the curbside poets

home

2008-04-08T13:40:00.003+08:00

no fixed destination awaits me
once banished from the sidelines
and defencelessly walled in
this heartless space you cruelly dug
is now my exile.
don't forget.
this is my space. my place.
i set the standards here.

For another you

2007-03-22T22:47:00.000+08:00

There is no room for you here.
Literally.
Disgusting - that is what you feel.
You peer into the mirror daily
and find only hate.
You pin up posters
of skeletal daffodils with hair
and ate leaves for weeks.

Still, you feel like a whale.

So you lead that stubby finger
into your mouth
and you retched till you're
blue in the face,
day in and out.
And for months,
you refused to stop, not
till you're small enough
to please their small
minds, which, by the way,
have once again, grown
smaller.

Elegy

2007-03-22T09:07:00.000+08:00

Lifeless bones, sleep now, be quiet and hear

this rhapsody escaping through the pores

of parched skin. Sealed within this mere veneer

was once brilliance, now wrecked and void of force.

Her eyes, they poured forth floods of rectitude.

Now sunken, dulled with infinite ennui,

they're blind and reek of vulgar lassitude.

Perhaps darkness disdains veracity.

How well the rain traces her resting place.

The earth bears testament to her presence.

Those obstinate leaves cling to that pale face,

now found on flyers of missing persons -

the same paper used to silence her screams,

before he waved the axe and killed her dreams.

a walk

2007-01-21T11:14:00.000+08:00

the intrusive rays awaken the senses
to which the serpents intuitively cling to,
stubbornly extending their grips onto stale
wood, stippled and worn
through the flogging of rancid
rain and snow

the air barely filched
against the faltering heartbeat
of two trespassers
laden with their inquisitive third-eye's
poised to etch the eery still on what would
have been flimsy cellulose

the moment glid through
a myriad of mind-boggling jargon
and was forcefully embraced by the dark & solitary object
quietly, unassumingly
the crossover of the silent entity
onto stark blankness
...till the ripples could form a wave

and the wave patiently washes over
a spin of vanishing thoughts

the writer sees
and her words
they slice through the fibres of truth

(Hello darlings! Forgive me if I keep posting, cos I'm doing a module on poetry and I really ought to practice more.)

the undesirables

2006-10-27T08:51:00.000+08:00

Drone of the melancholic
Do kickstart the lull of the day
Let your decrepit fingers circle
The unfathomable abyss

Sway of the blasphemer
Poison that worldly tongue of yours
Serenade the wise with their stakes
In a game of obtuse charades

Lure of the nefarious
Hasten the drift, flog the weary
Denounce the eyes of innocence
As they're purified in dense flames

Kiss of the pariah
Embrace the abandoned stab wounds
Etch the love on a cynic's wan back
Till he bleeds a permanent scar

Dance of the falsifiers
Weave your condescending fabric
Delight in their wide-eyed naivety
For they drown in the floods of half-truth's

Flight of the insane
The grounded are locked in their cages
Seek to free the far-fetched fantasies
From those who wave their callous whips

oh! do desire the undesirables

the stolen verse part I

2006-10-02T02:43:00.000+08:00

(The poem is pregnant with truth, and truth doesn't rhyme often, does it.)

These hands don't glisten
when reflection shines
with shards of cruelty
that had been left behind
by the most stubborn thorns -
a rose that is human flesh
they soften with time into pearls.
Not a wonder that they roll off his grip.

These hands don't impress
cracked like wrinkles on a woman's skin
with a curved and deep crevice
that runs through both upturned palms
and shape themselves into the smile
of the inamorato.
i think it is you.

Clairvoyancce is not my game
false security breaks with shame
but these hands are busy, building
a diorama of the empire
of the last fallen queen.
The face that sunk a thousand ships
has a successor to her name.
She sits there with red satin
overflowing the arms of the throne.

Meanwhile she hangs her lingerie
blood red brassieres on the line
swollen with the august gale
it dulls into deep maroon.
She laments her shame into contempt
and looks for the stolen verse.

