Raindrops fall from the sky
The colour of the sky was blue
Teardrops fall, I cry
So tired of being blue
Crying in the rain
So they'll never see me in pain
Watching the rain wash away
But not my emotions, no way
I wished to wear a crown
Not to be their clown
Why can't they see me like "woah"
Instead of "ohh"
I am not as tough as you can see
I can't be strong as I wanna be
Stop judging me
I never knew how my life would be
A feeling of glass shards running deep through your veins;
A Metaphor For Love
when my words come together like glue on paper it is razors cutting my tongue
it is blood trailing these ceramic floors
and i must apologize,
for my mind is coming undone and I know
how silly these things can be,
how love can make you teach a grown man about the way his eyes stump you every single time with a feeling running so deep you felt every bone in your body ignite before they broke into infinite little pieces
And did you know dear
That I loved you
did you know
what loneliness could do?
And you aren't here anymore dear
you left you sweater on the kitchen table and went straight for the door that day
I shut the blinds and shed my skin and waited for the end of May
and i only wish that by August
I'll be able to wake up
to the sun shining a warmth that only you could have given me
that you never gave me
and If you only knew
how I attempted to steal that warmth
when I tried to tear out the thorns in your side
and wear them as my own
even though I knew better
than to walk around bearing someone elses pain
I could not help but think-
it must be terribly unnerving to be cared for by a poet, to think of all the times they stay up late writing metaphors for your skin and how Words Aren't Enough
How I wasn't enough
Can I pull you back? Again? Once more.
Can I have you again? Can I?
Can I have you back here in my life?
Can I ask you to stay and never say good bye?
Can I hold your hand like I always do?
Can you hug me from behind, like what you always do?
Can you kiss my forehead again as I sleep?
Can you ask me to eat again and tell me not to skip.
Can we go to church like each Sundays that passed by?
Can we drive crazy in highways, as if we'll never die?
Can we laugh again, and again as if we're insane.
Can I be your girl again?
Can I wipe these tears with your hands babe?
Can I borrow your arms and wrap the to mine?
Can I wear your shirt again so I can feel you
Can you be the one that I would say, I do.
Can you be my forever bestfriend indeed.
Can you be my enemy, but will choose to defeat.
Can you mine again like the old times.
Can I have you once more and forever be mine...
But I know, that will never to come again... :(
The path was lonely
company is not too hard to find these days
Some sweaty rags and a
patched army coat
emerged from a dark
waved me in his direction
already approaching me
with his friend
which I couldn't see
but it was dark
so I think
along with some money
I will give him the benefit of the doubt
since it is too typical
to assume that if a homeless man is talking
it is to himself
He began to whisper
and inch towards my face
His breath smelled something
that could only
be described in eulogy
Underneath his tumbleweed beard
were deep ridges
filled with dirt and sweat
the Grand Canyon had a son
and disowned him
His advice hit my face
with golden plaque
from the gaps of his teeth
Things will get better soon, my friend
some guffaws and a handshake later
he jumped back off his feet
and into the dark
I continued home
to my own boxed alleyway
thinking it was five minutes
If I ever went back to that
dark of a street
I will hope that he is gone
to find a brighter one
Public Prosecutor v Blaise B.
 3 SLR 69
Suit No: CC No 666/2013
Decision Date: 12 December 2013
Court: Court of Appeals
Coram: B. K. Beaudoir J
Counsel: G. Bozo for the Prosecution, Renagaresh Bhulimio S.C. for the Accused
Criminal Law - Offences - Murder - Defence of grave and sudden provocation - Two requirements for defence - Subjective requirement that accused deprived of self-control by provocation - Objective requirement that 'grave and sudden' provocation exists based on 'reasonable man' test
Criminal Law - Offences - Murder - Defence of grave and sudden provocation - Applying the 'reasonable man' test - Whether basis exists for interfering with trial judge's decision that provocation grave and sudden - s 300 Exception 1 Penal Code (Cap 224)
1. Ms Lurveit Ima Ho, aged 25 ('D1') first came to know the Accused, Blaise B., through a personal advertisement which the Accused had posted up on a relatively popular internet website, Craigslist. Though D1 was, at all material times, living with her long-time partner Ms Clitty Li, aged 27 ('D2') in their rented apartment at Block 69 East Coast Road, Singapore ('the premises'), a wild and frenzied love affair between D1 and the Accused ensues.
