I have a dream

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, When we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"


emerald green...

"hey guys, guess what?"


"he told me he liked me."

"serious mo?"

"yeap. over the phone."
her smile became a sideways banana as she spilled this happiness to her friends.
yet amongst them, one shared not her happiness.
a strong coffee taste filled her heart.

"how could he like her?"
"i'm far more better than her."
"he must be out of his mind."
jealousy grew in her heart.

"no way..!"
"i will not let her get him."

suddenly, a a shipwreck started floating on the sea.
their friendship just hit an iceberg.
her heart started feeling cold towards her.

hatred grew in her heart like flowers blossoming in the spring.
she did everything she could to make people hate her.
she tried everything to drive her out of her mind.
she made her suffer.... psychologically.

yet on the other end, she acted innocent infront of that guy.
she put on her best behaviour.
she tried to grab every attention of his.
doing everything to please him.
polishing his apple.
trying to be the apple of his eye.

yes. indeed she did it all.
just for a moment to be with him.
to get his love.

she spread rumours about the other girl.
her character had became the green goblin.
she went great lengths to take her down.
she told lies.

she made people believe her.
being the influential figure she was, she made people believe that that girl said this and that about them.
hatred grew more and more.

that girl, zee, cried out as the torture was too much for her.
she had almost nothing left.
she lost it all.
the guy didn't trust her anymore.
her friends left her.
they all made her an outcast.

she cried til her tears dried up.
there wasn't a single night whereby her sorrow didn't fill the air.
she had noone  to turn to..
no shoulder to lean on.

sad she was.
and sad she is.

the smile from her face was gone.
her eyes were swollen from her tears she cried out.
her sleepless nights didn't do any good to her.

looking at her now, you wouldn't imagine she was once a girl with a sweet smile.
it was all gone, never to return.

one night...
as she wet her pillow again,
crimson flow poured out from her eyes.
as she wiped her greatly moisturized face, she felt the heat of the blood.

time just stopped as she stared at her blood covered hands.
without a blink for hours.
memories just reflected on the blood.

"oh why....?" cried her heart.


hurts the soul, and the people around you.
turn back before it's too late.


behind those hazel eyes

there she stood.

staring at the shadow before her.
it was of the figure she knew so well.
it was him.
there was no mistaking it.

she could only watch from afar.
there was no way it was going to be how it used to be.
there was no turning back.
they were just not meant to be.

he walked past the door and stood there trying to take out something from his pocket.
she found herself moving closer to the door.
she couldn't control her feet.
it was moving...
slowly yet surely, uncontrollably...

a few girls came to talk to him.
suddenly she stopped.
she told herself, " what on earth am i doing?"
she watched on as they laughed while chatting.
his smile was ever so sweet.

"why?" she asked herself. "why couldn't things be as they were?"

so close yet so far.
the distance betweene their physical bodies were just a mere few feet away.
yet, their hearts were nowhere near each other.

she stood there envious of those girls.
her hazel eyes were smeared with the colour of nature.
crystals formed at the tip of her eyes.

she took a step back.
hung her head low and turned around.
"sigh, i guess fate's not on our side. those were the days...."

the stone in her heart grew ever so big.
it weighed her down.
sorrow overflowed from her body.

she ran.
she ran and she ran.
til she found her secluded and isolated spot.

there was no holding back.
streams of tears wetted her cheeks.

she sobbed as she remembered all the times they had together.
the happy times, the hard times, the arguements they had, the time at the coffee shop...
the time at the bus stop, the day she looked into his eyes...
it was all so far away.

it was only....
a blurred picture..

suddenly she felt a tap on her back.

she was stunned.
could it be?
her heart beat accelerated.

"why are you crying?"
there was no mistake.
it was him.
no one else had that voice.

she slowly turned around and.....

depicted from a true story, this is fiction and just for viewing pleasure.
if you think this reflects you, my apologies.
the end is for you people to use your imagination and complete it.
do write down your thoughts on the comment page as it is opened to anybody, regardless whether you have a google account or not.


breaking the limits

this is just pure randomness. enjoy.

sweat broke out from his forehead...
he could feel fatigue crawling over him.
tiredness filled every limb of his.
his body cried out, "stop"
it hurt him every inch as he continued.

no, no. i will not stop here.
i will go the distance.
i will.. I WILL SUCCEED.
i will prove to them, that i'm not a failure.

panting as he went on step by step, he had covered a great distance.
but he knew it wasn't enough.

blood broke forth from his nose.
he could feel it dripping down as he continued.
the crimson flow ran over his mouth.
he could taste the fresh blood with the tip of his lips.
but it was not going to deter him from continuing.
nothing was going to stop him.

his shirt was weighing him down with the amount of fluid accumulated on it.
he ripped off his shirt.
half-naked, the setting sun on the west gave his body a nice colour tone.
but that served as no disturbance to his focused mind.
he had the tunnel vision. focusing only on the finish line.