The lacuna in your gospel
is the title of my tale
the uninked destiny you hoped to compose
robbed and ghostwritten by these hands.
Fury, learn the prints by heart
and hunt them down
the hands that cascade the storm
in the creeks of your open wound
and crash the story not yet spoken
onto the shore of a wordless island.

seasons

2006-09-25T23:45:00.000+08:00

All that glitters is not gold
Even the sun keels over in despair
And weave an air of desolation
Amongst the wearied ones

Challenge the skies to pour
For it sprinkles too little of truth
And counts for near nothing
Till we could dance around the ironies

Run your fingers through the shadows
Without tracing the cracks on the wall
What have we left
But the skin and bones we came in

Look for the rhythm of the wind's rhapsody
Hum along and be forgotten
Like the leaves that swirl in red flames
To be trampled along men's way

the fall

2006-09-11T19:12:00.000+08:00

she found herself caught in the vines
strangled softly by the tangles wrapped
like handcuffs, sweet handcuffs.

torn on a trapeze, she lies
tattered and withered by these
vocal acrobats;
lifted to transcendence
then dropped like a stone
away from the veins of the past.

i see it. peeking midst shadows.
that saccharine mark of
archetypal irony.

fateless lovers;
they share this common residue
for yesterdays were their own to spare,
and lose,

just as the pages fade
fibre by fibre on a water's edge-
tears dissolving dust.

a final kiss stolen 'fore the clock strikes twelve.

and you. can't you see?

i've fallen.

untitled

2006-08-27T17:09:00.000+08:00

unreadable
paled by random age
scarred by august rain
time unforgivingly stains

unspoken hymns live the un-dead
only callous
shut their quiet cries
unseen; none discover’d rage
spaced immovably in neat-ed lines

reigned untouchable in seasoned hands
to fade in forgotten land
a melody from memory
till sacred earthen dust

except nameless traveler
it’s worth, too dull to know
for fate might long have planned
to name a ciphered man

the art teacher

2006-08-18T16:15:00.000+08:00

..then she goes
sunken mirror
she peels them off
she fixes them on
still painted chairs
she bruises her lips
& re-draws them again
poly-phony tune
she scratches a tooth &
suffocate
smokes a cigar &
all desire
bites an apple
she folds her legs
she rubs her neck
foul’d
she presses her hands
& bares herself
desperation
then..she fakes a smile
lowers her eyes &
lies back down
and..then she goes
brandished

déjà vu

2006-08-18T14:04:00.000+08:00

succinct enchantment falls
through an open window -
charmed
by the undulation of cottoned veils;

unmistakable strangeness
like words from a song you've never heard
but know, in ways more intimate
than imaginable

the silence lingers;

break the radio please,
for it plays the very music suitable
for killing lives;
these shadows are too noisy

intrusive surveillance -
mock me not with that glint in your eye

i smell you; your cherries in the air
preoccupied by the hair blown in my mouth

i spit, breathe, inhale:

the unknown forgetting
and then the return.

-------

i'm rusty. forgive me. and let's revive this blog, already!

hollerdays!

2006-05-28T20:35:00.000+08:00

its vacation time! so naturally, this place is vacated.

have a gorgeous holiday my pretties! semester two has been hard on us, we deserve this!

Unfair deal

2006-03-31T02:57:00.000+08:00

i trade my tears for mascara
just so you do not see
the hurt that spins itself
out of control when you lie
and deceive me

i exchanged my soul for smiles
just so you do not see
the disappointment that rages
a brutal storm when you turned
and left me

i sold my being
just to be the woman you want
none is left of me
when you hold on to the better end
of an unfair deal

(Oh gah. Since Squee mentioned I have this in the drafts, I might as well publish it. Bad writing though.)

空等

2006-03-11T01:33:00.000+08:00

无缘的守候
划破了尘嚣寂静
思念霓虹般地染红了
空荡无人的街角
泪水渗透进
残缺无暇的日记
等待时间残酷地改写
记忆零碎地撒在
缠绵的草原
攀登束缚的悬崖
试图拼凑属于自己的
另一片完美天堂
愿起翼双飞

他始终没回来。

（故事的结果往往都是与理想背道而驰的。）

listen and learn

2006-03-07T14:07:00.000+08:00

when you quote, you quote with quotes. you do not write as though it spilled from your brains, because there are people who bleed to write what they write.

one picture. two poems.

