trying to find the meaning of life,
when this is what i realized.
i was finding my purpose outside,
possessing all the worldly pleasures i eyed.

missed in the scavenger hunt,
the longing of my loved ones.
trotted the earth to find happiness,
a ride away was a friend fighting loneliness.

in the desperation to hear 'Good Job',
i got used to the late night hobnobs.
miles away, waiting for a call, was my mother,
wanting to know if i had my supper.

life was perfect with no trouble,
guess i was living in my own bubble.
came the time of a long lasting intrusion,
and suddenly, all desires felt like an illusion.

jolted by this surprise,
wondering if we'd survive.
i started to face the reality,
only to find that my existence was a fallacy.

all that matters in life,
is for us to recognize
that
we're nothing without the support of our dear ones,
and it's time to appreciate and cherish everyone.

ghanghor andhera chaya hai,
bas aapki yaadon ne
umeed ka diya jalaya hai
baki toh sab bas moh maya hai.

sitting

rivers of Singapore life
flow around me
over me

forever drowning in noise


clatter of plates
rumbling traffic
the discordant wailing of ringtones

diaspora

cultures, colours, faiths
streaming together
oil on water

you stare

‘ang moh,’  you mutter
red haired devil
am I?

alone

you don’t like
to share my table
or sit by me on the bus

and yet

like water on the mountaintop
ever seeking the sea
with gentle persistence we live together

still waters of humanity run deep

see - cah - moh - re
you used to say that
the wrong ones
dont matter to you, baby-
what if im wrong?
what if i'm not the right one
for you

see - cah - moh - re
you used to say that
the wrong ones
don't matter to you, darling-
but what if you are?
and you're not the right one
for me?

sturdy, sturdy
as the sycamore tree
is my love for you,
my darling thee

but as the roots, spreading
continuously till bedrock-

there is end to us,
there is end to love.

see - cah - moh - re
you say that
the right ones dont matter to you now
for they have no stories
to tell
no regrets to burn

and like the sycamore tree
that you've always pronounce wrong;
till there is growth in stagnation.

I know you're right for me.

sitting eating
rivers of Singapore life
flow around me, over me

forever drowning in noise

clatter of plates
rumbling traffic
the discordant wailing of ringtones

diaspora

cultures, colours, faiths
streaming together
oil on water

often you stare
‘ang moh,’  you mutter
'red haired devil'

you don’t like
to share my table
or sit by me on the bus

and yet

like water on the mountaintop
ever seeking the sea
with gentle persistence we live together

still waters of humanity run deep

it the new year, and only into February have i finally returned to my modus operandi... which was? well... it was the pre-Christmas period in the supermarket, and 1 litre bottles of whiskey were on offer, marked down from £19 to £15^, so it was usually that, a bottle of coke, and a bottle of beer and walking home straight away... perching myself on the windowsill, watching youtube channels of uninspired people talking about being inspired... it was never going to work... i was bound to experience a writer's block... but as of today... it's back to my original "strategy"... (a) drinking expensive alcohol can be depressing, well, it actually is depressing... i don't mean drinking cocktails in some urban hot-spot... by expensive i mean something akin to Jim or Jack... that's expensive... in comparison to high commissioner, it is expensive... so having said that: it's the effect of alcohol in relation to the effect of alcohol in other people: that has to become expensive... a van gogh moment... say: writing a poem or "poem" (depending on the levels of your pedantry). (b) the modus operandi... going to a Sri Lankan offlice... buying three canned beers, a 70cl bottle of whiskey... and going for a walk with the beers... head clearing... and yes: rain or shine, winter or summer... out there... looking into suburban houses, with some people asleep, others still watching television... men at their roadworks posts... taxi drivers returning home... in general the motorway insomnia... it's good to return to my seemingly lost and forgotten ways.

^the most annoying thing about buying a computer in Poland for a mere £100 is that the keyboard isn't what it "should" be... i have no £ within shift+3... and the ditto marks are not at shift+2, but at ****+@... so yes, i have to copy+paste it from the public space of... the internet - and this is where computers become equivalent to a piano... sure, there's the black and white keys... by black i mean shift+.

