A time that revolved around Sunday morning shows
I was too young to have packed my own clothes
Your landline was my mother's only choice
To know what we were up to, our secrets and noise.
Come the years with your texts on a touch screen
Still nine months apart yet both seventeen
One grew up first but the other was ahead
She met Woodlands while all I saw was Red.
A family of five started arriving without the daughter
But the presence of the other boys doesn't falter
The north became our home yet we never crossed
With the other's void filled, we never felt lost.
A one-room flat and reluctant shaking of the hands
Hide the heartbreaks and ceasing true friends
The fabric of our skirts brush, your knee against mine
After three years on different tracks, the feet realign.
Over an absence the recklessness was caught
Only this time she is the first in thought
Despite the opposite roads where we grew far
We finally sing the same songs in her car.
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Saturday, April 28, 2018
Thursday, March 01, 2018
NSL
Marina South Pier, the boy who wants to fly
Marina Bay, for the girls and 14th July
Raffles Place, she let go and said goodbye
City Hall, the gift of ink from my tattooists
Dhoby Ghaut, the girl with all the gifts
Somerset, the hunt for a perfect pair of shoes
Orchard, with its very unlikely views
Newton, where even a circle must end
Novena, made safe by a new old friend
Toa Payoh, for my long lost father
Braddell, the wide smile of a robber
Bishan, the first place a lost one goes
Ang Mo Kio, looking out subway windows
Yio Chu Kang, where I handed you the gun
Khatib, for the souls I allowed to run
Yishun, devoid of life yet full of chances
Canberra, just another blank canvas
Sembawang, finally some peace…
Admiralty, my one-month old niece
Woodlands, I want to fall for this town
Marsiling, the rest I can do without
Kranji reminds me of a whole other state
Yew Tee, where we no longer own this date
Choa Chu Kang, we were at our darkest
Bukit Gombak, you might as well be the first
Bukit Batok, say goodbye to our youth
Jurong East, it’s time for the truth
Marina Bay, for the girls and 14th July
Raffles Place, she let go and said goodbye
City Hall, the gift of ink from my tattooists
Dhoby Ghaut, the girl with all the gifts
Somerset, the hunt for a perfect pair of shoes
Orchard, with its very unlikely views
Newton, where even a circle must end
Novena, made safe by a new old friend
Toa Payoh, for my long lost father
Braddell, the wide smile of a robber
Bishan, the first place a lost one goes
Ang Mo Kio, looking out subway windows
Yio Chu Kang, where I handed you the gun
Khatib, for the souls I allowed to run
Yishun, devoid of life yet full of chances
Canberra, just another blank canvas
Sembawang, finally some peace…
Admiralty, my one-month old niece
Woodlands, I want to fall for this town
Marsiling, the rest I can do without
Kranji reminds me of a whole other state
Yew Tee, where we no longer own this date
Choa Chu Kang, we were at our darkest
Bukit Gombak, you might as well be the first
Bukit Batok, say goodbye to our youth
Jurong East, it’s time for the truth
Monday, April 17, 2017
Maybe this time
She was a flame and the mess, her idea
Head in the clouds, a need to go higher
And he was the wind and the storm, his wake
Made a masterpiece but wanted a clean slate.
Somewhere along the lines, roles reversed
A heart gone silent, a brain in self converse
He, a dying passion for the remaining girl
She, burning desire to let go of the world.
He with enough courage to take his leave
She wishing her memories was instead a sieve
With no idea what's in his throbbing head
Except a glimpse of his happiness at her dead.
Her head and his heart, now made of stone
Surrounded by people and still so alone
She, standing firm with company of her words
He, already swept away with the brain-dead herd.
Maybe this time, she would not be the one to suffer
In this tiny country with year-round summer
Maybe someday she'd be the remembered one
He just needs to recall how much she loved the sun.
Head in the clouds, a need to go higher
And he was the wind and the storm, his wake
Made a masterpiece but wanted a clean slate.
Somewhere along the lines, roles reversed
A heart gone silent, a brain in self converse
He, a dying passion for the remaining girl
She, burning desire to let go of the world.
He with enough courage to take his leave
She wishing her memories was instead a sieve
With no idea what's in his throbbing head
Except a glimpse of his happiness at her dead.
Her head and his heart, now made of stone
Surrounded by people and still so alone
She, standing firm with company of her words
He, already swept away with the brain-dead herd.
Maybe this time, she would not be the one to suffer
In this tiny country with year-round summer
Maybe someday she'd be the remembered one
He just needs to recall how much she loved the sun.
Saturday, April 08, 2017
The weight of the sun on his back
What if you're used to waiting 30 minutes for a bus
And you lose 300 dollars for littering your cigarette butts
And what if the songs you find on Spotify aren't enough
To help you through this life so rough, rough, rough.
What if you're constantly reaching work an hour late
Even though 4 hours ago you were already out of bed
And what if crossing the border everyday is a struggle
And your family of more than nine is nothing but trouble.
What if you have no ambitions and you always feel lost
Unsure of your future and unfazed by your thoughts
And what if you're not sure if the one you've always loved
Would ever stop pining for the child above?
What if your battle scars are the blisters on your palms
The constant arguing between your father and both mums
And the one person who's supposed to make it all better
Couldn't even pull the pieces of her own life together.
What if you don't feel at home in your own skin
And the world is just an ocean you're drowning in
And what if your other half is the weight of the sun
Making you lethargic all the time except to run, run, run.
And you lose 300 dollars for littering your cigarette butts
And what if the songs you find on Spotify aren't enough
To help you through this life so rough, rough, rough.
What if you're constantly reaching work an hour late
Even though 4 hours ago you were already out of bed
And what if crossing the border everyday is a struggle
And your family of more than nine is nothing but trouble.
