her suicidal actions,
but all she had to do was wait for the next train to come passing.

____________________________________

this might help:

http://thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2006/7/5/nation/14744184&sec=nation

Hold U

2010-05-06T09:30:00.000+08:00

some of my friends tried but they failed at the form
i've always heard you speak but i never wondered where it's coming from
it was just something in the airwaves the way you fluctuate your words
tried to listen out but the topics were absurd
wasn't until you caught me halfway to death
taught me to speak in a new breath,and gave reality a rest
you put me through the tests,got me new classmates-
and textbooks,different from the ones i easily mastered
i tried to keep up with the syllabus of syllabic syncopation
sinking every time to surface intonations
was a few semesters 'fore i sorta saw the system working
sobersided from the simplified so i sophisticate my listener skill
gave myself a thrill when i caught a little glimpse-
of the abyssal beauty in such a puny musical space
encrypted linguistics that's flipped with rhythmic bits
poetically woven prose,professionally disgusting hits

Twinkle,Twinkle(updated)

2010-03-24T01:51:00.003+08:00

she meant the whole world,but for her he was the whole world
she was his only girl,but at times
she wished she was the only girl he would ever spend time with
been together infinitely,it was definitely timeless
bottomless depths she swam into
whirlpool of love where she breathes in,out,and bleeds too
sees through his hard hat of trust,but underneath-
the thick skull,she was the soul in the life that he leads
he leaves her eager to see her arms around him
whenever the winter gets too cold in her surroundings

named her a star so she'd outshine the darkness
gave him another million coz she never stopped counting
that's how long these rocks pierced her skin
constellations of words that could just burst,but then
the turmoils under sparkles gets settled from within
adjusts his gaze,dials the telescope to talk to her again

and they talked about the big bang underneath their chest

the day they collided long before she hit the road for the best
long before the mess spawned from the other galaxies

ignored the fallacies about the damaging distance
heavyweight lovers through the light years
the only dark matter is the matter of her fragile bones if he held her tighter
heightened anticipation as she patiently dreams
about the nearing end,so she can finally breathe
calculate degrees of love,and you can pin point
the coordinates of their nebula where each smile is born

heart is torn when he turns around to face another
feels overshadowed half the time,but keeps it undercover
and she's set to rise in his horizon,despite the time zones
every hour orbiting each other is another milestone
and all i do is sit back,watch close,and listen
as my elder sister grows to grow her own solar system

and the absence of his celestial body often leaves

a black hole of which the gravity is love and she is hopelessly-

drawn to the icy strokes of his trail,

collecting every star dust to reinforce herself

and she journeyed through the orbits without the wormholes

far away from home,roam like a homeless

holding on to dreams of wearing Saturn's rings

as she zeroes in hyper speed to his coordinates

constantly trace the stars with her fingers

to leave hieroglyphics so his zodiac could reach her

communicate in golden texts to let her know he's listening

and even if she silenced herself,she secretly misses him

and i could relate to the frustration

coz putting love on the phone line requires patience

but still they shine brighter than i could ever try

and every night i see them slow dance up in the sky

Sp.Angels

2010-03-22T04:02:00.003+08:00

time is lost in a timeless slaughter living life unchartered

coarse of course as surface tension gets harder in constellations of stardom

heart burns everlasting till it's weak

then harnessed for the green growing up the charts to reach

the Neverland to peace, a desert land a piece

only to spread disease and leave poor but with a glorious speech

rarely heard even scarcely scarred by daily words

wisdom churned lesson learned only if those who listen heard

Miss Interpret is throned away into the king's dome

to be a queen of herself but her mirror is under his nose

this close to keys but she braided her eyelashes

now gets home to please the locksmiths to cash in-

on his illusions,accustomed to costumes of chain threads

lettered trails playing dead but they still kept staring

glaring is her beauty even blinding for herself

as men conquer all,she's not even free in her death

BUGGIN OUT!

2010-03-19T13:14:00.004+08:00

After almost a year with no shows, finally I'm performing again,with mostly new songs since i last got on stage. And trust me, it'll rain.like really.

link

Hello,Missed

2010-03-10T04:08:00.000+08:00

rain drops cats dogs steady pouring,
like my heart a couple of seasons before-
the final wave hit the shores,to settle the scores,
but you paddled back and i see the light once more.
fashionably laid,clear my mind stains on your coat,
ignite spites, exchanged rage, rock the boat,
soaking wedding plans,hand me the towel
to sit and talk before we go off again being sour.
it's the same hour we parted last time,
sitting benched waiting to depart,but what i had in mind-
was the stories i penned in the pen,
of palling around with the verge of collapse back then.
letters never sent,but hell bent on proving
how much writing with bloody inks isnt amusing.
but i'm confused,coz you looked unusually attractive,
with the frown upside down before giving me your hands-
we,crossed corridors, cutting corners,
borderline bliss, i was partly enjoying this.
conversed in hollow hellos,angels who lost halos,
ignite the spark of old flames before the pain got involved.
the unresolved banged my chest,
guess you saw my broken smile, but you couldn't care any less.
i tested your new soul,learn the curves of your currents,
sheltered you from the falling tears as we came running.
but somehow the rain pierced everything we threw at it,
still i wanted this moment to last like a true addict.
love is true magic but that's a long lost chapter.
i'd like to tell you how i've lived since our hereafter.
laughter was the language as we walked along,
didnt seem to wonder where we're headed for,
it's the sunshine dreamt impossible,i couldnt get enough,
but the rain wouldnt stop till i was woken up.

RJD2 - Let There Be Horns

2010-03-07T06:01:00.003+08:00

I Am The Rap Gladiator

2010-02-25T17:41:00.006+08:00

What do you get when you mix Star Wars,Wu Tang,and Flying Lotus?
Behold. I am the Rap Gladiator

And to celebrate my inauguration, i present you two artifacts from my fellow gladiators

First up, The Bomb Shelter kicks off tonight, celebrating the year of the Tiger Style as they go all WU for this installment of the already dope gig. Judging by the line up, including legendary hard hitters The Rebel Scum and Cydal Banks, it's gona be a bomb in The Bomb Shelter tonight!

Another dope feature of this ceremony is the news of the return of my very own battlefield idol, Canibus. I had his lyricism in mind when I made my own gladiator theme above. Judging from this single, he seems a bit aged from the Rip The Jacker witty advanced jabs, and more pissed off and in your face from the To Whom The Beat Tolls album, but this is a must-bump for the sheer fact that he's speaking as a seasoned gladiator criticizing what many are either afraid or fail to, and he does it well with trademark complexity. Apart from that, it's good ol mindfuck science and deep philosophies in rhymes. If rap songs were racing movies, Canibus is the Michel Vaillant of the game, making everyone else look like Vin Diesel.

"goddammit,we dont care what your fans think

coz 99% of all this dont exist

the observer changes the properties of the observed

this is done with your mind not with your words"

and if you're uninterested because of the low budget video, then you'd better off watching Kanye's new double D pimpin video.

Watch it here, since blogger's framing is too limited. I'm moving my music blogging to Wordpress soon, so stay tuned.

The Saga Continues...

The Poetic Linguist

2010-01-05T20:28:00.004+08:00

The Poetic Linguist by Dafrosty

at the speed of love,i strung letters,

held it like the claws of lust,before i'm severed-

from time and spacious thoughts,

dropped to a confined place where i can finally rot.

every inch of my soul withered,skinned to the bones,

i shivered. you couldn't tell my heart from my liver;

the way i quivered when visions slither through me,

no pulse,just filtering pains in veins in vain,you see?

the outcome?beautiful.how it's done?ridiculed.

wrapping tears with a language that is otherwise cynical.

giving soul to this scroll so it's better sold-

as reflective accounts of walking these weathered soles.

sweating tears fueling pens,wrecking fears driving sentences,

sentencing hands painting lines of where the ending is.

added to this,no matter the emotion i engrave,

Poetry records life in ways no frame can encase,

and to it i'm enslaved

people find peace in the night - Dafrosty

2009-12-11T07:07:00.003+08:00

best read with this playing in the background: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=549qJ6tNeFU

people find peace in the night

the soul of the night,cold,

in a swipe,holds life in a fold

stoned hearts,battered,bruised

splattered nuisance?mattered news?

never grew came out new

old and grey owns a lot spits few

fumes tunes fused in blues

cool cats clawed flaws,tossed back

whole sacks,full of lack

black skies shine,stars dove as doves

dive,burned,

all for the yearn to learn new ground

newfound smooth sounds of calm bombs

Armstrongs loose knees,moon sings

cows trampled,ghosts grief

whole seasons beauty in a cold breeze

slowly,flow,breathe,peaceful

seem pleased,feels equal?please

see none,heed none,plead one

clean up stains of teeth sunk,bleed none

steal some time think not if the-

Prophets Each Opened Passages Lighting Ethers

For Infinities,Nothing Deters

Peasants Eat Alms Collected Eager

Ills None,Time Heals Evils

Never Ignore,Go Hear Tales

of fear trails plus blood spill

on tracks filled with love frail,unveiled

unscaled time,space,all in between peace

light a smoke like screens

final choke,life streams,seamless dreams

flicker the finish,diminish intimates

float dead among stars,what will God think of next?

A Review of Rap Stylistics and Rakim's Innovations

2009-11-11T01:02:00.005+08:00

This was an essay I submitted for my cultural studies assignment as part of my degree. I am currently planning for a follow-up project for my final research paper, which will showcase a timeline of the milestones of rap lyricism in a song format presentation. If you are willing to help me out on this topic, do email me at saidaisuu@gmail.com and we will discuss the details. For now, do take your time to read through the following essay to get a rough idea of what the project will be based upon. Thank you :)

_______________________________________________

A Review of Rap Stylistics and Rakim's Innovations

by Aiman Bin Mohd Misri

When William Griffin came to record his demo with Eric Barrier in Marley Marl's studio in 1986, Marley Marl, along with MC Shan who was the assistant engineer, both part of a famous rap supergroup at that time called Juice Crew, were left stunned and unsure of how to react to Griffin's never before seen, or heard of, style¹. They first thought it was wack, but after a few takes, they were believers. Rap was about to take a stylistic turn, and Rakim Allah, or Rakim, as Griffin would later be famously known as, along with Eric B. as his DJ, would lead rap into a new threshold of aesthetics of rap music. Rakim's innovations in lyricism would later earn him the title of the God MC, among others.

So what did Rakim really change? What was so different about his style from other rap notables before him, and those who came to fame in the same period, 1986 to 1987? To answer this, a critical review of rap's development and possible roots is required, and this article will attempt at exactly that. However, tracing rap's roots in other forms of music preceding it might not do justice to the beauty of those forms, as this article will view rap as a vocal element of music influenced by only certain elements that exist in those genres be it vocal or instrumental, but not necessarily the main characteristics of them. Nonetheless, this article will also attempt to bring forward a new method of musical appreciation of rap, beyond it's content and accompanying culture. This article will be divided into 3 parts, which may overlap on certain points. The first is the technical review of rap, the 2^nd is the tracing of a few interesting possible roots of rap and it's development before Rakim, and the third would be the review of Rakim's influential innovations of rap.

Technical Review of Rap

Because of it's stereotypical association with controversial and immoral contents², discussions of rap's aesthetics is often considerably minimal compared to its historical and social background, content, commercialization and culture. Critics often do not view rap as musical mostly because of the claim that the sampling in rap's production requires little to no musical skill, and most importantly, the vocals in rap has no melodic characteristics³. The latter may be considered inaccurate through closer observation. In many instances of other genres, when the vocals are sung, the lyrics are melismatic in execution, meaning that each syllable is sung while moving through different notes, or sustained through multiple notes. Rap, on the other hand, is a syllabic approach to vocal execution. Each syllable is seen as one note. This was amazingly displayed the other way around by John Coltrane in his Love Supreme release, on the track Psalms, where he played a saxophone rendition of his poem⁴. Coltrane 'pronounced' every single syllable, giving a haunting impression that the saxophone had a human voice.

Added to this, rap's main characteristic is it's rhythm⁵. In a musical analogy, rap utilizes the vocal element of music as a rhythmic or even almost a percussive instrument, where the syllable placements in bar roughly follows that of a hi hat rhythm, syncopated like that of a unique drumming style of its own. In drumming, a drum element may be played accented or unaccented in a pattern that would present itself as rhythm. Rap applies the same technique rhythm-wise by way of having stressed and unstressed syllables. The rhythm of these stress patterns follow that of the Old English poetic rhythm where it is closer to natural speech than a forced rhythm, much like the sprung rhythm as described by Gerard Manley Hopkins^5,6. Through this perspective, rap music seems to utilize a dual-rhythmic pattern when laid on a musical accompaniment, unlike other melismatic song forms that are tied to the backing music's melodies and main rhythms5. It is much like polyrhythm and counterpoint, where the vocal element has it's own distinctive rhythm against the musical accompaniment, only that rap is performed to fit into, or flow along to, the rhythm of the music even while having it's own rhythm.

In the beginning, DJ Kool Herc, along with his friends Clark Kent and Coke La Rock, only used chants and short rhyming phrases and sentences that served its purpose to hype up the crowd. This later developed from party to party by various individuals into longer raps, but fairly simply structured, party-themed, and even included rhythmically executed non-sense syllables similar to the jazz element of scatting, as clearly seen in the song Rapper's Delight by the Sugarhill Gang⁷. Melle Mel then came in and rode the beat almost always on point with the two and four beats, while spicing it up with almost randomly occurring internal rhymes and sometimes complex structures⁷. The basic rhythm was becoming apparent at this point, which seemed to be the backbone of rap's ever-growing complexity, although the rhymes were fairly simple and the structures at this point seemed almost monotonous except for the syncopation and the occasional high pitched delivery.

Notable Roots and Development of Rap

Before going into what Rakim changed in rap, lets look at some of the possible roots of rap. It may be argued based on the social make-up of Hip Hop that rap is deeply rooted in African or African-American music, which is often claimed to be brought in by the generations of slaves from Africa. However, as with early jazz musicians applying African folk music into European marching band instruments³, rap does the same in it's use of English poetry. The Anglo-Saxon tradition of accented or stressed meter is applied in Melle Mel's style where there are mainly four stressed syllables per bar based on the 4-beat bar, as with the common form in poems such as Beowulf being a four stress syllable pattern per line and often split in half by a slight pause after the 2^nd stress syllable, again, preceding and similar to rap. In between these stressed syllables are, of course, unstressed syllables, which are arranged in an almost equal meter between the stressed syllables in every line⁵.

However, the slight variations in the syllable count in every bar is where a rapper's creativity comes in. Unlike the sonnet, rap's syllable count per bar is based upon the oral performance of the syllables formation. Every syllable has its own weight in a word and sentence, and knowing these weights is the basic skill in rap⁵. This may not always mean that, say, in a 1/8^th beat measure, a 'heavier' syllable would carry 2 beats or 3. Some syllables can even be executed well in a 1/16^th beat. The problem rises when the a consonant demands a pause during a transition from a vowel, and not simply flowed into or overlapped together, depending on diction, which varies among rappers. The main point is that rap is unlike the strict syllabic rhythm of poetry, but rather integrated with the showmanship nature of rap to fit into an orally musical bar, much like the sprung rhythm described by Gerard Manley Hopkins that is closer to the rhythm of natural speech⁵. We will later see how Rakim built upon this.

As mentioned earlier, DJ Kool Herc utilized chants and short rhyming phrases rhythmically over the music to hype up the crowd. This was not new. In fact Kool Herc witnessed how important the men behind the sound systems in parties were, back when he was growing up in Jamaica in the 1970s¹. He understood then that those in control of the sound systems could shape the community. The sound crew with the best sound quality and the hottest selection of records would triumph. More than that, it was really about entertaining the crowd. It was around the same time that the practice of toasting by the Jamaican Djs had gained popularity through people such as U-Roy, characterized by boastful commentaries, chants, and half-sung rhymes¹⁰, performed over dub versions of hit records. A close observation to such performances by toasting DJs may not reveal what is noticeably rap, but the vocal rhythm improvisation executed were not unlike what Kool Herc attempted in his early gigs. The main difference, however, was the backing music, which commands different rhythms altogether for the vocals to fit in.

This difference is also the reason why The Last Poets and Gil Scott-Heron may sound far from actually rapping in the sonic rhythmic definition of the art as we recognize today. In the case of the toasting Jamaican Djs, the music was laid back, and the distinctive rhythm of that period were closer to the roots of reggae. On the non-melodic vocal performances on Gil Scott-Heron songs such as The Revolution Will Not Be Televised¹⁰, the rhythm of the vocal execution is more of poetic free verse and occasionally in sync to the rhythm of the backing music, which sounded as spontaneous as the music itself. In the house parties in New York of which Kool Herc attended after he moved from Jamaica, the upbeat party songs such as those from James Brown ruled the dance floor. A huge part of Kool Herc's success as a DJ was his realization that most people waited for the breaks of a song to dance to, and delivering exactly that in his own parties, apart from a selection of crowd-favorite records which main aim was to rock the party¹. Kool Herc did what came naturally as with the previous cultures of rhythmic vocal practices, only in a totally different musical environment.

While listening to blues compilations from the 1920s to 30s, one may argue that rap is lyrically rooted in the work songs in early blues⁸. In fact, when tracing the roots of rap, vocals have been the centre of attention, much like the free verse form that lacks the rhythm of modern rap such as that of The Last Poets⁹ or Gil Scott-Heron, or the melismatic and melodic sing-song vocals of blues and jazz. It is also common to look too much into the themes of the lyrics⁹. Again, rhythm is overlooked. Much like jazz, rhythm is the core element of rap. Jazz, as was rap, started as dance music. Although jazz was largely melodic compared to rap, the techniques built to develop the jazz style revolved around its rhythm. In fact, the rhythm that jazz musicians were moving to is now present in rap³. For comparative purposes, we may view every syllable sound as a unique note, and an ensemble of a few syllables as melodies. So what we have left with in similarity is, again, the rhythm. What rap has inherited from jazz is the improvisational nature of the rhythm execution. When Coltrane executed his solos, he was not so far detached from the main rhythm of his fellow musicians, as he only used it as a launching pad into his own rhythm that would in turn compliment the main rhythm, similar to rap's dual-rhythmic nature.

Such is the case with rap. However, this may seem more to coincidental, as the complexity of structure of rap which led to the innovative rap rhythms of today could not have come without Kool Herc and later Melle Mel laying down the backbone of rap within the rhythmic constraints of the beat. In comparison, new school rappers from Rakim onwards who broke the boundaries of structure and rhythm were much like Cecil Taylor and later John Coltrane when they broke the formal structures of jazz into free jazz¹¹. A more obvious possible influence of rap within the jazz world may as well be the art of scatting, or scat-singing. Scat-singing is a vocal execution of nonsense syllables in jazz singing, and it places the vocal element side by side with the instruments, accompanying and complimenting the instruments¹². Again, improvisation based on the core rhythm is performed, as with the beat motivates the rapper to grab the mic⁵, so does the backing band sets the feel for the jazz singer to scat¹². While it may be observed from an Ella Fitzgerald scat performance that it is more improvised compared to rap lyrics in the sense that a comparably complex execution may only be possibly achieved through a written rap lyric rather than a freestyle, it is the rhythm that puts both the scat-singer and the rapper together. Upon encountering a beat, a rapper will sense the rhythm he or she has to execute, and as with the scat-singer, the only thing left to do was to vocalize the rhythms by filling in words instead of just nonsense syllables.