2006-02-25T23:00:00.001+08:00

悔

天的伤痕化如水
情如蝴蝶梦中飞
夜风浪漫花陶醉
你的心中思念谁

心如刀割遗忘美
雨蝶翅膀成霜泪
岁月飘过无返回
做了决定别后悔

glued to this seclusion
cold fossil nude for all to see;
imprisoned eternal, full demise
solace drawn vague from shadows

sketched. like a memory.

immobilized on the altar
gnarled branches a chapel form;
dungeon of safety suffocates
wrenches life away

trapped. heed no lifeless plea.

no. there is no me.

sanctuary.

stray.

2006-02-24T19:37:00.000+08:00

inklings of a velvet underground
lure the psyche with lace trimmed gloves;
hyper-reality of dust-kissed fragments
splinters rain-spilt imagery; enter
the funnel tunnel of whirlwind thoughts
echoing amidst vacuous spaces.
kaleidoscope of unearthly shapes
haunt softly mist of razor dreamscapes;
no absolutes, let all sense spill away,
shattered reason blends flawlessly
like confetti on an age-old collage;
whispers lurk like ruined records
piercing thought; defying vision-
the dusted cigarette blurs oblivion;
rays of snow-shine; flakes of sun-fall
merge in blissful matrimony; promise?
what fades never can remain-

nothing-

but the light of a wayward beauty.

Shell

2006-02-23T01:37:00.000+08:00

Each living breath
Is but a sad fantasy

Those eyes that see only the shell
See no difference

Come and try to catch my lingering scent

Be Pitiful.

Since when did I take that plunge?
So deep I no longer resurface
I no longer breathe

The shell is empty
Without its internal abyss
To drain the voices
To drown the silence

Forsake your shell
Explorer of reality
Meet me
Yourself

Forget the living self
A ghost resides, and awaits

I,
Seek the secret grounds
Within a shell.

My favourite drug

2006-02-22T12:34:00.000+08:00

I retreat to my corner
And mark the times
When you're the favourite drug
That I couldn't get over

Pure vitriol coursed through me
The insipid being was sustained
More is craved
Yet no more you can offer

So now the soul's languid
And the body is limp
I rattled and shook
Desperate for one more dose

Yet despite all this
The macabre slit still remains plastered
For I bear the scars
Of your desired poison

You're still my favourite drug
-The addict

diary of a morning person

2006-02-19T21:34:00.000+08:00

10.15am

light on my skin
i am nudity clothed and true
to eyes that can drift on me now
soft, slow, time -- you have lovely feather eyes.

10.15am

four point five above ground
numbers you tease and twist me well
my fear lasts only a bar of cold railing
vertigo you reside in me -- quiet when i am not falling.

10.15am

this place is noisy with a million thoughts
in even numbers, i cannot tell what she is thinking
i am a passenger in your life
even if your mind is not on me -- it is rather involuntary.

10.15am

in the picture we lean against white wall
my arm is slung over your shoulder
i have a book of stills, and flipping fast
we look as though we're pushing and pulling apart
-- that is more like it.

not. a poem.

2006-02-14T22:59:00.000+08:00

just a thought.
a poet parallels an inane myth.
either you're an exhibitionist and a liar;
lifting sentiments out of nothingness; or-
you're just an honest, ornate fool.
i am neither. i am either. i am both.
it does not matter.

we are but slaves of a double-edged sword.

eden reborn

2006-02-12T10:14:00.000+08:00

and now. a happy poem!

----------------

you are solace in the darkness,
stardust in the sweetest dreams,
the sacred gold which shines so brightly
in times when all the other lights dim
you capture my emotions like the moon
silently controlling the seven seas;
just as it takes God to make an eden,
it takes you to make a me.

-----------------

dissolve into a pool of honey. now.

tourniquet

2006-02-11T23:51:00.000+08:00

liquid burgundy trickles forth,
vulgar against stark white skin
the poison rushes through thin veins
pollutes the soul; mingles within

invasion of a worthy foe; all
reason fall blank, senses die;
life drained for eternal time
death creeps forth, sweet lullaby

but you stepped forth, heroic one
cutting off the treacherous path,
cleansing pure my heart once more
delivering me from Satan's wrath

still, willful tourniquet, can't you see,
i never can escape unscathed
along with poison, blood is drained
and only stasis now remains-

for life and death depend on love-

yes; pure poison; that is love.