What if you have no ambitions and you always feel lost
Unsure of your future and unfazed by your thoughts
And what if you're not sure if the one you've always loved
Would ever stop pining for the child above?
What if your battle scars are the blisters on your palms
The constant arguing between your father and both mums
And the one person who's supposed to make it all better
Couldn't even pull the pieces of her own life together.
What if you don't feel at home in your own skin
And the world is just an ocean you're drowning in
And what if your other half is the weight of the sun
Making you lethargic all the time except to run, run, run.
Saturday, February 25, 2017
Public transport
Girl in the 4th seat with her book burying her nose
Only looking up to catch sight of a train leaving Eunos
Resting her head on the window to catch the blaring sun
The buzzing and humming, passengers of bus 21
The first to take a seat, watching the others take theirs
Boots, heels, sneakers thumping louder up the stairs
Resting her head on the window to catch the blaring sun
The buzzing and humming, passengers of bus 21
The first to take a seat, watching the others take theirs
Boots, heels, sneakers thumping louder up the stairs
On the top deck, thoughts of love, life, and fate
Never getting tired of the views on 168
People chatting and laughing, it buries beneath
The humming sound that you are obsessed with
Your ears blocked off with your purple earbuds
Fingering, at the top of your ear, your ear studs
An uncapped pen in the pocket, ink dotting your jeans
Watching the people with eyes glued to their screens
"Change at this station for the North East Line,"
And they get up, the workers who started at nine
Being in a train is ten times scarier in a thunderstorm
Books in your bag kept dry beneath your uniform
Eyes, always following the movement of a plane in the sky
Despite the desire for travel never coming nigh
Saturday, January 28, 2017
"Young Blood"
Nineteenth day of the ninth month, born
Why would anyone keep track of how far I'd gone?
From little booties to size seven shoes
From being bare all around to being loose.
The adults thinking, when you were five
How cute it is that you have someone you like
Calling the boy beside you your boyfriend
Just because you were happy holding his hand.
Your very own phone at the age of twelve
Using it on a schoolnight, smiling to yourself
"You better not have a boyfriend", warns daddy
His face and his tone scaring you off to sleep.
Fifteen, alone with a boy at a park
Ignoring all the texts asking where you are
Phone snatched away, a hard slap to your face
Daddy's anger, just a little taste.
Few months before twenty, solitary clinic trips
The thought of parents' faces meant she wasn't for keeps
Built up the lies so intricately only for them to shatter
At the arrival of the women's hospital's letter.
First, yelling for mommy from the bathroom
Second, legs spread, back against the wood
Third, screams echoing the hospital at 5 in the morning
Blood, not as young as the songs would sing.
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
If I died tomorrow
If I died tomorrow, leave my shelves dusty
Silverfish among the pages so murky
Calendar untouched, on the very month
I would have turned twenty-one
If I died tomorrow, leave my bed undone
Don't forget the way I loved the sun
Don't pick up the photographs that fall
After sticking hopelessly on my wall
If I died tomorrow, let my other half
Have the diary from the year of rough
Let him have the photo of a girl
Black, white, never touched the world
If I died tomorrow, give him space
And time to slowly erase my face
Let him know he has friends around
Help him find a girl, maybe a rebound
If I died tomorrow, don't let them pretend
Lie that they were even my friend
Trying to find a photo from 2 or 5 years ago
Fabricating a long-lost friendship just for show
If I died tomorrow, what would have been
The song that I was listening to on repeat?
What would have been the paperback
That came falling out of my ripped slingbag?
What would have been the graphic t-shirt
That would be dragged along the dirt?
What would have been the last tweet, text, call
The other half, the grandma, if any at all?
Silverfish among the pages so murky
Calendar untouched, on the very month
I would have turned twenty-one
If I died tomorrow, leave my bed undone
Don't forget the way I loved the sun
Don't pick up the photographs that fall
After sticking hopelessly on my wall
If I died tomorrow, let my other half
Have the diary from the year of rough
Let him have the photo of a girl
Black, white, never touched the world
If I died tomorrow, give him space
And time to slowly erase my face
Let him know he has friends around
Help him find a girl, maybe a rebound
If I died tomorrow, don't let them pretend
Lie that they were even my friend
Trying to find a photo from 2 or 5 years ago
Fabricating a long-lost friendship just for show
If I died tomorrow, what would have been
The song that I was listening to on repeat?
What would have been the paperback
That came falling out of my ripped slingbag?
What would have been the graphic t-shirt
That would be dragged along the dirt?
What would have been the last tweet, text, call
The other half, the grandma, if any at all?
Friday, June 17, 2016
Do you remember me?
One pair of legs tangled in the sheets
Two in the morning twenty-six
Slow sighs escape from the lips
At being a page one simply skips
Do you remember me?
Not one to forget or forgive easy
Still know the culprit of your pain
While it is unfamiliar to you, my name
Remember when we first met?
You still wore glasses, head in a hat
The only station with 3 lines
Your obsession with astrological signs
I remember the hands on my shoulders
Pushing me in the absence of my brothers
Down hills laughter ringing through trees
A relationship ends, all friendships cease
Remember how you cried at the atrium?
Your white tee and jacket of denim
3 years on, your graduation ceremony
I don't think you even remember me
Do you remember our day at Woodlands?
Lost in the North, twists and turns
Do you still watch the videos we made?
Fading, fading, fading, your memory dead.
Remember our first words exchanged?
A few giggles and awkward smiles managed
I know you don't remember our better
When the sin against you is still greater
I remember us underneath Dover
Like a bunch of drunk kids except sober
Your endless supply of band tees
Last seen on the bus bound for Tampines
Watching as footsteps went separate paths
Lying down under your photographs
None of them would remember me
A person lesser than a nobody.
