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Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 3:38 AM UTC
You stirred my heart with *** and lime,
Then stepped away before closing time.
A cherry grin, a sweet pretence,
A fleeting, ***** confidence.
The platform's empty
and here's the art:
My drink was real.
..You played the part.
Oct 9, 2025
Oct 9, 2025 at 12:39 AM UTC
So many doors
tightly closed
the need for more clothing and food
can't be kept out
it's a small hamlet
by the river
when a man stamps his foot
the whole village wobbles
a slap from a woman
and the whole village is flooded with tears
a cough in the dark
reveals bricks of secrets
two old stone mills
like an old couple who
have worn out their lives
wind leaks through four walls
a candle light dim and faint
not a synonym for romance and cozy
but luxury
when they can't afford kerosene
they eat, wash, get in the blankets
before the candlelight goes out
remainder of the light is only
for the maternal needlework
a curve creek
clear and lucid
when catching fish and mud-skippers
they become as happy as the water
joyful shrieks waft
in the smoke from the cooking stove
these scenes which can only be
returned to if time regressed are
very much alive in memory
they just didn't grow with me
many years later the warren
became a rustic retreat
days of the dirt and soil
became a wandering cloud
the stubborn local sounds
suddenly emerge from baseless thoughts
the mushed corn
the yam gruel
carrots and cabbage
feeding the dream
the mountains, the water, the people
the kindly kampung
the birthmark
of that era.
Nov 24, 2022
Nov 24, 2022 at 5:15 AM UTC
Birth
In the womb
In labor, boom!
Enabler
Her he enabled
Now she's disabled
Interstellar
Travel to Mars
Next stop stars
Math Test
Don't be hysterical
It's only numerical
Singapore
Long awaited summit
Ascend or plummet?
Unlikely Nexus
Hooked on drugs
Lack of hugs?
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 11:39 PM UTC
I envision a scene of a-t and c-lture
splashed with colour and manic sculptors.
Not the thin bland printed paper
that represents the canvas of the city's a-tists.
Our vision so muddled with bl-ck white and red
the customs so riddled, so seemingly de-d.
Our bridges burnt, our pride deeply h-rt
the future of a country that stands al-ne.
The dis-greements that arrive en route
that need the peoples opinion: a r-gged vote.
A nation's patience wearing so thin
destination fa-lure, proof of what we can achieve.
As construction sites dig the city's gr-ve
and the drills echoing the d-af and depra-ed
The skyscrapers all built to cloud nine
the climb and the drop: the thrill of the ride
I would like to submit this: complete and unabridged
Yet the editors that scan this at the edge of a ridge
Their hand forced, their eyes glazed
pressing delete, made to erase
And the post that this poem's pasted on
which everyday commuters read with scorn
Their frowns curve up at the caption of the pic:
"These are the words of a lunatic".
Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 2:13 AM UTC
We sit separated by the parking brake
The car on hold, exhaust choked up
Like the words that won’t come out
How do I bring myself to say that
The park is silent and the air musty
And so are we; a million tissues lie around
Like a flower bed of scrunched up lilies
It’s getting warm and I get out
But the words don’t
I offer an olive branch
It’s not quite the same thing
All I do is cover the gun with a pillow
To muffle the sound when I pull the trigger
The bullet still hits. The bullet still
Hits
Maybe it was foolishness coupled
With regret. I bring myself to say
The greatest lie that I shouldn’t
But we are both tired and I really want to go
I bring myself to say I don’t
Love you.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 1:05 PM UTC
if you stood here for hours
as you did in the louvre
maybe you could see the artful
space penetrated by pillars
walls barely containing the serenity
of a weekday afternoon
to your left, some modern piece
of what looks like a bright red payphone
one half-full-half-empty plastic cup
teetering over the top like it wasn’t sure
which way to fall.
only the black handle knows what numerous i-love-yous
the filipina maids at 3pm tell to secret lovers
or their families back home.
underneath, a yellow **** stain
like some duchamp
although the inebriated ahpek who made it probably
didn’t know how to pronounce his name.
du-champ? du-camp?
aiyah who cares. Art is still art.
trailing across the marble swirls
in the pockmarked concrete floor you find a footprint
and perhaps those who cast it years ago
are the faceless men at work.
hard hats atop their plastic bottles
laying back to the ground, eyes glued shut to the insides
of their eyelids as if in prayer for forgiveness
from the sweltering sun.