-------

so much for rainbows eh.

the courage of desire

2006-02-10T14:42:00.000+08:00

speak.

before the last muscle is infused
with reason the shade of bright black
loosen yours and moisten your lips
with desire the colour of indigo -

speak.

before the last sense wakes
and injects the daily apple in our veins
i will say how you coloured my cheeks red
with desire the colour of indigo

before your taste on my lips fade.

Outcast

2006-02-09T00:17:00.000+08:00

(This is one of those random, spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. Can't really explain why I wrote what I wrote.)

He traverses the damned lonely streets
With his hood pulled low
Hands stained with his deeds
Deep in his pockets
He turns away from the light
For the truth blinds him
His gums bleed from the addiction
That none could save him from
The heart beats for an answer
Yet the head knows full well
The world stopped loving him
Long ago

melancholia

2006-02-07T22:27:00.000+08:00

Father, i am but
a prisoner of my
beleaguered heart;
heed my clarion plead
to break thy creed
and deliver me from thus;
please, Father, i beseech thee
return me to the dust.

casanova

2006-02-07T21:40:00.000+08:00

(not exactly a poem)

this heart is yours but i've crushed it
does it still beat for me?
i dont believe i love you but
the night seems daunting
and i want you here with me

i wouldn't ask, oh no
you were never capable
of saying no, not to me
but i am kind in my cruelty
so i let you bleed for me

moving wheels

2006-02-06T22:38:00.000+08:00

i have been here.
the time is different but
i have been here.

i have always been taught
to be fond of plainness,
but you caught me by surprise
when you turned back thrice
on your delicate moving wheels.

i only dare lower my head
with the faintest wistfulness
when your wheels fly straight
into the dimming love
of opiate street light.

(forgetful street,
your memory no longer bears us
but i can trace his steps and mine
down your flower padded paths
a thousand days ago.)

i have been here.
the one on wheels changes often
but i have always been here.

a dedication

2006-02-03T02:00:00.000+08:00

something simple, on something close to my heart now. written based on a tune.

(paint me well, because when you go, all i have is what you made of me.)

this is where
i choose to believe
this is where
i hang my heart
on my sleeve

what do i have to lose
only you
only you

this is where
you disregard nature's laws
this is where
you trace my flaws
and make me beautiful

why not take a bet
what is at stake
is only you
only you

in your artist's eyes
where am i
there's only you
only you

life must be the greatest art, for all art is based on it, and none can come close to unveiling it.

the leader

2006-02-01T21:00:00.000+08:00

down streets of old tiles
mosaic pieces make no sound
i trot behind your worn hat
you are the leader of the pack

down lanes of old men
musical instruments in hand
their hats are overturned
with loose change in them

down alleys of old stone walls
your fragrance knits morning glories
from a trail of summer breeze
one raise of your hat you freeze them all

down open lands of destruction
weak flesh hide in underground tunnels
you bow with your hat low
and smile to embrace a new epoch

down the roads often travelled
you take on pseudonyms for cover
walking through rise and falls
burying blood of competitors

they've looked for you from the start
marked you down in circles of twenty-four
they've tried so hard to pin you down
but you still stand far off

you take the world in your stride
and seasons follow your rhyme
with a tip of your hat you collapse eras
dear Time, you are the leader of our pack

Photographer's Envy

2006-01-27T15:38:00.000+08:00

Parched skin
Pasty ringworm effect
Overflowing juice
Trunks a battered soul
Inside
Rooted consciousness but
Repressed to silence by
Nature's Law
Withers brown, leaves
Bare scars where
Moss flowers spore
Hideous beauty;
Photographer's envy.

Incomplete

2006-01-27T03:56:00.000+08:00

Behind the instrument
Strings attach a soundless key
Fiercesome as the wind

In Midnight poise
Confession trails
Along white furbished brine

Broken pieces
Dented chords
Womb rusted metal tune

Translation clots
Through riddled pipes
Down hollow fluid strides...

November Rain

2006-01-25T18:46:00.000+08:00

(This one's inspired by Guns N Roses' 'November Rain' music video. Think it's a little more of lyrics than poem. Enjoy.)