Two in the morning twenty-six
Slow sighs escape from the lips
At being a page one simply skips
Do you remember me?
Not one to forget or forgive easy
Still know the culprit of your pain
While it is unfamiliar to you, my name
Remember when we first met?
You still wore glasses, head in a hat
The only station with 3 lines
Your obsession with astrological signs
I remember the hands on my shoulders
Pushing me in the absence of my brothers
Down hills laughter ringing through trees
A relationship ends, all friendships cease
Remember how you cried at the atrium?
Your white tee and jacket of denim
3 years on, your graduation ceremony
I don't think you even remember me
Do you remember our day at Woodlands?
Lost in the North, twists and turns
Do you still watch the videos we made?
Fading, fading, fading, your memory dead.
Remember our first words exchanged?
A few giggles and awkward smiles managed
I know you don't remember our better
When the sin against you is still greater
I remember us underneath Dover
Like a bunch of drunk kids except sober
Your endless supply of band tees
Last seen on the bus bound for Tampines
Watching as footsteps went separate paths
Lying down under your photographs
None of them would remember me
A person lesser than a nobody.
Friday, January 08, 2016
I thought I belonged, but I didn't.
Cheering competition, apology won hearts over
A gifted camera, sweat-soaked PE shirts, soccer
2012, half left behind, groups falling back
2013, own paths, no effort to contact
I thought I belonged with 4/2 2011,
and 5/1 2012,
but I didn't.
and 5/1 2012,
but I didn't.
Sitting in a circle, awkward, block 5
Age, race, country of origin, different
They moved forward and I didn't
I thought I belonged with 1A1 2013,
but I didn't.
but I didn't.
People never met, like a family from the start
Random name that grew on our hearts
Singing happy birthday, in baju kurung, midnight
Bad blood with one, with all I am not right
I thought I belonged with Heroine,
but I didn't.
but I didn't.
5 years of high school past, promises made
2015, making plans, no replies, nothing said
She with her projects, she with her art, she with her dancing
Photo of 7 girls, just the same as nothing
I thought I belonged with my secondary school best friends,
but unfortunately
I didn't.
but unfortunately
I didn't.
April first, to earn money for what I don't want
Opening up after a day, a week, month
Laughter spread, anger shared, sadness felt
Loved, accepted, hope for this candle not to melt
I thought I belonged with my colleagues at Popular,
and I did.
I do.
and I did.
I do.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Nephew, one day old forever
Unknown number flashing across the screen;
"E'indah, where on earth have you been?"
Cat lying in the sun witness to that phone call;
I, tears streaming down like a waterfall.
Lifting her cats lovingly in the air;
Putting powder down my back after pushing aside my hair.
Crosses borders for her first grandchild at the instance;
My grandmother, witness to his pale face in a halo of radiance.
Her tin of food never going unfed to any cats;
Staying up late at her table, sewing booties and hats.
"It's going to be a boy!" once she excitedly says;
My aunt, the one to bury, last to kiss his cold face.
His motorcycle adventures once on the newspaper;
Years ago, telling his stories with bits of dry humour.
There in support of her, to rid of her tears and bile;
My cousin and his wife, the loss of their first child.
Pushing out of her womb, one month short of nine;
Not even a struggle to escape, not a single cry.
To walk, to grow, to play with my niece, never;
My nephew, one day old, forever.
"E'indah, where on earth have you been?"
Cat lying in the sun witness to that phone call;
I, tears streaming down like a waterfall.
Lifting her cats lovingly in the air;
Putting powder down my back after pushing aside my hair.
Crosses borders for her first grandchild at the instance;
My grandmother, witness to his pale face in a halo of radiance.
Her tin of food never going unfed to any cats;
Staying up late at her table, sewing booties and hats.
"It's going to be a boy!" once she excitedly says;
My aunt, the one to bury, last to kiss his cold face.
His motorcycle adventures once on the newspaper;
Years ago, telling his stories with bits of dry humour.
There in support of her, to rid of her tears and bile;
My cousin and his wife, the loss of their first child.
Pushing out of her womb, one month short of nine;
Not even a struggle to escape, not a single cry.
To walk, to grow, to play with my niece, never;
My nephew, one day old, forever.
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Demons
They come when my eyelashes point to my cheek
Give the illusion that I'll find what I seek
They make me run for a door that just goes further
Only to kill me awake screaming bloody murder
It forms slowly and stares quietly in my isolation
Never in plain sight it prefers hiding in reflection
Breathing down my neck, attempting to crush it next
Devouring the time I take to die from its effects
He is loved by people who have never met
Existence alone controls their actions and mindset
Voice unheard touch unfelt, they follow His every word
Just one Him to make this growing herd
She has her hands drilled into the deepest of my brain
Sent her thousands young swimming through my veins
A knife down the wrist and tearing apart of skin
Won't rid me of her whispers that led my sin
Give the illusion that I'll find what I seek
They make me run for a door that just goes further
Only to kill me awake screaming bloody murder
They're at the back of my eyelids everytime I sleep.
Never in plain sight it prefers hiding in reflection
Breathing down my neck, attempting to crush it next
Devouring the time I take to die from its effects
It stares at me from the mirror everytime I'm alone.
Existence alone controls their actions and mindset
Voice unheard touch unfelt, they follow His every word
Just one Him to make this growing herd
His words are causing everyone to psycho me into this belief.
Sent her thousands young swimming through my veins
A knife down the wrist and tearing apart of skin
Won't rid me of her whispers that led my sin
They can drown you in your sleep
Choke you in your own house
Burn you in the afterlife
And most of all
Control you
Use your body as their own
tell you all these awful things
until one day your sanity is gone
and you slowly
gauge out your own eyeballs
claw out your own veins
rip out your own heart.
...You should be friends with them.