further left a metal centipede forged by abandonment and thievery
of bicycles left to rust - seats wrenched away from
their rusting frames
like a prisoner shackled to a wall, nails slowly pulled
from his fingertips.
and the centipede is a ******* because the wheels don’t go
round no more if they are even still there.
but is it still stealing if you take away
something unwanted?
and in the next few hours or so, if you should linger
stay slouched in a corner
Or seated on mosaic tiled stools
at a checkerboard table like a king.
watch as performance art
children
fresh out of class
but uniforms stinking of stale p.e. sweat
defy the big man through football
or ice-and-water
or making a hell lot of noise
even though the stick figure painting says
NO BALL GAMES
life imitates art
life defies art
life destroys art
there are so many things to see for free
in this common space
maybe we don’t value it
till some bold-faced girl paints
the staircase gold
then we cry out - THIS IS VANDALISM
THIS IS NOT ART
maybe if we stopped for hours rooted -
rooting - we would see the artistry
of the common space
but all we want to do
is to rush past each other and slam our doors shut.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 1:02 PM UTC
Cumin queuing
Exchanged by the fiery springs
It flew away blowing
When the chill was as willed as the obtrusive sky
Made of cranes running
Up and down until it is down below the hips.
How one would crave the distinguished dish severely
Whose aroma is everything you have heard singly
The pearl-like freckles beneath its wings
Tastes like heaven-human savagely beating alive
Increasing one's height and appetite.
Oily hands that grip your heart,
Slippery slides of the familiar coconut.
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 11:11 PM UTC
We eat in the restaurants
Eat in the bars
By the bistros
Against the street or on the ground
It does not matter where we are found
As we eat like we are dancing
With no one around
Who could possibly be watching?
Inside your own home
A house of a lone star
Impossibly pondering
How the pauper used wood
And turned it into cooking.
Food can be shared for
A life once cared for
Kept to yourself
Perhaps you beg not to share it
An octagon plate and octagon jades
Caramel vinegar rain
Tossing and turning with lightning veins.
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 10:54 PM UTC
if Trump and Kim can reach an amicable agreement
it will go down in history as quite an achievement
may they temper the past language of dispute
to accomplish a calming that's so resolute
the Korean Peninsula needs men of level head
who'll bring to the region not a threatening dread
these talks they'll be taking part in
are the path toward a positive win
Singapore shall host this most sensitive event
which will determine the issues of crucial extent
with both men being unpredictable in persona
the world anticipates a concordance of corona
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 3:53 AM UTC
East of the Equator on 1° 15' tropics is an old pirate isle
Irate willy-wavers are set to meet, I repeat, on Santosha
where, if you know it by its sanskrit, they might reconcile
Wishful leaders play symbolic. To us are none, but frenzy frolic.
Rudy doubles a pretty sight when smart cookie crumbles
to his knees. The apprentice, a fake gansta has capitulated to
Trump who's known to expostulate his lot of twitterati
oh, the wizard of sentences, cut the circuit and paparazzi.
Rocket man says read my lips, so Dotard threatens bigger drips
Both gaga over trigger hands, like-a-virgin on hot dozen buttons.
Ain’t it a saga, they goatherd each other on, so call in Dennis to
get us out of the funk. Just maybe, a remote chance, a fun slam-dunk!
The world awaits with bated breath, the immovable anchors to a
bad romance. We're stuck for answers to translate two gyrate minds,
singing hits a-capella under nuke umbrella. No tanning spray and
pray please or death-from-behind us all, the wrench of humankind.
At 34, Prince has just begun life, to see his people starving to die
At 71, ****** has a life doing what he does, while waiting to die
Chasms miles long, but cookie cutter share tall man phantasm
94 stories high towards disarming God in their own ego suites.
Gurkhas and gazetted city blocks, the people in uttered groans
All twitterpating over a hermit throne dancing to a jailhouse rock
Two bright like buttons, so zero sum bargains may cost an arm and
an earth - nuclear glutton! Not a far gains from your usual Target?
At St Regis in gather, string theories of riddles to Lord of the Rings
Towkays at the table “Order! Order!” no one absquatulates at all borders
In shambhala, will it be “Big and Bold” or “Beg and Hold”, who knows
Except Goldenhair, in first minute - Upside or Upset of an F1 ride!
