I want to be a psychopath.

It is so thrilling, the thought.

One day I'll rule the world

And **** people and never get caught.

Evening light is gentle, slow
Caressing leaves, metal roofs, soil
Plants, flowers, pavements and gates
Clouds are the mothers - they shield us
Lest the sun shines too much.

Take a breath and look around;
The sweet and tranquil garden will take it away.
All colour blend in synchronised harmony;
Blues and browns, pinks and whites
Crossing into and over each other like
oil paints,
Warm, welcoming, beautiful.

It is soothing - the sound of nothing
That disrupts; razes; hates
Disturbs; curbs quiet insight;
One's imagination is the lone
source of maximum sound
That vibrates through the garden.

My grandfather, my grandmother's brother,
Smiles as though the sun shines through his teeth
Dresses in a pale blue shirt
Black shorts
Both well-worn
Ready to play
some basketball.

Oh, the joy, the fun
The refreshment arising from this game in a courtyard
In grandfather's garden
Among young trees, leaves and other green growth.
There stands a home by hand made
Basketball stand,
A concrete base with metal support hands
Floppy strings of hoop
To shoot the ball into.

The garden has been bathed, it is fresh
It is refreshed.
Grandfather demonstrates, I listen and follow,
To throw the ball into the hoop
With precision and care; throw some force
Into the air.
The ball dances around the circle
then drops to the concrete floor.

We take turns
As I throw and grandfather returns
9/10 of the time my aim's bad
but the ball grandfather throws, I actually catch!
(Or it will tumble on wet soil)

Exciting, the thumping
of rubber ball against ground;
Keen eyes and agile hands and feet
To catch the stray ball;
With swift movements the ball flies!
From sideways, afar and near,
Into the hoop successfully, finally.

Back into the house we go,
As the sun leaves for home.
The garden prepares for night;
So do grandfather and I;
Grandfather washes up; I talk to
Grandmother in the garden;
waiting for night, to
fall
fall
fall,
into infinite darkness -
poignant memories

somehow,
someway
I always end up
doing the things I don't want myself to do
and regret a million things
before finally deciding
to just let it all go
and be a couch potato.
let all the assignments, homework, small little
things be due tomorrow.
it's a magical day where all the stuff
will somehow
someway
get done.
you just have to master the art of
procrastination
and everything will pile up
for tomorrow to make its magic
and finish everything.

I slept and dreamt one night,
What if I travelled back in time?
All the mysteries, all those historical moments
Can all be solved and relived.
How special wouldn’t that be?
What if I travelled back in time,
And met Shakespeare, Leonardo,
Galileo Galilei and the Emperor of China?
They’d teach me a lot of things.
What if I travelled back in time
And get to play with dinosaurs,
Climb the brachiosaurus, play tag with the T-Rex
And take a ‘magic carpet ride’ with Pterosaurs?
I could also follow Christopher Columbus on his trips
And come home with some souvenirs for my friends.
I could live in every dynasty of every country,
And see the world so many years ago
The sands of time slowly carried away by the wind
Once they’ve left, it’s just a memory, etched into our minds.
What if I travelled back in time,
And change all my test answers? I’ll be the smartest boy on Earth!
It’s all too simple, because I know what’s to happen.
But all these things will happen only in my wildest dreams. They couldn’t possibly come true right?
And I just fall back asleep and wonder,
What if I could REALLY travel back in time?

I amble onto bed, so tired, so sleepy
And fall into a deep slumber.
I hear a sound, something’s moving in my room.
My back just springs upright and time seems to stop still
As my ears strain to hear the slightest,
Littlest, clue
To find who’s that,
In that blue hat,
Moving around my room?
He moves closer and closer and I **** in my breath
And shut tight my eyes, not wanting to see the rest
I feel a tug on my blankets and they’re finally pulled away,
So I am about to scream before I realise,
I hear a soft, ringing bell…
“So I hear you’ve been dreaming about travelling back in time lately. Would you like to try?”
I’m a little bit afraid,
Anxious to go time travelling at this time of night.
What if all this is just a dream?
But the blue hat man reaches out to me and touches my cold hand.
It’s real, I think.
He winks at me and tells me to get ready because we’re going
Going, going, going, going, going, going, going,
To time travel!
I shut my eyes, a little more tight
And take a deep breath
And I feel we’ve landed somewhere,
I open my eyes slowly, anxious to see
And I discover sand dunes, all around me
But that wasn’t the main attraction
I sought for.
There were Pyramids and Egyptians being treated
Like dogs by other Egyptians, smug and arrogant
And cold-hearted, in this simmering heat.
They work to bring brick by brick
To the great structures
And that’s why they stand
To this very day.
Then the blue hat guy brings me to Ancient China,
All the guys had long hair,
Braided and shiny, beautiful and neat, with so much grace and poise
In their firm steps.
The Emperor stands tall and mighty
But he’s a little strange.
He doesn’t seem to blink at all, or talk.
The only thing he does is stand there. And breathe.
Yet I feel an air of supremacy when I gaze upon his
Yellow robes, intricately embroidered with dragons,
A sign that a mastery hand, skilled with needles and threads,
Made its mark across the yellow silk
And left two intertwined dragons in a jovial dance.
The blue hat guys holds my hands again
And squeeze them hard, to tell me
We’re jumping through time, how wondrous
This act, jumping through places
Through time and space
But we’re all the same, because all these
Things, can be found on Earth
And in our hearts and memories, which will last
Through the waves of time, even if the waves always crash on the shores.