2. On or about 6 January 2009, sometime between 11.30 pm and midnight, loud gunshots were heard from the apartment both D1 and D2 shared. According to an eyewitness' account, the Accused was seen stumbling out from the apartment soon after the gunshots with his pants around his knees. It was also reported that the Accused had, in his attempt to flee the scene of the crime, 'stumbled around like a headless chicken' as he made his way down the stairs.
3. D1 and D2 were both found dead in the master bedroom with multiple gunshot wounds to their bodies. There was no evidence of a struggle in the apartment. Dr Philly Shiotz, Consultant Forensic Pathologist with the Centre for Forensic Medicine, Health Sciences Authority, performed the autopsy on both D1 and D2 at about 5am the same day . Based on his findings, the cause of D1's and D2's death were certified as follows:
D1 - Acute Haemorrhage due to gunshot wound of the heart
D2 - Severe brain damage due to gunshot wound to the frontal temporal lobe
4. Police investigations led to the arrest of the Accused on Friday, 13 February 2009 and the Accused was charged as follows:
"That you, Blaise B. (aka Niggaz on Parole) on the 6th day of January 2009 between 11.30pm and 12 am, at Blk 69 East Coast Road, Singapore, did commit murder by causing the death of one Lurveit Ima Ho, f/25, and you have thereby committed an offence punishable under Section 302 of the Penal Code, Chapter 224."
"That you, Blaise B. (aka Niggaz on Parole) on the 6th day of January 2009 between 11.30pm and 12 am, at Blk 69 East Coast Road, Singapore, did commit murder by causing the death of one Clitty Li, f/27, and you have thereby committed an offence punishable under Section 302 of the Penal Code, Chapter 224.
5. It is undisputed that the Accused had, at the aforesaid premises, produced an illegal firearm and opened fire at both D1 and D2, thereby causing their untimely deaths.
The Prosecution Evidence
5. The prosecution led evidence by way of conditioned statements from 48 witnesses and oral evidence from one witness. There was little debate on the evidence presented by the prosecution and the material aspects thereof can be summarised as follows.
7. According to oral evidence of the prosecution's witness, Ms Zizi, whom we understand was recently gunned down by an unknown assailant in a public toilet situated somewhere in Geylang, the relationship between D1 and the Accused had soured sometime in November 2008. D1 had confided in Ms Zizi that the Accused was no longer able to 'satisfy' her sexual needs. Ms Zizi was further told by D1 that she had, on several occasions, caught the Accused masturbating in front of the fridge with a chicken carcass in hand. Concerned and embarrassed, D1 had confronted the Accused with advice to seek psychiatric help, to which the Accused promptly brushed aside unheeded.
8. It was only until the unusual habits of the Accused, which had by that time, deteriorated to such degree that he was seeking sexual gratification through the use of cabbage leaves, did D1 finally decided to take matters into her own hands.
9. Based on hand phone records obtained by investigating officers, the Accused was called to the apartment sometime around 10.30pm. At 11.15 pm, the Accused arrived at the scene of the crime. It is not known whether D2 was in the apartment at the time of the Accused's arrival. However, according to several eyewitnesses around neighboring blocks, D2 was seen returning to the apartment sometime about 11.30 pm.
10. The cautioned statement as well as the long statement recorded from the Accused were admitted in evidence as being voluntarily made without any objection from the Accused or his counsel. Insofar as is material, the gist of the said cautioned statement as well as the material portions of the long statement are summarised as follows:
(a) D1 had, against the will of the Accused, tethered him to the bed by way of leather straps shortly after he arrived at the apartment. According to the Accused in his statement, D1 had intended to insert a raw carrot into his anus.
(b) D1 was in the act of removing the Accused's pants when D2 stepped into the master bedroom.
(c) A heated argument ensues between D1 and D2 and the Accused, whose presence was momentarily ignored, manages to chew his way through to freedom.
