Friday, 12 April 2013
Sunday, 7 April 2013
pissed by Ben Samin at 5:02 AM
Wednesday, 22 August 2012
after ages, this is what this damaged mind has been able to produce. through sadness and through turmoil, the beauty has finally come from with, through the veins of anger.
sketches of hornbill and orangutan made with ballpen / sketchpad
"Come at me bro" (Great Hornbill)
pissed by Ben Samin at 10:57 PM
Thursday, 27 August 2009
pissed by Ben Samin at 12:22 AM
Thursday, 20 August 2009
Surrounded by neighbors yet alone
pissed by Ben Samin at 7:58 PM
Saturday, 25 July 2009
Thursday, 23 July 2009
Hey mis amigos!! If you've been wondering where the secret gardens of the mind has been, haha, it's been busy doing my new business... my poetry is still locked inside here, but we all need to scrape a living no? so come PLEASE check out my new business blog at :
pissed by Ben Samin at 8:42 PM
Wednesday, 10 September 2008
Ahh the sweet effluvial aroma of the venue in which has borne witness to my many sober and unsober contemplations.. one quite incomprehensible to others, but relevant nonetheless.
And just like that, due to unforseen circumstances, my condition in absentia has enraged many... ok ok, hold the tomatoes and slippers.. before you throw them in this general direction, it all can be explained. I have left this space unattended to for so long.
there's always a but with ben; BUT, in the course of my missing-ness, there are MORE stories to tell, more thoughts to fondle and more conundrums to reconnoiter..
I'm here, so you can start your tomato throwing now.
I miss ALL of you, i wish i could've been there for ALL of you more, but it is in this sense that i am able to grow. mentally, and sideways.
Captain Adrift, Ben
pissed by Ben Samin at 10:55 AM
Friday, 7 March 2008
THOU JOURNEY DOTH BEGIN!!
There are some very dear friends of mine opening this brilliant entrepeneurial venture explicitly named "The Threads Zoo", and what these group of people (spear-headed by our very own model / artist, Deanna Ibrahim) have envisaged in their twisted artistic minds is to have a flea market ala woodstock, bohmeian, nomadic; u name it. If they roam and they're hip, they've got it all.
At this flea market with perks, "lifestyle traders" of all manners will actually congregate here to sell and pedal their wares and here's the niche : primarily, fashionista ladies who have been selling their clothes online via their blogs can use this as a platform in which to finally visit their clientele face to face.
Ergo, since we have this pretty little target market flowing in, we even encourage sellers of independant books, independant recordings, or just simply to sell ur old CDs. Anything that's carriable, lifestyle related and HIP.
AND the plus side, as opposed to steamy sweaty outdoor flea markets, we have it indoors, basking in the comfort of this special technology named airconditioning! perrgghhh!!
So literary flowers aside, for the sellers, it costs RM100 per rack, per day. And for the buyers which is ANYONE WHO HAS FEET AND CAN COME, leash all ur friends in and bring wads and wads of cash because everything'll come cheap, i.e. designer stuff that models have only used TWICE.
So if i missed out anything above or should you need any further details, please do not hesitate to contact either myself of Deanna via the following details:
h/p: +6019 693 2181
blog: uhmn.... stupid
Date: 5-6 April 2008
Venue: TTDI Plaza
Sellers: RM100 per rack, per day
Buyers: As much money as u can bring, because the stuff is CHEAP! (RM20 - RM100)
HEAR YE HEAR YE!!! COME ONE COME ALL!!!!! SUPPORT YOUR YOUNG MALAYSIAN ENTREPENEURS!! ANYONE WHO COMES ROCKS!! : )
pissed by Ben Samin at 7:52 PM
Sunday, 2 March 2008
The greatest treasures are those that are invisible to the eye but found by the heart.
so DUM MARO DUM, my friends.. my dear dear friends.
