observing the ardent eagerness of the wind
it is clearly understood
that nascent pollens are overflowing
the niche of her heart  

in response to the signals of the river
she keeps on ringing
all long the month of earth-quakes

the bench of the rail-station
wants to hug her

the medicine-counter of the ***-end of the day
beckons her with the hand to come nearer

in the assembly-hall for musical demonstration
adorned with ash-trays
going on the rehearsal of her dancing and singing

she also distributes some life
to the meticulous dressing
of the magnolia

2.
let the swimming pool be fully absorbed  
with its dark-room

when the feather of your fore-finger
becomes green

the merchant of venice
will leave his business of photo-coping machine
to start walking directly
in search of new earnings

evening sets in
on the boiler of the delta

putting on yellow-dress comes
the water-vessel of the paper-balloon

there is no singing bird
shivering with cold
in the fold of the dear bed-sheet  

it is possible that the boldness of the metro-railway
may give some wood of tamarisk
on the expanded palms  

yet oh the western page of night
do tell today
why so much tamed polythene
are here in our cohabitation

3.
after so many days
published in the wind
painted in wings
the recent heart’s desire
of the doors and windows

they have rolled up their fairy-tales
from the ignorant drawing-room that wanted
to set her mind to the hill slanting downward

they did not want to know
how much rheumatism is there
in the hands and legs of the bark
to whom is delegated
the control of the mason-made bus-journey

sleep hugs the eye-lids of the rivers

though there is no postage-stamp
within the reaching-point

then what magic is there
in the hill slanting downward

why the wall does not learn
how to swim like a fish

truly it is he from whom
those negligible moments of man-ism
itch for blue candle-stand

4.
the ***-appeal of the telephone
and the bugle of the carnies-breaking ****-crows
are all harmonised seamlessly

the noon in the blood
is flowing along the river

all the dialogues are covered
with misspelling of men and women

the tailors want to increase life
cutting rightly the walking of clothes

after the vanishing of collyrium
from the eyes
there is not a single being
in the relief-camps

as far as the eyes can travel
i can notice in the ear-lob of the village-boats
the water-colour of fire-flies
twinkles

then let an agreement be signed
with the defence ministry
on the right
to enter into private bathroom

5.
in the air
on which flowers are engraved
the union of the betel leaves are making their outposts
anew

before the calling of the next pine-woods
you all the butterflies do take on board the tram
to go to the south-pole

is it well to incline so much
towards the tv-screen

who can say
the waves of the terracotta
would never make revolution

i’ve sent some full-moons of winter
and some water-bodies
into the holes of the handkerchief

the lacking of the colours
may kindly be excused

the birds that are blind from their birth
has been singing till now
the songs of the cave-civilisation

there is no question any where
this eclipsed-valley is adorned
with the answers only

6.
i am to be blown off on the first bombardment
then it is to be flown
in the crowd of  fire-flies
on the bushes of the scented-lemons

and it is to see the memory race of the grown-up girls

it is to see more
that after the opening of the sluice gates
one by one  
how the gathering in the hindu hotels
increases
by leaps and bounds

the pores of the skin of the body
whose hoods are open
and who are running up
along the spiral route
that leads to the top of the mountain

their child
due to late-marriage
now only knows
how to move on all fours

7.
under the table-glass
i  unfold the life-chronicle of one lakh year

and in the olive-cabinet
all the applications for living

from the monsoon-noon to the winter-afternoon
the lines you draw on the parchment

none of them is so condensed
as to touch the palms of a sailor  

from the numerable timber-joists
come down the swarms of personal white ants

no spring seems to become corporeal
without the spell of misunderstandings  

so of late
besides the dry statistics
with the cough
comes out grey thermometer

prickly-heats spread over the whole body  

the sticks of young antenna
shake off their wings

behind the bath-scene
lies the succulent hailstorm

8.
there is no lovely add
yet the market-value of your headache
is going up day by day

all the noon send her mad
the intellectual kisses
the coos

or is it the running about of the tennis-ball

so much pop-corns are flying out
from the draw-well

or that sound of foot-steps
in the north-east

may be
that is of some brown horses
or some horse-drawn perambulators

when the moon spreads out the platinum
does it judge the recipients

thus the bin-leaves can ring
from head to foot

it unfurls an incorrigible right-angle
in the early-evening

the troop with armours
open a shop of ******
beside the vainglory of the lake

Toad sand and frog pebbles,
warted rocks kicked and toed.