I prepared myself,
The Final Jump,
After going jumping through the time of all civilisation, also
Back to the time of the dinosaurs.
I’m going back home, my own time,
The present, where here is now and now is here.
The blue hat guy lets go of my hand and
Gives me one last wink,
“Keep on dreaming and never forget
This magical adventure that we had!”
And he just disappears.
I’m back in my own bed and comfy and warm,
Blanket pulled up to my chin and I smile
As I close my eyes, I ponder once more,
Did I just travel through time and space
With a guy in a blue hat?
Or was that just another dream I had?

Stop being such a gentleman,
If you can help it,
and tell me explicitly,
that you want me to go
the f*ck away.

Love - it does not necessarily mean romance, or
silly, promised-filled, tragedies like Romeo and Juliet's,
or shallow, innocent love of teenagers, who are just starting to experience
what it's like and want to know more;

Love can mean the kind you feel for people
you care about, like your parents,
your siblings, your friends...
People whom you'd love unconditionally.
And those people probably love you back
despite your flaws and endless mistakes,
they'd forgive you
and sometimes,
they try to help you get on the right path
and correct those flaws so that
You become a better person.

But what does loving a stranger mean?
Isn't that how we all came to be?
Your mother loved a stranger, and got you.
Her mother loved a stranger and loved your grandfather,
and his father loved a stranger, your great-grandmother...

This beautiful cycle of loving strangers begins our time on Earth.

How do you know that you love a stranger?
Firstly, you might think that their fingers are rather bony
and maybe they way they stand are a little odd,
and the way they walk make you cringe inside 'coz it's awkward?
And their hair is a little too long, when they say a joke,
their lips curl up at the top and their eyes flit upwards
and you feel so uncomforable looking at them.
                     Slowly, you realise though...
after talking to them a little more,
becoming better acquaintances,
and then friends,
you don't notice those 'flaws' anymore (they were never things I should criticise in the first place)
In fact, you start to love them, and like it when they do that.
It's a unique part of them that you want to keep seeing.
You feel guilty and sorry for even hating them in the first place,
because afterall, they are beautiful!

            Lastly, when you depart,
you know you really love them because
           you'll miss those tiny details even more
since you're never going to see those lovely beauties again.
*(Oh, how I regret not fully appreciating them!)

He caught me by surprise
I never expected to blush
when an abrasive, goth dude
said my *** was cute

His clothes are all black,
as black as his hair,
and his heels are as high
as the moon in the sky

He is a criminal
and I am terrified
but more so of how hot
he looks when he talks

He has a beautiful face
so perfect in all proportions
and I am sure that I may
be turning very gay

He looks hot as a woman too
and my cheeks flush when he
dances with that sass
I have a ***** thanks to his ***

He is so funny
not in the usual way
but it's funny how things got
when I feel in love with the guy from the donut shop.

Where did you leave me stranded?
Upon a vast blue bleak, desolate and empty carcass of a place.
I didn't know whose footsteps to follow, because none was written in the sand.
In all the desert, there was only a string, and slowly, I pulled and led myself out of there.
I am not quite out of this cold in the night, and my blankets are torn and full of holes,
where mysterious eyes can peek through.
Still a confusion of questions and unlikely answers are written on a piece of paper,
Put safely in a bottle, and thrown over the sea,
floating, floating, but will they ever go to you?
No, that's how I feel. Wanting to ask you why you've left me stranded,
With no directions, not even a star in the sky,
And yet, my screams are unheard through the cloudless desert,
this place is quite cold tonight. Just like how my hand feels because it has been some time since you held it.
The warmth has left and now, I'm feeling quite unsure, whether your hand was even there at all.
I see Sagittarius but the melting *** of my chest's cavity is just burning with an unfulfilled wish
If he could only shoot me right here and then. I am losing all directions,
I am jeopardizing my life.
I beg you, please answer,
why did you boil such a warm cup of English tea for me but throw me here, in this desert?
However I am feeling now, I am sure I have not learnt my mistake:
When I see you again, I shall hug you and kiss you on your wonderful cheek, hoping you may again
be warm.

for now, I still love you. (and am confused.)

Do you ever wonder
What to do when you're awake
When the sun hasn't seeped through
And brought the light of day?

Sit in front of the computer
and stare blankly
waiting for the Sun to rise
and the world to shine?

I am very bored
Waiting over here
And there's nothing I can do
but bear with the silence.

Drink a drop
Or maybe not.

Of lemonade juice
And wipe your mouth dry.

Feel refreshed
When your thirst is quenched,

And take a bite
Out of triangle shaped sandwiches.

Inhale some clean new air
Close your eyes and rock in your chair.

Take a book out
Lying on your lap,

Open it up and start to read,
Enter a world of infinite possibilities.

As you read, let the lemonade tingle your tongue,
And the blueberry sandwiches warm up your mind.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Corpse's in the fridge,
Mum smells it too?

