i'm going to write all over my body,
show you the stories upon the heart
inside my sleeve
i love books so much i'll become one,
just for you;
you can turn the pages with the tips of your
fingers and  read between the lines-
just for you, i'll open up my cover without fear
of being torn apart,
you can add your own writings,
i want our stories to interwine.
i'll let you press your lips to the bones inside my spine,
skip the pages, go back and re-read my lines;
you can hold me in your hands
or throw me against the wall.

i know i can be cryptic and maybe i ask too much,
ocassionally i talk in metaphors,
give you hints about the story inside my skin
but i also know you love that most about me;
i make turns and twist the plot just as i please
to appease the hunger you hold when i'm a tease.

i won't let you put me down,
have you entranced and falling deeper,
forget the sleep, the night will be for reading-
you'll crave me like an addict, desperate for
the next line.

come,
let me write on my body,
explore the passages inside me,
i'll keep you guessing, searching for the ending
but i know i won't write you one,
this is the one of you and I;
our one thousand and one nights.

Once I knew a place, a place I never truly found significant.
A vast stretch of abandonment and history - long forgotten and left to be consumed by Time himself.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly understood.
Decorated by Mother Nature with an asortment of trees and shrubs and an abundance of flowers it's only scar which betrayed it to the present was a solitary man-made structure, tattoed with the bold letters of "FALCON SECURITY" - surely an untold testimony to this place's past life.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly acknowledged.
Ocassionally it would become the temporary haven of hobbos and hermits alike. Living in mutual homelessness they sort comfort under the trees, in the confines of the hideous building or simply amongst the long, billowing grass of the place. They would build thingie-ma-jigs, what-ja-ma-call-its and thing-a-ma-bobs and sell them to the curt passerbys of their place.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly appreciated.
Surrounded by infastructure, and industry it stood out like a rose amongst the thorns and brought beauty and clarity back into the otherwise monotonous, morbid environment. It stood defiant and strong against the hungry, salivating greed of humanity - yet someday it was bound to succumb to our over-powering ambition for development.
Once I knew a place, a place that no longer exists.
In the blink of an eye that place was destroyed - uprooted and upheaveled.
Every tree, every shrub, every flower ripped out and now gone. No longer a haven but a grave yard where the dead lay scattered like fallen soldiers across the battlefield. Victims against the War of Industrialisation they fell prey to mans' heinous desires.
"Collateral damage" for a "brighter" future they say.
I say, who needs another vehicle retail outlet.
Once I knew a place, and I will never know that place again.

Today I am happy,
today I don't know what to write about.
I think there's a connection,
that I've developed the bad habit
of writing only when I'm depressed.
That's why today
I'm forcing myself to write,
to write more than naughty feelings,
to write about life
and only ocassionally about death.
Is life not worth writing about?
You see, I'm a scientist in mind,
so, naturally, life comes to me as a surprise,
unprepared,
maybe that's why my body was off
by a big margin,
maybe that's why my brain
functions only from time to time.

I digress.
What I ment to say is
that life is so ******* wierd is crazy.
Think about it,
we are pieces of universe,
barely distinguishables from our own selves,
who observe the universe.
Wouldn't bet with those odds,
yet here we are,
and what's more crazy,
we appear to be able to tell
the difference between now and then,
to call ******* on some stories,
yet,
we are not *******,
we are alive;
we have memories but we are not them.
We make them.
Our past is but our future,
it just came a little earlier,
let's use its help to be prepared
for what is to come:
Life.
Isn't it crazy?

After Do Not Be Ashamed by Wendell Berry

Unashamed

You can mute yourself at will
Or find you've hit mute in error.

On ocassion you might find
someone has muted you.

You can go off camera.
Observe and listen.
Unseen, unheard.
Ocassionally waving in the hope
that you will be called upon
to contribute
to comment
on the wisdom of others.

And after a while, on realising that
you've gone unnoticed, unneeded,
you give yourself permission
to walk away,
to simply listen in
while making a cup of tea.

And after a while, you walk out,
to test your necessity
and you won't be surprised
to find it wanting.

But then
as you return.
as you choose candour,
bear your inward clarity
raise your yellow hand,
as you select unmute, unashamed
click camera, unashamed
and find room, find voice -
then a sure screen will rise
from the margins and their eyes
will seek you out
and the mic is yours.

I can still feel your hot breath
soaking through my detangled hair
when we embraced for the last time
and
I still have that gross popeye tshirt buried
underneath my bed, tucked away in the back
and
I can still feel my agitated cheeks
ocassionally scraping along your face
and
I can still taste the salt in my mouth
from when I knew that was going to be the last time
and
I still have our last goodbye
teetering on the tip of my tongue,
licking my way to the core.