The main point in these highlighted possible origins of rap is that, although a more musically-detailed examination on the genres preceding rap may give a more obvious link to what rap was built on, rap could not have came about if not for the culture of rhythmic execution in music and poetry combined. The Hip Hop generation in the 70s and 80s New York picked this up when growing up around their parents' record collection¹. It was the musical conditioning by these records that shaped the musical backbone of rap. And while Gil Scott-Heron may seem to be arrhythmically rapping, his influence among others, combined with the natural Anglo-Saxon rhythm5, paved the language for rap. This was then further rhythmically shaped by the breaks being looped by Kool Herc and later more precisely by Grandmaster Flash¹, executed in the manner of the scat-singer but with much less nonsense syllables compared to intelligible sentences. In terms of structure, execution of rhymes and wordplay, one need not look as far as the Greeks or even Shakespeare. A mere glance at an excerpt from the lyrics of Tracks of My Tears by Smokey Robinson & The Miracles below, rearranged to resemble that of rap's structure, would make it seem obvious that songwriters were already incorporating poetic thought into songwriting. Bob Dylan himself expressed the thrill of rhyming when writing his songs¹³.

“..Since you left me if you see me with another girl,seeming like I'm having fun,

Although she may be cute, she's just a substitute, because you're the permanent one..”

Rakim's Innovations

When Jeff Chang described Rakim as rap's Coltrane, it is possible he might have overlooked how strikingly similar these two individuals are in terms of contribution to their respective genres, much deeper than the fact that Rakim was also a gifted tenor saxophonist¹. Upon closer observation, there are noticeably two stylistic periods of Rakim, marked by his first two releases with Eric B. : Paid In Full in 1987 and Follow The Leader in 1988. A critical observation on the songs in Paid In Full shows that Rakim's main innovation was the extensive and consistent use of structured patterns of internal rhymes, and clever metaphors. The occurrence of internal rhymes were no longer as incidental as the style of Melle Mel. He was also introducing the extensive use of multi-syllable rhymes, as occasionally displayed by Kool G Rap around the same time. An example of his incorporation of his general structured patterns of internal rhymes within the Paid In Full period can be seen within these lines from the song Move The Crowd, which also displays the application of multi-syllable rhymes(in bold):

“My mind starts to activate, rhymes collaborate/

coz when I heard the beat, I just had to make/

something from the top of my head/

so I fell into the groove of the wax and I said/...”

Notice how the third and fourth lines did not have an internal rhyme. Amazingly in the Paid In Full period, most of Rakim's lyrics were based upon the repetition of this order. 2 lines with an execution of internal rhyme, not necessarily in the above fashion, and usually followed by another 2 that most of the time would only have end-rhymes, although occasionally this will also include internal rhymes, as the next example will show.

His rhythm, also consistent, was mostly still based on that of Melle Mel, following the main four-stress syllable per bar structure with all the familiar placements of pauses, with slight but not entirely unheard-of improvisations. All of this was absorbed and applied with seemingly flawless consistency. He accounts this stage as making a name for himself¹⁵, although he did describe his approach to rhythm in the song My Melody as:

“..rhymes are poetically kept and alphabetically stepped/

put in an order to pursue with the momentum except/

I say one rhyme out of order, a longer rhyme shorter/

or pause, but don't stop the tape recorder.”

Naturally, Rakim added more syllables per bar, but what blew MC Shan away was his deep level of wordplay which was rare if not revolutionary at that time. Lines like “I start to think, and then I sink/ into the paper, like I was ink/ when I'm writing I'm trapped in between the line/ I escape, when I finish the rhyme” from the song titled I Know You Got Soul in the debut album, is just an example of how poetic Rakim was, compared to the mostly direct and straightforwardness of the language the rappers before him communicated in, albeit the incorporation of similes and metaphors, which again, were not as planned and structured as Rakim. While Busy Bee Starski used the simple but witty wordplay “Busy Bee is my name, and that's a fact/and you cant beat that with a stick ball bat” in the 1982 movie Wild Style, Rakim amazed MC Shan by rhyming more elaborate metaphors, such as “my unusual style will confuse for a while/if I was water, I'd flow in the Nile”. He also displayed carefully thought of wordplays like “my name is Rakim Allah, and R and A stands for Ra/ switch it around, it still comes out R”(which is pronounced as 'ar' as the wordplay describes).

The structural order of Rakim's verses could be explained by how he writes his lyrics. Rakim claims to write his verses from the bottom up, from the last line of the page to the very first¹⁵. Although he did not specify when exactly did he started this, he did mention that he started this practice because he was already envisioning whole songs before he started writing them down anyway. This surprising claim shows how strikingly planned his lyrics were, similar to how Thelonious Monk envisioned an entire song before composing them as the interviewer suggested. This also explained how the complex wordplays were made possible.

In fact, the jazz world heavily influenced his flow. In the Follow The Leader period onwards, Rakim bombarded the bars with syllables, shaping a different rhythm, one that still rides the beat, but with a more natural delivery. This can be clearly seen from these heavily alliterated lines from the title track, which also deeply describes the musical form that Eric B. brought forward for Rakim to work on. On that note, alliteration alongside multi-syllable rhyming was also becoming more and more apparent in his lyrics:

“Music makes mellow, maintains to make/

melodies for MCs, motivates the breaks.”

The main difference was that in the four-stress syllable form, the accented syllables are more naturally flowed and the stress patterns were not forcefully executed into the beat's rhythm, relying more on the natural stress patterns that emerged in the words when forming the sentence itself, detaching the rhythm even radically further from the beat. It was in this 2^nd stage that Rakim fully freed himself from the constraints of the Old School. He was now in full control of his rhythm, in a way that he mastered the rhythm of the four-stress syllable, and then flipped it into a seemingly continuous flow of syllables, both stressed and unstressed in its own rhythm but again, falls 'in the pocket'. He executes this in the form of improvised structures. Instead of pauses that mark a group of rhythmic sentences after every two and four beat, the groups may be placed rhythmically anywhere and at any length within the bar, depending solely on the arrangement of rhyme, as seen in the next example. This was not new at the time, but again, Rakim's consistency with all the techniques he compiled into his style was what made him revolutionary.

“..Stop buggin', a brother said, dig em, I never dug 'em

He couldn't follow the leader long enough so I drug 'em

into danger zone, he should arrange his own

Face it, it's basic, erase it, change ya tone..”

This mastery of rhythm that allowed Rakim to experiment with his flow was much similar to how Coltrane not having to worry about going off beat when doing his signature 'sheets of sound'¹⁴, which was basically a rhythmic overflow of notes over the jazz beat. Rakim himself described in an interview that listening to Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane, among other jazz musicians, influenced how he structured his lyrics¹⁵. As mentioned earlier, he is also a gifted saxophonist. Influenced the way Coltrane flowed on the beat in jazz, we can safely assume that Rakim had a different scatted rhythm to vocalize compared to those before him. This opened up new possibilities of structuring rap rhythmically.

The impact was readily apparent after Follow The Leader, as observed in the following lyrics written by MC Guru in the 1989 Gang Starr debut single Manifest. The rapid-fire syllabic flow of rhythmically persistent improvisation of rhyme placement was clearly influenced by Rakim, bearing not much difference from Follow The Leader, except from the different forms of music that the Djs of both rappers sampled. Again we go back to the musical foundation that shapes the rhythm of the rap of which Eric B. & Rakim mostly played with funk elements¹⁵ while Gang Starr incorporated jazz elements¹⁶. In an ironic, Rakim applied jazz flows onto funk beats, while Guru adapted Rakim's jazz flow innovations and applied it to jazz beats.

“I profess and I don't jest cause the words I manifest/

they will take you, sedate you, and I will stress upon/

you the need for, you all to feed your/

mind and soul, so you can lead your-self..”

Beyond the musical conditioning of the beat that will continue to progress as rapid as the world wide spread of rap music, Rakim paved the way for lyrical innovation. He was single handedly pivotal in bridging the Old School into the New School through his consistency in application of internal rhymes, rhythmic structural improvisation, extensive use of multies and alliteration, and a much more poetic language interwoven to street slangs in levels of which was never seen in his time. The rest was history.

Notes;

1. Can't Stop Wont Stop, Jeff Chang, Picador, 2005

2. The Rap On Rap: the “Black Music” That Isn't Either, David Samuels, retrieved by Mark Anthony Neal and Murray Forman, Taylor & Francis Books, 2004

3. The Rhythm of Rhyme: A Look at Rap Music as an Art Form from a Jazz Perspective, Reginald Thomas, retrieved in 2001 by James L. Conyers, McFarland & Company

4. Psalm, John Coltrane, Impulse!, February 1965

5. Book of Rhymes; The Poetics of Hip Hop, Adam Bradley, BasicCivitas Books, 2009

6. "sprung rhythm." Encyclopedia Britannica. 2009. Encyclopedia Britannica Online. 20 Sep. 2009 http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/561472/sprung-rhythm .

7. The Rapper's Handbook, Blake Harrison with Alexander Rappaport, Flocabulary, 2006

8. Oral Tradition And The Blues, http://www.pbs.org/theblues/classroom/deftradition.html , Vulcan Productions Inc. 2003

9. The Difference Between Poetry & Rap, Jalal Mansur Nuriddin, http://www.grandfatherofrap.com/rapdefinition.htm , 2001

10. The Revolution Will Not Be Televised, Gil Scott-Heron, Flying Dutchman, 1971

11. Free Jazz: The Jazz Revolution of the 60's, Robert Levin, June 2006

12. Jazz Jargon: Scat, http://www.40north.org/jazzthreads/jazzyarns/jazzjargonscat.html ,Board of Trustees, University of Illinois, 2004

13. Studio A: The Bob Dylan Reader, Benjamin Hedin, New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2004

14. Liner Notes for John Coltrane: Giant Steps (Deluxe Edition), Nat Hentoff, Rhino Entertainment, 1997

15. Hip Hop Icon Series : Rakim pt1 & pt2, Jbutters, http://halftimeonline.com/hip-hop-icon- series/rakim-2/ and http://halftimeonline.com/hip-hop-icon-series/rakim-pt-2/ , Halftime Online, posted on July 6^th 2006

16. Biography, Virgin Records, http://www.virginrecords.com/starr/index4.html# , accessed on 20^th September 2009

Discography & Filmography:

Psalm, John Coltrane, Impulse!, February 1965
Rappers Delight, The Sugarhill Gang, Sugar Hill Records, October 1979
Natty Rebel, U-Roy, Virgin, 1976
The Revolution Will Not Be Televised, Gil Scott-Heron, Flying Dutchman, 1971
Ella Fitzgerald : One note Samba (scat singing) 1969, uploaded by diegodobini2 on January 26 2007, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbL9vr4Q2LU
Wild Style, directed, produced, and written by Charlie Ahearn, Rhino, 1982
The Tracks of My Tears, The Miracles, Tamla, June 1965
Move The Crowd, Eric B. & Rakim, 4^th & B'way/Island, July 1987
My Melody, Eric B. & Rakim, 4^th & B'way/Island, July 1987
I Know You Got Soul, Eric B. & Rakim, 4^th & B'way/Island, July 1987
Eric B. Is President, Eric B. & Rakim, 4^th & B'way/Island, July 1987
Follow The Leader, Eric B. & Rakim, Universal/MCA, July 1988
Manifest, Gang Starr, Wild Pitch/EMI, 1989

Zion I & The Grouch - Make You Fly ft Esthero

2009-11-08T16:06:00.002+08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YAfllxO9ECk

[Chorus:]
I am the Virgin, I'm a whore
So you will worship or adore me
I am the goddess, I'm the sky
I give you room to make you fly
So why, why
Don't you recognize me anymore?

[Zion:]
An open letter to you sister
Mother, wife, and girlfriend
Hope to make it better before we reach the world's end
Spin, through centuries of hypocrisy when
Patriarchy subjugated your biology,
The divine feminine was always kept hidden
You know I love my mama, called you freak ‘cause I was trippin
Take you for granted, man, I've often been the culprit
But I'm crypted when I stand like a preacher in this pulpit
Sex symbols like ornamentation
A trophy, not a wife but you're the queen of creation
More than a beauty but it's harder to see
We told to never cry, hoes down, up G's, but
You gave birth to me, sacred like the Earth to me
Blessed, never cursin' me, your love is what these verses be
Adam and Eve in the Garden, believe
Better learn to work together or there'll be no seeds
I'm runnin' home to you, nothin' else I'd rather do
Apologize for all the madness that I put you through
It's true:
I'm just a flawed human being
Tryin' to get it right; be my guide ‘cause I'm needin' YOU.

[Chorus]

[Grouch:]
To be the bearer of life
What's the like? Still spit on
Mama raised me right
That's the track I'm ‘bout to get on
Had to pay y'all back
Women: you're the ones who are real strong
And I don't feel good how we treat you on a hill wrong
Feel lungs breathe (breathe )
She's the equal I need
Mother Earth made her, as soft as the breeze
And if I take advantage, what's that make me?
Someone I couldn't stand if seen on TV
So I
Flip the channel, damsels in distress now
Get a handle on myself and my sex-style
I turn reptile
All the men around me gave me the wrong pep-talk
Man, I shoulda crept off
My sister wept, my wife ill, my grandma died
And my daughter's got three months to arrive
That's some vibe
And player, if I'm the king of my tribe
Who's my goddess, queen? On the side I see why (why )
She's the sky to my dirt road
Not the target of my aggression, stresses, and sperm loads
If burnt toast and eggs is all you need her for...
I hope she feeds your fall (fall [echoes])

[Chorus]

The Longest Ride Home

2009-11-06T02:44:00.001+08:00

written on B. Bravo - Talk To Me

leaped and tapped to pass,
charged up like the fee to get a seat at last
no i'm not going faster relative to mass
but at least on this bus i can rest my ass

i confess that i'm stressed,like how the revolutions,
add to the pressure, it's hard to measure,
i'm not even sure if i'm really sober,
thoughts floating like the sun on a solstice

and i'm so distracted,i hardly even noticed
that even when unchecked,time is at its slowest
mind running circles on bloody tracks
brain's breaking backs even without the hurdles

i'm hurting,but not as usual
not emotional so my escapism refuse to work
on full alert but less responsive,i pondered
how my actions and setbacks have finally bonded

pretty well it seems,but outcome was never dreamed of
like beating a girl real hard but she's still soft
and just as ironic the turn of events rocked me
so like McCartney, i could not sleep tonight

no matter how soft the wool's pull
my eyes are still soaked full with reflections of a fool

Veiled Crowns

2009-10-27T02:22:00.001+08:00

written on Ratatat - Spanish Armada.enjoy

sometimes i feel guilty,at times i feel selfish
how i could taint a pretty painted image that's well kept
hidden underneath the cloth that's well wrapped
around her crown under which her truest beauty dwells at
she could be heaven sent,and i'm hell bent to prove
how she is a beau when nothing else but hearts she moves
how the image of freedom exposed is nothing but a noose
that is used to decide which item on the shelf to choose from
confusion of religion and trends she went through
as did every reformed and strong girls i met or knew
she hid the stereotypes she once assumed
coz redemption is God's bargain that is hard to refuse
covering up is not being reclusive
only thing that is not limited is her true self
everything else is for her husband in exchange for his love
mind's the Kitab,heart in Islam,decorated by the Hijab

Sleepy Beauty

2009-10-02T21:22:00.000+08:00

I'll drug your brains up like the whole nation on TV
you'd slip under the pressure like our government's weak knees
sweet dreams,only thing that's sour is the ground
which your feet is stained with,before you heard the sounds-
of the car making rounds,orbiting your mind
and you're still seeing stars in this room with no lights on
the rope is a tight hold in case you flew off
like you did with the heart before which you chewed on
i moved on from the masquerade,my mask is stained
with tears from seeing your dreamy eyes being half awake
i'd have to wait till you fade before i lay my hands on you
but first i'd untie and rest you here in my solitude
ahh good,you're done,i slow kiss while you're fast asleep
take your sheets off,caressing your heart that'll no longer skip a beat
kiss your cheeks down to your cold shoulders
beauty is skin deep and now i've cut your soul open

twas A Good Night

2009-09-04T04:34:00.000+08:00

sleep
dont worry bout the gush,they hush
when you sleep
the clock wouldn't rush,time stops
when you sleep
the sun sets shut,while her cousins are up
when you sleep
my handful of love,knits you blankets of warmth
when you sleep

and dream
journey in many stories,never worry
just dream
weather's kinda stormy but dont you wait up for me
just dream
of futures we are holding to our hearts so closely
just dream
this knight is getting cold,you dont have to know
just dream

and rest
we came a long way,please stay as you may
but rest
it's been a long day,but the sparkles fade
now rest
wait for fate,embrace our pages of age
but now rest
much more to say,and i'll soon decay
now i rest

and melt in your gaze,you kept on your face
you left me amazed,still felt in my grave

Pushing Me Away...back to Linkin Park

2009-09-02T10:18:00.003+08:00

Woke up with this song in my head. Ahh~~ the good ol days before Jay-Z made em wack. Curse you emo wannabes. This right here may not be where it all started, but hell they sure made great music back then. Looking back, Mike was probably one of the most significant early rap influences of mine, probably alongside Eminem when he was still angry. Being emo is something we grow out of, like my own most recent big idol Sage Francis, but it's what we make out of that wall of emotions that would make all that pain really worth. And Linkin Park maintained that rage and connected with their fans on multiple levels. It's almost impossible to say they were a produced band with a repeated formula. Yes they had a formula, but their music was authentic. The vast bank of creativity seemed like they always had something new to bring with the same emotions being presented. Speaking of which, I remember a comment in a forum a few years back that said it's amazing how much Mike Shinoda was able to write despite most of the songs revolved around roughly the same emotional drive. That might sound too general, but I gotta admit, having in a band with that kind of sound, there's a lot to live up to, and he complimented the band really well. In fact so well that every other band that attempts to put a rapper in would have a stamp of cheesiness on their forehead coz they'd have to live up to be original compared to Linkin Park. Not to say these accused copycats are bad. Most are actually good. But yeah. A LOT to live up to.

Anyways, here's a reminder of how precious it is to be emo. Enjoy :)

And last but not least...

Good morning :)

The Greatest Gift

2009-09-02T02:12:00.002+08:00

The greatest gift in life is to actually be there.

words,prayers,mean nothing when compared to this.have your excuses ready to fight the fact that being there was something you did not achieve.but the fact is,you were never there.and it's funny.i dreamt about being bitter when talking to you on the phone,and i woke up with that pain i've been running away from all this while,and saw your writing about bitterness.you seem to have never left when at the same time you were never there.

and the struggle continues...

5 More Things NEVER To Be Multi-tasked

2009-09-01T03:01:00.003+08:00

1. Arguing with your girlfriend when she's behind the wheel.

Trust me. You do not want to be in the passenger seat in a Kancil flying at 150km/h and above on the Federal Highway.

2. Listening to your walkman while crossing the road.

Looking before crossing is no longer enough. Although the car speeding towards you might not honk to warn you enough to save you, it still produces a sound that can only be heard if you just put down your goddamn earphones for a few precious seconds.

3. Listening to your walkman in the bus/train.

OK this might be reconsidered, but reconsider this. You're taking a train or bus you're familiar with, one you always take, so much so you don't even think of checking your route every few minutes. And when your favorite song plays, you get drowned in the enjoyment that you didn't realize you missed your stop. This happened to me when I took the train on the wrong side, and when I missed almost 5 bus stops to a friend's place.

4. Thinking of food while fasting.

Nothing can stop us from this one, unfortunately. You know the feeling that you try not to think about it but your stomach starts growling at 2pm? 5 fringgin hours before you can eat? Ugghhh. Ramadhan test fail lol.

5. Arguing with your girlfriend within close proximity while she's having PMS.

Need I say more?

5 Things NEVER To Be Multi-tasked

2009-09-01T02:34:00.003+08:00

1. Drinking a bottle of water while taking off your kain pelekat.

This just happened and inspired this blog post. I lost balance for a fraction of a sec and recalled how I could've either fell with my head still titled upwards or have choked on the water.