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Get punched in the eye,
Don't kick me back too.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I really like you.
Oh you don't? I said
Mbluhchuckschmoobs.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Zebras being all high, riding giraffes
They think they're so cool

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
When thirsty,
don't drink the water in the loo.


Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Pardon me dear, but
STOP CALLING VIOLETS BLUE

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Boy you're got to like me so much
To read this whole poem through.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I say whatever I think
And don't care about you

Roses are red,
I am so bland,
Violets are blue,
This really makes no sense.

Roses are red,
Why is everyone talking about roses?
Violets are blue,
Oh great, violets are blue again. Jesus.

Roses are blue,
Violets are red,
I want to be different,
^See what the above statement says.

I was a child once
And it was truly, truly fun
I had dinosaurs for company
And when I was free, I was a Power Ranger
With the rest of the elite team in blue, green, pink and yellow
And I was the special red.
I swam through great seas and turquoise water
With mermaids
And talked to princesses while I skipped away on an adventure
If I had magic in me, I could live as a child again.
And I wake up, this fine day
The sky is blue, strewn with wispy white clouds
Floating away, above my head
Far, far away.
I wish, Please, just once
Take me away
From this boring world I despise to live
In because
It’s not the way it used to be
And everything’s so much harder
When you know you have to be so alone
And no one’s going to help you along the way, because, just because, you reach a certain age
And people expect of you to behave in a most ‘mature way’, and that you couldn’t believe in what you
Used to believe in
Those magical stories, those boundless wild imaginations of how the world’s going to be
like
And of how I could achieve anything I wanted, and most of all
I was free.
I want to live again, be free
So that I didn’t have to listen to all those expectations of society and experience
changes, horrible changes that I go through during puberty
Those changes really ****.
And people expect me to know about ‘reality’ and that you can’t achieve your dreams even if you tried really hard
But I know that they’re only saying that because they want to reach out their hands towards the night sky,
Enclose those stars which are the burning flames, my wildest, craziest ideas and dreams
And extinguish the fire, because once, their stars died too, in the same
Cruel
Way.
I try to forget about all this, and imagine a most beautiful place
I breathe in the air; it’s fresh and so clean
I try to think of this:
A cozy little mountain, topped with white, cool snug blankets
Of crystalline snow, a gathering of piney, tall giants
And then also, another mountain, but cows graze
Over warm, soft, so soft
Of grass, like milk slowly running down the mountainside and making everything it touches feel smooth
A cool breeze comes this way, carrying scents of far away
Valleys of mountains stretch for miles and miles, into the distance, the sign of a slowly rising sun
A tiny spill of a light pink inkbottle on a parchment of lavender and sunrise orange
I slowly see pixies hiding in their hollows and a dash of green flashes by!
Could it be, a Power Ranger? Saving the world from evil monsters and dictators
And clad in Stylish Spandex.
Slowly, like a small somersault in the air
I rise and the breeze lifts me off the soft green carpet
I can fly.
My first destination-the mountains and I sing as I go:
Here I come, my precious cones
Of snow and trees and mountains trolls
Wherever you’re hiding I’ll find you there
Better get hiding, trolls, and beware!
I’ll slide down your ice caps and into the sea
Where I’ll swim with the fishes and mermaids who’ll greet me!
With their angelic voices, harmonious in tune and melody
And their dances under the sea, with such elegant beauty!
Here, a shark has corals for dinner
fishes waves at me as I swim by!
I become a dolphin, with lengths I swim
Up, down, Up, down
In synchronizing rhythm of the bobbing waves
With a great, big, final leap
My first ascend towards the light blue, sprout wings, fairy wings, ones with glitter and pink and more shiny things
Am I finally free?
I can go where none as gone before-
Into dangerous caves and rivers and seas
carrying only a bottle of water with me.
My yearning for adventure and the sweet thrill it brings
when you step outside and await great things
It’s amazing. You feel like you could conquer the world. You can do anything.
Nobody’s going to scoff or ridicule
Or push down that spark you have inside
Your glowing heart, beating with the soft rhythm of gentle, falling rain
and yet so passionate and fierce, ready to lose, waiting to gain.
My costumes! How bright and wonderful!
You could just take off your clothes
run around the park,
and yet No one will mind.
You didn’t have to worry, not a single thing
About a single hair or girls’ monthly gifts
You were carefree and free, that you could
Possibly. Ever. Be.
Oh, but that’s so sad, because nothing
Ever lasts, even if the sweetest of my youth
And the loveliest of my days
Must end.
I realise, oh, the pain!
I wish I could just bring back one more day!
Of blissful moments and wishes
Blown away by the wind.
All those memories, I shall bottle up
in a small treasure box.
I’ll never forget them. I can only cherish and savour
the wonderful memories, but never quite escaping
the reality of growing up, and always ponder
what if…
I could be a child again.

Oh, sweet, sweet friend
How may I describe you?
The beauty of our friendship
Is of much more value
Than a baboon's ***.
This, I'm telling you,
Is that a baboon's ***
Isn't of much value.
You're like
Something I'd walk on the streets of New York
where many feet trample on the pavements
where spit hits ******* the ground
and dirt rubs and snug itself tight.