Tease the ocean with chocolate dipped feet,
spiced and salted teas.

Taper off mid-sentence, paragraphs tepid
long arms and zebra stripes, a crosswalk tepir.

Tocsin alarm clocks poison innocent bystander’s sleep,
slipping things in their drinks, filling their ears with toxin.

Tie a scarf around the forehead
of the middle child. Teach them beginning syllables of Thai.

Throes and spasms of overachievers
motivate for longer strides, faster throws.

Tense shoulder muscles
hide in sleeping bags, badly pitched tents.

Told injuries snuck in when the door opened,
we heard the miniature silver bells as they tolled.

Ticks count every second second, punctuated by tocks.
With each, a twitch, conscious nervous tics.

Titan tool boxes hold spare screws,
on Coeus’ threaded axis, we spin and tighten.

Terne sardine cans filled with mercury,
pollute our science tests, killing tern.

Tied red string around our pinkies so we don’t forget
when to go to the beach looking for clams at low tide.

Tacks pin talented teens to cork boards,
alongside instructions on regretting the harmonised sales tax.

Tire prints border the country,
left by jeeps that never tire.

Tails directing orchestras,
swarms of swan swim, tattling and telling tales.

About a month ago I cried because I couldn't find my favourite pair of socks. Last week I cried because I forgot my AP books in my locker, and I couldn't do the homework that I wouldn't have been able to bring myself to do in the first place. Yesterday I cried because my cookies didn't come out just right.

I cry. A lot. About everything.

I have been called everything from oversensitive to a baby to overdramatic. I
mean, haha, I clearly really wanted to wear those socks because now my whole day is ruined. I am extremely good at making something out of nothing.

Being this kind of sad is funny that way, no inconvenience is a minor inconvenience, it's all the end of the world or might as well be.

But I go with it. I joke about my tears and their daily visits.

I also joke about my anger and the chair I kicked resulting in a dislocated toe. I joke about the things I've thrown and the people that make my hands clench at my sides. I joke about it because it's easier than explaining it. I don't like my anger.

So, I've learnt how to turn my angry into lonely and my lonely into busy.
How do I explain that when I say I've been super busy lately, I mean I've been too busy falling asleep because drowning my pillow is tiring.

Depression is a monologue shot underwater, depression is sulking because I won't talk about it anymore.

How can I explain to my friends what is happening inside of my head when I can't even figure it out myself? How do I explain to them that I have been hit by too many people with "how dare you hurt me with your hurt" to not be convinced that I will accidentally do that to them? So we've grown accustomed to sulking. It has become a routine, joking about those ridiculous mood swings of mine.

My depression is a coat disguised as depersonalisation tendencies, "laziness,"
cries for attention and closed bedroom doors behind which continuous music
plays, harmonised with the sound of dripping cries of loneliness.

Of which the belt is anxiety. My psychologist has given it a name: John. Its
supposed to make me feel like anxiety is some exterior force and not something fogging up my entire inside. But he's better known as:

"Sorry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sorry.”

“I know I'm being annoying."

"Sorry.”

I try not to acknowledge it. So, I leave my pen clicking. hair fidgeting, periods of breathlessness and restless tendencies as just that; inconvenient tendencies. Sorry.

I've been told to pray and trust in faith, but I only wear a religious necklace because if I don't, I go home with a neck scratched raw by John.

I wrap myself in this coat for comfort, which seems ironic. But really, comfort is found in familiar places and it seems I keep losing my jackets of happiness and liveliness, so this coat is all I know.