2. Cleaning out your ear wax with cotton buds, standing up while reaching out for something.

I forgot what it was but it was on the table, and it was quite a low table so I bent down a bit to take it, but almost immediately as I had it, it slipped from my hands. My reflexes jumped in to lean forward quickly and reach out for it before it falls, while my other hand was still stuffing my left ear with cotton buds. Forgotten object saved, left ear went deaf for 10 minutes.

3. Picking your teeth standing up.

For fuck's sake, sit down when you're managing yourself,can you??

4. Playing games/Facebook while talking on the phone.

This costed me a relationship.lol.

5. Fooling around with your mate while driving.

Was about to exit the highway when we were joking around, and I swear I could've used the motorcyclist's full black attire against him if I was half a second late on realizing I was less than a meter away from hitting him from the back with my Kancil.ok lol moment.

Ouh and one extra point;

6. blogging/Facebook while trying to sleep.

Very clever one.

Merdeka?

2009-08-30T13:49:00.002+08:00

Reposted from art-harun.blogspot.com

________________________________________________________

Amidst all the flags, the procession, the RM100 million celebration, the shouts and screams of "Merdeka, Merdeka, Merdeka", perhaps we should just look back at what our Father of Independence, the late Tunku Abdul Rahman Putra Al-Haj said in his speech preceding the reading of the Merdeka Proclamation. Among others, he said, :

"I am indeed proud that on this, the greatest day in Malaya's history it falls to my lot to proclaim the formal independence of this country. Today as new page is turned, and Malaya steps forward to take her rightful place as a free and independent partner in the great community of Nations - a new nation is born and though we fully realise that difficulties and problems lie ahead, we are confident that, with the blessing of God, these difficulties will be overcome and that today's events, down the avenues of history, will be our inspiration and our guide...

But while we think of the past, we look forward in faith and hope to the future; from henceforth we are masters of our destiny, and the welfare of this beloved land is our own responsibility: Let no one think we have reached the end of the road: Independence is indeed a milestone, but it is only the threshold to high endeavour-the creation of a new and sovereign State. At this solemn moment therefore I call upon you all to dedicate yourselves to the service of the new Malaya: to work and strive with hand and brain to create a new nation, inspired by the ideals of justice and liberty - a beacon of light in a disturbed and distracted world.

High confidence has been reposed in us; let us unitedly face the challenge of the years. And so with remembrance for the past, and with confidence in the future, under the providence of God, we shall succeed."

Later, when he recited the Merdeka Proclamation, he said, among others:

"I, TUNKU ABDUL RAHMAN PUTRA IBNI AL-MARHUM SULTAN ABDUL HAMID HALIMSHAH, PRIME MINISTER OF THE PERSEKUTUAN T ANAH MELAYU, with the concurrence and approval of Their Highnesses the Rulers of the Malay States do hereby proclaim and declare on behalf of the people of the Persekutuan Tanah Melayu that as from the thirty first day of August, nineteen hundred and fifty seven, the Persekutuan Tanah Melayu comprising the States of lohore, Pahang, Negri Sembilan, Selangor, Kedah, Perlis, Kelantan, Trengganu, Perak, Malacca and Penang is and with God's blessing shall be for ever a sovereign democratic and independent State founded upon the principles of liberty and justice and ever seeking the welfare and happiness of its people and the maintenance of a just peace among all nations."

Perhaps we should all reflect whether these lofty ideals set out by the Tunku has been achieved, 52 years after he proclaimed it. Or whether we have ever worked towards achieving the same.

A nation founded upon the principles of liberty and justice. A nation which is ever seeking the welfare and happiness of its people. A nation inspired by the ideals of justice and liberty. A nation which is to be a beacon of light in a disturbed and a distracted world.

That was the Tunku's aspirations. And the aspirations of all Malaysians on 31st of August 1957.

Have we all, as a nation, achieved those? Have we worked to achieve those? If we have, have we worked hard enough to achieve those?

Would the Tunku, had he been still alive, looked at all of us, his children and grandchildren, with a big smile on his face, thinking to himself, "I am happy with what all of you have achieved, and I will go to face my creator a happy and fulfilled man"?

Or would he, had he been still alive, grimace in pain and displeasure, at what we have all become, at what this nation of ours have become?

I am asking this because I remember the day he died. And the day his body was rested. And I remember the days before he died. I remember his columns in the Star newspaper, "As I See It" and "Looking Back". His love for this nation and his undying commitment towards democracy, social justice and fairness would see him rise on occasions, even when he was in his old age to fight what he saw as injustice, unfairness and dictatorial behaviours.

He was critical of Dr Mahathir, the then Prime Minister. That man of course had, in 1987, banned the Star newspaper, which was substantially owned by the Tunku.

And when UMNO (the original UMNO) was declared illegal by the High Court (at the insistance of Counsel appearing for the Mahathir faction), the Tunku, out of sheer love for UMNO and the nation, quickly teamed up with Tun Hussein Onn (another former PM) to form a party known as UMNO Malaysia. UMNO Malaysia registration was blocked by non other than Mahathir Mohammad. Mahathir later registered UMNO Baru and changed the law to allow UMNO Baru to be renamed UMNO as if nothing had ever happened in between.

I then remember him supporting Tunku Razaleigh's Semangat 46. The Tunku, despite his old age, even went out to campaign in the 1990 general election.

On 6th December 1990, the Tunku, our Father of Independence, died. He died as an opposition. He died opposing a derivative of the very party he once led and gained independence with. He died opposing what he thought and perceived as a totalitarian government bent on destroying social justice and equality.

Today, almost 52 years after he stood and proudly recited the Merdeka Proclamation, I wonder whether he is smiling at all of us in heaven. Or whether he is turning his back against us.

Knowing how much he loved this nation and how hard he fought for justice, fairness, liberty and freedom, he could be hurting.

Al fatihah to the Tunku.

A letter from a Christian to Muslim women

2009-08-30T13:26:00.003+08:00

Came to a dead end attempting to look for the original post. So I'll just repost this as from here. Moving to say the least. This is for you, my Muslim sisters, and also a reminder to us Muslim brothers. Enjoy :)

_______________________________________________________

A letter from a Christian to Muslim women (March 7th, 2007)

By Joanna Francis
Writer, Journalist - USA

Between the Israeli assault on Lebanon and the Zionist “war on terror,” the Muslim world is now center stage in every American home. I see the carnage, death and destruction that have befallen Lebanon, but I also see something else: I see you. I can’t help but notice that almost every woman I see is carrying a baby or has children around her. I see that though they are dressed modestly, their beauty still shines through. But it’s not just outer beauty that I notice. I also notice that I feel something strange inside me: I feel envy. I feel terrible for the horrible experiences and war crimes that the Lebanese people have suffered, being targeted by our common enemy. But I can’t help but admire your strength, your beauty, your modesty, and most of all, your happiness.

Yes, it’s strange, but it occurred to me that even under constant bombardment, you still seemed happier than we are, because you were still living the natural lives of women. The way women have always lived since the beginning of time. It used to be that way in the West until the 1960s, when we were bombarded by the same enemy. Only we were not bombarded with actual munitions, but with subtle trickery and moral corruption.

Through Temptation

They bombarded us Americans from Hollywood, instead of from fighter jets or with our own American-made tanks. They would like to bomb you in this way too, after they’ve finished bombing the infrastructure of your countries. I do not want this to happen to you. You will feel degraded, just like we do. You can avoid this kind of bombing if you will kindly listen to those of us who have already suffered serious casualties from their evil influence. Because everything you see coming out of Hollywood is a pack of lies, a distortion of reality, smoke and mirrors. They present casual sex as harmless recreation because they aim to destroy the moral fabric of the societies into which they beam their poisonous programming. I beg you not to drink their poison. There is no antidote for it once you have consumed it. You may recover partially, but you will never be the same. Better to avoid the poison altogether than to try to heal from the damage it causes.

They will try to tempt you with their titillating movies and music videos, falsely portraying us American women as happy and satisfied, proud of dressing like prostitutes, and content without families. Most of us are not happy, trust me. Millions of us are on anti-depressant medication, hate our jobs, and cry at night over the men who told us they loved us, then greedily used us and walked away. They would like to destroy your families and convince you to have fewer children. They do this by presenting marriage as a form of slavery, motherhood as a curse, and being modest and pure as old-fashioned. They want you to cheapen yourself and lose your faith. They are like the Serpent tempting Eve with the apple. Don’t bite.

Self-Value

I see you as precious gems, pure gold, or the “pearl of great value” spoken of in the Bible (Matthew 13: 45). All women are pearls of great value, but some of us have been deceived into doubting the value of our purity. Jesus said: “Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you” (Matthew 7: 6). Our pearls are priceless, but they convince us that they’re cheap. But trust me; there is no substitute for being able to look in the mirror and seeing purity, innocence and self-respect staring back at you.

The fashions coming out of the Western sewer are designed to make you believe that your most valuable asset is your sexuality. But your beautiful dresses and veils are actually sexier than any Western fashion, because they cloak you in mystery and show self-respect and confidence. A woman’s sexuality should be guarded from unworthy eyes, since it should be your gift to the man who loves and respects you enough to marry you. And since your men are still manly warriors, they deserve no less than your best. Our men don’t even want purity anymore. They don’t recognize the pearl of great value, opting for the flashy rhinestone instead. Only to leave her too!

Your most valuable assets are your inner beauty, your innocence, and everything that makes you who you are. But I notice that some Muslim women push the limit and try to be as Western as possible, even while wearing a veil (with some of their hair showing). Why imitate women who already regret, or will soon regret, their lost virtue? There is no compensation for that loss. You are flawless diamonds. Don’t let them trick you into becoming rhinestones. Because everything you see in the fashion magazines and on Western television is a lie. It is Satan’s trap. It is fool’s gold.

A Woman’s Heart

I’ll let you in on a little secret, just in case you’re curious: pre-marital sex is not even that great. We gave our bodies to the men we were in love with, believing that that was the way to make them love us and want to marry us, just as we had seen on television growing up. But without the security of marriage and the sure knowledge that he will always stay with us, it’s not even enjoyable! That’s the irony. It was just a waste. It leaves you in tears.

Speaking as one woman to another, I believe that you understand that already. Because only a woman can truly understand what’s in another woman’s heart. We really are all alike. Our race, religion or nationalities do not matter. A woman’s heart is the same everywhere. We love. That’s what we do best. We nurture our families and give comfort and strength to the men we love. But we American women have been fooled into believing that we are happiest having careers, our own homes in which to live alone, and freedom to give our love away to whomever we choose. That is not freedom. And that is not love.

Only in the safe haven of marriage can a woman’s body and heart be safe to love. Don’t settle for anything less. It’s not worth it. You won’t even like it and you’ll like yourself even less afterwards. Then he’ll leave you.

Self-Denial

Sin never pays. It always cheats you. Even though I have reclaimed my honor, there’s still no substitute for having never been dishonored in the first place. We Western women have been brainwashed into thinking that you Muslim women are oppressed. But truly, we are the ones who are oppressed; slaves to fashions that degrade us, obsessed with our weight, begging for love from men who do not want to grow up. Deep down inside, we know that we have been cheated.

We secretly admire and envy you, although some of us will not admit it. Please do not look down on us or think that we like things the way they are. It’s not our fault. Most of us did not have fathers to protect us when we were young because our families have been destroyed. You know who is behind this plot. Don’t be fooled, my sisters. Don’t let them get you too. Stay innocent and pure. We Christian women need to see what life is really supposed to be like for women. We need you to set the example for us, because we are lost. Hold onto your purity. Remember: you can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube. So guard your “toothpaste” carefully!

I hope you receive this advice in the spirit in which it is intended: the spirit of friendship, respect, and admiration. From your Christian sister with love

Stormy Weathers (Prequel)

2009-08-24T15:11:00.002+08:00

---stormy weather kinda dawns forever
---which he longs to treasure far beyond any measure
---intensely severed was the chain reaction
---holding together their affectionate but painful fractions

traction is strong but the overall degree-
of the sloppy structures made us fall heavily
steadily we rise to reside in combined force-
of patience and passion to push for open doors

---swallow remorse and the loss,but when it's done,
---floss it out clean so you could move on as one
---hidden suns reveal enlightening silver linings
---drizzling hope to quench your thirsts with just the right timing

signed in as a close encounter at the counter
now i count the hours of being devoured
by a spinning compass in this guilt trip
encompassed by problems,still i never fail to dig deep

---he's trapped in a whirlpool of silent storms
---his brain's a sea of murky waters,maneuvered by tired arms
---tried to calm his turbulence which turned to hate
---fire arms scribbling bullets that'll seal his fate

"we're kinda late with the patches" said the angels
so we asked for solutions that'll rid of the danger
but we were told no path can eliminate the anger
said we might've been the same ones to spark the ending

---and in the turn of events,he swerved too suddenly
---that you slipped from his hands,sloppily buckled in
---play pretend,sync you lips to a sentence that punctures him
---but be prepared to defend your stands,dont alter it

coz i'd be glad to chance upon a single breath of doubt
that is my cue to gather my world of rage to take you out
for a walk down our reddened yellow brick road
and drag you to realize that we died at the intro

---whatever promises stenciled,he scraped em off
---only to long for it,claiming nothing was resolved
---she wasn't soft with goodbyes,his skin hardened too
---only after the blood clots thanks to ways less honorable
---though he still keeps the splinters in you know where
---better let him be when he wishes to go there
---you didn't create this monster,he saw it coming
---don't even talk him out,he'll just keep on running

coz your image was already distorted from the first leg
to the finishing lines that drew out your hurt face
worst days were the mixtures of burning arguments
and the cold gush that fractured our common senses
there was no consensual flex of the story line
penetrated to the part of my soul where it's all defined
come and find coincided faults you don't already know
and you could erase your portraits or let them grow

---and that is the only way to ever let him go
coz i'm dying to end this one hell of an episode

It's Bigger Than Hip Hop by M.K. Assante Jr.

2009-08-04T10:45:00.003+08:00

This is a book report I wrote for an assignment a few months ago. It was written the night before the submission date, although I've read the book the month before. First book report ever, so please comment at will :)
________________________________________

The book I'm reporting on is titled It's Bigger Than hip Hop by M. K. Asante, Jr, published by St. Martin's Press on September 2008 in New York. The ISBN code is 0-312-37326. In a nutshell, this book discusses how the music industry deals with the Hip Hop culture and encourages the youth to fully utilize the true potential of hip hop to represent their struggles. Thus for learning outcomes, this will relate to how the industry functions, current issues, policies, attitudes, and historical development.

Firstly, I believe it is worth discussing the writer's background to understand his stand in this book. He was raised in an African-American middle class household. He is in his early twenties, a poet and filmmaker, and professor at Morgan State University. In the book, he mentioned briefly of his teenage years of which he refers to as confusion, looking back on the day he was arrested the same day he was expelled from school. In the 2nd chapter of the book, he wrote of his conversation with his elder brother who was homeless, jobless, and a fugitive, and described him as yet to have grown out of the confusion the writer faced in his teen years. His father, Dr Molefi K. Asante, a professor at Temple University who introduced the first Ph.D. In African-American studies there, has been credited in Hip Hop's history for articulating Afrocentricity as an alternative to Eurocentricity, which has influenced a lot of conscious rappers like KRS-One and Common.

The nature of the book is that it mixes historical and social observation to justify a number issues, advocating solutions, occasionally in the form of fictional interviews. I am uncertain of what specific style best reflects the book, but the writer often discusses and reflects on the bigger picture of the problems he encounters in the narrative journey he brings the reader through. He would bounce back and forth between describing something he witnessed, and relating it to a specific idea or problem or issue, and concludes each chapter suggesting a solution. Each chapter would build upon the previous towards the big picture of just how powerful Hip Hop could and should be.

However, even with the solutions given were suggested to be applicable to the post-hip hop generation which consists of all nationalities, the book mostly discusses the problems of stereotype, new forms of racism, educational concerns, crime and violance, exploitation, systematical neglect and oppression faced by African-American society, although the book did dedicate a comparatively short chapter on how universal oppression can be, by first describing a protest by Latino immigrants against biased police brutality on their youth, then relating his feeling of connection with their struggle to the idea of a universal suffering faced by all oppressed people, be it Tibetan, Iraqi, Bosnian, and many more.

The book opens with a chapter that establishes what the writer refers to, and is also the chapter's title, as “The Post-Hip-Hop Generation”. The Hip Hop generation was born in the post-Civil Rights movement years, as a rebellion against systematic oppression in the mid-seventies. However, when Hip Hop was absorbed into the mainstream, it started to neglect it's representational roots. It began to promote violence, and became a mere reflection of the American culture which was mostly previously the same system of oppression that gave birth to Hip Hop. The post-hip Hop generation struggles to find a representation for their ongoing oppression it faces through Hip Hop, but fails to feel connected to it anymore. The writer describes the term 'post-hip hop' as “a period of time of great transition for a new generation in search of a deeper, more encompassing, understanding of themselves in a context outside of the corporate hip hop monopoly.” The writer also assures us that post-hip hop is “not about the death of rap, but rather the birth of a new movement propelled by a paradigm shift.”

What the writer refers to as hip hop monopoly is the issue of Hip Hop's distribution mechanism. Hip hop may have been a cultural expression of Black youth, but it is the multinational corporations like Viacom and Vivendi that control the mainstream view of Hip Hop, which has the ability to “dictate the direction of the culture and art.” This in time gave birth to a generation that makes it a point to detach itself from the mainstream representation of Hip Hop, as they grew to realize that Hip Hop is much bigger. This form of detachment is best described by a high school youth the writer approached by asking what does Hip Hop mean to him, only to be replied with a grumble and “Hip Hop don't speak to or for me.” Acts of rebellion which was previously representing the oppressed, are now being sold as hip, and interpreted as mere acts of consumerism. More damage is added to the rebellion image when rappers are boasting as entrepenuers and migle with the capitalist forefront who have been the main oppressors. The chapter ends with a call for the post-hip hop generation to seek truths and their destiny to help define themselves and shape their world.

The next chapter, 'Keepin' It Real vs Reel', discusses the marketed stereotypes of Black youths in mainstream Hip Hop. The writer suggests that the youth are what they are seen as because the supposed reflective images in mainstream Hip Hop forces them to live up to those images. In the chapter, the writer describes seperately his conversation with his brother and a rapper called J.O., asking them why are they claiming to be violent, tough, boasting of crimes and immoral behavior they themselves do not condone and might have not even done. The same answer was given; they claim to be trapped in society's perception of who they are or should be. The writer also briefly described the prejudicial fear, due to the “effects of global distortion”, of his Nepalese college roommate in London when realizing that he'll be living together with an African-American. As with the slavery days, images have been used to control and dictate how African-Americans are treated and how they treat themselves. The men are expected to live up to the images of violence, hedonistic, among others, while women are loud and manipulative, among others.

What is 'real' is initially nothing of sort, but the power of the 'reel' is such that it starts to blur the line between the two. No better example in the chapter can reflect this issue better than the late Russel Tyrone Jones, better known as ODB of the Wu-Tang Clan. The writer interviewed ODB's father to find that ODB's parents were furious when ODB denied his middle class suburb upbringing and claimed instead to have been raised in the Fort Greene projects in Brooklyn on welfare. Publicity was ODB's goal, and what makes this more damaging to the Black youth is the fact that the main consumers-those with the billions of dollars of market value-of Hip Hop and these images are White teenagers. This is seen as an obstacle against the social upliftment of poor Black youth, as it tends to ignore the rise of educated, professional, and socially aware black youth, but instead sells the 'ghetto music' that glorifies the supposed and exaggerated conditions of living in the ghettos to fit the entertainment needs of a system that made the ghetto possible in the first place. The writer slowly builds the question of what is 'real'ly considered 'hood, as what these images claim to represent. This chapter also related to a later chapter about African-Americans with a prison mentality.

