they say; as they force grandma to walk away.
and I down the aisle of wilted flowers
as far gone as my dreams, awaiting
a happy man who will dry tears -
only crocodile, the yellow has
nestled far too deep in my skin
for anyone to understand, but the
eyes show and they know - i am
too far gone beyond the sea wall.
in any case i dress in my shell
every morning in the bedroom
i share with my siblings, and they
quite like how it looks.
every day has a new sunrise,
father never says sorry but we go on anyway.
i crack open a durian and bleed in the kitchen,
it stains my fingernails so i have to carry it
around with me. not sure how much it weighs
and my mother cannot measure it on a
supermarket scale. i flip through papers
to broaden my horizons and yet when
the small child next to the bus window
tells me that he can see everything, i think so too.
Sep 8, 2019
Sep 8, 2019 at 2:06 PM UTC
the red is far too deafening -
shut palms around my ears
and yet the world is on screaming fire.
my finger joints crack in my eardrums
while the sunflowers roll in the mud.
firecracker red; fire engine red
took a nap in a sack,
the sun never goes away.
if i may i would turn to pray
to a man up in city hall
where the crowds prey,
i'm asking for a bellyache from hunger,
a shadow to leave my body -
not quite the youthful sunshine
with flaming ash in the air.
please be quiet - you're neither
the hysterical patient, nor
one who needs the normalising
medicine - you would not wish.
it is growing on me, much like
a generous parasite.
Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 10:28 AM UTC
that was almost -
there is nothing that lasts forever
for as long as i can remember;
i never fail to immortalise you
like a Greek myth in a statue -
and you don't deserve it.
a ball of outer space gases and petals
are not dance partners,
but if poppies grew on Jupiter
perhaps i'd bide better.
or for as long as i know it
i'd be an aimless planet
waiting to be more than monochrome
and there's no one else there
other than the ball of fire i circle in trepidation,
there is no jubilation in conjunction
waiting for your flowers.
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 11:26 AM UTC
mother is a paradox;
sun rays and thunderstorms
please be far away.
you are no fun for the beasts
holding my head below the surface,
begging me to stop trying -
but i kick you in the shin
for as long as i can
until you turn immortal.
i can feel my heart beat in my chest -
you crafted it for me
but it murmurs with fault.
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 11:11 AM UTC
i am your bottomless pit
keep taking and taking
what you give and toss
and it looks like i never fill up.
lately i don't feel so good -
tell me that a human can't be a black hole -
then what have i been doing for you
absorbing to no end till i spill
over the edge of the horizon
i am not an unchanging sunny side up
on your breakfast plate on sunday mornings -
this is not symbiosis
but i am overwhelmed by your oceans;
please paint your colours lighter
i want to be better.
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC
on the nights
where you hide in the bathroom
away from where the party lights blink
perhaps you'll understand why
you have to love yourself first
above all else
only you will speak in poetry
of what the mouth cannot say
sew a patchwork warmth to your heart
as you feel warm water pool beneath your feet;
all alone is a choice instead of a happening
i keep under the bright lights
until they turn off under my eyelids
and you return
but my heart is empty and heavy in my chest.
the finale should be grand but sometimes
it is just a show on a broken stage
i want you to be by my side
when perhaps i really shouldn't.
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 11:04 AM UTC
the flame fell to me
in the evenings of starless skies
sturdy as a pine
red as my blood
(you are unbreaking
quaking)
my mother whispered nothings
into my ear
and i was lulled asleep in a pool.
the air quivers around me
i am numb to a faint
a sparkle dances in the water
i am afraid of it -
but i will swim to shore.
the flame fell to me
and i hold it behind my eyes.
hail Amphitrite -
the flame fell to me,
charming in the seas
and i will not taste the salt,
i will drink the fire -
as if the sun fell in the sea one day.
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 12:38 PM UTC
i creep on pouring orange
tiptoes over the absence of light
this is what the death of the sun
calls for in her last waking moments;
no blood, no tears, no sweat
a most ceremonious twirl of shadow
vanishing into ashes that
form the dust in sunset
we all come and go
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 11:20 AM UTC
i too wish i could pirouette
on the flames of fire;
dive straight into an ocean
without knowing how to float;
shoot into space
and breathe my own oxygen
but purple flowers grow in my lungs
and i cannot stop the weeds that come with them
oh, it drains and it hurts -
the blue leaks out of me
like a nosebleed stream
and i swallow them back in past my lips.
then i face the corners of my walls
for forty-two days,
for forty-two days without a party
where the world still whirls in wavelike motion
and i stand in a pool of blue
almost like sorcery
after forty-two days
the pads of my feet tread blue
all up my capillaries, up my veins
into the arteries they go -
and back to the red flowers
they are purple again
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 11:09 AM UTC
she is a star
suspended in dreamlike wonder
i wonder where i can find you
covered in sunflower petals and hay
where in sunrise the flowers bow their heads to you
celestial bodies fall from the sky
drawn to heavenly presence
riding over velvet winds
i stumble and sail
Angela -
you are bloodied and disfigured
red from a soldier’s bite
the breeze bows to your sword in hand
as the sky turns ashen crimson
and you call out to the bodies
of the people before you
in declining crescendo
Angela -
you are a warrior
but you are cracked open
and i want to ask you if that hurts
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 11:00 AM UTC