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 2:01 AM UTC
School didn’t give me morphine for the
Aggravated assault; blunt force teaching and stuff.
Veins of dark-blue/black that lead into bones,
Even that was not enough.
Margins. two-finger spacing. the tainted, poisoned water I was taking.
Eluding imaginary devils, they banished their children to the depths, to teach them tough.
Help didn’t arrive upon graduation. warranty didn’t come with national simulation.
Evil hiding in plain sight within the corps of duty. waiting for
Lies propagated by Big Brother to break me.
Principle: punitive doctrine for baiting, hating, dictatin - HUSH!
Ubiquitous eyes follow us everywhere,
Slithering silently in the underbrush.
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 11:54 AM UTC
the rain looks a certain way today
in what way,
I couldn't say
but I can tell you about the sweet,
light and cool, coconut water that sat so gently on my tongue.
I could tell you about the squidge,
that sound of the liquid inside dumplings
as it flings out in a single burst.
Or the veil of heavy heat
that drapes itself on my back
lounging, and resting languidly.
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 9:52 PM UTC
take me back a month ago;
I'll pretend I don't have to go back home.
I'll pretend I don't have a return ticket
as long as I get to stay a bit,
just a bit...longer
because, there, people were nicer!
I stood a little taller!
The air was cleaner
because you weren't in the radar
I basked in the glory or a lion with a fish tail.
I walked down pavements that always looked freshly painted.
I passed people who didn't look like me
nor looked at me.
There was absolutely nothing there
that could have reminded me of thee but...
me.
I chose to see you in the boat on top of a building
because you said we'd sail through the clouds
to catch each others dreams together.
I chose to see you in train stations
where I thought we'd say goodbye
rather than part with a short reply.
oh, take me back to that city
where I can be reminded of you
without you.
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 7:37 AM UTC
Pods routed back and forth
Inside
Cells linked to the central nervous system
Soulless
The cry of a sapling
Lush, primal sounds
But deaf to the neighbours
All distracted by a stream
A tweet
"Doors closing..."
Repeated beeps
Launching sprints
Rivalling Olympians
But not all pass the finish line
The end of the line:
School
Work
Leisure
Three modes activated
Upon the opening of pod doors
A hurry
Never stopping
Never hearing
Never open
Of hearts
Wallets
A song from yesterday
The flower withers
Pulp for pennies
The flower withers
Only so much could be done
Outside the system
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 11:17 PM UTC
Since you kissed me I have lost everything to you. Those scarlet lips was carved beautifully; your brown eyes and its exquisite complexion captivates me; and your voice lit up something inside me
*I am astonished by your beauty, like an art
Everything that you say inspires me, like a spell
I want all of you only for myself, like an egoist*
I wonder if my eyes are too naïve sometimes
You kept saying that you are not good enough; you are not pretty, and you are not just the way I see you.
You know I am just happy to see you—feel insecure
With that I could have you
All for my self
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 9:28 PM UTC
Take a whiff of your death
As you spritz the liquid over your skin
The liquid that seeps in
You're not going to win
It intoxicates your idle mind
You'll do things you've never done
As it slowly eats into your bloodstream
You should never cross me
This little present will help me presently
Bringing your death to the present
As you collapse on the floor
Dead and reeking of regret
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 9:52 AM UTC
Girl on the bus,
I saw you but you will never know,
I saw how the others looked at you but i don't want to be anything like them.
Girl on the bus,
You look amazing and you scare the **** out of me,
I do want your number but i can see what is to come and it plays in my head like a broken record,
Girl on the bus,
I wish our paths never did crossed so i don't ever wonder what do you do,
I wish i did not have to feel angry when those boys harrassed you.
Girl on the bus,
why did you have to get off the same bus stop? and then walk the same way?
why did you hurried your footstep behind me? as if to let me know we live close by..
Girl on the bus,
You're a 10, i'm a 2,
i'm the kind of guy the phrase "let's just be friends.." was probably made for,
So let's cut this short, **** you.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
life stops
death precedes life
before its taken
death is inevitable
but soul is immortal
forlorn remnant of your soul
punctuates everyone's life
grieves and mourns stop
your remnants fade
from when you were dead
life annihilates your wraith
slowly but surely
what is left of you,
in this world,
my dear?
Nothing.
But everything.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 4:49 AM UTC