November Rain

Oh don’t they know
How it rained the whole of November
Every single day

It rained
On the day two lonely hearts collide
Away from the shield of their umbrellas
They embraced the cold shower
Hand in hand
They danced away the cruel weather
Huddled together for warmth
Before he lit the flame
And slipped his gift
Into her dainty hands

It rained
When lovers’ final pledge was made
They bind their hearts while
Joyous tears streak her angelic face
Their lives finally intertwined
They swore their lives to each other
And let the rain be their witness
For it shall only be quenched
On the day their hearts no longer beat
For the other

It rained
Like it never did before
The moment he kissed her frozen lips
And caressed her lifeless face
Tears mired with pain
The rain refused to subside
Only to taunt him and remind him
That they both lost
The final goodbye
Left him cold & withered

It rained
Because he saw her face
Again, one too many times
The sheets overwhelm him with her scent
There’s no escape
From the memories and the bitterness
He vexed himself over this:
There’s no denying
She was taken on the last day
In cold November rain

Oh don’t they know
How it rained the whole of November
Every single day

requiem

2006-01-23T23:53:00.000+08:00

[i can't stand it! i'm breaking the hiatus! btw.. this one's more lyrics than poem.. so bear with me.]

take me away
on broken wings i wish to fly,
the midnight kiss of a cobalt sky

there's nothing to say
with the razor pointed at your neck,
rusted key's hanging at the rack

**you taught me to weave
rainbows out of rain
i helped you to carve
flowers out of pain
but now the raven's made his call
the darkness holds his reign
love and hope have lost their faith
a broken heart remains

childish pretender
the false belief in fairy tales
prelude to our aches and ails

no need to remember
falsity begins to pale
feelings obscured behind veils

**

the sunlight is gone,
the woman is torn,
universe fallen at her feet
the concrete is turned
the asphalt will burn
world prepared for its exit

requiem. requiem.
my key. my bane.

eternity has melted away.
but a broken heart-

remains.

hiatus. [why?]

2006-01-19T22:13:00.000+08:00

The well of inspiration runs dry;
Its psychedelic drops vanished-
Like dew drops fading into oblivion,
No trace remains of its existence

I once drank deeply from its water-
The very life source of my muse;
Losing myself in its mystical coolness,
Its touch like balm upon my soul

Lost in its aquatic wonderland,
Iridescent visions sparkling free,
A mermaid content to swim forever,
In the sweet bliss of my poetic sea

But a cruel drought unleashed its fangs,
The suffocating dryness excruciating;
Turning the vibrant odyssey into
A cold, deserted barren wasteland

Like a rabid rat, my thirst is fuelled,
The insatiable desire tearing my tongue,
The threat of ennui ever-descending
Heralding the arrival of reverie's tomb

But a prayer of hope glimmers still,
Like a lonely beacon amidst the dark,
May my muse's tears be a prelude to rain
And fill the sweet well to its brim again

Silent Tragedy

2006-01-19T01:27:00.000+08:00

I say:

A glimmer of you
Peeks through the glorified dust
Your soul,
From the forced slit your lips carries
I weep for such obsession
You refuse to find your way out
Of all the insanity
And you pray not
Not till everyone's pleased

You say:

No
It is not a choice of mine
I must carry on with the masquerade
To twirl amongst the powerful
Breed hatred in women's hearts
Have adoring eyes perched upon me
Comparisons will be quelled
Soon, she will be forgotten
And I will become her

I say:

Love you, they may
But when the jewel has lost its shine
It will be left to the dirt
Just as when the time is up
Their applause will fade
And you, banished to a distant memory
Your crown will be stolen
By yet, another you
What then?