You're like
The sound of beautiful woman
Inviting me to a nice, fancy dinner
in her huge mansion
With her gorgeous husband
And laughs along to his lame jokes
and gives me a toast
under the lights
of the golden chandelier
as her precious goods bounce around
in that low-cut dress
so absolutely sweet you are,
how much I adore the love in your voice,
the gentle one that kisses me goodbye
If only it was real
and not as fake
as the eyes you bear
when you tell me
I'm amazing.

You're like
a sweet wrapper
I'd happily look at
feeling **** guilty inside
nevertheless.
That crunching sound it makes
As it opens to a beautiful sweet
Chocolate! I chew you up and
swallow you down.
I'd never think something
so delicious and innocent
would hurt me so bad, and give me
Black teeth. Or potentially diabetes.
Nothing so tasty would **** me
slowly inside
forget the temporary pleasure I had.

You're like
Fresh, long hair
and a pretty little face
which bears ugly lips
that shoot out ugly words
and claw people around their necks
and suffocate their freedom of speech
or their opinion
and snubs out their rainbow
like a cigarette
My dear, you’re a monster!
Have you no taste for uniqueness
and creativity, a knack
in weirdness, the love
of awkward hellos,
and a shy but determined being
in the making?
You press down the people you think you can ****.
You, with your sharp words
and condescending eyes,
scrutinize my every move
and throw snide remarks
behind my back,
Honey, don’t you realise
You’re not perfect?

So I've said, you're a sweet, sweet friend.
You are!
As sweet as the poison that kills me
before it reaches my heart.
It has already killed my ability
to lead, to be empowered,
to be free.

So, my sweet, sweet friend
feel free to lace up the shoe
and wear it if it fits.
One day, I'll step on you.

You grow and grow onto me
Spreading of the different planes of your existence,
Creating a slow, deepening hole
In which I keep falling deeper into.

Behind this little curtain, I hide.
I do not lie, but I do not tell the truth either.
I do not flash it in your face,
but I'm afraid you may know my

secret.

If this happens, everything will turn upside down
and I need to find a paper bag,
where I'll readily stuff my face in and hide under a rock
Until maybe all magically is forgotten.

I am ready to tell you the truth, however,
although my paper is transparent, a see-through glass,
piles of white lies may start to stain it and soon,
it will be so opaque you have to dig deep into there
To finally see the face that's hiding behind.

I am not desperate or a stalker,
or you know,
the one that sends you long text messages
and waits eagerly for a short reply.
Whenever I try to forget you,
you pop into my memory and tempt me into no bounds
of imagination. It's necessary I try not to follow,
but I always end up falling in the same hole.

So please understand, that if I suddenly reveal my identity,
do not be taken aback because this is what I have to do,
for you have caused me to be slightly obsessive and
longing for even a slight bit of communication between
us. The us that I dream of, the us that happened, what of it is left?

To start anew? This is rather painful. I don't want to forget, you see.
You were so lovely and sweet. How can I erase you from my memory?

People come and go, but you stay, longer than I thought you would.
This attachment is detrimental to my being. If any longer your existence influences me,
I will stop living in the present and reality and just dream on about non-existent parallels,
wasting so much time and feelings.

Okay. So this is why I'm being so secret there. You would only talk to me that way.

Because,

you wouldn't want to talk to me.

Thank you, dear, though, for that sweet little message.

Baby, free me from the
terror of waking up and finding
Not you near me again
and the denial of your existence
Is choking and suffocating me because
I simply can't say no
to a thought that drives me thinking
Of you, again and again,
what a hopeless dreamer I am,
I know you'll never keep in your
heart someone like me,
but baby, free me.

Gorgeous
Sweet
Mature
Open-minded
Smart
Witty
Funny

That's you.

I love it when you smile.
And then I start fangirling inside.
Just so you know,
my heart starts burning up and my cheeks become bright red,
My face is constipated and crammed with many emotions,
and your smile is transferred onto my face,
but less elegant and more of a wild one,
deep, uncontrolled, raw and free.

And then I just want to run over and hug you and ask if I can
'Sit on your face?'