In 'What's Really Hood? A Conversation With The African-American Ghetto', the writer details a historical string of events and its consequences that lead to the current conditions of the African-American ghettos, in a fictional interview with a character that calls himself the 'ghetto' itself. The conversation first discusses the historical background behind the word 'ghetto' which started with the Jewish settlements in Europe riddled with oppression, and relates it to every existing ghetto in the world, before directing it to the “Black American ghettos” damaging timeline. It starts off with the Special Field Orders, No. 15 issued by Maj. Gen. William Sherman during the time of Abraham Lincoln, one that promised enslaved Africans forty acres of farmland and a mule after the Civil War, but was withdrawn after Abraham Lincoln was killed. This was replaced with sharecropping, which further dragged the Blacks down to poverty.

However during World War 1 around 1914 onwards, large numbers of Blacks, two million in the twenties alone, migrated to the industrial hubs like New York City, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Maryland, Detroit, and Chicago, because of the boom of weapons manufacturing plants. After Depression, President Franklin D. Roosevelt drafted programs to counter poverty, most of which neglected domestic and agricultural workers which made up to two-thirds of the Black workforce. Another disappointment was through housing. The Federal Housing Administration developed under Roosevelt came with the promise of ownership with the introduction of higher mortgage, but it kept Blacks away from this benefit by 'redlining'; the FHA outlined areas based on class, with Black neighbourhoods in red, and advised banks to stay away from areas with “inharmonious racial groups”. This was made worse when industrial cities segregated the industrial and residential areas, of which Black neighbourhoods were tagged as industrial. This prevented renovation or any form of improvement for housing conditions.

Next came the infamous Urban renewal, which isolated the Black neighbourhoods, destroyed homes and replacing them with degrading housing projects, tore neighbourhoods with highways, drew other communities away to the suburbs and taking jobs away with them. Factories owned by multinational corporations closed as the companies looked for other oppressed people to exploit around the world. Businesses left too, replaced by check-cashing places, liqour stores, and take-out Chinese restaurants, most of which offer poor service and only aim to profit from the poverty-stricken.

In order to change these conditions, the ghetto character detailed that health should be proiritized in the process of upliftment. Next would be unemployment insurance, mainly for those who are temporarily or permanently injured at the workplace. Last but not least is education, by improving the condition of the schools. The chapter concludes with the ghetto character feeling misrepresented
and claiming that it stays how it is today because of the individualistic mentality of Americans; blaming poor people for their own suffering and crediting the rich of their own hardwork, while in
actuality, both the rich and the poor has had a part to play in contributing to each others conditions.

The 4th chapter titled 'It's Bigger Than Hip Hop' discusses the conditions of Black youth in African-American ghettos, detailing the writer's encounter with a dead body of a young Black male on the side of the street on his way to his first lecture at Morgan State University. When he reached his class, he was surprised that his class was not at all moved by the sharing of his early morning experience, and he engaged the students about the conditions of their neighbourhood. Most of this chapter is related to what was mentioned as the implications of the damaging events in the previous chapter, only with a more individually driven account from every student in the class. The chapter is concluded with the class discussion shifting towards possible solutions, and how Hip Hop has a role to play in it.

The next chapter is another timeline, this time of Hip Hop, titled 'It's Bigger Than Hip Hop; Time Line (1965-1991)', detailing the events that set the conditions for the birth of the Hip Hop generation from the assasination of Malcolm X and the Watts rebellion in 1965 to the systematically discriminative War On Drugs that instantly incread America's prison population in 1973. In the same year, DJ Kool Herc held the now-legendary block party which is now credited as the birth of Hip Hop. Shortly after, another DJ by the name of Afrika Bambaataa founded the Universal Zulu Nation, gathering racially and politically conscious Djs, rappers, B-boys, graffiti artists, and others in the hip hop culture. In 1977, Grandmaster Flash and Grand Wizard Theodore invented scratching. The Roland Corporation invented the TR-808 Rhythm Composer, of which kick sound and sub-deep bass became the basis of a lot of baselines in rap and is still in use today. The song Rapper's Delight by the Sugar Hill Gang was the first Hip Hop hit single, reaching gold. 1981, New York City mayor Ed Koch declares war on graffiti. After a few notable rap record releases, the timeline ends in 1991 with Ice Cube performing a rap for a St. Ides Malt Liqour, and the beating of Rodney King the same year.

The next chapter, 'Old White Men' dicusses who really runs and owns rap music. The chapter starts with the writer describing a song by rapper Mos Def titled The Rape Over from a studio he was in at the time. What caught his attention was the lyrics of the song which described who really controls Hip Hop; MTV, Viacom, AOL, Time Warner, cocaine, and Hennessey, among others. At the time, the writer was working on rap-related short animated film for a digizine which Mos Def did a voice for. The writer described being intro÷duced to the people “who are super successful and can help” with the project, vaguely described by his white administrator in college as “into the whole rap thing”. After detailing his meeting with executives from record labels, cable channel, and radio stations who were old white men in blazers and striped ties, and with gray heads, the writer discussed how Hip Hop's decision makers are not Hip Hop at all. Despite the excitement over the song, the writer later finds that the song never made it to the album, supposedly due to sample clearance issues. Angered, the writer brings forth a lengthy discussion of a new form of colonialism, of cultural, economical and mentality control by corporations, ending with a call for ownership over cultural creations.

Chapters 7, 8, and 9 discusses some of the more specific struggle that the writer wishes Hip Hop to represent. What these 3 chapters have mainly in common is police brutality and injustice towards youth of color, the ways of which the post-Hip Hop generation are standing up against it. Chapter 7 discusses the systematic increase of crime rates through the war on drugs, false stereotypes, building more prisons, and implimentation of more strict laws and how protests against them are trying to ignite change. In Chapter 8, 'FTP', the writer's interview with rap group Dead Prez discusses extensively of police brutality, of how the group itself has been harrassed by the police on fake charges, and how to protect oneself from these harrassments or worse. The chapter closes with the writer's own account of being pulled over on his way back from the interview, where he avoided being pushed into false convictions by knowing his rights. Chapter 9, 'Universal Language' shows another protest, this time by and concerning Latino immigrants against police brutality towards their youth. The writer finally shifts his focus to a more universal collective struggle against any form of oppression.

Chapters 10 and 11 starts to introduce the idea of the artivist. In Chapter 10, 'Two Sets Of Notes', the writer shares a poem about a student keeping two sets of notes in history class. One was the history taught in class, the other is one she reads of herself. And though she may excel in the curriculum, she does it only for the sake of staying in school so she would have access to more material for her second set of notes, those of which she truly believes in, which would often consist of knowledge that is deliberately omitted from the curriculum to hide crucial facts about her history. Knowledge is crucial for the post-Hip Hop generation. To overcome the oppressor, the oppressed must learn more than what the oppressor teaches them. This, as can be seen with other chapters in the book, was built upon the issues and discussions put forward in previous chapters, this one in particular most probably was relating to the Old White Men chapter. Chapter 11, 'By Any Medium Necessary' starts to really suggest what the artist is capable of. The writer debates with three youths about how rap is more than just art for the sake of art. This debate continued to show the true power of any form of art, and introduces the idea of the artivist, who speaks not only for the people they represent, but also to suggest to the same people how they could change their condition. The messages are to be delivered by any medium necessary.

Chapter 12, 'Change Clothes' takes a small break from the momentum of the artivist idea and discusses the idea of the prison mentality, through the writer's encounter with his cousin who is just released from prison. The writer suggests that not only are there more prisoners from the African-American community, there's also a mental prison, which relates to Chapter 2, where Black youth are trapped in a stereotype. And just as in Chapter 2, the writer calls for resistance against this prison, but with a more urgent tone.

In 'Conquering The ÷' Chapter 13, discusses the generational gap of African-Americans, both of which the writer points out to have a common enemy, but sadly does not fight together but instead fight each other. Older, more conservative Blacks viewed both blues and jazz to not be representative of the “decent black folk”, while a generation later, the conscious rapper Melle Mel's support for Jesse Jackson's presidential run through a rap song dedicated to Jackson was not featured in his campaign. The Hip Hop generation took this as a rejection of their whole generation, not just rap music. Here was a generation that has found it's own voice, and yet their very own parents are trying to silence that voice, and demonizing it when they fail to. The writer showed a slight self-contradiction here when he states that the older generation views the gain of better distribution through the discovery of a large white market, while his stand in this chapter seems to lean on the Hip Hop generation's plea to be accepted. As we have seen in the earlier chapters, the writer's own views seem to be parallel to that of the older generation. After establishing this divide, the writer continues on a long discussion on why both generations should unite, and his language became more suggestive than ever in calling for unity.

The last chapter, 'A Lesson Before Dying:A Phone Interview With Hip Hop', which is another fictional interview this time with a character called Hip Hop, the writer finally concludes all his anger and represents it in the fictional interviewee, who first explains what Hip Hop is, what it represented, and finally what it is fully capable of for the post-Hip Hop generation. A lot is repeated from previous chapters, and it finally concludes with the call for change in reaction against the situations they face.

Overall, this book is not much of a documentation than it is a motivational book. The historical and social observations were used to justify the writer's views on the issues concerning the post-Hip Hop generation. The writer's reliability is questioned towards the end of the book, where he shifts his language from an open debate with the reader to a more dictating tone of what the reader should do. Although the messages in the book are positive, the writer's personal motivations and sometimes overwhelming discontent on certain issues might put his words to question. Moreover, the referencing method is hardly suggesting accuracy. In conclusion, this book was a moving account of the writer's view of just how powerful Hip Hop's potential in voicing out for the youth, so much so that it is bigger than Hip Hop itself.

The World Is Yours(the birthday song)

2009-07-30T10:05:00.002+08:00

recorded a rough demo of something i wrote for my birthday yesterday, and i think it has potential.anyone wana contribute a beats for this? thanks for the wishes btw :) enjoy

http://www.zshare.net/audio/6335310160eebedf/

Instrumental; Nas - The World Is Yours

i woke up late on my born day,21 years of blessing
adolescence isnt present,maybe faintly,lets not stress it
the message was clear as heavenly texts
flowing in a vessel,surviving the test of time
encased in rhyme,formulate the words to open minds
like Yasmin Ahmad and brain surgery combined
to be the gem of my generation,
penetrating every culture and connect like Michael Jackson to the death
moonwalk with Armstrong,kneel to no management
scribbling my destiny,i question what my age meant
society enslaves mental capacity,
limits intimidate only initiate intricacy-
of rebel state of minds,pumping toxic so sublime
subtly shaping civilizations
that of the panopticon kind,power hungry creations-
never satisfied,that's the problem that we're facing now

born as a Leo in the dragon's age
in the New World Attribute of things,city of angels burned
like the eternal flame of my parents that day
place of knowledge was the setting for love's appearance
he grew out of his Nikes,tuck his shirt in
coz her dad wanted to do it right before things worsen
there was no proposal,agreed on the phone
ceremony abroad coz she couldn't afford to come home
soon after that the chemistry embellished this marriage
with the first born after a few miscarriages
pain and treasured moments captured on mental cameras,
with the little me being at the centre of the struggle
huddled through the downturn of the decade
nasi lemak in LBC before flying back to the Malacca straight
relocated to the ninth state capital
she taught me the physics,he engineered the chemicals

21 gun salute,
peep the digits,here's the scoop
11 years of innocence,3 years of pressure
2 years of hope and 3 years of pleasure
2 years of bliss half the time it went flop
in between 5 years of passion for Hip Hop
2 years of Rick Dee's 'fore i heard Mobb Deep
before all that i was born into Nasyeed
3 lovely angels came and made me complete
and now i'm with the 4th and she's from another country
but of course life is more than just the silly numbers
facts and figurative definitions made me start to wonder
what is beyond the cause,waking up to the mirror
barely recognize the face,shave my sin to breath clearer
i'm a reflection of the frosty world,check the scars you would know
my life is frozen in rhyme even when i go cold

Did Hip Hop Turned Gay Behind Me?

2009-07-27T01:40:00.003+08:00

I know and proudly state that I'm a homophobe, which I have every right to be one just like any homo thinks they have a right to be homo. But it's either I'm ignorant, or Hip Hop has just gone gay. I'm nagging about dance. What's a Hip Hop dance? Someone enlighten me please? 70% of the groups at the Hip Hop dance competition yesterday at youth park had gays in them, regardless of race. And I don't mean gay as in looking hot and manly gay. I'm talking bout cross-dressing gay.

The best most rhythmic group didn't win shit. Fine, good choreography pays. Fine, dance mixes are meant to highlight the most danceable parts of the most danceable songs, not necessarily the morally best songs. I'm just horrified at the level of homosexuality flaunted at an event supposedly branded Hip Hop. And the only breakdance group came in under-rehearsed, while the krumping and locking group didn't win anything.

Someone please school me. And I'm referring to Da Sho Case 8 here in Singapore held at the youth park on Saturday. No comment on the rap performances though. The sound system was too horrific to judge anything.

Stormy Weathers

2009-07-24T21:09:00.002+08:00

It's been a while since I actually wrote a full verse, let alone a whole song. Rusty with the flow, but still, it's better than nothing for now. Enjoy

Beat: Outkast - Da Art Of Storytelling Pt2 (Instrumental)

eternal flames ran out of fuel to fight the darkness that consumes
the very life that after lights switches it resumes
to be intruded by the forces that gave birth to a sold out worn down sole
spotted like a mole the problem out of control
leaving a hole deep in the whole eclipse we scripted against
by flipping distance into a bliss stance without a stiff fence
to fend off the bended field of vision
feelings switch into a failing mission with emissions
from systems crippled needing ventilation
vent the hate into exhaustion,get lost in our own creations
patience whilst being patted by patterns
passing past pleaded repositioning of purged planets
planned to plant the prophetic magic of love
in a timed burst unrehearsed,turned into a curse
even worse still fitting tight like surgical gloves
before she took her heart back from his vessel of words of forever

hanging by the string of promises broken by consequence
chosen since he gave up on giving in in arguments
monument of congruence gone in ruins
sparked a coldest cruelness his heart endures it
trying hard to blur his image of her
screaming to burn the negatives but it gets even more hurting
locking lips to sever every channel of escape
swallows the broken glass case,the contents tasted plastic
pass the stomaching of punishments
fun is when the pun begins,the sun is setting up traps
and all you hear is cracks but lack perspective
of how far he snapped,fingering for finesse in raps
furiously filling forms of formal introductions
to appropriately address any unexpected encounter
counting days of downturns,monitor intensities
while scouring his heart for the ability for hopeful possibilities

abandoning advices from his past vices
he diced the principles into compromised sizes
slashed and sliced his way through the needle storm
in search of hope to reconstruct his feeble form
always needed arms but his conditioning conditioned him
to be a strong mannequin in the absence of preferred positioning
petitioning for participation,audition any applicants
that fit the space in his heart left by past inhabitants
we have a new contestant,ignore the testing
presumed from her resume he could resume his calm breaths and
changing tones,she rings a well defined tune
clicked like his own reflection only without the hind view
fast forwards no turning back,adjust the seats
pedal to the floor but high enough to scuff the pain grabbing his feet
lacking discreetness,keeps it a secret
sand castles on dangerous waters,pedaling through his weaknesses

10 Signs I Was Back In Singapore

2009-07-12T06:34:00.004+08:00

1st sign was the girl on the bus with the distinctive Malay-Singaporean style tudung.

2nd sign was malaysian buses dropping passengers in the middle of nowhere 10 minutes before they can recognize the nearest landmark or find a road sign and find that they're in the middle of the city.

3rd sign was cab drivers mistaking you for a thai or a very tanned chinese and starts greeting you in chinese, until you make a blur face and say,"what?" in English.

4th sign was the infamous ERP gantry.

5th sign was the priority given to crossing pedestrians at traffic light junctions.

6th sign was the scarcity and the sudden need of a Maybank branch.

7th sign was finding a church, 2 temples, and a mosque within less than 100 meters apart from each other.

8th sign was the elevator that skips certain floors.

9th was the absence of the azan

10th is leeching for wifi

But of course, nothing like a good reflection of Singaporean culture to greet you home.

Home sweet 2nd home :)

Dafrosty @ The Bomb Shelter 7

2009-07-09T16:33:00.003+08:00

THE BOMB SHELTER WAS A BOMB! Thanks to all that came down! Not forgetting those who were eager to be there! Your sheer thought of wanting to come meant the world to me. Arrived home at 5am last night, tired as ever. If I was a Myspace addict instead of Facebook, the emoticon on my status would be 'accomplished' haha.

Here is the video of my slot last night. I'm still uploading the other slots, which will prove my point on how "mind blasting!" the gig was last night. Great performances back to back(yes,let me have my moment.haha) and I've yet to see a better crowd than this since I started performing last year. YOU WERE ALL AWESOME!

I'll keep updating this entry with more videos and pictures as I get them

Ramli Sarip - Keliru

2009-07-04T00:22:00.002+08:00

I'm so digging this track right now. Best believe you'll see a song of mine that'll sound like this in a few months. haha

The Bomb Shelter 7

2009-07-01T19:45:00.007+08:00

Come come come. Expect poetic bombardment!

Thanks Again

2009-06-30T05:20:00.002+08:00

Chorus: Sarah Green
Can you let me know
Baby, can we get up together
I ain't like them tricks, I do true better
Don't waste no more time
Baby, let's, go (Can you let me know)
Baby, I'm down to do whatever
I don't really care, it doesn't matter
Let's not waste no time
Baby, let's, go

(Verse 1)
Love, you gotta love it
Hold hands in public
I does it
Cool
I dug it
Everything you do
And everything you doesn't
Everything you done, hope I'm the one, you does it
To
Hope this trick goes wrong, then I'm cuttin'
Too
So I can feel it twice as much as two lose
To lose is something that I never wanna do
I'm too loose to check on this trek like Chu
Choose
To choose, I rather have you
Even if it's half
And I don't even hold for the whole
If I have two
But I don't want a one
That's too close to none
Come
But get rid of the gun
It's covered in clues
The one that you use, to kill off the playa inside
And I
Bought back some flowers from the funeral
For ya
You should come and make moves with a brother like

Repeat Chorus

[Verbal]
Uh
Yeah, you know it
I go by the name
Of Verbal (Yep, yep, yep)
Yeah
Let's go

(Verbal 2)
It all happened in a second
My universe froze
Ain't a situation I chose
But it, chose me
When I caught a glimpse
Of you
Beautiful, just posin'
I know that
All them rappers, we talkin' 'bout
Hoes and clothes
But she ain't that type, ya see
Anyway
I'm still froze
Like Megatron in cryogenic
Form
I need to get warm
She's my Q
I gotta transform
So I can come
Through when whatever she wants
She's already
Flossed and glossy, charm with the four seas
Can't imagine what her closet will cost me
Yeah
My brain spin with velocity
Thinking 'bout ways to get up
With ya
But I can't
Seem to be the man
So I just stand
Wishin' I can have ya (Come on)

Repeat Chorus Twice

Hook: Verbal
Yeah
At times like this
I don't know what to do but to rhyme like this
She probably don't even know I exist
Can't figure out why I can't take risk
Yeah
At times like this
I'm wishin' I could be a little stronger than this
Too many worries and prerequisites
Just to reach her
Just to read with ya
So far
Still so far apart
All I want
Is just to talk
I swear to God
Yeah
So far
We still so far apart
All I want
Is just to talk (Talk, talk, talk)

It Was Great

2009-06-29T02:48:00.003+08:00

finally.thanks.