he used his shirt to wipe his nose and flinged it to the nearby bushes.
car by car went past him.
the carbon just made breathing more difficult for him.

every inch of his muscle was tortured as he went on.
but he had set in his mind not to stop.

he started picking up his pace.
"run, run, run"
his mind cried out to him to move faster.

his vision blurred as sweat covered his entire face.
he looked worst than a person who had just bathed.
he was soaked.
more than soaked.

he pushed on along the pavement. he could feel the dizziness in his brain.
something deep down somewhere just gave him the power to push on although he had virtually no more strength.
he ran and ran.

there. the mark of the finish line.
"it's just inches away." he told himself.

he broke into a sprint.
he ran and ran.
he could hardly breathe.
everything inside him was gone. totally depleted.

he was not going to give up before he finished.
suddenly everything around him blurred out.
he felt like the matrix.
s-l-o-w motion.
a loud, deafening horn was the last thing he heard.....


the torture of missing love

"the grass is greener on the other end"

"no, you're not supposed to do this"
"you know it's wrong"

"just do it. it's not like they care much"
"just think about it. how much attention have you gotten around here?"
"does anyone ever bother about what you wanna say?"

looking out the window. the sky seemed so blue. the grass seemed more greener on the other end of the fence.
suddenly the whole view turned blur as droplets filled his eyes.
as time passed, as cars went by, he sat hugging his legs, staring out of the window, pondering upon his next move.

how would the world look on that side? would i find what i have been missing all these years? would someone pay more attention to me? how can someone actually smile so wide?

time stopped as he turned around and took a moment to stare at his badly and sloppily packed rugsack. it was stuffed with everything he needed, or at least he thought he needed. yesterday was the last straw. he couldn't bear it anymore. the hurt on the outside could be cured. but not even time could heal the wounds inside which tortured every second of his life. as time flew past, the wounds got infected. by hate. it crept, like nightfall....slowly but surely. his heart slowly became harder and harder.

the drops in his eyes wetted his cheek. it brought forth moisture to the pale and dry cheeks, like a creek flowing through a barren land. he waited and waited as the moon dimly lighted up the roads outside his house.

it was now or never.

silently he made his way downstairs and tip-toed across his garden. then he sprinted, as fast as his legs and knees could carry him, like an olympic runner, full of determination, but without the record breaking speed. he ran and ran. til he was out of breath. not a single backwards glance. aimless, pointless running. an unrelentless pursuit of nothing. he knew not what life has install for him, but he continued.

he could feel his innards coming out from his mouth as he stood on the cliff of nowhere. he looked down, down into darkness, a seemingly endless length that travelled downwards. the moon was now covered by clouds. his heart pumped like never before. he could even feel the blood travelling around his head.

he took a deep breath and let out the loudest  scream he had ever done. frustration, anger, hate, dissatisfaction. arrrgggghhhhh..... he crumbled to his knees. his lips tasted the bitter soil that he stood upon a moment ago. tears poured forth like a tap that could not be turned off nicely. in the forest over the hills, only his wails could be heard. there was no echo to be heard, no owls hooting, no sound of nature. virtual silence. only the sounds of sadness and frustration.

silence. often we hear only the echoes of silence, in the midst of our screams.
who walks with us in the times of loneliness like this?


ponderment #3

should we be punished for something we didn't do?

if you said no, then why did Jesus die on the cross?

he was pure, innocent..
he never commited a crime.
not a single sin.

yet he died, so that we may gain eternal life through him.
he paid a debt he did not owe
he paid the debt at calvary
he died for our sins.
OUR sins.
he was righteous in every way.
the Son of God.
he could have stayed in heaven.
yet he said, " Not my will but Yours be done."

Blood and sorrow flow from the languid brow of Jesus dying;
and tears from Heaven's eyes are the anguished drops of a Father crying,
"Oh, why?"

Emblem of his pain, oh splintered wood of my transgression
I'll never comprehend how an act so great gave love expression--"Oh, why?"

And the people jeered at Him and mocked His holy name,
for they knew not who He was, nor why it was He came.
Some had come to offer help to soothe a mother's pain,
but as she watched her wounded Son, the comfort never came,
Oh, why?

This must be a cross of love
for God to bruise His only Son.
Jesus, what a sacrifice to reach us,
it had to be a cross of love!

he died on the cross, ±2000 years ago, for you and for me.
the cross was an emblem of suffering and shame, yet he took upon his shoulders the sins of mankind.
isaac watts described it as, " love so amazing, so divine. demands my soul, my life, my all."
he was crucified, laid behind the stone.
lived to die, rejected and alone,
like a rose, trampled on the ground.
yet he was willing...because of his great love.

at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Jesus died for the ungodly. very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. but God demonstrates his love for us in this: while we were still sinners, He sent his only son to die for us. since we have been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God's wrath through him! for if, when we were sinners, we were recoinciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life!