                                                                                                                                    *CVT

Sparkles and love
Dreams come true
That sounds less like me
More like you

Where's the dragons
The war
The grime and gore

What fun is there without blood lust
What excitement without death and deciet
Shadowed intent
Shattered goal

What fun is it without kings or queens that must be overthrown
Deciding who's head to cut off as they sit alone

The protagonist a prodigy
Strong and young
Filled with burning rage for what cannot be undone

The villain cruel
Living in darkness
In a world lacking color

What fun is it to always have peace and kindness rule the land
To always have the hero win
Save the day let's go and play
Clearly now evil shan't threaten again

Ocassionally the antagonist must win
Create seas of blood
Darken the skies with flocks of crows
Come to feast on the rotten corpses of their enemies

Ocassionally you must let happy endings die
To let excitement live

I am done trying to satisfy you and it feels so good to get you off my back.
I tried to cary you for three years occasionally dropping you to see if you'd react but you were clinging on to me for dear life and while trying to save yourself you were drowning me along the way.
I used to believe that I was comfortable drowning and that it became apart of my human nature that we all ocassionally felt helpless and incapable of standing on our own two feet but the entire time it was you making me feel like I needed a life vest although I already knew how to swim.
Even when the time came to let you go for good to fend for yourself against the waves you still tried to save yourself and tried dragging me down further but I finally held my breath and untied the block you tied to my ankles. Im not gonna lie I did this to you too but I let you think you were free then got scared because you made me feel like I was sinking without you.
But I finally solved the puzzle to my happiness and it doesnt involve you.
thanks for wasting three years of my time.

The first time you saw me
you were staring at me
face blank with a big question
Where are you from?
Thailand
Japan
South Korea
Singapore
Vietnam
China, I am from China.
I didn’t wait for you to get stuck
in an endless abyss of map search

Ah, China!
Then you are suddenly reminded
of an obselete word active in nowhere except your kitchen
(and perhaps your GI tract)
Painfully welcoming
as you take a closer look at me now

I felt like a ******* ******
mind frozen against your fierce gaze
Though all you did was to
shake my hand gently and briefly
like you were just acquainted with me

A slight trace of uncertainty flashed across your face
as your eyes rested upon mine
with a voice saying “Nice to meet you.”

The second time we met
you were smiling at me
fighting the best you can
to refresh memories about me
Which part of China?
Echoes of media reveberate beneath the screen

So you’ve heard of the stories
The rich east booming with red captitalism
and the impoverished west ocassionally annoyed
by separatist troublemakers

But I am from the part of China
with a past too glorious to be ignored
yet a present too obscure to be proud
One second of repositioning later
I heard myself saying
I am from the city of ancient China

Then you were struck by thoughtful silence
That was made of artificial admiration
and numb alienation
a secret nowhere to hide
And I smiled back with real pains

we i was young
and perpetually broke

and equally bored
there was a place
i would go...

with towel in hand
and a bottle of red cordial,
a book to read
and reef brand coconut oil,
in a cotton shoulder bag.

i would set off down
to the beach,
a mile or so away.
filching, apples and milk
money, along the way.

once there, would find
a spot up near the dunes
and stay and read and broil
away.

breaking my sunbaking
only to go buy
"three dollars of chips
and a chiko roll"
with money purlioned
and a guilty grin...

ocassionally i would fall
asleep and wake up
lobster red....and suffer
the burn for days..
but the more you suffered
the deeper the tan..
nut brown was the desired look.. or in these days
parlance cafe au lait....

now i pay for that innocent
delight...
with checks,three monthly
on sunspots and the lurking
fear of melaloma always near ...

i am not the only one,
there is a generation,
of sun bronzed aussies.
who now pay dear,
for those earlier
ignorant years.

I wish I could sing for you
But my voice is as rough as the canvas I paint on
And my medium has never been vocals
I have neither the talent or lung capacity
I am not rhythmic, simply loud.

I would write for you
But I fear I have already sent too many words your way
And you will begin to believe
(However truthfully)
That words are all I have to give.

I would paint or draw for you
But the lines produced by my clumsy, ringed fingers
Would never measure up to the delicate lines
Your hands trace into my skin.

I would simply show you I love you
By holding your hand
And brushing your hair from your eyes as you snooze
But you are too far
And my cold arms could never reach you.