:D

Her hair is straight and long,
black as ebony, lips are pink
but she isn’t quite Snow White.
Her skin is tanned and her face has spots,
she isn’t that tall and she doesn’t have any curves
At all.
However, much like Snow White, they both share
A common taste in clothes,
shoes,
favourite things,
and a difficult, struggling life.
Like Snow White, she wears this
Tattered and Torn
And ugly and mismatched
outfit that said,
“HEY! I’m the biggest dork in the world!”
because she can’t afford nicer clothes. But they are warm and comfortable,
just perfect.
Just like Snow White, she is kind and sweet
She is full of respect and care for others
And never wished bad luck upon those
Who are more fortunate than her.
Maybe a little difference between them was that
Snow White was a princess; she’s just a peasant
Born to a family of nine.
Snow White knew manners, but she does not.
How could she? She is just a humble, simple woman from the poor villages
Homes under leafy roofs in Southern Myanmar.
She tries to learn, oh yes she does,
And I even taught her not to dig
her nose when I spoke to her,
or raise her voice but rather
be just gentle and soft, like the breeze blowing over
the grass in a sunlit meadow, soft and sweet, soft and sweet.
One night, when I was just casually talking to her
It led to me and my little brother
We went to take a look
At how she lived, in a three storey block
Just across from mine
But what a surprise, I couldn’t believe what I saw!
My legs were curled in, hands over my knees I sit
On the bed with its hard wood, just a thin mat
Simply lying over it.
When you sleep, wouldn’t you knock against it?
How painful and uncomfortable it must be, sleeping on
A board and nothing more.
I wonder if she ever had a decent sleep,
A blanket to curl in when the rain beats down,
A form of warmth and comfort to shield from the striking hand
Of life that torments us every second?
She also had some friends
But small ones, they were, and grey and small
With whiskers on the faces and cheekily as they were,
They hide among the trash her roommate dumped at the door,
Just like on the ceiling, webs fluttering when a breeze rolls in,
Because tiny spiders have made it their home.
Squeaks from those hidden corners,
Mysterious movements we can’t see
I ask her if she’s okay with all these pests, but she just shrugs and says,
“Meh. I don’t mind them.”
I wouldn’t be able to sleep.
The room is small,
So low and narrow,
Barely with space to breathe.
Or move about, or change!
Just stuck in the sullen room,
No space, no space, no space.
It’s just a place where you sleep (uncomfortably, with no sheets)
And suffer through the night when the wind bites you with their icy teeth.
I ask her, “What’s your name?”
She tells me it’s May Thu and I nod.
May Thu doesn’t have much.
All her possessions could easily slide into
The smallest of all the backpacks
And yet you’d have space to squeeze me in, too.
Toothbrushes, soap. A broken mirror and a hairbrush.
Some clothes and that’s all she has.
And yet, she’s happy and I realise
There’s no end to people’s greed. It’s something you have to
Put ******* in to widen it, so that you can dump a whole lot of
Material desires, and maybe two elephants,
Just so you could satisfy its perennial hunger.
It’d be hungry by the next hour.
When May Thu starts telling me stories about her brothers
And sisters
And goes through each of their names,
Her eyes glisten and a tinge of red, just slightly washes over
Her white eyeballs and her nose twitches,
With the smallest sign of reminiscence.
Her parents are pretty old, and they’ve got nine children to support.
But they’ve got older kids who can take care of themselves, but
With a gaping hole in their wallets, who’d mend it and fill it with money?
Only the kids, but it’s hard, May Thu says, and I can feel her throat tense,
she feels that lump you get when you want to cry,
but your throat hurts and it’s simply too dry.
May Thu wishes and yearns of a day
Just once, if she could, just once
Be rich for once and know the feeling-
being free of all duties.
May Thu is sad, a storm cloud has settled onto
Her troubled mind.
An idea swims up to me and whispers as May Thu says,
“I like checkered shirts.”
The idea winks and whispers that,
Maybe it’s time I give a little gift.
I grab my green flannel shirt, so big and so warm
Fashionable and comfy. Just right.
“There you go!” I tell May Thu
She looks at me with grateful eyes,
And seems to sing inside her mind,
May you be well, happy and at ease.
Thank you for making me life a little more complete!
When it’s time to leave,
I can’t bear to go. But the last I saw of May Thu was a happy smile
And I can feel it in my heart, the warm and the sweet.
I’m ever so grateful of whatever I have, and don’t spend my money
On nonsense I don’t need.
I’ve learnt that I didn’t need anything anymore.
I already have them, in front of my eyes, and they were all free!
All these things I’ve learnt, are from someone special.
You taught me that I didn’t need a swimming pool
when I have the River  Right  In  Front  Of  Me.

I write stories with my tongue
They come twirling out like noodles,
deliciously served on a plate.

I hope you enjoy this meal. Don't forget
       to drink down a bottle of
fi z zy   o   range

afterwards.

the old moon smiles at me
every night as I walk on the lonely beach
where hundreds of ships has washed ashore
and thousand feet have walked upon
cold wind blows from the waters crashing
on the white dull sand
bringing promise of freedom,
a sweet yet sickly feeling erupts in my stomach
I doubt whether my wishes will come true.

whenever the winds blows, I look at that way,
but never towards my house, or the town,
because all I want to see is a faraway adventure
just within reach, if I could grasp the star
that sits silently and still in the navy blue sky
beckoning me to follow and find
my own journey, as long as I run away
leaving nothing but the last traces of
my light footsteps,
wanting them to be washed away by
the coming tide.
just like how I hope all memories
of this place
of my entire existence here,
will be erased,
as I need room for new acquaintances, dangers, exploration,
feelings, discoveries, tastes, smells
sights, sounds to come and stay

when I leave to travel where
The Wind Points That Way.

I march up to the front door
of a red-bricked house
vast skies and soft, wispy clouds drifting above... my gaze
shifts below, to the brown door. This house looks lovely
and so does the door.
I am somewhere in Wales,
it's cold but 3 knocks and a kind woman invites me in,
warmth be the one that saves my freezing skin;
hot chocolate to warm my insides and relax my mind.
My wonderful aunt leaves me to rock by the fireplace,
after some time,
I will leave again to play with my friends.

"With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;"
- *Romeo  in  Romeo  &  Juliet, Act II Scene II

I remember fondly;
all the little things, the little details.
everything is like a photograph with a little note written beside it,
documenting the moment in its beauty, treasuring, savouring
what was seen, what was said, what was felt (fluttering inside)
it's never going to occur again.