You say:

I find it hard
To believe words that escape from malicious lips
And borne out of a spiteful heart
Words are cheap
Coming from someone who's not yet enjoyed
A single ounce of my glory
The crown is but a thing
Matters not if it's stolen
For I am the crown

I say:

A slave cannot ignore his chains
Neither can he rejoice in it
You, however, celebrate your slavery
With pretty tresses and smiles
Oblivious to bondage
Perfection
You constantly crave for it
The mask you're crucified to
Snuffs out your being

You say:

My "mask", if you insist, is my being
With my being lies my soul
And my soul finds it's worth
In knowing that men yearn for a touch of my skin
And women, eager to protect their men
The mask that you perceive and I are one
None can find existence without the other
Neither can be satisfied
Till it has conquered every heart

letter from the phantom

2006-01-19T00:10:00.000+08:00

dear sir
i've got no motive for writing
or a good reason to cry
but you need to understand
why i really need to die
today the ladies turned to stare
and i never did look up
guess, sir, that when i did
what really broke my heart!
to each and every lady
i returned a courteous smile
but upon my gaze they hastily dropped
theirs to the ground
i know the reason why they turn
it's a state of mind called fear
i never meant to hurt them sir
i take the unlit route by the river!
the shadows obscure my untelling face
but near to me their lights aflame
and oh, sir, how fervently i pray
that their eyes never search, and never lay
upon my skin! oh, sir, what a sight
this is a face not meant in the light!
the beautiful believe there is a God
alas, by a sage too, i've been taught
that no ugliness resides on that side
and faces pearly have no reason to hide
now hear me sir, and hear me well
for twenty years in shadows i dwell
for fear of taunt and reluctance to scare
lest the repulsion causes distance
oh that i can never bear!
so my good sir, in light of this
tell me true just as i cease
that in death i can walk the water
i can bury my face in the robes of the father
that he will receive me and not repel
to see such a face that belongs in hell
oh tell me that he will not reject
thinking that it could not have been
a true work of his hand!

Continuum

2006-01-17T16:28:00.000+08:00

We weep knowing that there is no day without night
That in Darkness there is no sunshine
No light; no Heaven
No beginning and end
We weep when we finally reach
The tunnel that brings us Light
And we touch the sky with newborn pride,
Our mended hearts paint colour into life.
We have lost, but we have gained
A cycle of love and pain
With renewed strength
We must embrace
The dancing shadows of our days

nostalgia

2006-01-15T14:37:00.000+08:00

echos of a crow in rain
ricochet past concrete stone
haunting, chilling the atmosphere

bleak, a wandering eye searches
the origin of such plaintive wails
but still find not the culprit

teardrops from an iris grey
blur all vision; dilute and wash
paint; blood; and life- away.

silence.

and lastly, the sole residue-
concrete; flesh; and bone.

Down up

2006-01-15T01:48:00.000+08:00

Shall I imagine that you're walking back
Down your steps, some dangling steel?
You handled burden all the way up

I shall imagine that you'll walk back
Down your steps, those robot legs
You carried wishes too far

I must imagine you're keen to walk back
Down your steps, in gray-black shoes
You know it's not too late

None can imagine your will to walk forth
Down up on naked steps, but
You'll think it's your fault

Now you imagine I'll follow up
Down your steps, some dangling feet?
You pass your burden up to me…

Rain

2006-01-14T22:00:00.000+08:00

My first try at real Japanese haiku:

雨

降りしきる

彼我まだ立てる

居もしない

雨だれも

彼我を焦がれる

彼はどう？

XXX
Rain

A downpoar
She still stands
Invisible

The raindrops, too
Yearns for her
What about him?

mutual respect

2006-01-14T13:57:00.000+08:00

some days
i don't want to read your mind
or guess what you never say
laugh goodbye over the static line
and some days
we'll believe we're better this way

leap of faith

2006-01-13T21:37:00.000+08:00

when you are walking a step too fast
sole out first to seek the dust
the day comes quicker
than your prayer
is it not time
to trust?

to forget.

2006-01-10T12:46:00.000+08:00

out of the inexplicable ingenuity of my stupidity, i wrote based on the wrong shadow hands pic. 0.0

so let this remain as such for now... i'll write about the 2 pictures proper when the muse books in again.

yesteryear's visions haunt me;
the death sentence i face daily
takes its form in replicas
mocking; breaking; luring;
arbitrary faces carved in dirt
ever-present. inescapable.

we all stand guilty before ourselves.

i reach out briefly, yet recoil
at the rising of familiar bile;
addiction, another limb of mine,
my existence is bound to yours.
fragile, yet it wields the power
such that my atmosphere reeks-

of death.

for i understand full well. [don't you?]