(d) Greatly disturbed by what D1 had intended to do to him, the Accused took his pistol out (which was hidden in the pocket of his jacket) and opened fire, taking D1 down before proceeding to shoot D2.
The Defence Case
11. The evidence given by the Accused was brief and concise. He admitted to the killing of both D1 and D2 but pleaded not guilty to murder in reliance on the defence of provocation and diminished responsibility under Exception 1 of Section 300 of the Penal Code (Chapter 224) insofar as to attribute his loss of self-control on the failings of modern society.
12. Not only has the Accused elected to testify, he has, in the stead of his solicitors, conducted his closing submissions at the trial of this matter.
13. Though belated at this juncture, I find it pertinent to address the issue of the Accused choosing to conduct his closing submissions himself. Whether out of foolhardiness or arrogance on the part of the Accused, it is not my place to say, but it is my duty to express my concerns at such an ill-advised approach. It is rather alarming that the Accused's solicitors have failed to dissuade their client from committing such a folly, considering the gravity of the situation. Mind you, the Accused's life is hanging by a thread, and we are all aware that under the laws of Singapore, more effort is needed to pop a girl's cherry than it does to snap that thread.
14. Be that as it may, as convoluted as it was entertaining, the crux of the Accused's submissions is that his aggression had been the product of the environment he grew up in, amongst other factors and influences fuelled by the failings of modern society, and in consequence a characteristic, of which the Court should take account when assessing his loss of self-control.
15. First off, it is with utmost regret that I admit that this over-debated theory leaves much room for argument. Personally, I do not reject the idea that a person, so exposed to the depravities of his fellow beings and the gradual decline of our moralistic values, may be so conditioned in such matter that it becomes an indelible imprint on that person's character. However, I am persuaded to think that it is ultimately a personal choice to allow this debasement of ethics to be replicated by way of an deviant act.
16. If immorality, along with all other choices, is caused through hereditary and environmental means, might not the same be said for the laws that govern this land, which ultimately serve to protect the rights of its citizens. Unless proven otherwise, the laws of nature, on which our written laws have been established, are quite certainly inherent traits of all humankind. Accordingly, I am inclined to find the Accused's argument that his actions were purely a gross reflection of the unfortunate circumstances of which he had been exposed to, a weak and fallible defence. I am minded to think that the Accused was aware that what he was doing was a wrongful act, and therefore clearly mindful of the possible implications of his actions.
17. I am now invited to consider whether the provocation was sudden and grave enough to make a reasonable man act as the Accused had done so as to excuse his action.
18. As the law has developed, there are two distinct requirements for the provocation defence to apply: first, a ‘subjective’ requirement that the accused was deprived of his self-control by provocation; and secondly, an ‘objective’ requirement that the provocation should have been ‘grave and sudden’. The latter requirement involves the application of the ‘reasonable man’ test accepted in Vijayan v PP  2 MLJ 8 at p 12; [1975-1977] SLR 100 at p 107 and cited in Ithinin bin Kamari v PP  2 SLR 245 at p 250:
In our judgment, under our law, where an accused person charged with murder relies on provocation and claims the benefit of Exception 1 of s 300, the test to be applied is, would the act or acts alleged to constitute provocation have deprived a reasonable man of his self-control and induced him to do the act which caused the death of the deceased and in applying this test it is relevant to look at and compare the act of provocation with the act of retaliation.
19. Whether provocation is ‘grave and sudden’ enough to prevent an offence from amounting to murder is a question of fact, as stated in the Explanation to Exception 1 of s 300; this includes the question of whether the Accused had demonstrated the level of self-control to be expected of an ordinary person. Given the circumstances noted above, the Accused must have been in an emotional, vulnerable state of mind when he was told by D1 that she was going to 'fuck him senseless' with the carrot, which she had warmed up in the microwave oven moments before. Further, considering the fact that the Accused is a music recording artist known for his deplorable attitude towards the female sex, he would have felt emasculated by D1's actions and that would have tipped him over the edge. It is, however, most unfortunate that D2 had been present at the scene at that time. Her life could have been spared if she had not returned to the apartment when she did.