In my photographic memory, it's all too familiar
the arc of your back
the glistening of your eyes
the way you stand and poise yourself,
ever in the stance I'd knew you be in
because I've observed you so many times before.

To speak in all honesty,
I was very shy.
Thoughts dashed about my mind like
people dressed in work clothes, rushing for the train;
embarrassed flights of thought that
like a bird, fluttering here and there,
not really staying at one place, and never seeming to leave.
What thoughts? oh of course,
You.

Made up scenarios and talks that never happened, but I could envision
1) Your smile
2) The way your eyes would look into mine
3) The sound of your voice and
4) The satisfaction of finally having your attention
seeking only you, because that's what I truly want, you know. Nothing else matters if your presence wasn't here, and I'd still check from the corner of my eye.

Alas, when what anticipation has been held in me flushes out as
you appear before me,
I force away all those silly thoughts...
please, am I really in love with you?
I pretend again, that we're just good friends,
and to enjoy the moments (how little they may be) left with you.

so that when I get home, I'll be miserably happy
that the last time I saw the organic, solid, truthful, existence of you,
I had been happy.

(and no doubt, heartbroken.)

Surprising how much I abhorred them,
they made me cringe inside.
But now I love those
little things, they make me burst with joy.

Your bony fingers used to make
my skin conjure up little bumps
Now, I think they are so beautiful
creating majestic works of art.

Your long black hair almost covered
your arched eyebrows.
Thought it was a terrible haircut,
Now, I'd rather you let them down.

your beady little eyes
moved in sync with the curling
of your thin lips,
whenever you made a sarcastic or cheesy
remark.
they used to creep me out,
now, I think that makes me like you better.

the shape of your clothes molded around
your small frame,
I always secretly thought
you looked good (whispers great)
in formal.

Those things I thought ugly
Became beautiful, sweet memories
that make up, add up
to = you.

I am tired. It is night.

My father tucks me away for bed. He says he doesn't feel like telling me stories today.
He pulls up the blanket to my chest and blows me a kiss and closes the door.

It's a cool night and it is dark. It may be almost midnight.

The sky is clear. I see lots of stars, appearing one by one. It's so beautiful. I feel at peace.

I think tonight, I'm not going to have nightmares anymore. I think I can finally dream.

But I can't fall asleep yet. So I close my eyes and wait.
And Dad didn't tell me stories. He says I can try to make up my own stories.

I open my eyes and look at them. They're really pretty. There's so many.
I don't think I can count all of them. I can only count till ten.

I always wonder about the sky, especially at night.
Dad says there are planets out there, but I can't see them.

I really want to see them. Perhaps I can be an astronaut.
They go to the moon and into space. That sounds really cool.

If they go to space, I wonder if they get scared or lonely
because it's dark. I'm only a bit scared of the dark.
Dad said, "That's great."

I wish I was a spaceship, so that I can travel to all the planets.
I can plant some grass on them so that they'll look pretty.
I want to leave some messages there for aliens. My classmates think aliens are scary, but that's not true.
I like them.

If I could give them a message, it would say:
Dear friendly aliens,

I like you because you are like a friend. I don't know you but I think because you are nice,
you are my friend. I want to see how you look like. Maybe you can take a picture for me.
My friends are scared of you and think you are ugly. They are wrong. You must be pretty.
You are from the universe.

Come and visit me sometime. I feel a bit bored at night. Tell me stories so I can sleep well.

Thank you very much.

Love,
Htet Hyin Aei Dary

I am still looking at the stars, imagining. What if an alien came to my bedroom? We would talk a lot.
I'd ask him a lot of questions and give him a drawing I did of the moon.

I wish I was an astronaut. I want to explore other planets so much. I am just so curious.

My eyelids are getting a little bit droopy. I wonder how being a star would feel like. They are so far away.

Dad says that some of them are dead but I can still see them because their light takes a long time to reach us.

I hope it isn't long until I become an astronaut.

I fall asleep.

Spoons and forks
Are two different things,
but used together.

I have hair that grow like wild weeds.
Fresh and untrimmed,
Right from the scalp of my soft head.

My eyebrows are thick, but not enough
To be as dark as
the pools of black my eyes are.

Huge lips,
give sweet kisses,
and blows them to you if you're my fancy.

Tall enough to hug you and smooch your little cheek.
Short enough not to see that I'm blinded by this blackening
of reality.

I always like quirky things
and be that rock that juts out of all unusual places,
looking like it doesn't belong but indeed, it does.

A special rock, a treasured rock,
one that all shall behold and hold their breath before.

I like to eat many things sweet, a kick of spicy
and some pieces of meat.

A person quite interested in the arts,
from painting to poetry to acting,
deemed herself worthy of being called
A writer.

Sometimes, this person can only see
What her feelings show.
Not the most important thing is at the top of her list,
A poor judgement girl, lost in love and full of sheer hope.

Too cheesy, eh?
Welcome to the cheesy part of my life
Which I hope to quickly pass
And shut the door behind me
So it won't catch up and haunt

It is dark and everything is quiet.
Like a step taken would be so soft
the sound would elude ears
and the traveller would smoothly transit
from one point to another.