Rhyme Time Travel: Roxanne Shante(and Michael Jackson tribute)

2009-06-28T01:21:00.003+08:00

It was just another night online, hoping to finish the IM conversations on FB,YM, and MSN early so I could wake up easier to send my sis to kindergarten at 8. Somehow Roxanne came to mind. So I dug up Youtube and was blown away. Pure skill. Nuff said.

Listen to UTFO's Roxanne Roxanne first, coz this was what sparked everything I suppose.

Now listen to what the 14 year old Roxanne Shante had to say.

Amazed yet? No? Then hold on. Watch this Documentary snippet first before proceeding.

Ok now strap yourselves. You're in for a ride with one of the dopest emcees to have ever rocked the mic (you can kiss your sexist ass goodbye now).

Here are a few excerpts from wikipedia's biography of her;

Roxanne Shanté, Ph.D. (born Lolita Shanté Gooden, November 9, 1969) is an American hip-hop pioneer. Born and raised in the Queensbridge Projects, Shanté first gained attention through the Roxanne Wars and her association with the Juice Crew.

Shanté's career began at the age of 14 when she encountered influential gangster world of record producer Marley Marl, radio DJ Mr. Magic, and Tyrone Williams talking about how UTFO had canceled its appearance at a show that it was promoting. Shanté offered to record an answer to UTFO's recent hit "Roxanne, Roxanne," which was about a woman named who rejects the members of the group. The men agreed and the result was "Roxanne's Revenge," a confrontational and profane song in which Shanté assumed the role of Roxanne, dissing UTFO over a Marley Marl-produced instrumental.

As an MC, Shanté had an extraordinary ability to freestyle (improvise) entire songs. "Roxanne’s Revenge" was an example, reportedly written as it was recorded—in one take.

At the age of 25, Shanté retired from the recording industry to become a psychologist. She continues to make occasional guest appearances and live performances, as well as mentor young female hip-hop artists. She earned a PhD in psychology from Cornell University[1][2][3]—paid for by her record label via an unusual contract clause—and has a practice in Queens.[4] She is a vegan and owns Hip-Hop Ices ice cream parlor in Queens.

In 2008, her song "Roxanne's Revenge" was ranked number 42 on VH1's 100 Greatest Hip Hop Songs.

That's it for now. You may do your own further digging, as I would. I wonder which emcee should I highlight next?

And last but not least, rest in peace beloved King of Pop. You rocked my world, you know you did.

Yes, that was my favorite MJ tune, among others. Honestly it took me a while to shake off the Michael I read about these few years, before I managed to recall who he really was; an epitome of entertainment. He will forever live in his music and in the hearts of those who grew up with him being a household name. As with James Brown, lets look past whatever flaws we may have heard of him and lets remember him as one of(if not THE most) greats in the entertainment world.

On the downside, it's hard not to listen to all the Michael Jackson tribute rotations on radio, reading about the instant clearance of stock for his records("including Jackson 5" wrote one store on a shelf), and seeing all this tribute craze, without asking how much Sony BMG (and Universal Music Group for The Jackson 5 if I'm not mistaken) is profiting from all this. Yeah. Pursuing a degree that heavily examines the music industry sucks like that. Hmm...

Dont Blink

2009-06-23T22:54:00.001+08:00

Ok lame.

Don't you just love it when you old favorite tunes just come back and haunt you in your present turmoils?

Lyrics:

(I miss you miss you)
Hello there the angel from my nightmare
The shadow in backround of the morgue
The unsespecting victim of darkness in the valley
We can live like Jack and Sally if we want
Where you can always find me
And we'll have Halloween on Christmas
And in the night we'll wish this never ends
We'll wish this never end

Where are you and I'm so sorry
I cannot sleep I cannot dream tonight
I need somebody and always
This sick strange darkness comes creeping on so haunting everytime
And as I stared I counted the webs from all the spiders
catching things and eating their insides
Like indecision to call you
And hear your voice of treason
Will you come home and stop this pain tonight
stop this pain tonight

Don't waste your time on me your already the voice inside my head(6x)

Schizzow - Beautiful Imperfections

2009-06-22T02:56:00.002+08:00

A video just released by Rogue Squad member Schizzow. I recall this song being one of the few local topical favs of mine a while back, and good news for me, it's gona be featured in his upcoming album Schizzowphrenic. Peep that good shiieeetttt

Jedi Mind Tricks - I Who Have Nothing

2009-06-18T02:29:00.001+08:00

I, I who have nothing...

Verse I: Ikon

Intersections in real time
The unbroken circle and dimensions of the mind
The tie that binds
The eternal tie that defines
The vanity of my insanity in due time
Will shine
Like the night seas under the moon
The haunted corners of familiar rooms
Yet i'm consumed
We're vanishing into thin air
The realization that this shit is my cross to bare
So where
Did I think I could run away to see
The people that decided to leave without asking me
But we
Decide to wait for happier tomorrows
And find someone so they can be distractions from our sorrow
But my distractions the books of paper that i scrawl in
I'm eloquent as summer breeze and leaves that have just fallen
I've crawl in a corner hoping all of this will end
With the knowledge that love is just another word for revenge
I who have nothing but the comfort of my sins
I who have nothing but the comfort of my friends

Chorus:

I, I who have nothing
I, I who have no one
I, I who have nothing
I, I who have no one

Verse II: Ikon

As I decay, demons prey above me like a vulture
Ability to endure contradiciton is a high sign of culture
Verbal sculptures, self defacing
It is not God or lunacy that I am facing
But the erasing of the purity and passion of my words
The herds of cattle babble on with talk of the absurd
But I preferred
To walk away from all the feuds
To find my life is more confusing than a rubic's cube
So i'm subdued
In all my words of verbal prods
To live alone one must be an animal or a God
But it's official
All of my pain is clear as crystal
The natural side of life has now been seeming artificial
But I can hit you
And rest assured that i'ma last words
I could give a fuck about ya secrets and ya past words
I can pass words and their ability to hurt you
Patience is a virtue and knowledge is a commercial
I who have nothing but the pain that I refer to
I who have nothing but the pain that I refer to

Chorus

Verse III: Ikon

Lost among the miracles, I stand alone
And i've grown into a being that's sitting on top a throne
I've known
For many years that I would turn to rust
I find a reason for another breath
Before my return to dust
I become one with science and mathematics and the rising of the sun
I'm numb
To all of those who blind and cannot see
The chastiser of the enemy
Perception requires duality
Inspect ya soul, the color of coal inside the body
I have hardly come across them who's holy
Send them to the cherubim to control thee
Burning of the sun and frigidness of the cold
The battle field is new but the war is now old
You can never see the merest shadow of a halo
Above the head of evil djin who's deadly like tornado
The world has become an aquarium
Full of gaping fish with murderous smiles
I on the other hand stand on the outside looking in
Writing down murderous files
I who have nothing but the lack of variation
And I who have nothing but chains and suffocation

There comes a time in every man's life when he's gotta handle shit all on his own

I've Found The Sign And It Says "Iman"

2009-06-17T01:31:00.004+08:00

In my desperate journey of piecing together the past in hopes to rebuild and possibly restart, including the no less desperate search for advice that would conform to my stubborn grip, I finally found the missing piece that could possibly answer all questions from both sides.

Had a dream last night. The highlight was me walking around in UIA Gombak with a very good friend of mine. As with others whom I've talked to during this messy episode of mine, I tried to explain what happened based on what I've gathered so far, and proposed my plans. As with most of the others, he wasn't impressed, but there was something else on his mind.

When I finished my blabbering, he said, "aku nak tanye ko satu je; ade Iman tak dalam relationship ko?" or in English, "I only have one question; do(did) you have Iman(religious faith) in your relationship?" I tried to answer by bitching about how clean I am except for the little bit of porn which I countered by saying that it felt worthless these days so I've been slowing down on it(honest!). He wasn't impressed, obviously. But he had the look that says I have(or probably have figured out)the answer and he wont say it. I woke up failing to answer him, with that calm smile look of his etched in my mind this whole day(except when we were backstage at J-Rock's concert, one of the most famous bands in indo right now, of which the bassist is a cousin of my classmate who brought us in. indo trip pics coming soon, right after i find a usb cable for my camera).

Upon waking up, I reflected on this guy's relationship. I know him and his beloved personally from college, him even more these days since I'm working for him after I got out of UIA. It never really occurred to me what his relationship was based on. I never asked, not wanting to question him so much. Just the friendly teases that's all. But the very fact that he appeared in my dream asking a question which he probably came up with after summarizing both relationships I've been through that I've talked to him about, but never did ask in real life, nor anything of such, made me wonder.

Maybe his wasn't based on anything he tried to make me understand in this dream, but nonetheless, the question and the idea made me reflect on my love lives, past, present, and future.

In my first real relationship, it was far more messy than this. I even would sometimes refer to it as dysfunctional. But it wasn't that bad. Out of all the dark sinful days, I still remember the few times when we were alone which I made her wear the tudung, and this one time I lead her in prayer back in the early days of the relationship. But I also remember one night when she really wanted to pray, but I wasn't in the right mind, so I teased and disturbed her. Later on in the journey, she and her friends would make fun of girls from my college wearing a slightly larger tudung that covered their chest and shoulders(tudung labuh), and I would silently feel offended 'cause I had a lot of friends, even really close ones, who wear the same in the name of God.

I'd skip my second relationship for this post, as any details discussed here might make things worse than it already is.

As for my current pursuits in my efforts to move on, this dream was like an order to re-strategize. What are my current 'crushes' and potential friendships based on? Honestly I couldn't find the Iman in question. I still haven't found a way to take this into account when moving on into another relationship, neither can I justify the recent broken one to have Iman by the small parts of redemption and religious advice and encouragement we exchanged.

One point kept coming to mind when trying to answer this. God's love and love to God is claimed to be eternal. Could this mean that any other exchange of love based on the love of God is possible of eternity, too? But how is this made possible before marriage? In fact, despite how I admire and promote how dope the Islamic ideologies of the family institution which manifests itself in the seemingly strict laws of inter-gender interaction, I always find it hard to figure out the part that preludes to the lawful bonding of a man and a woman, marriage, and that is how we make that informed decision of whether or not we can trust the other person with our future, kids, finances, happiness, without going against the boundaries of interaction set by Islam.

It just bothers me that this essential part of the teaching has been left gray by the schools. On one hand we have the parents, whom strict or not, would leave their kids to find out what love is themselves. On the other, there are schools with religious teachers who say pre-marital marriage and anything that leads to it is unlawful and punishable. So what do the kids do? Especially when the local media portrays an alternative answer from a non-Islamic point of view about how love works. From here and from friends who are most probably have been influenced by the same sources, we learn of crushes, love, relationships, lust, flirts and so on. Why? Other than the fact that the strict religious education systems seem to not be interested in getting every single student interested in the subject, society as a whole seems to condone this 'journey of love' the youth would take. The result? Complaints of 'society ills', which I have been largely and hypocritically part of.

I know too little, obviously. This blog has been the very proof of how little I know and how shallow my perception can be. Nonetheless, if not to share knowledge, I'd love to share questions in hopes of initiating answers which I may not get back directly from others, but hopefully from my own self as I type my accounts and observations of such matters. Hopefully discussions would finally start in this blog.

The only solution I've heard of are only two. One was through friends setting up the relationship with no real interaction between the two unless both parties are ready to talk marriage with each other. My own parents, their friends, and a couple of my own friends have been down this road. The good thing about them is that these match makings were conducted by friends of strong religious backgrounds, and they would also take into consideration your own religious background when pairing you up with another.

The second would be through parents. Many may argue this is irrelevant today, but I've seen and heard some of these happen while growing up, and they seem to be doing fine. Again, the profiling and pairing up is done by the parents, though bias of inter-family ties may affect the match making. Nonetheless, it's still practical considering it fulfills both criteria of Islamic family initiation; lawful bonding, and controlled inter-gender interaction before marriage.

The problem, or rather, the common concern about these methods, even more so in our time of growing individualism, is the question of how well people can really know someone. No matter how much right they have to claim to do so, our own parents would never really know us, even more so if you're really secretive of your social life from your parents like me.

The first method is not so bad, though, since most would claim they tell their everything to their best friends. This is made concrete by the fact that most of us do trust our friends more than our families on certain issues, mostly regarding tonight's topic. But their match making and profile exchange all boils down to the initial meet, where all the stories of the other person would be relevant only up till the door, setting the meeting in place, probably initiating a conversation. After that, McLuhan rules.

Face to face interaction will almost never go wrong, as it is far more accurate than any other form or medium of communication. Despite the fact that one can control their first impressions, face to face communication has been the main trusted medium for hopeful men and women to know each other and to learn whether or not they would be able to trust the person to accompany them to the future. In fact, I'd say that's one of the most concrete reasons why we date someone whom we think we've fallen for, and is the common idea behind 'being a couple' before marriage.

The problem with the peer approach is that this interaction is too short, while the relationship method is too long and may invite the danger of going against the boundaries. This may be controlled by the parents after the initiation process by the peers, but it's still pretty gray

While we all search for the right approach, the main question which was raised by my dream still remains; is there Iman in it? What is the relationship(or possibly even marriage) based on? Is Iman at the very heart of it, or are we just claiming it is so to hide other intentions and reasons? Is there Iman in your love?

time.to.re.think.

p/s: writing my brains off is what i like to do when i feel like i need a smoke break but i cant coz i dont wana start smoking.jeah jeah

Aerophobia

2009-06-12T00:00:00.004+08:00

The last time i was on a flight was from KL to Kuching, but the Air Asia flight was too stuffy and cheap for me to notice my fears, if i had any back then. 5 years later, there i was this afternoon, being in a much better Air Asia flight from Singapore, i realized i was scared. being stuck in the middle seat meant i couldn't get a book to read from my bag. all i had was a pen and a pocket notebook i'd always carry in my right pocket. so i did what any dedicated and bored writer would do. i started writing to get my mind off the fear. enjoy :)

got to my stuffy seat, but i wont complain

considering the heat just outside of this plane

cheesy music interrupted by the captain

turn off your celly please, get ready for some action

hope you're strapped in, sit tight for the head count

i feel uneasy coz i'm in the middle seat,couldn't get out-

so easily,no window to please this-

feeling of longing for home but it's just the start of my field trip

i feel sick already,seriously though

chest pains,probably nervous of how this will go

felt a bump,we have probably detached

from the pressure hatch connected to the terminal

i feel a little movement here and there

is it coz of the budget status or we're gona catch some air

prepare for anything,that's all i can do

great,i'm getting bored,i cant even see the loo

shit i was so hyped up,why aren't we moving?

ouh i see,safety demonstrations saying "this is how you do it"

darn,finally we're moving down the track

i'm on the way to clear my head,there's no turning back

the engine roar manifests the engineering power

there's probably a "go ahead" given by the control tower

a cold shower would depressurize the cabin

i regret watching all the news about the plane crashes

coz i heard it's gona get kinda cloudy on our arrival

last words from the pilots who'll determine our survival

ready set go the engine accelerates

push me back to my seat,better hold on to your faiths

it feels like an eternity but heck it just ended

we have liftoff,the crew has done a splendid job

but wait,it's all far from over

i feel the wind resisting as the plane leans on it's shoulder

left and right the torque scares me

swallowed to calm my ears as we cut through the heaven mist

and now,we're almost at the top

ascending gradually on our way to the next stop

thank God,the seat belt light is off

i'm gona sleep now,write you later when i get off

after constantly depressurizing my stomach for an hour

announcements come in saying we're getting down so-

please put your seats upright,wear your seat belts

the sign of land below signaling that we'd get there

a gush of wind breezed through, now we're getting down

the sun rays pierced the cabin with the trembling sounds

of the brakes deployed and flaps lowered

if we could use electronics y'all,i could show this

now we're steadily circling the island for an angle

while the sight of towns below is too beautiful for me to handle

machine noise scares the shit out of me

more like metal roars,while we swing silently

aiming for that floor,seeing we're-

coming nearer to the ground and now we-

have touched down, wind brake flap open well

prayers are now answered,i could almost tell

i smell something burning what the fuck is that?

prolly the tire friction steaming hot on the tracks

final words from the pilot,phew,now it's almost done

making our way in to park,it was dangerously fun

i'm just glad that we had a safe and almost steady flight

slowing down to the terminal,Jakarta is in sight

one last point i wana add to this

the old guy next to me said,"rajin kamu menulis"

Always Coming Back Home To You

2009-06-10T01:25:00.001+08:00

please

2009-06-07T03:18:00.003+08:00

when i was 13 - 14, i loved to grip tight a pair of scissors to the point just before it tore my skin.being confined under family expectations and overprotection aint fun.

at 15 and 16, in boarding school, i used to punch my steel locker so much that one day i did it so hard i cudnt write for a week.being a social outcast aint fun.

at 19 i wrote a detailing verse about cutting myself, through every layer of skin n pain nodes to the veins to death. around the same time i screamed a lot.having your dad said he still doesnt trust you after a whole year of supposed forgiveness,being stuck to fucked up circumstances,and losing friends bcoz of it,wasnt fun.

now that i rent a room in a flat owned by a family who got small kids, with no medical budget,in a foreign land,being straight edge really sucks.i realize i can only write so much.i masturbate a lot though. but that doesnt help with the pain. coz just the thought of sex would bring it all back. be it you or the sins before. mostly you.it's not fun trying to move on,trying to think of others knowing that if i'd ever get hooked to anyone,i'd only hug her coz i long for your hugs.

now i'm out of tricks.too smart to hurt/kill/distract/hallucinate myself,but too dumb to let go.

we need to talk.we always did.please

Untangling Emotions

2009-06-04T23:12:00.002+08:00

I fell in love with fool's gold
the truce hold was loose
long before the truth told that we are apart
I make my art
like Leonard convinced he described his heart
I'm deep mining hard hats
departed from scarred scalps
we spar back and forth on tarmacs
but lacking far-fetched dreams

coz we were living in some bad seas
gone drunk and bagged seeds
that sunk as hands bleed
our tongue has bled speech
but junk would have me
at "come and jab,please"

so i grabbed my opportunity
snatched the other tune and leave
sacked the outer fusion,leaped back to counter eulogies
coz Max wont count the human needs
of planning powers used in grief
past built towers soon to kneel
pan guilt out for room to breath
cant dig doubt from tombs that read
"lasting clouds that used to be"

rain on me once more
pain is deep I'm sure
may we keep naught scores
say "believe" not scorn
pray we leave unworn
by the heat from walls laid to keep us torn
stay within our shores

i'll be on the next flight
we'd be on the next fight
it'll be gone the next night
lets put on our best mights
to craft the uncertain future
i yearn to spur our hurt to turn back
you've heard that i learn fast
no words could burn gaps
but slowly,perhaps
these curves would swerve snap

cursive overlap the verses interacted
worsening the fact that words are blurred from purpose,sadly
that is where our love is
hidden in between words that would never do justice
to interpretations which without,love is lifeless
and dreams of us are like my offered hugs,priceless

Sage Francis - Bridle/The Emperor's New Clothing Live

2009-05-30T23:54:00.003+08:00

Maze broken
She’s runnin’
Feet swollen
He’s comin’
She’s stolen
And before he even knows it she’s gone.
Tea cups sittin’ on the hollow tree stumps
He’s dumped, and can’t seem to swallow these lumps
The beat goes on…

Same fire
New passion
Old flame
Trade it in for a summer fling
There’s nothing like that sweet old song…

Tip over
Root the trees
Bend the leaves
Blend in with the open wound
The freeze frames keep him warm…

The day’s frost is scraped off the weight loss
The new sign that says keep off
As he speeds off into the storm…

Out of spite the lighting strikes him twice
He’s peaking out on the pike and cheatin life
Peeling out on the lawn

Now he’s idling
And time is dwindling
In his mind he’s figuring out life’s about the little things
And his labyrinth
And all his magnificent can only keep the mice trapped
The princess is innocent
She doesn’t belong…

(I never thought I’d miss you)
They had a ceremony where he put her in a bridle, the headstall…
She stopped to think for a minute, and in a split second went AWOL.
(I never thought I’d miss you)
He draws in the chin as in a expression of resentment or scorn

He’s pullin’ on the reigns, the bridle, the shower the storm
The maze, the high tower, clouds are at war…
The reigns, the bridle, the shower, the storm…
The maze, high tower, clouds are at war
The reigns, the bridle, the shower, the storm…
The maze, the high tower, clouds are at war, clouds are at war, clouds are at war...