to relinquish the shadow of my past
i must first extinguish the light

blank canvas II

2006-01-09T23:44:00.000+08:00

... or this.

blank canvas

2006-01-09T23:29:00.000+08:00

as said, this is our first image!

please fill it with your words. :)

umbrella city

2006-01-08T21:07:00.000+08:00

eighteen hours of rain; did you see it?
we dont belong in an umbrella city
it's hard to make sense of fidelity
where monks talk business on the streets

cos i dont want to have to fight this
maybe we could throw it over the flame
the fire burns everything

eighteen hours of pain; did you feel it?
we dont belong in a wombed society
it's hard to say who will win the game
where women are doing the chasing

cos i dont want to have to fight this
maybe we could throw it over the flame
the fire burns everything

eighteen months of amnesia; you didn't know it
we dont belong in an elephant factory
it's hard to remember who drowned me
where most of the time i'm doing the killing

cos i dont want to have to fight this
maybe we could throw it over the flame
the fire burns everything

but it doesn't put out the rain

Bend

2006-01-08T18:23:00.000+08:00

pic from http://www.world-wide-women.blogspot.com/

I bend for you
I bend for you
Now tell me what to do
I’ll catch the moon
I’ll burn the sun
I’ll melt the desert dune

I bend for you
I bend for you
You said I’m not for you
I’ll shave my head
I’ll nip and tuck
I’ll be another you

I bent for you
I bent for you
I’ve done so much for you
I’ve lost myself to be with you
Why can’t you love me too?

For women

2006-01-08T00:42:00.000+08:00

Women

Their bodies ravaged
Trodden on like wildflowers
Destitute of love

Women

To be mere puppets
To dance, pose, in every way
Tears go unnoticed

Women

Mocked, taunted, and made
Smaller than anything else
What could be far worse?

Women

Believe we can change
That we are not destined to
Be men's fancy toys

Women

Try to understand
Respect will not be given
Until it is claimed

- Retrodictive -

rag doll

2006-01-07T21:10:00.000+08:00

you put me together
stitch by stitch;
veins are the threads
holding my fabric organs
in a piece- incomplete
and imperfect;

emotionless;
I do not bleed
nor do tears fall from
crude button eyes

yours to create,
yours to destroy,
i remain at your disposal;
passive prisoner

soon enough,
you forgot;
banished me to cobwebs

i am your rag doll-

still waiting for you
to come home-

please come home.

old prose

2006-01-07T13:51:00.000+08:00

hello, this is the prose that retrodictive's poem reminded me of, written in the angsty/emo days of 2004 (july 21st). is prose allowed? haha.

i wonder how many sighs & intimacies you shared with the cigarette when you locked lips with it.

i wonder how much loneliness (if it can be measured) & how much sadness (if it can be articulated) curled & dissipitated with the last ashes of the cigarette.

i wonder what could be so important to you that you're willing to give away that stick's worth of your clock's ticks.

and i wonder what's taking you so long to realise there's someone who's willing to be your cigarette.

to touch your lips gently.

to take with her the secrets within.

and make sure the secrets vanish,

the way the cigarettes took your worries to their death.

watch the way your burdens curl into wisps of smoke & float above,

i can be more.

Warning to girls

2006-01-07T11:45:00.000+08:00

Wenhui~ I'm inspired by you. Mine is more of a stern warning. (I'm obsessed with warning people. Haha.)

He may seem right now
But dear little girl
Pray that when passion's granted and done with
No cigarette is lit
And no ashes will burn your heart

- Retrodictive -

the day after

2006-01-06T23:44:00.000+08:00

the renga is outta my league man. here's something simple and mundane, every girl the same.