it can begin with as little as,
well... it will quiete a lot to begin with...
bilingualism
       is more complex than stating
your polymath ability to learn
    7 languages... evidenly one is superior
to the other, in that bilingualism
can be regarded as something akin
to digging trenches...
     what i mean is that
psychiatric terms can be poetic,
   for example schizoid (split) phren (mind)
         is brimming with metaphors...
Brautigan, Burroughs, Bukowski...
      all of them were labelled as such...
i can't quiet understand it as anything
other than a metaphor,
     but in cases of genuine ordeal
with the symptoms, it's anything but that.
the American linguistic notation:
      [oz-moh-sis, os-]....
the British linguistic tradition:
                                 /ɒzˈməʊsɪs; ɒs-/ -
and this is my linguistic notation:
     \ o(h)-ßmo(h)-sis / -
    by the way... most denote the (h)
                        as '... i.e. o'-
   frankly... i like to laugh and sigh...
because?
                   well, it's what happens when
you originate with a language that has
diacritical marks, and inherit a language
where diacritical marks are completely absent...
   i and j do not really count...
   even though it's evident that i begins as ι...
   so it's there: foreced almost... with a diacritical
marking...
   oh yeah: i forgot to mention the word...
osmosis* -
                       hardly anyone says that word
with the first s being soft...
       hence what english did to the world
and globalised it, so unto english the world must
give an answer, and given that english
is a language written without clear,
educational distinctions, a blank canvas
in terms of diacritical markings...
   i guess we can start to see how we can write
english, once again, with a "world view"
incorporating as many deviant examples as possible...
   a bit like bird-watching, or what darwinism
is in reverse, as ****-centric and beyond this:
nothing... so that's a german example having
a say in this example...
            and it really begun simple...
   and this is how the slavs differ...
    žiž      (well, given the ι already has a mark)
        that ι already has a mark,
southern slavs differ from northen slavs
in that they couldn't mingle the too together...
  so-half a caron on the zzzz / snooze (ź)...
      or how lazily we call it sleep, or snoring...
imagine all that effort into the onomatopoeia
of a woof! or a meow! and indeed:
probably the wise choice to call it zzzzz and sleep...
and leave the snoring to the harp
   (snoring in Polish? hrapanie...
the verb? hrapać)...
              the southern slavs will not spot this,
and if that's the case that žiž could be written
by a Yugol... it wouldn't be written by a Pole...
             and given that ž = ź
it just shows you that the southern Slavs's excess
is a complete disrespect / automaton stance
            concerning i...
  the Russians are Greco-Slavs... don't know...
  if they were introduced to the Latin alphabet first
they wouldn't be a competing super-power
  with their pseudo-Grecian alphabet (Cyrillic) -
   and thank god... no good, no evil...
     it would be a bit too much...
        like th
     at question is usually asked:
why do bad things happen to good people?
well... why do good things happen to bad people?
back to ž = ź
   and there's Hegel... castrated with his i = i / i am i...
well, i can see that...
          plain and simple... no wonder Marxism came
from Hegel... dumber than a hammer...
  and the subsequent nailing in of nails into coffins...

no. 1
(evil bladder, evil bladder! hence the interludes...
but hey! it's a collage)

... and this promenade in the night and rain,
really has a kabbalistic beginning,
well... kabbalistic meaning: you've really become
ridiculous with your numerology -
numerology is the lazy way to upkeep mysticism...
  i can't see it as anything more than indolence...
i begun this meditation
with two letters...              z           &             ι
and that later gave me the variations
                         the Libra is heavier on the z side
i know, but that's for now...
i.e.
                                               ι
                                                     (i)
                              &

               z
(ž    
            ß     ź)

that's how it looks right now, it's good that
i didn't mention ż so far....
so unto the examples...
      a southern slav will write ži... (ž= ź)
but a northern slav will not...
    e.g. ziemia (earth)
         ziemniak (potato)
   ziarno (grain)
    zima (winter)...
             and only in this particular combination...
(this has to be more interesting than numerology,
i.e. not substituting letters for numbers
   i.e. 1 = a, j, s, / 2 = b, k, t / 3 = c, l, u
ergo 3,848 = hello using something called
a decimal base 10 arithmetic... i don't know)...
     as other diacritical acute insertions
    also prove to be the case, respecting
the enforced diacritical mark above the ι,
esp. when there's a squeeze...
    ściema (faking it)
                 nagość (nakedness)...
  this is language slowed down from its
supposed everyday quick usage...
               i'm looking for a word when
the squeezed snooze (ź) appears as it does...
       http://tinyurl.com/zvur8qb
well.. może = maybe (Goran)
   write morze = maybe, and you get
the orthographic nazis onto you...
                 it's an aesthetic that has transcended
aesthetic in that it has become as rigid
as a rubric, or a "universal" appreciation of
                  Michelangelo rather than a Damien Hirst
shark in a plastic aquarium...
     and given it's a diacritical mark on
the last possible alphabetical letter: how
hard if not now to find a suitable word?
       it's really hard to find a ź example
once you realise that z+i are so coupled...
   you only realise at first the alpha-
                  / beginning of conjuring an example
that doesn't really arrive...
       such is the ź example given that z+i are
so entwined...
                   i could easily write the caron z
   and the roman enforced diacritical marking over
iota easily... ži...
                           but i can't... the Pandora is
hovering above my head, and i can't think of
a word with ź in it... given that i'm only thinking
of an alpha- / beginning the word with a zi
                       that's equivalent to ź
should no i be present within such close proximity...
       zakon (monestary)
                 zagoń (round-up,
                           the pronoun is self-evident...
        contained within the word, and it's gender-neutral,
   and if the pronoun is not the bothersome bit...
then it's the latter instructions of: those sheep...
    aport! / fetch... you can say that word (zagoń)
in your sleep, and you wouldn't need to be in a place
where there are sheep, or sheep that need to be rounded-up).