Then they won't do anything awful to you.
x
____
This poem was written for entertainment, please don't call me crazy. Just trying out different genres of writing.
Saturday, November 22, 2014
Eyes locked in interest and wonder
January, your eyes locked on me in interest and wonder
Your arrival against the cold and I forget how to shudder
A smile, and I can't help letting a breath escape my teeth
Every inch of you steals my air I can't breathe
February, my hands around your waist in possession
So much pain and trouble threatening separation
Your patience, you have entrusted me half your heart
The way you look at me, like I am a work of art
March, your eyes devouring me in curiosity
Fingers in mine, wanting to grasp everything about me
An intake of breath, like it's always the first time we meet
You possess all my heart, you give it reason to beat
April, your growing arms protecting my fingers
Long after you go, your scent memorised it lingers
A snore, as you sleep with your mouth open to your chest
I imagine a future, because I love you to that extent
May, your heels stay rooted to the cold floor
Refusing to go, banging non-stop on my door
A slap across the face, screaming for you to leave
Your constant attention despite all the pain and grief
Wind, you come and you go as you please
When you come in you sweep me up with ease
I am in oblivion, hanging around your shoulders
You are enough to break all ice and boulders
A little story explaining this poem: The left-text are referring to the wind, while the bold right-text are of course the ghost. I'm sure you know who they are by now.
The thing with the wind, back in 2013, was how he just wanted to love everything inside me, from the things I like to the things that scare me. How I'd tried again and again to shut him out, but he always stayed outside the walls I built, trying to coax me into letting him in.
How he isn't here for me all the time, but when he is, you'd just appreciate every second of him existing.
On the other hand, with the ghost in 2014, it's how he just saw me, wanted me, got me, left me, you know those cliche shit. He'd shut me out, not letting me understand him, and when I think he is finally letting me in, he has found something else that he wants, thus his eyes over my shoulders.
How he says he is here for me, and he may be, but he isn't here wholly.
Blah blah bullshit whatever, I've been so stressed out with problems about these two, I don't know how else to let it out without going into cock and bull stories. Okay done.
By the way, this right-text and left-text format posts, I have no idea what to call them. They're usually done when comparing past and present and they're not usually in poem form, but I don't know what to name them. Perhaps just transition-type writing. Okay.
And just to say this, I miss the wind so much right now, and I'm in deep remorse for having disappointed him. I hope there'd come a day when you'd forget everything that is happening right now, because call me silly for saying this but I can't imagine anyone else being God's match made for me.
Your arrival against the cold and I forget how to shudder
A smile, and I can't help letting a breath escape my teeth
Every inch of you steals my air I can't breathe
July, your eyes locked on me in interest and wonder
Glaring eyes beneath the long hair bring a shudder
A smile, and your breath escapes through your teeth
Travel across and steal all my air that I can't breathe
February, my hands around your waist in possession
So much pain and trouble threatening separation
Your patience, you have entrusted me half your heart
The way you look at me, like I am a work of art
August, your hands around my waist in possession
Arms tight around me before every separation
A laugh, and aware that I've gotten half your heart
Admiring and gentle caressing like a work of art
March, your eyes devouring me in curiosity
Fingers in mine, wanting to grasp everything about me
An intake of breath, like it's always the first time we meet
You possess all my heart, you give it reason to beat
September, your lips devouring me in curiosity
Fingertips light as feathers, tingling every inch of me
A sigh of pleasure, before and after our lips meet
You possess all my heart, it forgets how to beat
April, your growing arms protecting my fingers
Long after you go, your scent memorised it lingers
A snore, as you sleep with your mouth open to your chest
I imagine a future, because I love you to that extent
October, your skin outlined beneath my fingers
Long after you go, your scent memorised it lingers
A snore, as you fall asleep against my chest
I imagine a future, because I love you to that extent
May, your heels stay rooted to the cold floor
Refusing to go, banging non-stop on my door
A slap across the face, screaming for you to leave
Your constant attention despite all the pain and grief
November, your heels turning away on the floor
Change of lock and key, beginning to close the door
A wave, a premonition that you are taking your leave
Shock comes after shock, no strength left to grieve
Wind, you come and you go as you please
When you come in you sweep me up with ease
I am in oblivion, hanging around your shoulders
You are enough to break all ice and boulders
Ghost, you shut me in and out as you please
When you pull me into your world I am at ease
But your eyes long for something over my shoulders
You are here but built around you are ice and boulders
____
The thing with the wind, back in 2013, was how he just wanted to love everything inside me, from the things I like to the things that scare me. How I'd tried again and again to shut him out, but he always stayed outside the walls I built, trying to coax me into letting him in.
How he isn't here for me all the time, but when he is, you'd just appreciate every second of him existing.
On the other hand, with the ghost in 2014, it's how he just saw me, wanted me, got me, left me, you know those cliche shit. He'd shut me out, not letting me understand him, and when I think he is finally letting me in, he has found something else that he wants, thus his eyes over my shoulders.
How he says he is here for me, and he may be, but he isn't here wholly.
Blah blah bullshit whatever, I've been so stressed out with problems about these two, I don't know how else to let it out without going into cock and bull stories. Okay done.
By the way, this right-text and left-text format posts, I have no idea what to call them. They're usually done when comparing past and present and they're not usually in poem form, but I don't know what to name them. Perhaps just transition-type writing. Okay.
And just to say this, I miss the wind so much right now, and I'm in deep remorse for having disappointed him. I hope there'd come a day when you'd forget everything that is happening right now, because call me silly for saying this but I can't imagine anyone else being God's match made for me.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
A poem about strength
Strength is distinguishing alive from dead;
Bullets barely grazing the side of your head.
Strength is walking in a new direction;
A rusty swing constantly in motion.
Strength is the scenery changing as you pass;
Not bothering to sweep up the broken glass.