There are some days I am so sad I don't remember what it's like not to be. Like when you're really sick and you forget how to breathe through your nose and you're so sure you'll never breathe through your nose again and I'm so sure I'll never feel joy again.

Except when you're sick, you can go and get a doctor's note to explain why you couldn't go to school and didn't write that test. I can't tell my coach I missed yesterday's practice because I got hit with a wave of sad. I can't tell you that my homework wasn't done because depression kept me tied to my bed for the better part of the day

My psychologist once told me I was brave to seek her help. I didn't feel brave. I felt scared. And desperate. And lonely. And tired. I am so tired of trying to take care of this terrible body that refuses to take care of me.

My depression doesn't ask for much but when it does it is something I cannot give and that is the joke. It is just me asking for something I cannot give. My friends get mad when I don't give them pieces of me. I can't give them something I'm not sure is there anymore.

singing across the river
stood on the banks
of the Thames.
I was not alone,
a beautiful woman,
dressed for old Japan,
stood and sung, also;
we harmonised in a dance
not our own
as the Thames took us
upriver to Oxford
and far beyond

We grew, wild and ragged
in leaf dappled sunbeams
our roots entwined in woodland dens
alive with whispers of secrets shared
and learners kisses.

Summer stretched cat-slow before us
as cool morning dew
lay it's bounty at shoeless feet
and bluebells bowed in reverence
to the dawning of the day.

Winding brooks sang of freedom
as all of nature harmonised
the melody lifting and lilting
to soothe the jealous moon.

How fortunate we were
to thrive at nature's breast
nestled warmly within her constant heart
wrapped safely in her many shades.

If any good came from loving true
but falling short
its in this verse honouring You
Surrendered, taught
reaching up beyond my sighs
where truth is chiselled into sense
Can darkened shutters recompense?
Time and purse no longer vie
so uncontended now I’ve died
to selfish pride and suffered lies
alone

The harm I caused not loving true
the way one ought
is harmonised now,  reflects You
fullfilled, sought
redeemed from  the lie
Darkness to experience
Suffering wrought repentance
Crime and worse no longer imply
damning dirges inside
Our Lamb arose, 'It’s finished' His cry
'Atone!'

Walking in my favourite nook
damp dead wood is under foot
bluebells in my ideal dell
honeysuckle makes my nostrils swell

Rose wood cones from cedar trees
the flies, the moths, and the bees
summer brings a happy breeze
pollen flying makes me wheeze

The Chaffinch sings his pretty song
harmonised melodies for the throng
twinkling trees of summer sun
woodpeckers beckon me to come

Berries plump and juicy ripe
fragrant herbs of every type
the heat beats down upon my head
further into the dell I'm lead

A rabbit burrowing out of sight
the ants are marching to their fight
dragonflies gracefully float
beetles plod and termites gloat

Breathing freely smells of old
wild Gardenia white and bold
lush green foliage everywhere
the nook is home to many there

Sweet wild baby's breath in rows
decor bordering the hedgerows
my country walk exhilarating
this July day is scintillating

I'm filled with essences of the Summer
being here is such an honour
taking stock of delightful days
before the long cold Winter phase

We harmonised perfectly
You were my conductor
From our song I learnt
How to fast forward and forget
How to Rewinded and remember
Even as our song fades away and hits its pause
The beats still go on forever more
You were my one hit wonder
What more could I say?