Dum maro dum
Miti jaye hum
Bhola soba syum
Hare krishna hare rum
enjoy it while it lasts, because truth is, it never does.
pissed by Ben Samin at 10:09 PM
Thursday, 14 February 2008
frivol away the purples of lavender
siphon the colors that fill the trees
transcend the empyreal clouds
which now cradle amongst the feet
why does my heart not smile
when it stares in the face of beauty
why do my eyes look forth
yet spot nothing but horizon
pull down the sun
for the light that shines cause naught but pain
kill the birds for they sing nothing
take a cloth and wipe the sky
for the stars show nothing
but glimmers that set you lost
hold out your fingers
swing all you need
and your nails will brush
with hopes, long forlorn
stare to your heart
strain your eyes
stare long and fruitful
till rise the bleeding tears
where is the worth
where lies the cost
what is left
for it is all lost
for it has been taken
for she is gone...
(little doth man learn from his antecedents of power. sadness knows no bounds. like death it touches the rich, the poor, the young, the old, the sexy, the haggard, the good, the bad and of course, the ugly. save me. a hope forlorn. happy valentines day everyone.)
pissed by Ben Samin at 1:33 PM
Monday, 28 January 2008
My room flooded.
My carpets got soaked.
I hung my room out to dry.
Never has water been so uninvited, yet so present.
Never has there been more.
I hung myself out to dry.
I cried buckets...
I miss it
To watch the meniscus unsheathe
The grandeur of it
(found out that i'm not entirely a sociopath either... my emotions are unfeigned; at times. For what do you do when you find out that you're 100% incapable of emotions. to find out you're less than animal. what.)
pissed by Ben Samin at 9:46 AM
Thursday, 17 January 2008
This is what happens when you permit yourself to allow minute external factors to govern your perseverance and your rationale: you become a jobless bum.
It's a well deserved break that i embark upon, but as i sit here, insignificantly collecting dust and draining the scarce resources that line the outer walls of my bank account, i get worried to death. What's next? How many more anvils can paradise throw down?
I have muddled through this blog and it has sputtered out a trail of perturbation that hasn't pleased many and is not intended to, but in someways gives insight into how i've travelled from being a man who wanted to revisit his imperfections because he was turning into a yuppie, and finally into one who has not completely revisited anything, and is no longer a yuppie by means of unemployment. And in this course of time, i believe i deserve to take this time to
Not entirely la, i'm not 16 anymore. so i drew myself a tattoo of a rose. For the kid AND the woman in me (for my merry friends and readers, i'm still pertty much straight). And i have also discovered that i can complete the rubik's cube in under three minutes, that emotions truly are never relevant and that dried out cigars that have been at the back of your drawer for the past 7 months taste like burning a roll of newpapers. sure woke my lungs up.
So now, i will gladly present to you... uhm..... i'm out of wit. the pen-drawn rose on my arm.
Fear and Loathing in Joblessness...
where's everyone who's eyes held naive promises that they'll be there for you when you need a human tissue. no where in here. not home.
pissed by Ben Samin at 5:34 AM
Thursday, 3 January 2008
Though my steps through life have been both slovenly and clumsy, I, as a human being have been granted the benefit of witnessing the harsh realities that bites down on the everyday person, shoved in my face with a rude vigor not unheard of, neither coveted.
And via these minute (albeit many) facets of chance, I have watched testament after testament that people are easier inclined to obtain traits that are deemed brave, be it in a positive manner or otherwise. It’s general knowledge (although it does not apply to all) that people act in the interest of acceptance, either by a group of peers or by a single other person. And you will hear a great number of denials after this statement saying that “I do this because I believe in helping others”; “I BELIEVE” is the phrase that drives the deed, as the individual strives to convey this image of him/herself as being gold-hearted.
Of course there are the few in which these do not apply.
And this brings us to the knowledge that the reason why we refuse to perform great deeds, is because whatever great deeds we perform are paled in comparison to the glorification of, say the man who signs over the HUGE cheque, or the woman who invented sustainable cold fusion so Russia can live throughout their winters.
When a man is easily inspired to entirely alter their perceptions towards certain aspects based on the convergences of little moments of what we could call divine afflatus, why is it so strongly prevalent, the ongoing idea that mankind will be influenced by great deeds of men/women/child/hermaphrodite of whom are forced into being heroes of circumstance whom are then publicized and commercialized, when it is those who perform tiny acts of altruism driven by nothing other than choice that create the heavyset difference that inspires people to adopt momentary disregards of self…
WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY POINT:
TODAY, I THREW ¢20 IN A BEGGAR’S HAT AND HELPED AN OLD LADY CROSS THE STREET.