Strength is your fingers flying across the piano keys;
The opportunities you never had guts to seize.
Strength is putting away dusty photo frames;
No more crying when you hear certain names.
Strength is the determination to breathe and float;
The lifting of the oars to row the boat.
Strength is smiling at the blistering heat;
Running until your heart forgets how to beat.
Strength is a bridge formed by differences;
Being pulled closer the longer the distance.
Strength is the bruises turning a murky yellow;
Jumping despite unawareness of what's below.
Strength is having a voice louder than thunder;
Standing in harsh winds without as much as a shudder.
Strength is the pride and love for your inner soul;
The continuous burning of fire against the cold.
Strength is lifting your knees up from the ground;
Your chin to the sky, no more looking down.
____
I can go on and on forever because strength comes in so many forms, but I shall stop here.
Friday, September 19, 2014
Poem about time
Time is waiting in the dark;
Observing what may be called art.
Time is sitting by the hourglass;
Watching the sand fall as the seconds slowly pass.
Time is racing against the clock;
Deafened by the crow's caw.
Time is slowly forgetting names;
Dust gathering in the photo frames.
Time is not awaiting the future;
Looking at the clock through the mirror.
Time is the waves never reaching your feet;
Not knowing the definition of speed.
Time is staring at the one you love;
Counting the infinity stars above.
Time is finding tears in a smile;
A centimetre becoming a mile.
Time is the definition of suddenly;
Compared to the meaning of immediately.
Time is avoiding the speeding cars;
Only God knowing the due dates for these scars.
Time is your enemy suddenly loving you;
A newborn taking decades just to turn two.
Time is the cracks in a mural;
Awaiting the guests at my funeral.
Wrote this poem in 2010, it still hits me in the heart everytime I read it.
Observing what may be called art.
Time is sitting by the hourglass;
Watching the sand fall as the seconds slowly pass.
Time is racing against the clock;
Deafened by the crow's caw.
Time is slowly forgetting names;
Dust gathering in the photo frames.
Time is not awaiting the future;
Looking at the clock through the mirror.
Time is the waves never reaching your feet;
Not knowing the definition of speed.
Time is staring at the one you love;
Counting the infinity stars above.
Time is finding tears in a smile;
A centimetre becoming a mile.
Time is the definition of suddenly;
Compared to the meaning of immediately.
Time is avoiding the speeding cars;
Only God knowing the due dates for these scars.
Time is your enemy suddenly loving you;
A newborn taking decades just to turn two.
Time is the cracks in a mural;
Awaiting the guests at my funeral.
____
Monday, August 25, 2014
Dropped
Raising my arms and letting my feet go light;
Closing my eyes shut despite my fear of the night.
Having faith in the breeze running through my hair;
Allowing it to lift me and take me anywhere.
Hanging in the eagle's arms, hands around its neck;
Not an inch afraid, believing it's got my back.
Hair over its shoulders as I'm brought across the skyline;
The pair of wings on its back is as good as mine.
Taking me away to places new and old;
Faith to protect me from the fall or cold.
Caught up in the euphoria and in your laughter;
Forgetting the possibility of what would come after.
The wind turns into ice sliding down my spine;
Shards of cruelty stabbing into the heart that's mine.
The arms around me quickly releasing their hold;
I didn't know the flames of Hell could be so cold.
Broken legs and a twisted neck as I hit the ground;
Continuously admiring you in flight, withholding all sound.
Puddle of blood the only reminder I was once alive;
A raging fire, once in control over this knife.
Watching your wings being your strength to be gone;
Your happiness and freedom being the last I set eyes on.
I believed in the wind.
I was scared it'd let me go again like it did, but I dismissed the thought.
I wanted to believe in it more than fear it.
I was brave enough to let it take me, yet I'm too weak to handle being dropped.
I'm that stupid.
But it's okay. As long as the little birdie goes on being free, letting its wings take it wherever it wants.
Seeing a bird fly free is always a beautiful sight, and same goes for you.
Letting you go for the third time.
I thought you'd stay this time.
I finally realised I needed you like how a fire needs the wind to keep it under control.
But.
A fire can't embrace a bird.
And I'd want you to fly free and choose who to love instead of having your wings charred by my flames.
It's really okay.
Closing my eyes shut despite my fear of the night.
Having faith in the breeze running through my hair;
Allowing it to lift me and take me anywhere.
Hanging in the eagle's arms, hands around its neck;
Not an inch afraid, believing it's got my back.
Hair over its shoulders as I'm brought across the skyline;
The pair of wings on its back is as good as mine.
Taking me away to places new and old;
Faith to protect me from the fall or cold.
Caught up in the euphoria and in your laughter;
Forgetting the possibility of what would come after.
The wind turns into ice sliding down my spine;
Shards of cruelty stabbing into the heart that's mine.
The arms around me quickly releasing their hold;
I didn't know the flames of Hell could be so cold.
Broken legs and a twisted neck as I hit the ground;
Continuously admiring you in flight, withholding all sound.
Puddle of blood the only reminder I was once alive;
A raging fire, once in control over this knife.
Watching your wings being your strength to be gone;
Your happiness and freedom being the last I set eyes on.
____
I was scared it'd let me go again like it did, but I dismissed the thought.
I wanted to believe in it more than fear it.
I was brave enough to let it take me, yet I'm too weak to handle being dropped.
I'm that stupid.
But it's okay. As long as the little birdie goes on being free, letting its wings take it wherever it wants.
Seeing a bird fly free is always a beautiful sight, and same goes for you.
Letting you go for the third time.
I thought you'd stay this time.
I finally realised I needed you like how a fire needs the wind to keep it under control.
But.
A fire can't embrace a bird.
And I'd want you to fly free and choose who to love instead of having your wings charred by my flames.