The first girl I ever apologised to
created craters in my veins and filled them with love and she didn’t even know
how beautiful she was, lying next to me face-to-face with nothing but TV reflections and an orchestra of words spoken in silence
I wanted to tell her I love her over and over again but my eyes stole any sentence I could form in my head from my mouth and did nothing but stare
They say a person’s face gets more attractive the more you look at it but I feel this is a lie; if I had only got to glance at her face for a second, she would still be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen
and we fit together like tetris blocks, building a foundation to plant the root of forever
and I want to grow beside her, watching her blossom from a caterpillar into a butterfly, from a star into the sun
and I want to be the steady trees that stand beside her, humble and proud, showing her that I meant it when I said I would never leave because I am rooted deep into our soil of forever
and I couldn’t even if I wanted to and I kept my heart chained to my ribs before I met her but she waltzed in, handed me the keys and I haven’t been the same since.
I felt her come crashing into my life like an asteroid; I am sure I was wiped out and taken to a universe where only good things happen because I can no longer see bad, only flowers where bullets should be
I can no longer only see red, but violet and magenta and mahogany too and she has opened up a world where everything does happen for a reason because it has led me to her
like a sleepwalker looking for home only to find something much better than that
like a sleepwalker waking up to find themselves immersed in golden sands and out of touch with reality but rife with the knowledge that she’s real
and her touch is there to remind me of this,
the world’s biggest mystery gracing the palm of my hand with their own fingertips, two DNA connected and the vibrations of my love for her bouncing back to whatever God introduced me to her to say thank you
and I remember the first time I held her hand. We sat in silence as I traced my fingers over hers and back again, like a visual of tentative attraction on loop.
I didn’t believe in anything until I heard my name on her lips and suddenly angels existed and
Sometimes I feel like I’m hallucinating but I don’t mind when her presence in front of me is tripled and I can see not just one of her but three and each one outstretches their hand as they morph back into one person, as if to show me that in all her various forms, I am safe
and I have never been safer
I can no longer only see red, but hues of cyan and aqua and agate blue and they merge together to form eyes I dive into searching for the very depths of her ocean and I never gasp for air
because I am safe. They merge together to form irises that look at me like I’ve never been seen before, like a rare breed of an extinct animal discovered again; irises that look at me like they could stop time with their intensity
and I want to stop time with her
I want to contort it to wrap around her and I and protect us in the promise of eternity
because the stars will set the sky on fire and everything will melt in embers and ash without her
the planets will misalign
the soil will sink the trees at their roots
and the ocean will swallow the earth it once harmonised with
and I will, simply,
cease to exist.

Imperative perception
It was all far fetched, a time when I searched myself in others
No one can ever give me the moment of clarity and serenity
An eternity of peace within oneself, an embody of higher self
This place of ultimate truth and surreal objectification
A reflection of timeless lapses, the laps of completeness
The storms were a taboo, the recurrent flying unquietness
The un-resolving trips and flares of unpolarised magnetic currents
The escape to pristine moments, prestige throughs and peaks
A vision from the drowning sea, me sinking in the whirlpool
I mirrored my own reflection to yours, my 'I' to "you", your 'I" to "me"

Melodious Creeks
The moment called now is my only lullaby I can hear
A whisper so harmonised and crystallised deep in the seabed
A candle light of moment of truth in a rotating crystal ball
The chaos in the jungle have escaped to the peaks of the mountain
Uninformed lands with uniformed pebbles, the shattered glasses
Demons that stood ***** as they pierced and taunted a being

Why did it take so long?**
Lets go the springs and streams of pain, the unending past
It's not a feeling, or logic, its a way of human existence
An entwinement of anthems embellished with peace

Presentiment
***** the barred barricades for me to see your pastures
I can feel the darkness that embodies your soul and mind
A thunder in the unending jungle, jiggling in kingdoms
Reject my sharp vision, I cry your tears as you do mine
I stare at your blur as you submerge in the deep waters
The blackening tunnels with no escape reject my eyes
The icy layers squeezing to escape in your sorrows
The narrowed aisles have become the only island you cruise
The trajectory of our blood realigned in our future sins

Found self?
Listen to the strings adjoining in the basements of the cliffs
The line balancing on the centrifugal pump as it impels to shrouds

Of choices?
Predetermination and judgment of other as I lost a piece of my time
In this territory, I stand at the borderline of my devotion in battle
Holding my rifle and connecting to life and all; me a solider of love
Parading in the landscapes of inhibitions and thought processes
A soul I hold is my only liberation to live fully and autonomously
Eyes wide open, mouth wide ajar as we rise and survive doing our best!