WORRSSHIIPP MEEE!!! Haaaakakakakakaka
Sorry. The espresso chocolates have kept me awake and I have jabbered senselessness into the night. I have currently 5 incomplete items that I wish to post, but I am stopped by the fact that:
1. The items are incomplete
2. I can't complete them because i'm uninspired
3. Espresso Chocolates
4. I can't remember
5. As Truman Capote once said, failure is the condiment that gives success it's flavour.
Happy reading & Sleep tight,
your sailor-boy (regulated)
pissed by Ben Samin at 9:23 AM
Friday, 28 December 2007
HMMMNNNNNN.... how could such an irrelevant piece be a huge booster to a man's ego?? give it a shot for yourself and see what loads of crap they'll tell you. I'm tempted to believe them though.. kekekekeke..
adieu and farewell
pissed by Ben Samin at 12:17 AM
Tuesday, 11 December 2007
welll then, at that glitch in the moment in time of crucial bearing, the all-legendary doodle hand came out. the momentousness of the moment brought out the storm. they're gonna get it now. watch out...
hahahaha the praises are expected again, this time....
-your messed up captian
pissed by Ben Samin at 4:04 AM
Thursday, 6 December 2007
Standing here in the deluge of water
as inundated by the heavens itself
breathing through the air that the rain lets be
ponder the significance of certainty in puissance
stare up to the once azure sky
cigarettes moist, flames yet ablaze
pointless ruses to sustain man's yen
for judgement on animus, inane and vain
(how insignificant we are to the powers of the world yet we stomp around like two bit gangsters in china-town.... we don't forsee change, yet we dwindle how much we choose to know. Please note that this is a draft. Dreadful writers block again, as i am un-mused)
pissed by Ben Samin at 6:59 AM
Saturday, 10 November 2007
Je suis de retour...
the pain through the arms
of he who strikes
the flawless note
of a violin
the strings though wrenched through spine
accosting tears hidden
clandestined to stagnate
the pain of acoustics
reverberating through every inch
of that which makes us be
the cries of plight
from the solace of deep within
burys the pleasures of a million silk beds
delectations as caressed
on the nape of the neck, the thighs
the calves and the space running down one's chest
as this note struck encompasses
and all is deemed lost but the island where the note is derived
the violinist's vehemence
upsurging the staccato
as the legato loses ground to the imminent triumph
the triumph of man
defeat the dark and the light alike
as a simple breath is drawn
in the big hush
as voices carry through the airs of neutrality
as hearts decimate in a din of nothing
the promise of love ensues from undecided truth...
the beauty, the pulchritude.
(I'll give you guys three guess what this poem is all about. Clue = fundamentals of procreation)
The dry spell is gone i am reinspired. and am reminded of the epidermic feel, the human contingence. Like cradling fragile crystal flues, setting them gently on satin, to the bulldozer-like motions our physique is made capable of. Brutal and beautiful all at one.
And the feel of hearts incontiguous. How i am reminded. How old i have become. Damn, a few more years, i'm gonna look like letterman.
one of the few i'm writing, happy.
pissed by Ben Samin at 5:37 PM
Tuesday, 2 October 2007
I happened upon a blog that truly does the effort of bringing together the un-judged, un-adulterated, un-bigoted and true blue expressions of the inner self via poetry.
here, you can find the raw, unstudied styles of penning (that's a compliment), that somehow achieves to bring you close to the sense of the word it self.
and on this blog, they did a post where we were to contribute a stanza to an ongoing poem, which abruptly ended with my two-bits. cheeeyy... (my part is in blue)
From Poet's Who Blog
It's bleeding skin, visible sin-
a haunting and obvious chorus.
Weep for us, weep for us.
