Last updated: 2019-09-03 5.27pm
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
165: do you kopi
152: thoughts and players
1.
my thirsty lips
brushing against
your lazy smile,
2.
whispering sweet nothings
while running the tip of my tongue
along the ridge of your ears,
slowly nibbling each lobe
as you silently beg
for more,
3.
your sweetsalty skin
and heavy scent
as i leave a trail
of sloppy kisses
down the side
of your neck,
4.
your collarbones
grazed
red
moist,
5.
drawing circles
on your chest
and blowing on each peak
as you quiver under me
ever so slightly,
6.
my hands
twirling your curls
cupping your cheeks
squeezing your shoulders
holding you
down,
7.
your heartbeats
and the constant cycles of
sighs and gasps
as we dip in and out
of blissful insanity,
8.
breathing you in
and kissing your temples
as your trembling pillars stabilise
leaving my throbbing altar
witness my spiritual supplication
through closed eyes
and needy moans,
9.
watching you
rise and fall
as you drift off into another world
leaving me
for the nth time
undone,
10.
knowing
that i can finally breathe easy
now that you
are no longer
in my prayers.
2019-04-12 5.38pm
my thirsty lips
brushing against
your lazy smile,
2.
whispering sweet nothings
while running the tip of my tongue
along the ridge of your ears,
slowly nibbling each lobe
as you silently beg
for more,
3.
your sweetsalty skin
and heavy scent
as i leave a trail
of sloppy kisses
down the side
of your neck,
4.
your collarbones
grazed
red
moist,
5.
drawing circles
on your chest
and blowing on each peak
as you quiver under me
ever so slightly,
6.
my hands
twirling your curls
cupping your cheeks
squeezing your shoulders
holding you
down,
7.
your heartbeats
and the constant cycles of
sighs and gasps
as we dip in and out
of blissful insanity,
8.
breathing you in
and kissing your temples
as your trembling pillars stabilise
leaving my throbbing altar
witness my spiritual supplication
through closed eyes
and needy moans,
9.
watching you
rise and fall
as you drift off into another world
leaving me
for the nth time
undone,
10.
knowing
that i can finally breathe easy
now that you
are no longer
in my prayers.
2019-04-12 5.38pm
150: Sayang
she calls me Sayang
as her love straightjackets me
while the padded walls absorb my screams
and my streams and my dreams
and it seems that she thinks she’s trying
to save me by tugging me tightly
but i’m no barbie in abaya,
nothing but a black sheep in wire
who'd rather crossfire than conspire,
wearing social justice warrior
as a badge of honor.
.
dia panggil aku Sayang,
dan aku dihidupkan untuk menjadi bonekanya yang
solek-selokanya bak bidadari tanpa bayang-bayang.
tapi sayang, suaraku tak semerdu dayang
rambut tak lebat berikal mayang
lidah tak sehalus tali lelayang
tubuhku tak seramping tiang
senyumku tak semanis angan-angan siang.
.
dia panggil aku Sayang,
tapi diriku dah penat ditayang.
sendiku sakit dihuyung-hayang,
diheret, disentak rentak si juru wayang.
yet even after decades of resistance
i am still struggling to keep a distance
between her scripts for me and my own reality.
.
she calls me Sayang,
and sometimes i wonder
if the word has lost its meaning
because the more she talks to me
the more redundant she makes me feel.
.
she calls me Sayang,
so the saying "marah maknanya sayang"
is really just gaslighting,
isn't it?
2019-04-12 7.20pm
2018-01-30 3.06pm
as her love straightjackets me
while the padded walls absorb my screams
and my streams and my dreams
and it seems that she thinks she’s trying
to save me by tugging me tightly
but i’m no barbie in abaya,
nothing but a black sheep in wire
who'd rather crossfire than conspire,
wearing social justice warrior
as a badge of honor.
.
dia panggil aku Sayang,
dan aku dihidupkan untuk menjadi bonekanya yang
solek-selokanya bak bidadari tanpa bayang-bayang.
tapi sayang, suaraku tak semerdu dayang
rambut tak lebat berikal mayang
lidah tak sehalus tali lelayang
tubuhku tak seramping tiang
senyumku tak semanis angan-angan siang.
.
dia panggil aku Sayang,
tapi diriku dah penat ditayang.
sendiku sakit dihuyung-hayang,
diheret, disentak rentak si juru wayang.
yet even after decades of resistance
i am still struggling to keep a distance
between her scripts for me and my own reality.
.
she calls me Sayang,
and sometimes i wonder
if the word has lost its meaning
because the more she talks to me
the more redundant she makes me feel.
.
she calls me Sayang,
so the saying "marah maknanya sayang"
is really just gaslighting,
isn't it?
2019-04-12 7.20pm
2018-01-30 3.06pm
147: full circle
i keep dipping in and out of circles;
running in one spot and then to another
everoverworrying that it's never gonna be my place
to say or do or think or feel the way i do
and it always leads me back
to me wondering if
i'll ever
f i n d
my
place
in
the
world
running in one spot and then to another
everoverworrying that it's never gonna be my place
to say or do or think or feel the way i do
and it always leads me back
to me wondering if
i'll ever
f i n d
my
place
in
the
world
141: stub-burn
healing
begins
when the stub-
born
T
H
O
R
N
is finally out of the wound
ori: 2017-06-06 10.17pm
edited: 2017-07-21 8.21pm
begins
when the stub-
born
T
H
O
R
N
is finally out of the wound
ori: 2017-06-06 10.17pm
edited: 2017-07-21 8.21pm
140: heart to skin
Patience
are the blades on my fingertips
not scraping the crusty canvas of my existence.
i know you are parched,
but if you weep,
so will i.