20. Therefore, the Accused is hereby convicted on a reduced charge of culpable homicide not amounting to murder.
Final Appeal for the Record (Label):
State of New York
Jefferson Washington Lincoln Carver
Aka: Blaise B/Niggaz on Parole
Docket #: 10098765
Excerpt of certified court transcript (pages 1624-1628):
Jefferson Washington Lincoln Carver addresses the court:
who value the lives of their families
beyond the mere gavel of law, I ask you:
What is innocence?
Do we not all bear the mark of Cain?
Are the sins of the ancestors not visited upon the children?
If I am not my brother’s beeper,
can’t I, at least, be his supplier.
What guilt is there in that?
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury,
‘Twas not I who pulled the trigger.
I was at my Auntie’s playing Grand Theft Auto with my cuz.
For argument’s sake, forget my alibi.
‘Twas society. Yea, she is the nefarious villain you seek!
She is the trigger happy bitch that has brought me before you today.
I swear it upon my loins.
Nay, peeps, I swear it upon my very crotch
that hath launched a thousand quips
and knocked up that be-otch Helen
bareback on her high Trojan horse.
My childhood was not coddled with frills of Fisher-Price
nor with the dulcet tones of Baby Mozart.
My rattle was still attached to a snake.
My music was the wail of police sirens
and the staccato clap of gun fire
arising from domestic disturbances in the hood.
You see…my moms was a crack ho’.
Give me pause, good friends,
as I reflect upon her saintly semblance.
It is misted in memory
like morn beneath the Brooklyn Bridge
or Dian Fossey’s silverback gorillas
playing hide the banana.
My moms hit the pipe
like Mike McGuire hit home runs on the juice
and dragged my ass from trick to trick.
Child Services took me from her diligent care
when I was but a tot in an Armani running suit.
To what end?
I was shuffled through the foster care system,
weaned on neglect and nurtured on abuse.
Today, I wear these childhood wounds as medals.
I am not covetous of bling, but I wear it.
My desire doth not dwell on Nike Airs, I just do it.
Is it not the fashion of a man to be fashionable?
To be arrayed in the silken threads and primped with pimpish hats
Who’s pluck’d feathers would shame the Bird of Paradise
In all its plum’d puffery.
Jurors, my only sin be this…
I covet the attention I was denied as child --
I yearn for the tenderness of a mother’s caress
The slam dunk lessons of a heroic father.
Hath not my wounds given me the merit
To covet no less? If offense be taken,
I, too, shall wear that affront as an honor --
A medal from the frontlines of urban warfare.
In this naked simulacrum of Law and Order
We can no longer speak of perps’ and vics’,
For victims we are all:
Victims of Madison Avenue
Who make us crave
The shit we need not.
Victims of the media
Who elevate celebrity,
Pathetic parrots of rote,
To near divinity.
Victims of Darwinian capitalism,
That makes short-shrift of our humanity.
Victims of ‘the man’,
Yes, you crackers in the robes,
Who sat our black asses
On the back of the bus for so long
It left indelible marks
In the upholstery of our souls.
Who in this courtroom
Is not a victim?
Come forth, I pray thee!
Let them cast the first stone
And beat the soot off my weary soul.
Let him render the eye-for-an-eye justice
That leaves the world blind.
No takers? No volunteers?
That’s because, your Honor, there are no perps.
We live in a perp’less society!
God is dead and our lives are perp’less!
We are all innocent.
“Who is innocent,” I ask you.
And I answer…
All of us!
Every fucking one of us!
Yea, ‘Twas Society who pulled the trigger,
Find society guilty and by this fair construct you will be compelled to bear witness to my innocence.
I pray thee, season thy justice with mercy, for in your zeal to dispense the former, you shall make orphans of all.
In summation, a wise man once said,
‘The quality of mercy is not strain’d.”
I add, Nor can innocence be feign’d.
Behind Justitia’s blindfold it is writ:
‘We are victims all’,
Just Watchin the Clock (rap song)
Helen shall I dash my hopes upon your rocks
Sacrifice my ship to sinking sirens song
Chase your willowisp into the dark swamps deadly mist?