(I never thought I’d miss you)

I listen for secrets hidden in whispers...in the winter time/
And catch them tickling my whiskers...colliding with wind chimes/
The kind that send shivers...up and down tingling spines/

Thinking time could stretch if...

we'd spin a design inside our web that would catch drifts/
The type that blow out birthday candles before we make our death wish/

I'm waiting for a message in my calling so I'm checking my voice mail,
and I'm answering machines with man-made dreams.
Man made bandaids to cover up the seams.
The cover-up seems to only work if the wound never opens up or bleeds.

Beads of sweat form above the eyes of a heathen Emperor/
Who won't get on his feet and step outside into the freezing temperature/
He wants to adjust the global thermostat/
But he's so remote...and you can't control the world like that/

Come to find these eggs ain't even golden.
I see depreciation in the family jewels the Queen is holding.
That broken marraige was fixed. It happened when her feet were frozen.
She still remains to be the only one who's seen the Emperor's new clothing...

p/s: i think Youtube's actions of taking down unlicensed videos are going too far. fine i dont mind ripped audio from albums like the original video embedded here, but official music videos? they even took down the full version of Planet Rock by Afrika Bambaataa, uploaded by a Youtube user not the label, but the licensed video doesnt seem to be available anywhere else(i'm talking bout the original cut, not the trimmed down version, which is really degraded). how am i supposed to promote hip hop's roots to a generation that's chopped off from it's information sources? fight the download-from-youtube services by working your way around your programming would be a much better option than limiting the much needed promotion of the artists.hmph

Family Affair Videos

2009-05-29T05:57:00.006+08:00

*UPDATE*

Here are the lyrics of the songs performed:

Salvation

Never There (previously titled I'm Not There. changes were made to suit it's present relevance)

Finally

Studio versions coming soon...

Original post:

________________________________________________

Here's yours truly performing Salvation(rapcore cover), Never There, and Finally. Enjoy :)

also available on my facebook. search for Max Dafrosty, or click on the Facebook badge on the right bar :)

Sun Setting

2009-05-28T19:24:00.001+08:00

sitting by the dawn of her new born,flesh torn

dreaming of a night that is long gone

holding on to the fiery clouds promise of

a better outcome but it better not come when the song's done

coz she would rather set her hair locked under covers

other commitments would have to be stopped for her lover

took her condition shoved up

couldn't be bothered that she's not ready as a mother

held the rising star with her paranoid hands

careful not to strangle when she wrapped the asteroid belt

around this cradle of innocent souls

she made it then her goal never to leave him alone

phoned home base told em she has grown

send em globes of love letters while being flown

away into her own ring of orbit worn proud

as her stomach shrinks back to her angelic form,

now he gets older by infinite showers

she devours him in filled with emotions powerful

enough to win any struggle she juggles

as long as he was in a huddle's reach

especially in times when her suffers peaked

others speak of their bond as unseen before

she sings out the scores of his attempts to walk

thought him her name the very instant he could talk

dusted off chalk lines of her passing life

only kept silhouettes that is left as disguising

the fact she has lied to herself

that she would always keep him shielded even after her death

she banked on his future the best she could afford

all the off days earned were spent to raise him accordingly

he grew up to write about the world

soon after she left for a place beyond words

John Legend - Insan Biasa

2009-05-26T03:02:00.002+08:00

John Legend - Ordinary People
lyrics translated by Aiman 'Dafrosty' Mohd Misri

kucinta pada kamu
bukannya bulan madu
banyak yang kita dah harungi
dalam hangat bercinta
kan benci tak terhingga
seperti bergaduh tiap hari

ku punya masalah
kau juga bersalah
kita belajar dari situ
oh seksanya cinta
kau tetap pertama
kan tetap bersama
mungkin perlahankan dulu

kita hanya insan biasa
tak tahu hala tuju
hanyalah insan biasa
perlahankanlah dulu
perlahankan oh oh ohh
jangan terburu buru
perlahankan oh oh ohh
jangan terburu buru

bukannya lakonan
tiada janji kesudahan
ia makin teruk demi hari
kadang ke kayangan
jatuh dalam kegelapan
pegangkanlah erat diri ini

segalanya retak
kita bangkit rebah
kadang ingin pergi sahaja
cinta kan bermatang
kita ambil peluang
ini bukan mimpi
ku tetap mahu kau di sisi

kita hanya insan biasa
tak tahu hala tuju
hanyalah insan biasa
perlahankanlah dulu
perlahankan oh oh ohh
jangan terburu buru
perlahankan oh oh ohh
jangan terburu buru

sabarlah
mungkin kan bersama
mungkinpun tak lama
mungkin tunggu
mungkin pergi
mungkin kembali
mungkin akan punah
mungkin takkan sudah
tapi mungkin bahagia
takkan pasti jua

kita hanya insan biasa
tak tahu hala tuju
hanyalah insan biasa
perlahankanlah dulu
hey hey
kita hanya insan biasa
tak tahu hala tuju
hanyalah insan biasa
perlahankanlah dulu
perlahankan oh oh ohh
jangan terburu buru
perlahankan oh oh ohh
jangan terburu buru
perlahan,lahan
jangan terburu buru
perlahankan oh oh ohh
jangan terburu buru

One Night Stand-Up

2009-05-22T19:06:00.001+08:00

the lustful wind stroke her fairly torn complex thoughts

of a road not mistaken for dreams undone

but her doubts were right to pre-dictate her actions

not enough to avoid the pull under pressures

lower than her overstanding of the devil

and in the atmosphere of regret

her skin felt as smooth as the gravel

on the walkways to hell

she was burning hot like the earth

after being stripped bare of it's ozone

her oceans of hormones,dried

while lubricating the frictions of the asteroid belt

the volcano speech she screamed

would make any W Bush melt to the knees

there's no escape

this was all bound to be restrained from helplessly

her mouth was the door into deeper conversations,

her tongue,the guide,with her lips the gates,

and self dignity and home-grown morals,the lock

how unfortunate of her,she dated a wordsmith

who's like a locksmith of sorts

the way he poked the keyholes of her attire

with suggestive double demeaning educated arguments about life,

twisting and turning,keeping an open ear to clicks,

and fragile loopholes of her sex education

and once they've exchanged contracts of consent

to keep within touching range

of each other's filthy arms length

the rest,as they say,

was his story

www (We'reWordsWorth)

2009-05-22T19:05:00.001+08:00

imagine every single word that represent the human miracle

every little cell organ tissue molecule

every strand and follicle of your volatile soul

each is a word whether combined or it's own

multiply by your age, and the many pages-

you waged your struggles in,people you huddled with,

add your interactions with them

and factor them in along with obtained wisdom

don't forget the cells you expand,shells you outgrew

growth of scar tissues you can never undo

messages you absorbed, fact or untrue

cultures religions and trends you sprung to

time to examine what you've got so far

multiplied by the moments that define who you are

imagine the gazillion of roman alphabets-

that your name represents,now are you still worthless?

Good Picks Of The Day

2009-05-22T03:12:00.000+08:00

Words Are Never Enough. We Are

2009-05-21T01:43:00.003+08:00

if a picture is worth a thousand words, considering the proverb refers to a two-dimensional artifact, then a three-dimensional object must be worth millions of words, what more if the object performs movement. must be billions if it moves. action speaks louder than words they say. what about an object that has a soul, say, humans? must be gazillions! to make it easier to understand, think of the many parts of the human body there are, and each has it's name. lets take a cell, say, collagen. now one collagen cell represents a single word, that is it's own name, collagen. now we do know the skin is the largest organ of the human body. so how many collagens are there? and how many words does that make? now apply and add that to the whole human body. how many words are you worth? now don't forget the each carbon atom is one word too. how about the experiences of growing up and growing up itself? the many dead cells disposed of?

the petty number of words we speak throughout our lifetime, what more the words we speak to and of each other, are never enough to match that. words are never enough.

but if you add to the many forms of human communication through all our senses, including that of which our metaphorical hearts feel and think of each other, and consider each message through these channels as letters forming words, then it might just add up to match how much you're worth. words might just be enough if you do not solely depend on these roman alphabets, but also on the other forms of communications when we interact.

for a long time, i wrongfully thought that in cyberspace, when communication is stripped down into words, it would best represent the soul, the inner character, the true personality of a person. however these data streams are only representative, never accurate nor direct whatever the time frame is, as there's always a virtual medium. i also learned that even on the phone, there is no soul. only the representation of the human voice. these virtual mediums strip down 'unnecessary' information, varying by medium, but these stripped down informations often include the human itself physically. even through video calls, we are unaware of the entire surrounding information that might affect how the other person is interacting with us, and it would never feel the same as actually being there. ever. I'd challenge technology on this, but Marshall McLuhan already did a few technological eras ago, and his words still apply.

words are never enough. we are. but often journeys and struggles would require sacrifices of being stripped down to 'necessary' information, which in our case, love, are ourselves and feelings stripped down into mere words. it's what we'd have to settle for for now till i get back to you physically. but the metaphorical sense that is this heart of mine shall long for you and your words, no matter how soulless they are, because they are the closest i can get to you, and i cherish them as much and as long as i can, if not always.

words are never enough. we are.

Good Picks Of The Day

2009-05-19T03:55:00.001+08:00

Nas - Sly Fox

Consequence - Job Song

Sage Says It Best

2009-05-15T04:48:00.000+08:00

The lights are out
The phones are dead
And I'm the only thing that's running in this city
Except for the clouds
Man, they're coming down
If I knew my way around, I wouldn't feel so dizzy
Where's the telly?
Nobody can tell me
I don't speak a lick of that language and got a slippery memory
If I spelled it all out on my arm
Only if
But I didn't, so I think, "Get a grip, kid. Deal with it"
Baby's waiting for a ring
And won't settle for the substitute excuse that's forming
I've got a complicated case of escapism
For her, I tried to rewire my nature
Too tired to wake her
Up out of that artificial calm she was on
A drug-induced future that slipped out of her palms
Seductive rain dancer, she thinks I'm waterproof
Like Superman doesn't need a roof over his head
When I come home to roost, I'll need truth to hold in bed
But I'm seeking salvation in a booth, and the phones are dead
And the lights are out
And I'm the only thing that's living in this ghost town
Except for the clouds
And man, they're coming down
If I knew my way around by now, I'd be bound for home
Black out on white night in Rome
Black out on white night in Rome

I know that I'm in love, but I know I'm out of touch
And I know that I get dumb when I can sense something's up
And then I bottom out
European tailspin
Scrawling messages out on my pale skin in hopes they get mailed in
Before the ink poisoning takes effect
And it gets smudged 'cause I budge before letting paint set
I get judged by the ones who have shelter and rain checks
While I trudge through the mud because this foreign terrain's wet
Regain consciousness, then lose common sense
The ominous, dark skies that lie between me and Providence are signs
The obvious answer isn't standing on your face with stilettos on
If you pop the question wrong
Every song's a post afterthought, but I won't grab the chalk
To outline my body of work
Toe tags get caught in my teeth 'cause my foot is in my mouth
And the spurs are in my words, so my tongue can't dismount
Even after our rapport had fully run its course
I couldn't figure out the most heroic time to jump from the horse
And place this old hat for the last time on the coat rack
But I'd donate all my earnings from the race just to know that
Resisting urges to go back and get it later
Like the milk would unsour itself in the refrigerator
A wet boy in a dry, dry state
On an old country road where tradition has a blind date
I'll make it dance on its own grave tonight
With a change of direction by the pale moonlight
And if it needs theme music, I'll break out the bagpipes
Play a tune you ghostwrote me in a past life that goes like ...

Love It When You Call

2009-05-14T02:28:00.000+08:00

Yet Another

2009-05-11T14:07:00.003+08:00

The old saying is you don't know what you've got till it's gone.

Sometimes, though,

it hurts much more when you don't know what you've lost

till one fine day when you were still holding on strong

to the hopes of it coming back,

it left a goodbye note mailed to your heart,

delivered through the hole in your chest it left when it left

saying it has left for good for the better of both sides

and it's best to be kept that way

because the worst has yet to be undone

so might as well stop before we worsen into a worse connection

coz what we had was bad enough

so much so that it was good by the moment

and nothing more after the goodbyes

although we could try to go by the good times

but it's never enough like how life is

ironically that's what makes life so priceless

it's the timeless waiting of happiness never promised

but is often and forever hoped to drop by

but man is man enough to forget

that we can only get by by climbing up to the supply plane

instead of it dropping us cradles of hopeless dreams

we are impatient wanting a faster stream of converse

but the bandwidth of our understanding calls for some upgrading first

before we can quench the burst of dry talks with light walks on the plank

jumping back from the clouds holding hands

jumping back into reality

where if we survive the fall we'll hover between pain and serenity

and live forever happily even as our bodies rot

only the difference between heaven and hell will separate us

but i guess that has happened many times too often

but as always i'm forever waiting for my rescue boat

for it to turn around

lifetimes after it's blades crippled my possibilities of swimming back up

and i'm living off it's bubbles of small talks

Flyleaf - Broken Wings

2009-05-10T19:05:00.000+08:00

Thank you for being
such a friend to me
Oh I pray a friend for life
And have I ever told you
how much you mean to me
Oh you're everything to me
I'm thinkin all the time
how to tell what I feel
I'm contimplating phrases
I'm gazing at eternity
I am floating in serenity

And I am so lost for words
And I am so overwhelmed

Please don't go just yet
Can you stay a moment please?
We can dance together
and we can dance forever

Under your stars tonight
We'll live and breathe this dream

Close your eyes
but don't dream too deep
and please pass me some memories
But I fall you're underneath
a thousand broken hearts
Carried by a thousand broken wings
A thousand broken wings

My Whole Life

2009-05-09T02:44:00.000+08:00

here's my heart
take every liter of blood in it with you
that's the same way i feel when i handed you my arms
and every possible hug size with it
also when i lent you my ears
along with my deepest secrets
while you're at it,take my brain too
every spilling thought of you along with it
take my chest
so i wont have to hold my breath when in pain anymore
my legs
kick me out with that
my stomach
and every hint of your love i fed upon
my eyes
carved with a stencil the shape of yours,take it
my shoulders
and every drop of our mixed fears rested
my neck
and every exhaustion from the late night calls
my nose
and your smell that haunts me everywhere
my lips
and every 4 letter words i've spoken with it
love,lies,lust,life,
take it all from my tongue

i only shaved to kiss you goodnight better
i only wore glasses to see the signs better
i only cut my hair so i wont be so hot-headed
i only bought new sandals to keep up with you
i only cleaned myself to not stain you again
i only bled my fist thinking of you so i can feel again
i only exaggerated the last line above coz i wish it was true
i'm screaming on a page i wish it was you

love me again
hold me again
talk to me again
think of me again
inhale our dreams again
walk with me again
feed me your attention again
let me walk with you again
let me see you again
let me cry with you again
let me talk to you again
make me again an addict of your scent
let me love,lie to and with,lust for,and live with you again

you took everything from,of,and about me with you
because that's how much you're worth;
my whole life

Knocking On Heaven's Door

2009-05-06T21:40:00.002+08:00

Knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door
Keep on waiting for something more
More than silence,i smell vibrance
On the other side and this waiting is timeless

Knock, knock, knocking on heaven's floor
Bled my hands for answers i adored
Too long that my body vibrates
Into silent storms of revolt and violence

Knock, knock, knocking on, hoping for
An angel i knew but she is now lost
Left me her feathers for me to write with
Carved my skin with letters that are irate

Knock, knock, knocking on, knocking your
Windows to your heart I opened before
You changed the locks, I stand by the gates
Until being with you again is my fate

My Name Is Da Frosty.lol

2009-05-06T14:30:00.004+08:00

Come come come. I'm recording some cool shit to use for this show ;)

Sex and The Hijab

2009-05-05T23:26:00.004+08:00

As I was researching on 'sex in advertising' to present for my 'media industry issues' module, I recalled a link left on one of my tabs from last night's facebooking(that's a word?lol), which as always I forgot to read. So when I finally did, I thought, "hey, this girl has a very relevant argument to my topic." If only I could openly present it to my class which consists of just 1 muslim(me. or is it two?questionable still). If I did, I would need a strong argument and, as my lecturer has firmly stressed upon throughout all the classes, reliable references. To just quote the Quran would be considered biased. Need multiple sources and possibly research to support this. haih. Anyway, here's the post, taken from http://islamsolusi.blogspot.com

posted on 31st March 2009

Why She Won't Wear Hijab!
A Discussion by A.Q. Alidost

A convesation for Muslim sisters:

"I'm so tired."

"Tired of what?"
"Of all these people judging me."

"Who judged you?"
"Like that woman, every time I sit with her, she tells me to wear hijab."

"Oh, hijab and music! The mother of all topics!"
"Yeah! I listen to music without hijab…haha!"

"Maybe she was just giving you advice."

"I don't need her advice. I know my religion. Can`t she mind her own business?"

"Maybe you misunderstood. She was just being nice."

"Keeping out of my business, that would be nice..."

"But it's her duty to encourage you do to good."

"Trust me. That was no encouragement. And what do you mean `good` ?"

"Well, wearing hijab, that would be a good thing to do."

"Says who?"

"It's in the Qur'an, isn't it?"

"Yes. She did quote me something."

"She said Surah Nur, and other places of the Qur'an."

"Yes, but it's not a big sin anyway. Helping people and praying is more important."

"True. But big things start with small things."

"That's a good point, but what you wear is not important. What's important is to have a good healthy heart."

"What you wear is not important?"

"That's what I said."

"Then why do you spend an hour every morning fixing up?"

"What do you mean?"

"You spend money on cosmetics, not to mention all the time you spend on fixing your hair and low-carb dieting."

"So?"

"So, your appearance IS important."

"No. I said wearing hijab is not an important thing in religion."

"If it's not an important thing in religion, why is it mentioned in the Holy Qur'an?"

"You know I can't follow all that's in Qur'an."

"You mean God tells you something to do, you disobey and then it's OK?"

"Yes. God is forgiving."

"God is forgiving to those who repent and do not repeat their mistakes."

"Says who?"

"Says the same book that tells you to cover."

"But I don't like hijab, it limits my freedom."

"But the lotions, lipsticks, mascara and other cosmetics set you free?!

What`s your definition of freedom anyway?"

"Freedom is in doing whatever you like to do."

"No. Freedom is in doing the right thing, not in doing whatever we wish to do."

"Look! I've seen so many people who don't wear hijab and are nice people, and so many who wearhijab and are bad people."
"So what? There are people who are nice to you but are alcoholic. Should we all be alcoholics? You made a stupid point."

"I don't want to be an extremist or a fanatic. I'm OK the way I am without hijab."

"Then you are a secular fanatic. An extremist in disobeying God."

"You don't get it, if I wear hijab, who would marry me?!"

"So all these people with hijab never get married?!"

"Okay! What if I get married and my husband doesn't like it? And wants me to remove it?"

"What if your husband wants you to go out with him on a bank robbery?!"

"That's irrelevant, bank robbery is a crime."

"Disobeying your Creator is not a crime?"