The cold granite pavement is
the only thing telling me this place
exists.

My eyes are open, or are they closed?
I blink.
There is no difference.
But it is so dark I feel the black
is poring into my eyes
and covering me like
an invisible, untouchable, distinct
sort of
a thick, giant parcel of air
or space, even
that transcends my field of vision.

I am lost, but I don't feel like it.
There is some sort of freedom and peace
while walking along path I set myself.
It is just walking, simply walking
no plans made, no trails followed
simply walking.

All along the way I've walked,
I've only heard the sound of my feet in this quietness.
The faint rush of breath out my nostrils
sounds so light, almost nonexistent,
as if I've been holding my breath
or I never breathed this whole way or
even breathed at all.

Time. I've forgotten the meaning of time.
What is time?
I don't know when I started walking
but from then till now,
I don't know how much time has passed.
10 minutes? 2 hours? 1 day? 3 weeks? 1 year?
A century?
How do you know?

No matter the length I've walked,
my feet do not hurt at all.
In fact, with every contact
with the ground,
the muscles get soothed and they
sigh with pleasure
despite not knowing
when they'll ever stop
walking.

Alas! I see Eigengrau!
and slowly, the faint outline of
toys, books, mats, a telescope
come into view.
But very, very faint.
Only the very top parts
are a little bit lighter than the rest.
Enough to make out what they are, though.

My feet sense something different.
Before, they walked on
cool, hard and sure granite.
Now, they feel a soft carpet,
little furry things tingling the toes
that go easy on the soles.

Oops!

I almost tripped!
I see a plush toy of a planet, the Earth.
And starry things are sprawled all over
where my field of vision can reach.

Walking closer and closer,
a window comes into view.
shutters are white in colour, but
tucked neatly at the top.
Now light spills in
and there's a tiny figure
whose breathing I hear.
A slow, peaceful rhythm,
devoid of fatigue, stress and dread.
A being not aware of my presence.
It is-sorry-he is
a little boy, wearing blue Power Ranger pajamas,
clutching tightly to a bolster, covered slightly
by a recently-ironed blanket.

Curiosity takes over
I walk to the little boy,
slowly turns his face over...
brushes his hair off his face....
and he's-he's-

Oh  my  god

That face.

I used to see

in the mirror...



Sixty years ago.

Stuck in a ditch
and crying for help
would be so embarrassing
because it is obvious
that all the eyes looking down
hold no interest
in lending a hand
so crying for help
would only show
how much of a lowlife
they make me
out to be.

The puffs of fluffy   little
        condensed   water   droplets

lift me up, higher   ...   higher

              till I am free

of  tumultuous,       raging   thoughts
        
            where I lie down and look up at the sky

            and            what       it        has        to
                                                  offer              me.

Water swoosh and water swish,
Take me away in your liquid bliss,

Let me fall and fall away,
Down to the bottom of the way,

Lead me through your twists and turns,
While I tumultuously scream, "Absurd!"

Let your adrenaline match with mine,
Overpower me with your speed divine!

1
I don't miss you
if you don't miss me.

#2
What better to think about
other than you, is naught.

#3
I cry to my pillow everyday
but no memories fade.

#4
I still smell you
in paper, nostalgic memories and dreams.

#5
I stop looking at clouds
because I'll find you not.

#6
2 evens and one odd make
A three digit number

#7
I don't like you that way.
Just like talking only.

#8
A full cycle separates us,
but I don't really care.

#9
I am a lunatic
this is me, missing people everyday.

#10
I'm living the start of forever
as if you're dead.

Blew my mind away
When she came and fought today.

Jovial laughter and those creases, sharing lines with the wrinkles
On your soft, sweet face,
of leather-like, but creamy skin,
The edges of your mouth go up
And they form benevolent crinkles
I always picture you having.
When you chuckle or give a laugh
And make me smile at the same time too.
Glinting spectacles
and a big ***** to hug me tight
Safe from harm, hidden from sight.
You smell fresh and you smell like you. The scent
I will always remember
Even when you're not here.
Your arms go round lovingly behind my back and tucks me
Like I'm a little child, like I always am in your kind eyes.
You love me so much and I can only return
So much but it's not enough
Because I'd like to give you more than the universe itself,
to wish you a happy, peaceful slumber,
when you march towards a better karmic reincarnation,
when I finally have to let go of you,
I dread the day I kiss you last
And tell you how much,
even though I say it all the time,
I really do,
I really do,
I really do,
love you from the bottom of my heart.

Bring me across
Far away, somewhere new
To see and feel
A thousand news
And imagine
ten thousand impossible things
including walking on saturn's rings
walk me down
some abandoned path
lead me to the fountain of youth
and stay young forever
so that we can explore the world
and never get old or too tired

So smooth and beautiful in their curve
Of iridescent wings that let them take flight
Softly resting their tangy feet on bright petals
How beautiful and intricate are they, a divine creation of nature
I have a confession to make, however, that oddly,
My heart breaks whenever I see a butterfly.
Oh butterfly, you are such a beautiful thing,
So innocent and beautiful a creature may be,
Minding your own business and floating around the air,
But yet, your beautiful presence or a sight of the lovely you,
Is a ***** to my heart I cannot remove.
Just like how he has so accurately stated
The everything that seems perfect is not true.
All that is beautiful, all that is fair,
Like you butterfly, and yet
My heart still hangs in despair.

my lips pressed together
pushing away words i would've spoken
so easy, so straightforward
but they never came out
for they'd never take a place
in your ears.

so I said nothing and just admired you,
because you were simply beautiful.