Sultry siren call me forth
Towards the jagged expectations of your ever changing shores
I shall sink myself upon the shark filled shoals
Where sailors seek salvation
And find their high hopes drowned
To fall into the endless dark
Where skeletons enthroned
All wear the coral crown
Oh Helen I shall send a fleet with high flags flying
And chance your shifting sands
I shall risk the rocks and waves
the highs and lows of your desire
I shall steer my ship towards heaven
And hope to reach it's shores
You do not know who I am,
For I have too many layers to count:
I am a strong woman.
With high regards to others.
I am a scared little girl.
Too afraid to face my fears.
I am the one who blends in.
Never seems to be noticed
I am the loudest in the room.
Voice resounding through the space.
I am beautiful.
But I do not make a big deal about it.
I am ugly.
And I don't feel like putting makeup on today.
I am sexy.
And I like to wear tight jeans.
I am lazy.
And I can sometimes only bring myself to wear sweatpants
I am timid.
I do not talk to new people often.
I am confident.
When I wear my combat boots, skirt, and lipstick.
I am a writer.
And my words touch people all over the world.
I am stupid.
And my words often do not make sense.
I am a mother.
Natural born that is, and I often take that role with my sisters.
I am a loner.
I need time to myself to function.
I am a scholar.
I love to learn.
I am a procrastinator.
I should be writing a paper about Kennedy right now.
I am a hippie.
I believe in world peace, and I shop at an earthy store.
I am a punk rocker.
I listen to weird music and I like black leather.
I am an athlete.
Captain of the Volleyball and Softball team.
I am damaged.
Sexually assaulted and mildly depressed.
I am triumphant.
I can forgive him.
I laugh at inappropriate times.
Because it seems better than crying.
I am seen.
I am heard.
I am understood.
I am loved.
Are you real, or are you fake,
you have a name for a names sake,
you wear it like on a car,
with all the vanity you have and are,
what do you do here?
Are you reading looking for code,
you decipher the earnest viper,
behind all this ill intent, some just vent,
others write of love, but those are not
the ones you watch with your
vinyl gloves typing away at the job.
what do you see here?
You mock some, you enjoy others,
I am sorry you grew up lonely,
no sisters or no brothers, an only
child with a penchant for mystery,
when you went overseas you got dysentry,
even that word loosens your bowels.
what touches you here?
warm words, with tears streaming,
emotions that rise and fall with the sun,
retire early and run words with us,
you will have fun, pour those bottled-up
emotions and expand your self worth,
c'mon give it a try, experience re-birth!
what finds you here, today, lonely one?
To my funeral, wear a dress of red
Please, in lieu of a black one stark and plain
display one last time your beauty, instead
Of concentrating solely on your pain
The best and sweetest moments in my life
Carry with them the highest price of all
It's agony to see you face such strife
I must end this torture once and for all
I dread the ghosts which doggedly hound me
I can no longer bear the sullen weight
Of my past decisions. I must be free
of it, it is past time to face my fate
To my funeral, wear a dress of red
Show your love for me, now that I am....
Life is the sum of our regrets. How long can we bear the burden?
In 18 years of reading,
I've only ever cried
over the pages of two books, one was
Dear America: Letters Home From Vietnam
Because I saw haunted faces,
staring back at me from between the lines of
letters scrawled in jungle heat.
I cried because half the boys were my age,
that half died, 2 weeks before their time in hell was up,
while politician's sons rested safe under their father's names.
I cried because some met an end,
without seeing their newborn sons,
or found out Mary/Suzy/Jane/Jennifer didn't love them any more,
and they ground her high-school portrait into the mud,
along with the warm thought that someone besides their mother
was thinking of them.
I cried because they lost themselves
in mud and blood and bullets and
did things they'd never thought themselves capable of,
in a uniform most never wanted to wear,
in a land forsaken by God
where people were what they were not,
and you couldn't tell the difference.
I cried because when they came through hell
they found Mother
had disowned her sons,
And they stood bewildered,
wondering why she called them back
if she didn't want them home.