It's really okay.
Friday, August 08, 2014
My constant falling in love
One, an extra middle tooth with an arm bandaged;
I believed with my heart first love couldn't be damaged.
2010, 2011, awaiting by the door;
2012, unsaid words, changed reasons, poof no more.
Two, video cameras and loving classmates;
Trying to forget for each other's sakes.
But a girl he used to love, he wanted to kiss;
With a wave of his hand, I was dismissed.
Three, a different soul under a same face;
A constant presence during the difficult phase.
Lust mistaken for care and concern;
Not getting the loss back, lesson learnt.
Four, crooked teeth, lines above the smile;
Held hands and fought for love far longer than a while.
Convinced and believed, worked hard for forevermore;
Until the day "I just don't love you anymore."
Five, a ruler taller and a love for writing;
Fears and dreams over the phone at 3 in the morning.
A hand to hold whilst sober, I couldn't be his;
For there was a girl who long already is.
Six, who is passionate with his heart for flight;
Never letting priorities and dreams out of sight.
Always so grateful for his being awakened;
Always doing his best, for his days are numbered.
Seven, a single flower left in the field;
The longing to hide behind his innocence, use as a shield.
But a raging fire can't embrace such a fragile being;
Beautiful as his own, couldn't have a ruin clinging.
A second chance, Four times two makes Eight;
His love never forgotten, he thinks we're joined by fate.
Two steps into a new beginning, he decides he isn't ready;
I hide my upset, understand and accept whatever his need.
Nine, ten, eleven, twelve;
Before others, love yourself.
Four, three, two, one;
After seven, I think I'm done.
Nineteen years and counting, fading is my limelight;
I should stop falling unless I know he's the right.
If unsure what you're drawing, first trace with a pencil;
So no ink and blood is wasted on the wrong people.
I believed with my heart first love couldn't be damaged.
2010, 2011, awaiting by the door;
2012, unsaid words, changed reasons, poof no more.
Two, video cameras and loving classmates;
Trying to forget for each other's sakes.
But a girl he used to love, he wanted to kiss;
With a wave of his hand, I was dismissed.
Three, a different soul under a same face;
A constant presence during the difficult phase.
Lust mistaken for care and concern;
Not getting the loss back, lesson learnt.
Four, crooked teeth, lines above the smile;
Held hands and fought for love far longer than a while.
Convinced and believed, worked hard for forevermore;
Until the day "I just don't love you anymore."
Five, a ruler taller and a love for writing;
Fears and dreams over the phone at 3 in the morning.
A hand to hold whilst sober, I couldn't be his;
For there was a girl who long already is.
Six, who is passionate with his heart for flight;
Never letting priorities and dreams out of sight.
Always so grateful for his being awakened;
Always doing his best, for his days are numbered.
Seven, a single flower left in the field;
The longing to hide behind his innocence, use as a shield.
But a raging fire can't embrace such a fragile being;
Beautiful as his own, couldn't have a ruin clinging.
A second chance, Four times two makes Eight;
His love never forgotten, he thinks we're joined by fate.
Two steps into a new beginning, he decides he isn't ready;
I hide my upset, understand and accept whatever his need.
Nine, ten, eleven, twelve;
Before others, love yourself.
Four, three, two, one;
After seven, I think I'm done.
Nineteen years and counting, fading is my limelight;
I should stop falling unless I know he's the right.
If unsure what you're drawing, first trace with a pencil;
So no ink and blood is wasted on the wrong people.
Sunday, July 06, 2014
What if you woke up and realised
You weren't missing her as much as you used to;
The flame that was burning for her had turned blue.
She wasn't moving you the way she was before;
You just didn't love her anymore.
You woke up the next morning without her in your head;
No recollection of all the things she had said.
Forgotten the things she had done for you;
Forgotten the days she had planned for two.
A veil across your eyes to her good side;
Yet convinced it was all along that you'd been blind.
Two arms wrapped around yours, tears down your uniform;
No guilt in you, walked away from your own storm.
What if you woke up to remember why you loved her;
Would she again become part of your desire?
Would you walk with her again no matter how your legs tire;
Would you ignite again, that fire?
Would it be shrugged off as just another regret;
Would she be no more than just a girl you met?
Would it sadden you to realise what you've lost;
Or would it no longer dare be again in your thoughts?
Just a thought. Someone left me because 'I just don't love you anymore' [swear I can never forget this stupid sentence] , so I was just wondering how he'd feel if one day, he suddenly remembered why he loved me. Nothing more than a curious thought.
The flame that was burning for her had turned blue.
She wasn't moving you the way she was before;
You just didn't love her anymore.
You woke up the next morning without her in your head;
No recollection of all the things she had said.
Forgotten the things she had done for you;
Forgotten the days she had planned for two.
A veil across your eyes to her good side;
Yet convinced it was all along that you'd been blind.
Two arms wrapped around yours, tears down your uniform;
No guilt in you, walked away from your own storm.
What if you woke up to remember why you loved her;
Would she again become part of your desire?
Would you walk with her again no matter how your legs tire;
Would you ignite again, that fire?
Would it be shrugged off as just another regret;
Would she be no more than just a girl you met?
Would it sadden you to realise what you've lost;
Or would it no longer dare be again in your thoughts?
____
Wednesday, June 04, 2014
Take me back
Take me back to that night in 1995
Before I was granted a life.
Before my hands were able to hold.
Before my shell was granted a soul.
Take me back to 2004
Before the little body became bruised and sore.
Before the secret was given away.
Before their fights every night and day.
Take me back to 2010
Before a boy was mistaken for a man.
Before a girl gave him everything she's got.
Before he ran away with the whole lot.
Take me back to 2012
Before the best true friends were left.
Before the careless spill of the first blood.