interlude no. 2 - no comment.

      well...
  it's no mere accident that when i go on
this little walks with beer that i find the odd thing
lying on the pavement...
  today? a rain-soaked joanna cannon
book, the trouble with goats and sheep...
and yes, i finally found a Polish word that provides
an example of ź...
      before the enforced diacritical ι
                              the acute above the z disappears...
given zielony (green)...
              but after the enfroced diacritical mark
over i... acute symbol has a tendency to appear
like a necessitated after-tea mint...
     e.g. kraszewski's god's wrath, page 158
(ludowa swpółdzielnia widawniczna edition, 1973 a.d.)...
znaleźli - they found...
      zło - evil...
                  źli- evil ones...
                          and it is such a rarity to find!
  a bit like a narcissus flower in a field of wheat!
     or a jasmine concentrated to a perfume...
             whiffing about its airs against the tennis with
the wind...

i wish they might call this:
    against the cantos' fascination with the chinese
ideogram...
or... thanks for using emoticons...
   language had to retaliate against the :) and :(
                    hieroglymphs of the digital pyramid...

interlude no. 3 - still no comment

also known as the Libra and the pivot

                                               ι
                                                     (i)
                              Δ

               z
(ž    
            ß     ź)
  
   and yes _____________ the sea-saw...
humanism can really compete with the science,
if it get its act together...

    and since the Greeks already adopted
adding diacritical marks to their beautiful alphabet...
i wonder how θ will fare
   when i write the word thought (θought),
and subsequently write the word:
   weather....       oh **** on me! it's an acute θ!
that magically turns into a V!
   weaver...
                 and saying that: only one consonant
made it to a vowel status of a grapheme æ / œ...
first to come was ß... the grapheme of s and z...
   a bit of chemistry goes a long way... chiral
as a pair of siamese twins, those two are
(you can put on a cockney accent saying that
sentence, yes, you can, i say so)....
  well... it's complicated because you're not german
and german to you is like quasi-Zulu...
ß looks like β (beta)... but it's a grapheme...
an sz that never actually meet... or entwine
like a and e might in æ...
   which makes it very difficult to follow...
just like the grapheme i wish to invent for
       TH  
                         namely that it's akin to  PH...
φilosoφy.... θou(gh)t....
                        g(h)ost...
                 ­                                look how pretty
it looks though: the ****'s F doing here?
     this an **** or a a ******* or a happily
married couple, or what?
    Φ and Θ.... almost looks like a keyhole
with a key lodged in it, and then turned...
horizontal in... reaction of unlocking the lock
mediatory with Θ and then back out into Φ...
             i.e. Φ + I = Θ = Φ + I + ...an open door...

interlude no. 4: this Russian chic at uni really
loved the doors... we watched a movie together
about them... with val kilmer playing
the dead man key role...
  is that door enough for you honey?
                       you got the шock and ßakes?

and if i mention hekhalot rabatai?
or the talmud, or the sefer yetzirah,
                              the bahir and the zohar?
twelth century and thirteenth century rabbis...
      will i also hear of the two Adams
of Eden, the (alpeh) fffא and the (ayin) fff
                    alpeh is a tame ******, feminine,
the mystery is not in the siamese H
   of the tetragrammaton, but in the aleph and the ayin...
    clearly i can't write ayin down without
semite d'uh on the digital canvas...
           writin left to right doesn't do much
justice... unless i write ye י‎,                                                            
f­ff.
ffff   fff        ע                  י‎
...pfי‎                         ­                  י...
there... you should really look at
the behaviour of ayin in the digital form,
the ****** wont't budge! you have to tell him
of the yodh to get off his *** and
make way for a pregnant lady...
        and since this is the 21st century...
i'd like to say: i'd like to write
a pentagrammaton.... yep...
a pentragrammaton... the ayin is gay,
and alpeh is a heterosexual...
     but the pentragrammaton now concentrates
on vav - or a vw beetle... v = w = ł...
       that's the moment you realise
that western linguistic mentioned o' not as
o(h) but as ' = yod...
         bad move... it's no silent (y)...
obviously this can exist in a non-pentragrammatorn
relation...
                            עואי­

My fingers and lips and mind  
seemingly have dried out,
and thus shut up,
when it comes to you.