Come, sweet sleep,
Lay me down on a bed of fresh sheets.
Pour over me a cloud of tranquility
and dose me in your heavenly bliss.
Let the blankets close me snug
and the breeze be cool enough.
Gently shut my eyelids soft,
Carry me away to my dreams aloft.

The striking contrast of the branches against the blue
so blue it's so bright  
just like how
people are the branches
and I am the blue.

I'd love to spread out over the vastness of space
be bright, bright
but the branches
scratch against the blue
so people are forced to close
their eyes and they cannot
see me, afterall,
in the end.

When I'm 15,
I want to be happy and free.
I want to do what I want to do
and not give a ******* **** what others say

because it's been too long
I've been pleasing others while desperately wanting to be truly who I am,
trying to tie my lips and not say what I have in mind,
afraid of what others might think,
and afraid that I won't be able to rebut their hurtful, insensitive remarks

I want to free,
because that's all that really matters
what I think is kept in here
and doing what I please
is what pleases me.

I want to be amazing,
a change of new skin,
a new beginning,
a new me,
with a smarter brain and more wit,
to challenge the foes and
give no ****,

this is who I'd like to be
and starting from being fifteen,

I will be a new person.

I hear that you are leaving for India tomorrow.

A long flight on which you will take your slumber
travelling among the blue skies,
sleeping on cloud 9.
May you have the sweetest dream ever
and when you finally step on ground,
I wish you an adventure so vivid and satisfying,
that you'll come back and retell stories
and we'll have fun together, too.

This summer may be just beginning,
for you at least,
while the sun is going down for me.

May it be filled with mirth and
I bless you with every
single happiness you can ever
feel in every possible
moment.

Be safe, my dear friend,
for I love you so.

Can't stop drinking something
So surprisingly, thickly sweet.
Heaven's too good to be true.
But you are heaven to me!
You're real and like heaven,
Can't stop with my feels
Rolling out my fingers onto the floor,
making a mess with its way out the door,
hopefully to your doorstep so say 'Hi',
and let 'em enter your heart, maybe?

Shall I keep the friendship we shared?
Shall I continue to honor it by remembering what we did?
Shall I remember the first time you spoke to me
and all the fun things we did thereafter?
For some reason, you just stood a little further from me
Bit by bit,
and now, you're too far away. When I reach out my hand
You can't grab it. If this was a sinking ship,
I can't save you.
You can't save me either.
Shall I forget what used to be you and what used to be me?
Right now, you've found a newer land, a greener grass,
but you wouldn't let me step on it,
you just bid me goodbye slowly but you're being so cold.
You wouldn't tell me directly if you're simply pushing me away;
you're like a block of ice I'd slide down a hill and let it break into many pieces.
Stop being so cold, at least, but if that's what you want to be:
icy, distant and unfamiliar,
I wondered where the old you had disappeared.

I bid goodbye to her forever.

A new day will come and I will shed my old skin and
all my memories formed with it.

I'm sorry I let you down and to have you think of me this way.

Everything that is perfect, everything that is beautiful, does not last forever.

after a tiring day,
I am here, typing away
on my TPC.
recalling the past events that happened
earlier today;
she looked at me
dead looked eyes,
not a happy smile was
formed on her face,
in fact, the little details
the slight curve downwards,
the distrust I saw in her eyes,
as she, I'm sure, wasn't pleased to see
and probably dislike boiled in her,
as her words shot through me
like a million metal particles
agonizingly deep
difficult and perhaps, impossible to remove.
And as I go around begging
to please just join a group of humans
all none of superior or inferior rank,
but all of them rejected me
and I felt like a dog.
not even human, and so humiliated
I wondered
what did I ever do
To  deserve  this?

What have I become?
A sad, pathetic loner
going around begging?
Is there no pride or dignity left inside
of this mind,
which only wants to
complete a school task?

Time and again,
I feel like a
dog
living under a bridge
tasting the bitter rain that trickles
down
and I feel so very
sick.

I wish you had never came
so I wouldn't have to see that face
and the smirking smile
the glaring eyes
and the poisonous lips
venomous, killing
no mercy.

I step outside
It's a quiet, lovely night.
The air is cool and minty fresh
Blowing kisses on my cheeks.
I walk gently on the soft grass.

Night casts a veil of mystery
All over the slumberous land of serene,
My breath as I breathe
Sleeps in the night air.
Cheeky little twinkling stars wink at me.

There is a light, so good and right,
My friend, the Moon, shines in dear bright light,
I like her better than the one that visits once the rooster crows.
Her light is luminous and
her sweet face glows.

So placid is this night,
What a dream I shut my eyes and still see the light
From thousands of stars beyond and away,
Infinitely there for me to adore
And after dreams of shooting stars to chase.

What to do
When you fancy a boy
You cannot breathe
You cannot see
Beyond his perfection
and his perfect fancy.