I will offer you all this regardless.
My voice though it is rough and shaking.
My words though they are overused and ocassionally pretentious.
My artwork though it will never be as beautiful as your hands on my skin.
Myself, though I am cold and far away, graceless and indelicate, lost for words, and rough and broken.

I offer myself to you, broken pieces I may be, and I am yours to take or toss aside.
(Though I hope that you will choose the former)

Sometimes biiig
Arms-open
Welcoming

Ocassionally cold
Camera-quick
Calculating

Now urgent
And a mile wide
But always far
From his cobalt-blue eyes.

I had you first
Heart soul and mind
Grown up, not apart by time
So alike, so unchanged
Through different environments, in a different stage
Now they have you, thoughts and body
Weeding away our time though unsteady
So many wishes, so many prayers to one not there, answered suddenly but incompletely
Now I have you soul mind and body
Your heart is away, on vacation these days

Now I again begin to pray, to beg one not there
May I have you?
Again the way you once were?
All mine finally for once
Uninjured, unbroken
Loved and loving but mostly; loving me?

God please!
You know me better than I know myself!
For years and years of my feelings bottled on a shelf
Resigning myself to a secret love ocassionally crashing from above, to break my heart all over again
I never minded it then...

But to have you and have you ripped away
Every night, every day
I will never be ok
The jar is unscrewed and feeling renewed courses through my chilled veins
To remember your gentle callused hands
To remember your words to me when secrets spilled and my tears would repeat
I would give anything for you to stay
Even a day or two of having you Completely having you, is worth more than lifetimes having the next best thing

I have unhealthy habits
Maybe I'm an addict
Ocassionally find peace on a mattress
You preach that I'm an actress
And I've really ******* had it
If everyone think I'm a saint
That's their prerogative
I'm not trying to prove a ******* thing
At least I'm not full of ****
You put me on a pedestal
That's your wrongdoing
Not a single person's perfect
And I am no exception
But my mistakes come out as truths

I have unhealthy habits
The worst of them is you

I had always had a crush on her
She was beautiful in so many ways
But i could never muster up the courage to even speak to her
She'd ocassionally ask me for notes
I really liked her
But i also thought that she was way out of league
One day she looked at me and smiled
She came and sat next to me
She started talking
I was so nervous that i was literally shaking
My heart was pounding like crazy
I started stammering
She could sense my nervousness
She placed her hands on mine..
..and whispered in my ears-' it's okay..i like you too!'
Imagine the feeling i felt at that moment!
It was sheer magic
These were words i had never heard before
Rain had finally touched down upon the desert of my heart
My soul was flooded with emotions
My mind had become numb
Never before had i felt so serene
...so alive
...so elated
Love had finally arrived....

My love you are both my source of strength and as well as weakness
You bring out the child in me
Ocassionally you also awaken the monster within me

My love you are weird in the most beautiful ways
You can make me smile even in the most trying circumstances
And you can hurt me when i least expect it

My love you are like an intoxicating drug
Too much of you is harmful
And too little of you doesn't serve my purpose

My love you are the best problem i've ever faced in my life
And i ain't got any intentions of solving you
I simply want to prolong you till death whisks me away....

we played parchissi, grandma and I
the race was on to get home first
we never kept track of who won more
it was ocassionally the same
her eyes were light grey and saw the world
with all its bratty twerps therein
and yes, I'm from that happy gang
I'm sure she knew...yeah, pretty sure.

she cared for birds, plants, and small things
and she would cook for me most days
she hardly smiled, didn't hug me much
but the weekly allowance she gave was great
when her blood pressure wasn't soaring
we'd walk to church and she would pray
I'd stand at attention  thère somehow
but irreverent anyway
once she tried to teach me how
to not fall far from grace
but in all my numbskull glory,
that lesson' was a waste

then her day came, she passed on
I felt sick inside
I was grossed out at myself
and yeah sure I knew why
with mixed up and cold indifference
I treated her in life
lack of gratitude I'm thinking
gets us all the time

When I see her up in heaven
it's my turn to cook
fried eggs and big golden plantains
she'll have a proud look
we'll discuss it all and bygones
will all turn to wind
some nights we will play parchissi
and not keep track of wins.

An ordinary soul
Neither was  nor I'm
With my own  imperfections
Mine alone perfections...
Emotions sometimes freeze me
And at times anger fumes  too
No bodies I love
But the souls in them I  care
Crying and laughing not unknown to me
Though keeping a smile ever seem toughest..
As gentle a mind of flowery petals
Ocassionally becoming a rocky brick...
I'm ...what my mind...is
In  and out  no different...!!
Ordinary....Extra ..... ordinary!!