"But then who would hire me?"

"A company that respects people for who they are."

"Not after 9-11"

"Yes. After 9-11. Don't you know about Hanan who just got into med school?

And the other one, what was her name, the girl who always wore
a white hijab…ummm…"

"Yasmeen?"

"Yes. Yasmeen. She just finished her MBA and is now interning for GE."

"Why do you reduce religion to a piece of cloth anyway?"

"Why do you reduce womanhood to high heals and lipstick colors?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"In fact, I did. Hijab is not just a piece of cloth. It is obeying God in a difficult environment. It is courage, faith in action, and true womanhood.

But your short sleeves, tight pants…"

"That's called `fashion`, you live in a cave orsomething? First of all, hijab was founded by men who wanted to control
women."

"Really? I did not know men could control women by hijab."

"Yes. That's what it is."

"What about the women who fight their husbands to wear hijab? And women in France who are forced to remove their hijab by men? What do you say about that?"

"Well, that's different."

"What difference? The woman who asked you to wear hijab…she was a woman, right?"

"Right, but…"

"But fashions that are designed and promoted by male-dominated corporations, set
you free? Men have no control on exposing women and using them as a commodity?! Give me a break!"

"Wait, let me finish, I was saying…"

"Saying what? You think that men control women by hijab?"

"Yes."

"Specifically how?"

"By telling women how and what to wear, dummy!"

"Doesn't TV, magazines and movies tell you what to wear, and how to be `attractive'?"

"Of course, it's fashion."

"Isn't that control? Pressuring you to wear what they want you to wear?"

[Silence]

"Not just controlling you, but also controlling the market."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you are told to look skinny and anorexic like that woman on the cover
of the magazine, by men who design those magazines and sell those products."

"I don't get it. What does hijab have to do with products."

"It has everything to do with that. Don't you see? Hijab is a threat to consumerism,
women who spend billions of dollars to look skinny and live by standards of fashion designed by men…and then here is Islam, saying trash all that nonsense and focus on your soul, not on
your looks, and do not worry what men think of your looks."

"Like I don't have to buy hijab? Isn't hijab a product?"

"Yes, it is. It is a product that sets you free from male-dominated consumerism."

"Stop lecturing me! I WILL NOT WEAR HIJAB!

It is awkward, outdated, and totally not suitable for this society ... Moreover, I am only 20 and too young to wear hijab!"

"Fine. Say that to your Lord, when you face Him on Judgment Day."

"Fine."

"Fine."

[Silence]

"Shut up and I don't want to
hear more about hijab niqab schmijab Punjab!"

[Silence]

She stared at the mirror,
tired of arguing with herself all this time.

Successful enough, she managed to shut the voices in her head, with her own opinions triumphant
in victory on the matter, and a final modern decision accepted by the society - but rejected by the Faith:

"Yes!" - to curls on the hair - "No!" - to hijab!

"And he(/she) is indeed a failure who corrupts it [the soul]!"

[Holy Quran 91:10]

Subhana'Allah!!!

"Nay! You
prefer the life of this world; While the hereafter is better and
more lasting."

[Holy Quran:
87:16-17]

"You are the best community (Ummah) raised up for (the benefit of) humanity; enjoining what is right and forbidding what is wrong and believing in Allah."

[Holy Quran: 3:110]

Is This It?

2009-05-03T13:10:00.001+08:00

Beribu bintang dilangit
Kini menghilang
Meraba aku dalam kelam
Rembulan mengambang
Kini makin suram
Pudar ilhamku tanpa arah

Sedetik wajahmu muncul
Dalam diam
Ada kerdipan ada sinar
Itukah bintang ataupun rembulan
Terima kasih kuucapkan

Izinkan kumencuri bayangan wajahmu
Izinkan ku mencuri khayalan denganmu
Maafkanlah oh...
Andai lagu ini
Mengganggu ruangan hidupmu
Kau senyumlah oh...
Sekadar memori
Kita di arena ini
Kau ilhamku
Kau ilhamku...

(Ulang 1)

Best Singapore Ads

2009-05-03T12:47:00.003+08:00

I understand the 2nd one was directed by Yasmin Ahmad :)

Ms D

2009-04-27T21:07:00.001+08:00

Balance

2009-04-23T23:27:00.002+08:00

life is about balance. at least that's what i believe. the equilibrium is when the good can co-exist with the bad. when there is no conflict because an ultimate tolerance and compromise has been reached. when fair judgement is no longer clouded by closed door arrangements. when governments govern and not rule, while people adhere and not obey. when the pious advise and not damn, while the lost respect and not disgust them. when love goes beyond physical. when the impulsive joys of lust is balanced with the emotional and structural stability of marriage. when children acknowledge the dangers of pre-marital sex, because society was open to speak of the consequences. when redemption is amass, and damnation scarce. when the rich help others and the poorest are only those we consider as middle class these days. when knowledge reaches all ages and countries, and is used in making informed choices in our lives. when the only bias exists alongside an opposite bias within a neutral medium. when there is no propaganda or immoral marketing of a product nor agenda, only neutral, balanced, and fair media. when great kings are great philosophers and so is otherwise. when every member of society compliments each other. there are experts in many fields at any given time and place, ready to assist with any of humanity's needs, but none are superior to the rest. when society finally agrees unanimously of a well-rounded grading system, acknowledging our children's unique potentials, finally living up to the words of "everyone's a winner", practiced within the boundaries of their individually prevailing talents throughout growth. when the young are capable of mature judgement and the old capable of reliving their childhood joy, while both still act their age, and treated accordingly. when pain only exists to remind us to be thankful of joy. when death and birth rates sit comfortably side by side in a research paper. and many more

doesn't that sound almost like the world we live in today, or how we'd want it to be?

Amir Sulaiman - Dead Man Walking

2009-04-21T16:16:00.000+08:00

AWESOME!!!

Her Morning Elegance

2009-04-07T02:22:00.001+08:00

Right Place Wrong Time

2009-04-06T02:34:00.002+08:00

beat: Soul Position - Right Place Wrong Time

with this language of anguish i write in all bandwidths
the message is sandwiched in between the mask of a bandit
i abandon all coats and frosting
to deliver this truth that i lied about most things
i made the choices to poison your oceanic love
with my stream of noise that i have yet to resolve
i was tested with the falls,i fell through
only to infest you with this accompanying residue-
from my past,i kept blaming my last encounters
as the shaper of me,but whatever is destined to be
i'm surrounded by bad habits
of inhabiting the masks of a savage,now less is salvaged
from the sinking dreams of a savior
that would save you without having to return the favor
i made you a vanishing script that's hollow
hoping that my skill of documentation will follow this trail of lost hopes
lost souls get counted down to sleep
skinned from their guilt it piles up knee deep
we heed to suggestions of our own guts
that the future we believe in would heal the old cuts
the gold rush was transient,our diamonds are timeless
enough to buy me a bag of redemption whatever the price is
slices of the demonic history will whisper the-
end but it is of little meaning to me
we need to speak up to dig up connections
that's never enough to mend this
endless walls cave in changing our reflexes
just make sure we say we love each other when we end our textings
best things in life are free of prejudice
help me bring down these filters so i can treasure this
gift of the gap we bridged not too long ago
and let only God let us know of how far or long we can go

Muhammad Walks

2009-03-28T03:24:00.000+08:00

Dope!!!

Lupe Fiasco: "I wanted to flip 'Jesus Walks' when it first came out, and I did a record called 'Muhammad Walks' because I'm a Muslim, so I flipped it from a Muslim perspective."

Top Gear

2009-03-27T01:46:00.003+08:00

instrumental : Outkast - Skew It On The Bar-B

step on the clutch tucking up the gearbox

accelerate to rock steady till the next stop

glanced on every corner coz these streets are crooked

headlights beamed to avoid the road workers

whatever your purpose,just keep your eyes peeled

patience on red,move only when the light's green

nice sceneries pass by never pay attention

focus on the obstacle course,each turn is a lesson

pick up to speed matching the competition

not too fast or you'd have a man on a mission-

on yo trail,tailing you ready to dock tales

and whatever bullshit you throwing to avoid jail

smooth sailing on the right if you move at light speed

till then elevate slowly,overtake kindly

signal all of your turns with the right blinks

like prisoners planning against the iron fists

break free if you know the way,watch for the homeless

the highway's a parking space,developers know this

the signs are bogus,to turn back is hopeless

it's the art of impulsive street knowledge

license to willingly put yourself in boxes

risk impact crumpled like recycling processes

partly a contest of the slickest won by the sickest

coz the skillful are those daring to drift out

this route is not for the underaged

and not for those who couldnt take the toll on the way

battles on a daily basis who reaches the spot first,

parks first,with minimal carbon dioxide output

mobilize your mobils and go miles

fueled by a hundred smiles,running on good tires

get a grip onwetlands,and when you outpour sweatglands

it's a single press to recondition the air,man,drive safely

Final Recording Presentation Aftermath

2009-03-09T21:08:00.002+08:00

WRECK WRECK WRECKTIFY!!!!

2009-03-09T03:36:00.002+08:00

Micwrecka of the Malaysian boom bap hard-hitters group The Rebel Scum and The Rogue Squadron supergroup will be releasing his solo album together with Jin Hackman's solo album at The Bomb Shelter gig at Cloth & Clef this wednesday night. Dope preview tracks, dope site (www.micwreckahiphop.com), dopeful expectations of this dopeass old-time doper. It's time to wrecktify rap, and it will be, this 11th March. BE THERE!!

Adamized

2009-03-09T02:39:00.002+08:00

his was a tale that's a thousand times told
about the chain of events which painted him cold
walked out infected ready to invest in interested eves
dawn of hope shined with a silhouette of a thief
sneaking affection out his sleeve,he silently grieves-
in nights when the poison starts infesting his veins
dangling the fruit of hope,he walks down the street
to imprint the poison on the eyes of those in need
he bleeds emotions to ink down his promises
transferred the poison,made it look like it's born with her
to his past he passed the blame in the same debates
of how much both their presents couldn't relate
even late night calls couldn't set the mood straight
she pages,he scribbles,both hoping the barriers fade
he tries to keep awake as his poison in her takes effect
swallowing her heart full,keeping the story intense

New Year Resolution

2009-02-22T23:03:00.001+08:00

It's never too late to set a new year's resolution.

Sage Francis is so last year for me. This shall be my new threshold of success this year.

Random At Best

2009-02-21T00:14:00.003+08:00

nothing specific.just felt like writing.enjoy

beat: Outkast - Da Art of Storytellin'

He's an asshole at best,just your average jerk
Another bastard that smashes the knots that he worked for
At times a work horse,mostly an ass
And if he said he loved you,now don't you ever ask why
Feelings pass by,he got a bad eye for affection
Longing for soft shoulders that wouldn't make him feel restless
Rest assured,when he reaches the shores
He'll insist that he's sure that he'll love you even more
Right before jumping back to the sea sick madness
Emotions are deep so with a fork tongue he tries to catch it
with the same red hands,manages to patch up-
crooked relationships with magic-
potions of words sentenced in his ocean of porn
mixed with a makeshift angel he always waited at the door
at the core of this all is a torn past
one he's still scripting so the pain could last
and he could fasten his strap and nose dive head first
into bedrocks of deserts to quench his thirst
fueling his drive through the turns his life cycles
pedaling back to intercontinental icebergs
just to melt his frozen titanic ego
swimming naked with the sharks so he could feel more
the outcome comes out with him going in-
for the kill with a pill of letters in a capsule of sin
swallowing the pen to penetrate his bloodstream
puking the ink out in cue with his thought's screams
flaws swim through the lines that he hides behind
so he wears fish nets when he's in the public eyes
schooling their pupils with a reflection of hypocrisy
something they taught him so endlessly,and it seems
that they are still kept blind of their ill conditions
by the same enemy of jews, muslims and christians
this is it then,the one-eyed with the prize carved on it
the principle school of thought that made him wana vomit
he couldnt stop the throttle of the rocket so he jetted out
moving on made his way back by piling up headless clowns
forever ends now dont ask how
it just happened,something like a past tensed noun
none could ever understand his make up
and he's lived in that costume since his last wake up call
capital T period capital T behind his palms
tears slip through this mask and cleans his bloody arms
he'd never harm a fly but fails to catch his own falls
couldnt connect the close calls that's why he loses all

capital T period capital T lol

I'm A Certified Yuna Fan

2009-02-17T21:07:00.002+08:00

Yuna = music to lie down hugging and look at the stars together to

http://www.myspace.com/yunaroomrecords

I liked the cd so much, I even tried leaving rap behind last night to write a song with the same feel.failed.ouh hell.

Here was my attempt at not being lame:

I've grown into you
You've grown within me
You're my solitude
You're where I'm dreaming
We're twisted in tunes
I still try to fit in
Passion is fused
Our hearts beat the rhythm

Our song includes
Our memories singing
Our stars give the cue
For my heart to give in
By the chaos just us two
In your eyes I'm swimming
I'll say stuff untrue
I speak poetic for a living

*i stopped writing it for the same reason you wouldn't want to read on.lol.*

*crawling back to sage francis now*

Merchants of Cool

2009-02-16T14:41:00.003+08:00

A documentary about giant corporates going cool hunting, how teens are one of the most valuable market groups, and about the feedback loop effect where the corporates take input from the teens on what is the next big cool thing, repackages and sells it back to teens, where teens would pickup this new cool, and reclaim it as their own by readapting it, and re-inputs to the corporates.

Made me question if Hip Hop was just another marketing tool

*UPDATE*

DUHH!!!

dance

2009-02-07T17:19:00.002+08:00

heart flutters as thoughts muster words for conversation
uncontrollable lusting for touches such that will crush us
escape never felt so distant,a whole hello away
brain fused to the music still confused of what to say
night fades into warmth,light shades it's reason
born exposed,live unchained,cycling seasons
strangers in the flight,fighting for dreams
with liquid weapons,sip it up and get beamed
by the second rated heavens,temporary Neverland
dance through the full moon life before waking up into troubled hands

100% Dundee

2009-01-29T18:23:00.002+08:00

nothing like some of my most favorite rap songs ever to distract myself...

"backstage whisperin to managers like, change the order there's no way that we can rock after them!"

Sage Francis - Crack Pipes

2009-01-29T18:01:00.000+08:00

yet again...

The Morning After

2009-01-27T09:43:00.001+08:00

Another Light Year...

2009-01-26T21:24:00.006+08:00

That was what she wanted. As if the space between us wasn't vast enough to allow her to retrace the missing stars in our eclipse. As if wormholes do exist, she wanted us to hide under it's mythical ability of jumping between realities to a past we both outgrew, only to realize the setbacks and progress have shared equal grips on this spatial relationship.

We were both at fault, we argued. After deciding to ignore no longer the signs of the Big Crunch, she wanted us to relive the Big Bang. Maybe it's just me, but I suppose she failed to see that one of the most apparent evidences of that era is the fact that it threw the stars apart from each other, and ironically, the Big Crunch that will spell our doom, it starts off by bringing the stars closer together.

And that was what happened today. We were probably halfway through this whole process, where we were no longer moving away from each other, neither getting closer. But dressed in your favor, and you in mine, we both set to change the course of this tradition of patience, or at least I did. There we were, coming closer to each other, only for me to face the Big Crunch slapping my heart awake and aware of the fact that today, the sun would either burn me to death, or leave me in darkness.

And at the end of the collision of pointed fingers, the sun did both.

Song for tonight: Prolyphic & Reanimator - Two Track Mind
(scroll down for lyrics.cd available at www.strangefamousrecords.com)

Lyrics:
I'm on a train listening to Miles, making smiles through the rain.
I can feel the window's pain even though I never seen what its seen.
Probably never go where its been.
The last stop is the rainbow's end.
I've got a one way ticket to meet up with a close friend with my hopes up, but can't hold onto both ends.
I wonder if she knows still, I've got a single red rose that I hope will refresh her memory.
I watch drops of rain race down the window sill.
The one I choose to win trails behind, but still its too close to call.
The smile I drew broke its fall and got sidetracked, now all it does is ride the cracks.
I won't let this set back affect me.
I know what I want to say, I've got the whole world ahead of me.
I'm lagging behind, I want to catch up on old times, the whole nine, I want the rainbow's end to be a goldmine.

There's two sides to every story. There's two side to every track.
The one you hear on the way up. The one you tell on the way back.

I'm on a train listening to Coltrane without a train of thought.
And I've felt the windows pain.
I've seen what its seen and I've been where its been.
My heart of gold paid for my ticket out of the rainbow's end.
It isn't what I expected, flipping through old notes and sketches.
It isn't remotely close to how I remember it.
Most of them are unfinished, but that's the nature of the business.
The hidden details when you make wishes.
It isn't like the movies.
You either save the world or the girl from the black hat so, you can't have both.
I'm halfway through Afro Blue and I'm halfway home knowing I can't have you.
And my baggage feels like the weight of the world.
I'm carrying the globe even though I tried to save the girl.
Now I'm sitting in this chair, wishing you were here,
Reading the other side to the story like...

There's two sides to every story. There's two side to every track.
The one you hear on the way up. The one you tell on the way back.

----------------
Now playing: Prolyphic/Reanimator - Two Track Mind
via FoxyTunes

I'm Not There

2009-01-26T01:34:00.003+08:00

i'm on this stage with a pocket full of rage waging war
on this second page of accounts of our forever days
i hope to stay longer just to look back at a trail-
of beautiful poems,problem is i don't know what to say
it used to be well laid out,nicknames and Shakespeare-
wannabes,it was clear that the craft of letters wanted me
and now i'm writing one to clog holes at the base of this-
relationship,patching up cracked walls before it sinks
but the silent storm smudged the ink well before i could think-
of another excuse for why my navigation stinks
i've been trying too long to link the many stars that represent you
but i couldnt find the pattern to match you
and thus i failed to do your beauty the justice that it has served me
i'm jotting down our memories but i dont know what these words mean
lost in transitions into a darker side of our spring
but i'm still frozen stiff counting our cloud's offspring
slowly falling forming static walls in between us
we're just a call away but it doesnt change the fact that we're stuck
to a present we never bargained for,problems come and force-
us to adapt to a circumstance we never saw coming
kept us both running from the factual gaps,trapped in the act-
of realizing the cracks were born in the past we happily snapped
happened so fast,we grew out of flattering masks
left me asking 'how long can this last?' 'can this last?'
i canned the best footnotes for apologies like this
but i'm too afraid of the replies you might give
i'm light years away from your heart,sailing with single-
flash of our love,never stop hoping that the journey will-
bring back my warmth to help you stay strong
and save you from realities that wish to do you wrong
but the melody you hummed hinted of another storm
one we might survive as always only if the hope wasnt gone

and now you'd be gone too
like the end of this poem,it's all too familiar
just another loss of another bed of warmth to fall to
but i'd try to listen more whenever my ego calls you
and i'd love you even more
and i'd love you coast to coast,shore to shore till i'm sure
that i'd end quickly my life in singapore...

Arrival

2009-01-20T11:53:00.003+08:00

Something that should've been written 10 months ago. Enjoy..