Before home's door was slammed shut.
Take me back to January
Before I knew the life that I'm living now would ever belong to me.
Before I stopped meaning the things I say and have said.
Before I started mixing reality with the things in my head.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Cheesy poem for you
You, looking so shy and invisible
So small that you're barely noticeable
You've got a smile that dances in the darkest nights
Eyes that shine the brightest of all the lights
My hatred for him grows all the more merrier
Knowing you see him as a barrier
My heart breaks knowing I've lost you to him
But it rages seeing the way he keeps you in
Does he look out for you the way I do?
Does he understand your religious view?
Does he listen to every word you say?
Does he bother asking you about your day?
You, looking so lost and clueless
Leaking of a mixture of secrets and innocence
Never forgotten a single word you've said,
I yearn to know everything that happens in your head.
If you would open your eyes a little and see
You'd know at least half the things he told me
The way I see it, you're in his control
How I wish I could return you your heart and soul.
Does he realise how much you're worth?
Does he appreciate your existence on this Earth?
Does he bother hearing out your stories
Or does he just judge you and your theories?
So small that you're barely noticeable
You've got a smile that dances in the darkest nights
Eyes that shine the brightest of all the lights
My hatred for him grows all the more merrier
Knowing you see him as a barrier
My heart breaks knowing I've lost you to him
But it rages seeing the way he keeps you in
Does he look out for you the way I do?
Does he understand your religious view?
Does he listen to every word you say?
Does he bother asking you about your day?
You, looking so lost and clueless
Leaking of a mixture of secrets and innocence
Never forgotten a single word you've said,
I yearn to know everything that happens in your head.
If you would open your eyes a little and see
You'd know at least half the things he told me
The way I see it, you're in his control
How I wish I could return you your heart and soul.
Does he realise how much you're worth?
Does he appreciate your existence on this Earth?
Does he bother hearing out your stories
Or does he just judge you and your theories?
Would he sacrifice for you some of his strength
Or give away a load of his breath?
Tell me how long more would he keep you in his life
Because he certainly wouldn't make you his wife.
I wish you'd run away with me and take a chance
Hold my hand in yours and follow the same plans
I swear to you he won't take care of you like I would
He can never love you the way I could.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
A poem and a dream from 2012
So I'm back here in Pasir Ris, and the first thing I did was to clean up the mess that was my room. I came here two days ago, to place on my bookshelves some of the books I had at Paya Lebar.
Seeing my new collection of books on my shelves just motivated me to clean up, because they deserved the cleanliness. Or am I the only one who feels that way?
Anyway, I found a lot of weird things from secondary school. Old photos, and old notebooks. By notebooks, I don't mean the diaries I'd written; those had been in my knowledge forever, but the notebooks I discovered today were just.... Random. They weren't diaries. They were random as hell.
I found one of "My Random Poetry", and another which I used to write the dreams I had. For the fun of it, I'm gonna share with ya one from each. Take note these were from years ago, so please excuse the silliness of what I'd written.
I shall rewrite exactly what had been written, though I have to edit names out or unnecessary segments, things like that. Here's the dream.
"It was late December. Everyone was running out of homes, for some reason, and I had stumbled upon a building which served as a shelter for those who had lost their ways of housing.
Most of the people staying there were students. In fact, I saw many familiar faces. I saw juniors from my school. I had lingered outside the building for a while, fingering the red and black hoodie of mine that I had slung over my shoulder.
I looked at everyone All the students were chaotic. I saw a sign that said "5/1" and I saw two of my then classmates standing outside a room. I propped my hoodie on a wall and made my way towards them.
Everyone had bags and were walking to certain classrooms, including me. I was walking along, with my eyes on the room with the "5/1" sign, when I bumped into someone from 4/3, but I just walked off without an apology.
It turned out that the classes took lodging in a classroom each. I don't know what was done to separate the girls from the boys, but for all I saw, everyone from the same class shared a classroom together. 5/1's was empty, and I sat inside, alone.
There were windows, and students were walking past, to and fro, to and fro. I don't remember their faces anymore, but they were all sec 4s from my school.
[some unnecessary parts that I have to crop out]
When I woke up, it was New Year's eve. I was alone in the 4/3 room, and when I looked out the window, everyone was moving in the same direction, hastily. They were not walking to and fro like the first day that I had walked in the compound. I wondered what was happening, and to my surprise, I managed to get out of the bed without difficulty.
I followed my gaze to the direction that everyone was walking away from. All the classrooms were stripped of their walls, and all that remained were the bricks that laid on the floor. If the destruction were to resume, the classroom that I had been in was to be the next to be brought down.
I looked back to where the students were walking towards. At the end of the road stood a wall. I saw them climbing over it, some even jumping.
I saw some 5/1 students, and I walked to where they were, right by the wall. My hoodie hung over it, and as I was taking it down, XX had came up to me asking for my real name. I didn't answer because I didn't understand what she meant.
I overheard some conversations beside me, saying things like "We spend our last few hours of the year being chased out of our homes..." and everyone looked so very sad...
At that moment, an aeroplane had crossed the sky. It was blue, a contrast of the darker blue that the sky was. I don't remember how long I'd stared at it, but when I looked back down, all the students were gone and I stood alone next to the wall."
Bloody hell, I remember this dream. I remember the compound, and it had that dystopian atmosphere to it. Dystopian or post-apocalyptic, either way it was.
Now for the poem. It may or may not make sense to you, maybe not to me either but I'm still gonna share it in its original form. What I remember about writing this poem, I'll let you know too.
"Please set fire to my precious eyes
It's the only way to run from ghosts of you and I
The solitary escapade unties no rope
The movement of time unleashes no hope.
Rather blind than at mercy
Of the smiling ghosts in bow and courtsey
Rather darkness than colour
Accompanied by figures of purple.