I used to seek you out,
then panic when I found you.

Now I don’t bat an eye,
or misstep, and no memories
or flashbacks replay
even when I see you unexpectedly.

i sleep in the same bed
that you hurt me in
every single night.
there are reminders of you
everywhere i look.
usually they fade into the background,
but not tonight.
leave me alone.

Zindagi ka saar h ,mehnat
Har byakti ka uddhar h, mehnat
Karne h gar tujhe sapne sakaar
To dena suru kar mehnat ko
aakar

Kai parishtithiyo m tujhe jhukna padega
Kai baar tujhe rukna padega
Kar ye dran nishchay tu apne man m
Nahi fasega tu moh-maya aur dhan m


Zindagi ka saar h mehnat
Har byakti ka uddhar h menhat 😇

ta ma sa la la na a
the stars believe in the waters

a mama lul
pretty, pretty golds

twa a ma moh
pretty, pretty blues,

sa a ta ma a la na odh,
the tide is blown like a ghost

ta ma la a sa a
and the moon is beautiful

trama da na wa
dancing to her song

ta a mama da la la da ma tra
a golden lantern of softening light

a mo na ta a ma a ta
shivering in the willows of the night

sa ma da a la a
up in the twilight

torro ma a da a lam
down in the sky-land

ta la a sa a la sa
where the silver moss quivers

ta la na la da ma soh
and the pretty streams shimmer as they dream.

this English hospitality was always somewhat eerie,
neglect of an empire and the topsy turvy
what's called history (sometimes,
set apart from the insomnia of journalism)
i.e. not enough years have passed for the veneer
to crumble...

                       ... spacious orientation of words
for the altar of sacrifice in poem as somewhat
dictated by Olson...

just befitting, to say that Pandora was an
androgynous creature,
    a Chimera of calamities and it wasn't
a box but Pandora fed a chimera rather than
opened some res per se...

         clearly i can hallucinate on the page as
if i have never read anything, ever, aloud...
i've long lost this art of: presented with rhetoric
to sour-**** oover...

           magnanimous is spelled like so...
but when i hear the word
   i see the following misspelling:
   magni-moh-knious: -nious as -news:
the K is silent, inserted to print to make
meaningful distinction between
words like KNOW AND NOW...
but given that now is: nauw
that's pedantic of me and well: ouch auw...

ooh... oh...
     curiosity staged with the latter and a soothing
lather with the former,
how different in two wheels rather than one...

interchangeability of letters so a custom of
idiosyncrasy of dialect and whims of a speaker...
ðe point being:             þoughts
very much akin to:

Greece, always with the Greeks...
    transliterations intact only until
(i have Greek blindspot[s]
which are as follows:

      Ξξ                         Χχ

xi           chi:                xichi

xof | fox

  or rather: how do Greeks laugh?
given that ha ha is actually:

     ηα             i.e. ea ea... H... none to pivot
on a vowel as consonant for breath thus
released like slingshot... not Hat... no Hatter, mad...

and borrowing from
   θ
F
   φ

or rather what became a letter generator tool
of I and O of Io... not the moon but the mortal lover
of Zeus... old Zius... not Zehus...

    Io who gave birth to:

Θ Φ and who in turn gave birth to Ξ.    Ψ

yes yes, you heard me correctly...
the copulation of Zeus with a mortal woman
gave birth to that monstrosity of twins

Theta and Philius...
who in turn loved each other so much that they
performed the act of ****** and in turn
Theta gave birth to their two children
(also twins):             Ξ.    Ψ

Xian and Psiah

          who in turn also performed the sacrilegious
act further... so that...
Ω was born and by the miracle of divine misconception
automated birth of her own accord
as a ****** ha-shem
         hermaphrodite: who have birth to
the imagination for the gods Hermes and Aphrodite

as ε (epsilon) and eta (η)

  by then all other letters came out of an antithesis
and to seal and hide the lineage
from ape to man...
spontaneously or perhaps out of a forewarning
out of a future with the culprit Prometheus
Oppenheimer... like some crippling sense of
time being cyclic rather than linear...

with space being linear, oddly enough...
since no amount of geometry could ever encapsulate
the universe... since space is shapeless
at the end of the day: the linear ache of this vast
cyclops, yawning...

yes: space is linear, time is cyclic...
as i not imagine it to be since it is:
getting from A to B... to work... a recurrent theme...
how tidy: to think like so.

Here I am
alone
with an echo
that takes
my stare
reverbs
on fingertips
as if the night
cooled here

left me cold
machine
of time
am I a shard
or the elegant
shape still spun
'gainst your blade

hardness moh harder
and a shaving
denied by  whiskers
shrieking as they
are scalped
'gain and I'm home
bleeding one-handed
watched by tomorrow