Beat: Prolyphic & Reanimator - Two Track Mind(Instrumental)

Sold my past for a train ticket to chase after a dream
Baggage of life lessons that are heavier than it innocently seems
Unnecessary means of advancing a career
Carefully chosen to pay back the double student loans it took to bring me here
Of course, I am not without fear, left the house with no cheer
Family I kept near, silencing their worries through this journey
Across the murky body of water that will never cool my burning drive-
fueled by the morning sky on this other side of my story
Poorly written passport bearing my childhood signature
Stamped by a language art that taught me about self-leadership
As I draw my own cross smoothly fixing my destiny
With a paint brush of memory, painting my foot steps of empathy
Each breath is carefully let go like my little sister's hands
I carry a piece of her always while I'm in this distant land
An instant glance by the gatekeeper, he sensed I was different
Just another nomad from poor man's land, but with a strange mission
Last kisses and hugs, I brushed cheeks with mom
Kissed her in the heart, bearing a mark of her own blood type
I must fight to pay back the trust I regained from poor ol dad
Sorry for the three years I made both of y'all sad
Not forgetting the woman I met under that ocean of motionless dreams
I lost your pearl to sharp corners, but no notion to breath
Until I reach your comfort, and shall never let go again
Promise I'll be another one of your proud grandchildren
That's it then, regards to my siblings, dearly loved
Whisper if you need me, you'll be hearing sounds of my mistakes-
echoing that bedroom wall walking you through
None can have a better big brother, know that you do
To my newly-crowned queen, bear with me now
I'd rather hear you fake the smile, and be strong somehow
I'm bound to a future I'm still scripting myself
Saying goodbye was the most pain second only to my death

Jiniuses At Words

2009-01-01T13:39:00.007+08:00

Ok enough emo. It's time for 2009 and it's time for Heezy Rock. jeah jeah. Don't support your local Hip Hop. Support your GOOD local Hip Hop. And these guys are much more than that, so show some love while you're at it. Ok I better stop before my morning lameness takes a toll on this promo post.

From even the few times I've seen these guys on stage, and much more of listening to their songs, I believe they offer a much needed alternative of high quality Hip Hop music for kids who have been over-exposed to stereotypes of the music. And I would still be cashing in on meaningless things in rap music if not for these guys(and Sage Francis,of course). The Rogue Squadron is a perfect example of how market situations should not affect production. Set the trends, dont follow them. Storm up the scene no matter the weather, and do it at the bomb shelter with the jiniuses at words. jeah jeah

Took Out The Time,To House My Fate(2009-2008)

2008-12-31T23:25:00.004+08:00

It's been 2 years since I made something for the new year. Enjoy
Tune for tonight: Reanimator - Music To Slit Wrists By (album)

dafrosty: if i were to fully depend on the human touch for everything these days
dafrosty: then i'd prolly be forever alone till i decay
dafrosty: which is exactly what i will do right now
dafrosty: rot with those who were left behind in the advances of the know-hows
dafrosty: i know now how instictive we humans are
dafrosty: we tie the knots of hope,hoping for fewer scars
dafrosty: claiming to be dependant only on Reason to live on
dafrosty: but we forgot about hormones,emotions are more than just slip ons
dafrosty: they dont slip off so easily
dafrosty: sticky substances of expectations of the 'you needing me'
dafrosty: you feeling me?that's impossible coz love is literally on the line
dafrosty: ask me if i'm doing fine we can do this every night till i stop lying
dafrosty: and start lying heads on shoulders of each other's ears
dafrosty: i'm dearly scarred,needing more than just a wish,i WANT you here
dafrosty: close enough to hear my heart beat when we converse
dafrosty: that's something lost along the lines when we rely on phone booths
dafrosty: the whole truth is i'm sick and tired of waiting,i know you do too
dafrosty: stuck on months of no hand-to-hand contact and dedications on youtube
dafrosty: you choose to proceed and i still believe in the not so soon a future
dafrosty: but i was too physical on my last relationship so these boundaries i'm not used to
dafrosty: i'm spoiled
dafrosty: annoyed
dafrosty: deploy emotions hoping for responsive conversations
dafrosty: but all i get is more distances of waiting
dafrosty: we're apart by 500 kilometers less but nothing is changed
dafrosty: you're still a call away,and i'm still only accompanied with pain
dafrosty: T.T

hmm...

while the world counts down to their advancement
i'm scouting back to basics of relationship enhancement
while you're stuck in a celebration you dont wana be in,
and hates the crowd who are there for escapism
i'm still stuck to myself,accompanied by suicidal trips to memory lane
mentally drained of hopes on everything said
it's almost the same as not having you,coz the fact is i dont
yes,i'm being a baby complaining,well fuck it you wont-
be rebellious enough to grow out of this comforting skin
and actually fall deep into craters unmeasurable by sin
only to rise back longing for a future to hold on to
but i guess it was my fault for wishing you were more responsive
fuck holding a conference to resolve this,i'd rather hold you
and not waste time talking of things that might not be all true
i'm all to familiar with this but i still cant live with it
loneliness,hating this,stuck in other people's priority waiting list
clinching fists,just because of needing a kiss from your heart
slitting wrists cutting lines of sanity using words inspired by sharp-
discontent of this,in the event of this suicidal letter is found,
spell it wisely coz like my music,my emotions are underground
speaks in another sound,one that still screams of lost childhood innocence
and right now this CD is the only thing that helps me make sense
it's about to end though,i should start to make friends
with the final moments of a year,among seconds of has-beens
past tense was enough to break me but the present sets me shattering
relied on hope but it never brings accomplishment,just blabberings
wasting precious face-to-face contact time,i wont let my
new year resolution be polluted with clouds of no solutions
but that's the way it has always been,like change,it's the only constant
speaking of which,i should stop hating before our love turns into a monster
sketching another scar on our hearts again,until then
it's been a hell of a year,it's been great till it ended

Emo Overdose

2008-12-31T02:51:00.004+08:00

Spent the night going through 25 most exquisitely sad songs of the whole world(thanks kak ili for the link!), only to find that i couldn't find the number 1 song on Youtube. These songs I've posted are not in the same order as the list. This order is partly random and partly increasingly emo.

Enjoy

Roy Orbison - In The Real World

Ben Folds Five - Brick

Martina McBride - Concrete Angel

Carly Simon- That's the Way I Always Heard It Should Be

Chocolate Genius - My Mom

Dance with my father - Luther Vandross

Jeff Buckely - Hallelujah

Johnny Cash - Hurt

GLOOMY SUNDAY-BILLIE HOLIDAY VERSION

This last one wasn't on the list. This is more like a goodnight kiss dedication kinda song. You know who you are ;)

Have you seen her - The Chi-Lites

good night/good morning

On My Way Home..

2008-12-05T13:12:00.004+08:00

Walkman-deprived, I took out my notebook and started scribbling last night. lalala
_____________________________________________________

The next train comes in five minutes
And I'm scribbling thoughts to not get bored in this-
exchange from walking to high speed trains
Massive capacity to carry people away
From the heart of the city to the skinny beaches
To the depth of the country to the tourist features
The business districts are busy with people
This train station is the only place we're all equal
I see the many faces that wait for the train to come
Many walks of life stationary all of the sudden
They only start moving to board or leave the cars
Ages of races is how long we have to wait
The faces are vast in variety of sanity and status
Incomes and looks, fashion and appearance
I love to watch the babies in their mothers' arm sheilds
Also the snobbish girls who got nothing more to unveil
Standing with the squashed, rush hour, waiting-
to arrive at my exit, it really takes patience
We gain savings of travel expenses, teach us-
to be humble coz no matter where you're from, you're stuck in between stations
This is where journeys start and end
Seven in the morning and just after ten
We either catch some sleep or prepare for amends
While lovers find it as a great place to spend time together
This is the place for anyone to coincide
Mind the people next to you, tryna enjoy the ride
Annoying service announcements are the only music
Unless you brought gadgets of escape, please use it
There aint no place to sit? the floor is always cleans
Especially for long trips, why not rest your feet
Watching other people leave gives some reason to breath
And you're even more pleased, that you're almost reaching-
your stop, doors open wide like arms greeting me home
Tap out my card, still a long walk to go
Got on the escelator, get out the underground
Elevate to ground level, embracing the traffic sound
For this portion of my journey, I walk alone
accompanied only by strangers walking the same floors
Walk past the food courts, some are still partly open
But it's time for cleaning duty so they wont take your order
My belly is almost filled with hunger
What is tonight's leftover? I start to wonder
But thank God, He gave me a nice landlady
Who cooks a little extra instinctive about my singing belly
I pass by reality teasing destiny
Morals are divorced, fathers could never rest in peace
I'm walking in between blocks that built a nation
Tourism ads censor out what the habitat embraces
While the double storey houses are attacked by the burglars
The people in the flats are raped and left by the government-
to themselves, the barking dogs disrupt my deep thinking
The old lady left food for the stray cats again
I'm still five minutes to home, creeping swiftly with the bats
Between these bungalows, fatigue is still attached
It's been a log day and it's about to end soon
I can almost smell the piss I'll be releasing inside the bathroom
The smell of the shops downstairs I consume
As I approach the elevator going up to level one-two-
Twelve, the lift gives me the freaks
Especially after watching Ju-on 2 the one with the kid
I look down at this page as I get to my floor
I hear screams of the neighbours as I walk to my door
Took off my wet shoes, unlock the grill
Dial your number trying to ignore my phone bills..

Midnight Reciter pt3

2008-11-30T20:45:00.003+08:00

a fistful of regret burst out smashing the glass case
showering his numb face thinking bout the last race
and how he's performing so far,he thinks it's been a bad case-
of mistaken roads chosen based on the sloppy atlas
at last thank God he drove into a new found future
used to be riddled with guilt now he becomes the shooter
along came his partner in ties,a much needed navigator
also a free-of-charge resting shoulder so he could re-energize for later
he never gave a fuck about the crowd
since 16 it's one of the few features he was proud of
she listened to his life after telling him hers
he told her how his path couldn't have turned any worse
how he was cheated out of his deserving exits and had to crawl further-
down the kind of roads that makes even the holiest start cursing
the kind of alleys that made him write his verses
and where he dreamed about escape versus his rightful purpose
a walk down this circus was his crash course-
to reach a higher level of an intelligible force
but it tore out his paper skin,fragile to change
acidic rains of responsibility can really build up rage
so he inked up his shredded remnants
mastered the new-age word craft,possibilities are endless
it became his drug,his smoke,his sexual release
life's a glitch,the music kept his player head clean
he constantly wrestled through the shrapnel of his bad choices
while she voices her views helping him to stay focused

Midnight Reciter pt2

2008-11-30T03:39:00.002+08:00

spread your clipped wings,fly as far as you are able to
before they grapple you back into these bars of fabled truths
saber toothed iron-fisted gripping mentality crippling your future
abandon all escape plans and the outlets you were used to
contact Houston, we got another problem solver
pop the pills,suck it up,blend in like a good solvent
solder the loose ends while nodding like a good soldier-
to the rebel tracks,piling up the rage as you age older

life was meant to be swallowed colder by the second
so inhale the filth,and tilt yourself a bit to fit this wreckage
sunsets are to mark the realization of your backaches
backstage is where the action is,so turn your backs on the front pages
measures of meeting expectations are the main priority
to fund your unique hobby,gotta practice to not be sloppy
copycat mentality more like learning from the greats
thank God for bad sales,now it's gold digging in the clearance crates

i'm starting to grow away from connecting with my audience
but aint no market problem will make this craft be ended
every word is surfaced by the vibe of certain instrumentals
direction only changes when i'm fed by God's intervention
so in the mean time i just write how i feel at each moment
counting down the bars wondering when it will be over
i'm just wasting time though coz i really need my sleep
and this is for my lost train of thought i'm always running for in my dreams

Midnight Reciter pt1

2008-11-29T04:08:00.002+08:00

open up a blank page,writer's block on a rage,
looking back how i've aged,yeah it is kinda strange
but then again it's normal for what you're becoming-
to contradict your upbringing,at first it's kinda charming
how a cunning talent first impresses your parents
and then you grew to realize there's more than the apparent
staring at yourself making decisions to proceed with the craft
that's how writing is my weapon,the bullets my past
crash course,raging hormones 101
at every crush,speechless at the one on ones
but in your heart you wana write off the world about her beauty
and how she hates herself but you love her as a human being
what you see is different,getting beat up for it
but your firm grip on escape was the proper storage-
for hope,you never cope nor adapt
try to be unique but to realities you are attached
staring at the window,eager to fly
but holds tight to the seat belts,closing your eyes
hoping to die a legend but fearing the giant steps
prolly coz you fear of dying exhaling a defiant's breath
still insists on writing with iron fists
scientist of reality,give your childhood a flying kiss
inhale the influence puke out the bad ones
heavy rotation of honesty in sad songs
hats off with every applause you deserve it
guess you really perform better when you're nervous
the thought of humiliation gives you a purpose-
to work harder to make the best of your stage moments
you wage torments of words with great showmanship
seems more like a personification of your hardship
it's your deserving outlet,the iron-fisted gauntlet
sketching for the audience,thoughts of a fallen

p/s: this is what i do when i get bored AND sober after midnight

Atmosphere - Always Coming Back To You

2008-11-18T21:19:00.003+08:00

Take a listen.. There's a hidden track in here afterwards.

Always Coming Back Home To You lyrics

To all my killers and my hundred dollar billers
To emo kids that got too many feelings

He held the register open while he counted her change
I was next in line which meant I was invisible
From where I stood I could see that the till was full
He didn't look the type to play superhero
So I stepped forth and paid for my cigarettes
Crept out the stores front door to chase a little breath
Fangles in my head, shake the song off
Another manic Monday night, its gonna be a long walk

A car pulled up, a fixed up cutlass
A woman and a child climbed out and left it running
They went inside of the deli, placed an order
With the extra dollar fifty bottled water cuz the daughters picky
When they came out mommy gave me a glance
That said man can love an angel but he's got to take the chance
Already knew the deal, I lit one up and walk
So they got back in the oldsmobile, belted up, and took off

Thug love on the corner by the walgreens
Lookin at me like I'm just another square saltine
As I get closer I notice that they showin each other sketches
Out of their notebooks, reminded me of my old roots

I walk pass with a nod and a reminisce
Swear to god hip hop and comic books was my genesis
Respect the life and the fashions of the children
It's the only culture I've got, exactly what we've been buildin

All of a sudden I'm in front of some man
No he's a youngin but he's got a gun in his hand
He looks fifteen, he looks frantic, no he looks afraid
Immediately apprehensive til I heard him say
"Do you want this It's not mine I promise
I found it on my block in between a couple garages
Didn't wanna leave it for a child to stumble over
I don't even know how to hold it."

It was a thirty eight, the poor mans machete
Held it in my hand, thinking damn man it's heavier then expected,
Wedged it behind my belt buckle
Knowin that its evil, even thought that I could smell trouble
The extra strength felt weak,
But over there on the corner saw what I needed and proceeded to cross the
Street
Put the heat in the mail box to loose it
Figured that the post office knows whats best to do with it

Mosey down the road thinkin' bout the old
I use to roam this zone with two feet of snow
Right here, this use to be a record shop
I've gotten love, I've gotten drunk, I've gotten beat up in that parking lot
I've had my lake street pride for three decades
These alleyways, and these streetlights have seen my best days
Before I was a germ learnin how to misbehave,
All the way to the grave, south side is my resting place

Took a right on Lyndale I'm getting near
But then the road became empty and the people disappear'd
The clowds ran away, opened up the sky
And one by one I watched every constellation die
And there I was frozen, standin in my backyard
Face to face, eye to eye, starin at the last star
I should've known, walked all the way home
To find that she wasn't here, I'm still all alone

No matter where I am, no matter what I do
I'm always coming back home to you
They can leave me for dead they can take away my true
I'm always coming back home to you
Through the lies and the sins that ride the wind that blew
I'm always coming back home to you
As sure as the life in the garden that you grew
I'm always coming back home to you
No matter where I am, no matter what I do
I'm always coming back home to you
If only I had known what you already knew
I'm always coming back home to you
From the heaven I've had to the hell I been through
I'm always coming back home to you
I'm always coming back home to you

Why Do I Love Snowflakes?

2008-11-01T02:59:00.003+08:00

dafrosty: you know y i prefer snowflakes n not stars?
maddie a puaad: no. do tell
dafrosty: they're both beautiful
dafrosty: but snowflakes come down to reach us no matter how low we are
dafrosty: they are at ground level
dafrosty: bringing their beauty to the fallen
dafrosty: they sacrifice their prime just to sprinkle beauty onto the lives of those in the lower levels of humanity,sparking moments of bliss,injecting bursts of happiness,
dafrosty: so we'd feel a little better in our rough winter times
dafrosty: painting a smile on our faces with their beauty
dafrosty: the very beauty that starts a chain reaction of hope,
dafrosty: making us not feel so bad while we're down here
dafrosty: and they'd come down day or night,just to reach us
dafrosty: they're edible too
dafrosty: boleh buat bersuci lagi
dafrosty: hehe
dafrosty: i fell so low,i didnt even know how low i was
dafrosty: until snowflakes came
dafrosty: made me look up to find out where they come from
dafrosty: they came down to reach me
dafrosty: to help me through
maddie a puaad: wow.
dafrosty: so i set myself on a journey to repay their kindness
dafrosty: i reached back
maddie a puaad: but they melt into grey slush tau.
maddie a puaad: i should know. plus if it weren't for my boots i'd have stinky socks coz of them.
maddie a puaad: sorry to rain on your parade lol
dafrosty: stars die too =P
maddie a puaad: that was amazing. what you just wrote.
dafrosty: i'm high
dafrosty: yeah

Max Payne

2008-10-31T23:01:00.004+08:00

...kicked ass!

DISCLAIMER: I'm not really good at reviews, so turn on your spoiler alerts for this.

I never got to play the game back when it was a hit because of my lack of specs required for the graphic. I only knew that it had that bullet time thing going. So because of that, I'm going to review the movie as a movie, not a rendition.

Now if you're into mindless action movies(read:explosive car chases, non-stop shooting, the ultimate bare-handed heroic showdown fight scene finale, macho hero gets busty chic), then this is definitely NOT the movie for you. You can save your pocket money for the promising Quantum Of Solace, not this movie. Why? Coz Max Payne is an almost perfectly balanced movie, where intelligence of plot and accelerating storyline holds equal weight with the kickass action scenes.

I admit they could have done better with the first quarter, which might throw off the mindless action movie fans. But as the investigation plot progresses, I realized how wonderfully the story was crafted, especially how Payne's flashbacks slowly builds up revealing the whole tale, teasing the viewers, making them want to know more. And the revealing of conspiracies also progressed steadily with the whole story, almost like placing the viewers on a first-person's view on the whole investigation (almost, of course. This ain't that final shooting scene of DOOM).

The special effects, more than likely adapted from the game, fit right in and added emphasis on the action scenes. The slow motion effects, again, from the game, were brilliantly executed to not make it look like a Matrix rip-off, claiming a sense of originality and purpose, adding interest into the otherwise typical shooting scenes (the wonderful sound design really helped with this). This feature in the movie is second only to Payne's fiery illusions, marvelously lengthening the otherwise short shooting action.

If it wasn't for the movie's sense of timelessness adapted from the game world's storytelling, Max Payne would've been one very exaggerated movie. But that's the beauty of this movie; it's balance.

A well balanced movie, Max Payne's only set back is a slight lack of complicity (all hail Dark Knight!). Stressing the point that the illusions are just a bad case of high, the movie's ability to stay in the real world and still imply a fantasy feel requires only a deeper plot to make the otherwise straightforward delivery a masterpiece.

This is not a great movie, it's only almost really good. A teeny bit more action and a lot more complexity, and this almost perfectly balanced movie would've gotten a 5, but because of the many areas it could've improved on, I'm giving it a 3.5 even though I really liked it (like how I don't have to like it to agree that Mamma Mia was a really good movie).

Verdict: 3.5 out of 5 stars

My First Real Gig...

2008-10-20T17:34:00.003+08:00

...outside college. Yeah. That's what I like to call it. Enjoy

Dafrosty - Finally

Dafrosty - Fanning The Heat

For videos of the rest of the show, check out my youtube

*UPDATE*

For lyrics of Finally, click here.

For lyrics of Fanning The Heat, click here.

For the original Finally poem, click here.