I.

wake up in the night
the hand on your waist
he is asleep
gently

II.

turn but not too loud
you are one door away
to breaking tears
on the street

III.

because women, like you
give perfumes names
but to men
every lure is the same

IV.

and in the morning
all it means to him
is overnight fragrance with which
the pillows are stained

V.

for him
it means another trip
just before noon
to the dry-cleaning lady

barter trade

2006-01-06T22:46:00.000+08:00

[breaking the flow of the renga with a 60 second write]

i taught her to make
rainbows out of rain;
she taught me to make
flowers out of pain

-the ragdoll

renga

2006-01-06T11:30:00.000+08:00

midnight odyssey
raindrops blend with butterflies
trapped in destiny

dawn pierces the silent spell
lonely sonata ensues

before departure
leave infinite at the door
time tells no more lies

hark; the broken-hearted's cry
heralds Fancy's requiem

pariah's blind thrill
on parched lips, a trace it stains
scattered bliss (is there?)

ghostly touch thy gibbet's kiss
madness, alibi unfound

tattooed on canvas
willful Cupid made his stain
culprit or a saint?

blazed in treason, i forbid
clasped in deepest seas, burning

- Retrodictive -

renga

2006-01-06T10:06:00.000+08:00

renga

2006-01-06T00:01:00.000+08:00

Renga

2006-01-05T21:44:00.000+08:00

renga [ragdoll]

2006-01-05T21:07:00.001+08:00

renga

2006-01-05T19:50:00.000+08:00

my little share, humbly.

Midnight odyssey
Raindrops blend with butterflies
Trapped in destiny

Dawn pierces the silent spell
Lonely sonata ensues

Before departure
Leave infinite at the door
Time tells no more lies

Renga

2006-01-05T18:55:00.000+08:00

Here goes my little share, hope it does justice:

Midnight odyssey
Raindrops blend with butterflies
Trapped in destiny

Dawn pierces the silent spell
Lonely sonata ensues

- Retrodictive -

Renga!!

2006-01-05T18:37:00.000+08:00

Okaay darlings~ Let's renga~

A renga is a traditional japanese collaborative poetry.. usually for three people but any number can take part. Right. Enough history... let's get cracking.

Firstly, the rules:

We start with a hokku [in this case a haiku] with the syllable count of 5-7-5. It will then be followed up by another participant with a couplet [the waiki], syllable count 7-7 and then the 5-7-5 Daisan. We alternate between the two forms for as long as we like... and when it finally ends, the final verse is called an Ageku.

Here's the challenge: Each addition must bear some connection to the one before it [although not too obvious!] and once a lexical word is used, it may not be repeated.

Traditionally, the Renga is seasonal in topic, but we'll do away with that this round. The topic for this round is..... LOVE. haha... a lil' cliched, but yeah. Let's start with something easy.

Rough sum-up of the structure:

1) Hokku [5,7,5]
2) Waiki [7,7]
3) Daisan [5,7,5]
.
.
.
.
.
*) Ageku [7,7].

And now... let's begin!

The hokku:

midnight odyssey
raindrops blend with butterflies
trapped in destiny

Carry on!! =)

- the ragdoll

behind the words

2006-01-05T18:18:00.000+08:00

behind every poem lies an image, a scene, or a picture.
here's the image that gave birth to the first and second invisible gates.

artwork by jimmy liao.

the invisible gate

2006-01-05T17:15:00.000+08:00

I.
how he died in glory
(some say a written story)
the son of God
unknowingly
blood-paved the worded journey

II.
and upon this blood
the filial son
bled a red gate of mercy
and cried to us 'here is the way, but
come only if you wont hurt me'

III.
now here lies a wounded God
prisoned, for us to peer
but oh, not too near
stained as we are
by humane sins of folly.

The Invisible Gate

2006-01-05T13:31:00.000+08:00

The metal bars are made by Man
So ruthless in its course
It runs for miles and never ends
To part some lovers’ call

Once a week on Sunday each
Two lovers come to meet
They both know well they cannot be
True lovers, heart to heart

So quietly, from noon to three
They seek their favourite spot
In silence they can dream a gate
Invisible, lost and gone

They walk away to true love found
When sun has set at six
They wait in earnest for days to come
To dream their Sunday sweet.

the invisible gate

2006-01-04T23:21:00.000+08:00

the invisible gate
denies my entrance
defies your exit

lovelorn opposites
hold on for eternity;
never reconcile.

nature's blades
hold no sympathy
for loved and lover

rag dolls and puppets
set upon a stark stage;
idle playwright's curse

in a world- where
stars know not their maker;
stasis holds the throne

Yet-

I cannot, will not, let go.

to quote from jimmy liao

2006-01-03T16:56:00.000+08:00

who else but poets
can dive nosedeep
in a waterless pool?