I've always wanted to write about you.
Staring at the stars and wondering about you.
Pondering on the moments we had,
The music we shared
The stories we read
The pages we turned
I remember it all.

I remember it all.

I've been starring out the window
Thinking about you
Preserving our memories
Sinking in our dreams
Realising they aren't no more

It hits hard
Knowing I lost you
The razors hit you hard but never landed you home,
The pills got you two strikes but as a batter you hit strong.
Third strike and I heard, "You're out!" I knew I lost you to monoxide.

I remember it all.
I saw the man that loved you fall to the ground,
Tears stain his skin
Hearts battered on the floor
Lungs tattered and broken voices.

I remember it all

I've always wanted to write about you
But I've never really had the words,
I still don't
But I still want to write about you.

I wanted to write symphonies for you
Melodies of memories
Harmonised stories of our friendship
Because you are family
And I wanted to write you a happily ever after
Because you deserve that.

I remember it all

Standing in front
Watching the mourning faces
Broken expressions
Burnt eyes

I remember it all
Closing my eyes
And praying that God isn't mad at you

Profound jazz tones on the rocks
Dragged down gravel pathways
In crystal cut glasses
Harmonised sweet pain-felt blues in orange light
Smoke undulating, seductively dancing on top of piano notes of passion
With his words he brought down two stars
They found contentment in your eyes
And while the rest of the stars and the moon light up the night sky
Your starry eyes light my desire
And there’s nothing I can do about that

For the first time in my whole life
I have seen a timepiece gaining hours overnight, scarily it's mine
Oh, my old piece of mind

I didn't really care when I was young and the world was slow
But now all things are running like hell
Carelessly clicking my life away,
you naughty piece. Your gain is my loss if you listen to what I am saying

My daughter is still young I need to stay
Please slow down if I have to fall off my way
I want things  harmonised and world in peace
Don't make fun of me, you little piece

I am writing a letter, got a lot to fix
I have to send it out before sunrise
When you knock like this my heartbeats follow
Slow down please, I can speak cheese

Gaining like this without feeling the pain
It turns out like a game over and over again
Round after round hand in hand
You keep gaining I become insane

I know you are working hard but got no idea where you learned this trick
Stop laughing and get me out of here
As you can see I am very sick
I am ordering you now, little piece
Time to put you beside the bin for free pick

Nov 14, 2016

Victory doesn't show weakness of the opposite team;
It shows your team spirit harmonised in the form of a rock!

the lake of fire -
Hellfire.
i was skeptical.
but this Northern climate drowned
the flames to ashes.

gathering cinders
i found that burning
ember;
alike that of the spark
Prometheus stole from Zeus
that would light the eternal flame -
the gift of Life to Man,
the beginning of a new world.  

i realised that our
symphonies harmonised
or dare i say -
kindred spirits -
started to burn

bright.

Verse 1
There's a father in heaven, who always leads me by the hand
Who picks me up if I would fall, a father who always understands
He takes me to his dwelling place, where I can go to seek his face
His face
I have found my hope in you, you reflect a solemn truth
Golden crowns I will accrue, you will see my victory through
A harmonised refreshing dew, for I live to follow you
Follow you

Chorus
If you would shine your light, if you would shine your light
A promising refining, of no greater timing
Casting out the darkness, a divine fulfilment
Bringing all completeness
Stretch your mighty hand

Verse 2
Let your waters overflow, a joyful countenance to show
A faithful vine will surely grow, lead me to the place to go
For in you I will not lack, your promises, not taken back
Not taken back
As I bow you will arise, your awesome power realised
A mighty wonder symbolized, present glory magnified
Of your ways tested and tried, for you are the greatest prize
The greatest prize

Chorus X2

Bridge X2
If you would shine your light, if you would shine your light
Bringing all completeness, stretch your mighty hand