Toils in stone and dust, and
crimes of love and lust;
now scarlet gash binds us all
Memories faded, lives wasted
woven sins and joys infested
we tread along, we trudge alone.
in the hopes of the joys unknown
Wounds and burns still live on
still we tread along, we trudge alone.
to trudge along these shores ajar
baren woes, like smoothened pebbles
worry all that which carries no weight
worry none for the shores afar
First three lines by Sara from The Shores of My Dreams
Next three lines by Nishant from Absorbed
Next six lines by Soham from The Soul and the Witness
Next four by Ben from Resonance of Reverberations
After reading this, i expect praises from everyone. I'd praise myself but that'll make me appear to be narcissistic and vain, and that is not the message that i'd like to bring across. Self praise is no praise after all.
So please, let the flattery and the accolades of adoration pour in and flood this poor little struggling heart of a portfolio manager.
Salut! Je ne fatigue... ZZZzzzzzzzzz......
pissed by Ben Samin at 7:56 AM
St. Augustine once said that evil has no embodiments...
evil has no manifestations and has no form
evil was but an absence of good. Man's true self is good, but when he chooses to commit an evil act
he is but turning away from good
from who he truly is.
I SAY IT'S A LOAD OF CROCK!
through my vast research into the human psyche, extensive exercises of deduction, and the multitude of emotional pursuits i have performed via experimantions vis-a-vis theoretical imperatives, i have found out the following:
There are no humans. There are only monkeys. The axiom = if good is found in man, good does not exist for there is no man. there are only monkeys.
Rationale: When one man brutally murders or rapes another human being (for example purposes), they say his act was "heinously inhumane".
Inhumane = lacking the qualities of a human, i.e. compassion, pity. Animal like.
animals do not rape, do not murder for the 5 dollars, do not take pictures of naked children, do not torture masses of populations by means of terrorism or kill in the name of God.
Ergo, if the arithmetical probability of the axiom is correct, here is no man.
hahahaha... today i am feeling irrationalbly resourceful, due to the reciept of a boost of inspiration from a past shadow.
pissed by Ben Samin at 7:36 AM
Wednesday, 29 August 2007
a tiny crumb
on a chest of burden
a bag of pens
yet heavy the hands that steer the quill
stood a arbiter
the social isolation of an individual
stood the voice
of a thousand in one
ajar, the hat atop the head
tributaries part from rivers
of a crumb
(i need redemption from the writer's block. it's been omnipresent for far too long. if anyone can tell me what the poem means, thou shalt have gained my undivided respect for life)
-the lost captain
pissed by Ben Samin at 8:10 AM
Thursday, 16 August 2007
I have hence encountered the fearsome writers block but in the transition of literary mental secession, i have begun to doodle... : )
I was awaiting the the arrival of the highly unreliable public transport and my brain was irredeemably restless. I pulled out my pierre balmain pen (which traditionally writes like crap but looks good in my breast pocket, and was also a gift from a dear one) and started doddling on "the sun" paper.
Through theories of deduction and processes of elimination, i have deduced that the only time art is good is when it comes directly tied to an apparent emotion, e.g. boredom, fear, sadness, rage. I know it's a commonly know truth, but never did i expect this to be with such discernible truthness.
When we sit down with a pure intention to write, the abominations that result are horrible. But when you paint (either with a brush or with words) out of extemporary action, the beauty shows.
The beauty shows in honesty. In it's pure crystalized form.... With social conformity set in man's minds, these simple truths have expended into walls upon walls of superfical constituants. Simply put, when we truly madly deeply become our true selves without the need of any external factors, beauty always prevails. It is inherent in ALL of us, but for some, it's far too deep to retreive.
PURSUANT to that, i come to my point. I would like to boast a doodle i did this evening. It is nothing compared to what i used to be able to do, but i think with a little bit of honing, i may yet again retain my sketchers touch. This was just inspired by the strong wind that blew through the station.