Nobody to look into your eyes
Nobody to figure out your lies
Nobody to determine in what way you're recognised
Nobody to tell you that you're not okay or fine.
No tears to show you're sad
No frowns to show you're upset.
No fire in your eyes to show your anger
No spark in your eyes to show you're in love.
No motive for murderers
No opportunity for witnesses
No reason for weaknesses
And most certainly no need for questions."
I remember, that this was during the time of my 2012 break-up, where practically everywhere I walked in Pasir Ris had a memory of him. I couldn't handle it then, because I'd been way weaker than I am now, and that's what was meant by 'set fire to my eyes', because I didn't want to see the memories floating all around me.
By 'smiling ghosts of bow and courtsey', it probably goes to show how those memories were way happier than I was as a human, even when they were just putting on a show.
The last three verses were probably the good of having no eyes. Eyes are the windows to the soul indeed, and without them, not only would I be unable to watch memories I'd rather forget, but people wouldn't be able to look inside, to come closer to me, to know me.
I guess that's it for tonight. My room has so much treasure in the Literature of E'in Nadh; diary entries and poems and other stupid little random things. Might wanna share some here occasionally. Goodnight.
Seeing my new collection of books on my shelves just motivated me to clean up, because they deserved the cleanliness. Or am I the only one who feels that way?
Anyway, I found a lot of weird things from secondary school. Old photos, and old notebooks. By notebooks, I don't mean the diaries I'd written; those had been in my knowledge forever, but the notebooks I discovered today were just.... Random. They weren't diaries. They were random as hell.
I found one of "My Random Poetry", and another which I used to write the dreams I had. For the fun of it, I'm gonna share with ya one from each. Take note these were from years ago, so please excuse the silliness of what I'd written.
I shall rewrite exactly what had been written, though I have to edit names out or unnecessary segments, things like that. Here's the dream.
"It was late December. Everyone was running out of homes, for some reason, and I had stumbled upon a building which served as a shelter for those who had lost their ways of housing.
Most of the people staying there were students. In fact, I saw many familiar faces. I saw juniors from my school. I had lingered outside the building for a while, fingering the red and black hoodie of mine that I had slung over my shoulder.
I looked at everyone All the students were chaotic. I saw a sign that said "5/1" and I saw two of my then classmates standing outside a room. I propped my hoodie on a wall and made my way towards them.
Everyone had bags and were walking to certain classrooms, including me. I was walking along, with my eyes on the room with the "5/1" sign, when I bumped into someone from 4/3, but I just walked off without an apology.
It turned out that the classes took lodging in a classroom each. I don't know what was done to separate the girls from the boys, but for all I saw, everyone from the same class shared a classroom together. 5/1's was empty, and I sat inside, alone.
There were windows, and students were walking past, to and fro, to and fro. I don't remember their faces anymore, but they were all sec 4s from my school.
[some unnecessary parts that I have to crop out]
When I woke up, it was New Year's eve. I was alone in the 4/3 room, and when I looked out the window, everyone was moving in the same direction, hastily. They were not walking to and fro like the first day that I had walked in the compound. I wondered what was happening, and to my surprise, I managed to get out of the bed without difficulty.
I followed my gaze to the direction that everyone was walking away from. All the classrooms were stripped of their walls, and all that remained were the bricks that laid on the floor. If the destruction were to resume, the classroom that I had been in was to be the next to be brought down.
I looked back to where the students were walking towards. At the end of the road stood a wall. I saw them climbing over it, some even jumping.
I saw some 5/1 students, and I walked to where they were, right by the wall. My hoodie hung over it, and as I was taking it down, XX had came up to me asking for my real name. I didn't answer because I didn't understand what she meant.
I overheard some conversations beside me, saying things like "We spend our last few hours of the year being chased out of our homes..." and everyone looked so very sad...
At that moment, an aeroplane had crossed the sky. It was blue, a contrast of the darker blue that the sky was. I don't remember how long I'd stared at it, but when I looked back down, all the students were gone and I stood alone next to the wall."
Bloody hell, I remember this dream. I remember the compound, and it had that dystopian atmosphere to it. Dystopian or post-apocalyptic, either way it was.
Now for the poem. It may or may not make sense to you, maybe not to me either but I'm still gonna share it in its original form. What I remember about writing this poem, I'll let you know too.
"Please set fire to my precious eyes
It's the only way to run from ghosts of you and I
The solitary escapade unties no rope
The movement of time unleashes no hope.
Rather blind than at mercy
Of the smiling ghosts in bow and courtsey
Rather darkness than colour
Accompanied by figures of purple.
Nobody to look into your eyes
Nobody to figure out your lies
Nobody to determine in what way you're recognised
Nobody to tell you that you're not okay or fine.
No tears to show you're sad
No frowns to show you're upset.
No fire in your eyes to show your anger
No spark in your eyes to show you're in love.
No motive for murderers
No opportunity for witnesses
No reason for weaknesses
And most certainly no need for questions."
I remember, that this was during the time of my 2012 break-up, where practically everywhere I walked in Pasir Ris had a memory of him. I couldn't handle it then, because I'd been way weaker than I am now, and that's what was meant by 'set fire to my eyes', because I didn't want to see the memories floating all around me.
By 'smiling ghosts of bow and courtsey', it probably goes to show how those memories were way happier than I was as a human, even when they were just putting on a show.
The last three verses were probably the good of having no eyes. Eyes are the windows to the soul indeed, and without them, not only would I be unable to watch memories I'd rather forget, but people wouldn't be able to look inside, to come closer to me, to know me.
I guess that's it for tonight. My room has so much treasure in the Literature of E'in Nadh; diary entries and poems and other stupid little random things. Might wanna share some here occasionally. Goodnight.
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