Outro
Oh yeah, ooh, oh yeah

Written by Geraldine Taylor ©

I'll look into the future
the past I can't change
the prologue
I had written long ago
is now but sand washed
from the languishing shore
into the tumultuous  sea of time

(now the interregnum)

all that which
had gone before
I count as folly
and trivia-
love and hate
doubts and fears
the questioning
the angst
that wouldn't abate
the right direction
I missed
I didn't know
where to go--

( realisation--
  through pain
and tears
I stepped into
  a new long-awaited morrow)

I've since outgrown
the weeds--
in the field
of experience
a new life
I've assumed

though I'm
still a bud
but I know
someday
this would grow
silently flower
and in the gentle breeze
steadily it would blow-

the essence
that life must be
should appear
in the final chapter
the epilogue
that summarises all--

what I would be
is not for others to see
for in this simple corner
at the brink of time
only I
and I alone
could measure
what I truly am
have I lived?
have I betrayed myself?
what do I stand for?
do I sell myself short?
what else do I have to deplore?

from the epilogue
I'll return to the present
bridle in the prologue
a new map
I would draw
where road-blocks
are absent
and forward
I'll walk
engaging
in a dialogue
of my own
every step ahead
on my planning board
I'll highlight
with a strong chalk--

salvation
there's not
but only
within the spot
where my heart and mind
intersect
blend
mutually support

where the rough edges
have been shorn
and a fertile interior
has been born--

where thoughts and feelings
are synchronised
like an orchestra
where all sounds of instruments
are in rapport and tunefully harmonised--

the prologue
must end
in the epilogue

to the sky
at night
I would look
even in the faintest light
as the hours creep by
silently and unnoticed

I would no longer
have tears and know not
how to sigh or cry
as to all that's gone before
I would happily bid goodbye--

in that somewhere
of time
which would be
hidden from my eye
that moment
I would welcome
and embrace
as what has been
predestined
in the mysterious scheme
willingly I would accept

I have lived well
(regret I have none)
my earthly task
has been done
a wondrous experience
it would be to die
into a new beginning
I'm returning home
which was my prologue
long have I travelled
and far did I roam

it's the same gate
that did usher me in
at the very start
now it welcomes me
to pass through
in fullness of heart--

without
the prologue
there would be
no epilogue

nothing that does exist
in life and time
is ever lost--
the prologue
and epilogue
are inter-locked
they leave each other not--

the river flows
into the sea
the waters
become one
not a drop
is not absorbed

life is a mystery
relived
somewhere
beyond the claim
of time
it magnifies
it never dies--

when tired eyes
wake from sleep
from the night before
the awakened
will be greeted
with a bright light at dawn
and all joys
shall be theirs
to eternally keep.

I willed myself to close my eyes.
You were there, by my side.
If I was asked what was my favourite sound, I'd answer 'our harmonised laughters' in a heartbeat.
I drowned out others, with my whole attention placed upon you.
I wonder how it is possible for something so beautiful and so kind can bring out the deepest emotions in me.
Then I understood.
Someone so kind, so beautiful and tender can't always evoke the deepest emotions in a person.
It was because it was you.
I understood how I could feel love, caring, and warmth.
You made me feel.
The sincerity in which you exudes liberates how I feel around you.
I was able to free myself from the shackles that held me so tightly - to conform to what I felt was what I should be.
I didn't feel the need to limit myself, to only show the good.
I was a person. I was living when I'm with you.
You held out your hand to me, with the smile I forever etched in my memory.
Taking a step forward, my hand was close to clasp around yours.
The wind blew strongly and a raindrop fell on me.
I opened my eyes and you weren't there.
I was not laughing with you, I was not by your side.
You were laughing, but it wasn't with me.
Your kindness, warmth and love can be felt, but it wasn't directed towards me.
I was fooled in wanting an alternative reality, when knowing my punishments was to live in a reality parallel to yours.

- kimin