(I know that this mile long explanation does not justify such a simple doodle, but it makes me feel good and i'll boast nonetheless)
p.s. now that i have deduced this, coupled with some pretty good advice from dreamer idiot (eugene), i shall be posting more poetry which i have jotted / doodled in my little black book, to subject it to all of your scrutiny and seasoned criticism. Truly appreciate it.
pissed by Ben Samin at 9:05 AM
Monday, 30 July 2007
This is a tribute to the mind. Where beauty mixes with gruesome horror. Where regardless of the efforts of man, beauty doesn't always seem to prevail... especially nowadays. And people seem to use their ding-dongs less and less; common sense is no more common.
evidence of the mind
found among anger's deformations
which little chokes, whence attempting to find
sanctified beauty within imaginations
to estimate malice
the short distance travel of thought
the foresight of grandeur
merely a breeze blown in a draught
fecundity of the mind
engage in greatness
waste not wisdom to conform
the power of amplitude, wastes not the will of percipience
daydreams fill the day with dreams...
this is Ben signing out and setting my brain to hibernate and defragment (sleep)
pissed by Ben Samin at 7:16 AM
Friday, 20 July 2007
I dug up some of my miscellanous papers that have been cluttering my room for the past few years and was about to dispose of them when i chanced upon a few sketches i drew 7 years ago. I thought it would be worth showing off and make me feel good about myself for a while, albeit my personal reveries being short lived, for (God forbid) i can't draw like this anymore. Practice makes perfect, and no one's perfect. So screw it. So tell me what u guys think ok? I don't think i'll be chancing upon many of these in the future.
SHOULD YOU WISH TO PURCHASE ANY OF MY LABORIOUS MASTERPIECES BELOW, THEY ARE PRICED AT A LOW FLAT COST OF $(RM)25,000.00
small price for the development of the arts.
: ) si c'est bon!!
P.S. - forgive me for the substandard images for i shot them with a poor quality camera
P.P.S - there are a liiiiittle bit more but i won't post them all now, for fear of overshadowing the real stuff... ahhaa..
pissed by Ben Samin at 8:43 AM
Wednesday, 11 July 2007
fights of bane strewn pale
colors point far to the lands of hope
hearts of leaders stay left for sale
why we pursue, this fear of fear
close our eyes, advance the sword
through the bond of men
men who cannot hear
brothers be, after a war
brothers don't stay, anytime else
(let's stop the crap. shit, i feel like John Lennon now)
pissed by Ben Samin at 9:06 AM
Saturday, 7 July 2007
how heavy these bones
that carry the skin upon which it rests
oh the apathy for the lack of motion
when all is languid at its best
attempts to attempt
none but dormancy prevails
inertia swings form left to right
attempts are to no avail
oh how lazy these bones
that try and try
yet like bricks and stones
the once powerful clock scratches with a sigh
save me from torpescence
no aphorism may state the unstated
for this state remains listless
(shit i'm so lazy... even typing this out has been an ultimately sluggish effort and my fingers defy me by staying faineant. somebody help me! take me out of this slump!)
pissed by Ben Samin at 9:07 AM
Thursday, 5 July 2007
sit here and you shall be whole.
sit here and all is good.
sit here with me, without me, it doesn't matter.
this chair is yours
sit, rock and sway.
this chair is comfortable
this armchair is plush and soft, but the rails are hard.
this armchair is velvet and hairy, suede at best...
pissed by Ben Samin at 9:33 AM
You should know
that there are pieces of your mouth
left here unintentionally
it follows around
the shadow of you
and it costs the world to breathe
today i'm thinking of you
with some new memory
and some gray old history
i trip everyday without thinking
just with the shadow of you.
sweetnesses in my life are ripped away
pissed by Ben Samin at 9:20 AM
Wednesday, 4 July 2007
Monday, 2 July 2007
marvels of nature
lay not in the great
not in the vast
save in the seas of slumber
hit the sack
catch some shuteye
waddle in slumber
steal sixty winks
from who is it stolen
for the thief marvels
in the great, vast
seas of slumber
-shagging the sack
pissed by Ben Samin at 9:48 AM
Saturday, 30 June 2007
if life is important
then why is it so fragile
why is it so hard to hold on to
when living is what we do best
you have taught us that life is worth living
the sheer power of living to the fullest
you always will
pissed by Ben Samin at 9:20 AM
Friday, 29 June 2007
orphans of silence
words append the forehead
speak as you may
of the diefication of truth
where the truth lays indiefied
repudiate as you may
of the semblance of truth
succinct formulations of principle
consice verbal brevity
beauty of tongue points not to truth
for truth is furthest
from tongue itself.
-ben, threatened by pens of falsehood
pissed by Ben Samin at 11:48 PM