creativity. digital. faith. » poetry + stories

Home and Here

joel.lim — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 11:18:15 +0000

Can I do this? I’m faced with a long climb, will I be good enough? Will I need to prove myself again? Wouldn’t it be nicer to go home and settle for the easier way? Here, I’ll need to thaw the ice. Show myself strong. Help those who don’t understand to see the light within themselves. To prod. To challenge. Can I lead in two fronts? Will I neglect one? I want to shine in my abilities to make wonderful things. Here, I must settle for less. Grow others. Home, I will face all the things I hate. I must look inside me. I must remember the forest that lies inside. The playground paradise of jewels hidden everywhere. I must dig deep into my well. Listen to the stories again. Remind myself when I am low: I am the doer of impossible things. The Maker has destined me to burn through all that is mundane in this world. To pull through victorious in all circumstances. The prophet in the marketplace. Offensive to the proud. A friend of the lowly. If this be my path then so be it. I remember the words to the song again. The music is returning to my ears. The dance is starting and the Maker is calling me to get up, to stand and take His hand and dance. This time the dance is different. But we are the same. And I am safe, powerful and favoured.

To Life

joel.lim — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 13:23:37 +0000

At which point in your life have you been beaten?
Why do you feel as though you cannot get up?
Who has told you that you are weak and a failure?
How can it be that you have decided to age?

Can sorry excuses lift your broken spirit?
Can past wounds still carried make you stronger?
Can a slap in the face make your day perfect?
Can darkness give you light in the dark?

Should a man or woman dictate how much, how far, how high, how fast?
Can someone who has not, give?
Should you pretend to be a fool when you are wise?
Should you force a laugh when you want to cry?

Life did not come to you in glory.
Life did not bestow you any gift.
Life is not indebted to you.
Life does not make or break.

Listen, all who lose heart!
Make Life your close friend.
Choose Life over your death.
Tell Life what causes you despair.
Tell Life what it is you desire.

Wisdom.
Courage.
Freedom.
Equity.

Arrakis 02

joel.lim — Thu, 22 Jan 2009 03:36:30 +0000

Finally. I found the Fremen. We sat around a fire and traded stories.
I found what they said to be the thoughts I’ve had for some time.
Instantly, something within my spirit connected with these men.
The unseen rain falls.
The reality of the promise unfolding before my very eyes.
We talked about the Great Houses. Why they inspire loyalty but make me feel empty.
I spoke of my restlessness to find the Messiah.
I felt that His Kingdom was nearly imperceptible in many Houses Great and Minor.
Will I find the Messiah among these men?
“O to find the King I am poor in spirit.
To live the nomad’s life until I have found Him.
To live the life as a follower of the Chosen One.
This, surely, will make the harshness of Arrakis worth it.”

Arrakis 01

joel.lim — Sat, 10 Jan 2009 03:21:16 +0000

After over a year feeling spiritually numb in the sands of my Arrakis, some semblance of hope has begun to fill my void. I do feel the Breath rustling within, enveloping me. My arid spirit detects the pitter-patter of raindrops falling from an ocean of clear blue sky. The night journeys will end. The stilsuit dependency will end. The promise of the Latter Rain and the Latter House (Jl 2:23; Hgg 2:9) rings softly in the cave of my refuge. I am beginning to see, like Paul Atreides, “another kind of terrain: the available paths”.

“Why you’d love to work in advertising”

joel.lim — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 06:36:24 +0000

Behind closed doors, men and women with pen and paper do nothing all day but dream of new ways to tell you why you’d love something very much.

Captive Bubbles

joel.lim — Fri, 14 Mar 2008 02:44:54 +0000

Bubbles stuck on window. Black non-permanent marker.

Awakening

joel.lim — Wed, 09 Jan 2008 07:14:58 +0000

I woke up in the midst of my work realising I am waking up to a world of design and that it is lonely, for a writer, to share his passion with others who think that people think in certain way and they must.

Proverbs

joel.lim — Tue, 20 Nov 2007 02:51:38 +0000

‘Clients get the advertising they deserve.’

– Phil Dusenberry

Dysfunctionality

joel.lim — Sun, 29 Jul 2007 09:41:21 +0000

Church, the miserable experience, goes like this: Sitting on the chair, singing the songs we always sing. Listening to sermons written the way they are always written. Praying the way we’ve always prayed.

Sigh.

I cannot escape the wave that crashes over and pulls me under. Drowning in the apathy and lethargy of the service, I leave asking myself where the good days when I connected with hope went. I sigh because of the spiritual journey that I’ve taken outside the Sunday service.

No one understands the bittersweet taste, love and anguish, of the Vineyard affair. The cost. The field that was bought. How dull can a person(s) be? If a man sells everything to gain a dream, would it not make you curious? If a man can no longer fight on the frontlines of his dream, will you not wonder why? But I live in a bubble, that’s why.

A bubble.

Aye. This bubble I live in is comprised of strangers. Strangers who live in a bubble that perpetuates superficiality hiding the rot inside each one. The bubble floats in the air. Knowing not where it is headed. Just knowing it is floating. But the mesmerism of floating felt by the strangers in the bubble can only last a season. Then it evolves into idontcarism.

That’s why the strangers in the bubble don’t know and don’t want to know. So my unique journey remains hidden in the apartment I lived for two years. It stays in the thoughts of the people I still care for, but can no longer be with. It remains echoed in the songs we sang in the aroma of God’s presence.

But maybe it is not the season for dreamers and their dreams. Bubbles can’t contain wine.

So I sit in my dysfunctionality with no more dreams. But deep within, I know this will pass. Because I have prayed that my Deliverer come. I have made a request to I Am to pop my bubble and rescue me. He will ride on the wind and clouds and scatter His lightning and clap thunderously. With an arm of steel He will pull me out of the depths and shout out my name with strength like a lover drunk with love for his beloved.

Joel! Joel! My son! My friend! I have heard your prayers and seen your mourning. See, I have released you from your binds; washed your whoredom away and made you my pure bride. Once more will I remind you of my promises to you and show you the strength of my power. For before you were born, I have dictated that you stand as a voice to the nations, and have promised you fatherhood and seed too numerous to count. Dream dreams. See visions. Sing songs. From ashes you will dance with no shame.

The work the work the work

joel.lim — Sat, 09 Jun 2007 16:46:36 +0000

We push our minds, we wreck our heads

We work day and night in search of Gold

The fame, the glory, the promotion, the money

A Pencil, a Lion, a Spike, or a Clio

The list goes on, the pressure to perform

Drives us insane, makes some better, makes some lesser

Where do I stand if I don’t deliver?

My worth is weighed on a scale of metal!

Gold: you are the best

Silver: fantastic

Bronze: better than most

Finalist: better than nothing

You must understand one thing, if you are to understand a Creative

Adland is ruled by the ones who have Gold

It’s a zero sum game and my score stands at ’0′

My competitive streak plays havoc on my esteem when I review

My work and it hasn’t brought me a trace of a prize

So I kamikaze into my pad

I satisfy my thirst for greatness with a 0.4mm marker

I try and try and try again

Another scamp, one more headline

Till my eyes drop off and my fingers bleed

Till I am carted away into a lobotomy

The passion and the pain – my raison d’etre

I am a copywriter, darn it! The joy, the curse

Leave me alone you halfwits, lazybones, ‘mediocrits’

I don’t have time for your power games your politics

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There.

I’ve lost it.