20170528 10:10pm
are the blades on my fingertips
not scraping the crusty canvas of my existence.
i know you are parched,
but if you weep,
so will i.
20170528 10:10pm
139: kitsugi
kitsugi
is the art of mending broken things
using gold.
we too are made of clay:
ever at risk of wear and tear,
hardening with heat,
and falling apart,
but our defections are not as easily glazed over;
under pressure, our physical cracks are not dry
bright scarlet liquids that keeps our shell alive will eventually escape
in drips, oozes, gushes, depending on the severity of the impact.
yet, time after time,
the vessel will seal its bloody lips
on its own.
but filling up an empty shell with cracks all over, that haven't been healed by time, is not as straightforward
some of us survive only on the faith of others
and we keep cementing our brokenness the only way we know how:
to keep reattaching the cloudy shards of our existence
and line them all back together with silver
because that's the most we can afford.
kitusgi
is the art of embellishing broken things
and after thirty years of existing, i've learnt
that it is really a way of appreciating
that there are ways to make a vessel
hold water, to not be emptied;
that even those that have scars
can still heal
can still have value
and can still be beautiful.
2017-09-16 7.11pm
---
kitsugi
is the art of mending broken things
using gold.
we too are made of clay:
ever at risk of wear and tear,
hardening with heat,
and falling apart,
but our defections are not as easily glazed over;
under pressure, our physical cracks are not dry
bright scarlet liquids that keeps our shell alive will eventually escape
in drips, oozes, gushes, depending on the severity of the impact.
yet, time after time,
the vessel will seal its bloody lips
on its own.
but filling up an empty shell with cracks all over, that haven't been healed by time, is not as straightforward
some of us survive only on the faith of others
and we keep cementing our brokenness the only way we know how:
to keep reattaching the cloudy shards of our existence
and line them all back together with silver
because that's the most we can afford.
kitusgi
is the art of embellishing broken things
and after thirty years of existing, i've learnt
that it is really a way of appreciating
that there are ways to make a vessel
hold water, to not be emptied;
that even those that have scars
are still valuable.
--
kitsugi
is the art of mending broken earthenware
using gold.
we too are made of clay
we too are ever at risk of wear and tear,
we too can harden with heat
we too can fall apart with pressure;
but our defections are not as easily glazed over,
our squishy fleshy skin does not create cracks when broken;
the scars ooze out scarlet liquids pumped out by
our pulpy beating human hearts
to give life to the vessel that contains all our insides but
for those that are barely alive, i keep wondering
what use it is to keep patching up the leaky wounds
if the body has been emptied of everything of substance?
it's difficult to find meaning in emptiness though,
so some of us survive on faith
of others more than ourselves
and for better or worse,
cement our brokenness the easiest humanest way:
to look at the cloudy shards of our existence
and keep lining them all back together with silver
because most of us can't afford gold.
2017-07-21 8.11pm
---
kitsugi
is the art of fixing
broken things using gold.
people too can harden and be broken with pressure and heat,
but although both are made of clay and may wear and tear,
humans are not earthenware;
public displays of abundance and defections are not as easily glazed over --
so our pulpy beating human hearts pumping blood even in the most unliving bodies
reminds us that the only way to keep us whole
is to cement our brokenness in the most human way:
by lining all our cloudy shards with silver instead
because most of us can't afford gold anyway.
kitsugi is the art of embellishing broken things
and after thirty years of existing, i've learnt
that everyone has silver scars
and there is beauty in that
even when we can't see it ourselves.
2017-05-23 5.23pm
---
kitsugi is the art
of making broken pieces whole
by gluing them back together using gold.
after thirty years of existing, today i learnt
that i have somehow, unwittingly, perfected kitsugi.
breathing humans can withstand a lot of heat and pressure, much like china
our hearts allow the pumping of life
as they beat and bleed, hurt, and often, then heal
but although both of us are made of clay, humans are not earthenware
we are neither naturally stiff nor inanimate,
and public displays of abundance and defections are frowned upon.
so instead of cementing the our brokenness with gold,
i've learnt that we're expected to keep lining all the shards using silver;
for me, i do this begrudgingly,
but with time, willingly
and much more generously.
kitsugi is the art
of embellishing broken things
and after thirty years of existing, i've learnt
that there is beauty in silver scars
even when others can't see it.
10.45am
----
but hearts are not stiff nor inanimate
they may just just as fragile as the most delicate china
but they are not cold and glossy --
they beat and they bleed
they hurt and then they heal
... sometimes.
is the art of mending broken things
using gold.
we too are made of clay:
ever at risk of wear and tear,
hardening with heat,
and falling apart,
but our defections are not as easily glazed over;
under pressure, our physical cracks are not dry
bright scarlet liquids that keeps our shell alive will eventually escape
in drips, oozes, gushes, depending on the severity of the impact.
yet, time after time,
the vessel will seal its bloody lips
on its own.
but filling up an empty shell with cracks all over, that haven't been healed by time, is not as straightforward
some of us survive only on the faith of others
and we keep cementing our brokenness the only way we know how:
to keep reattaching the cloudy shards of our existence
and line them all back together with silver
because that's the most we can afford.
kitusgi
is the art of embellishing broken things
and after thirty years of existing, i've learnt
that it is really a way of appreciating
that there are ways to make a vessel
hold water, to not be emptied;
that even those that have scars
can still heal
can still have value
and can still be beautiful.
2017-09-16 7.11pm
---
kitsugi
is the art of mending broken things
using gold.
we too are made of clay:
ever at risk of wear and tear,
hardening with heat,
and falling apart,
but our defections are not as easily glazed over;
under pressure, our physical cracks are not dry
bright scarlet liquids that keeps our shell alive will eventually escape
in drips, oozes, gushes, depending on the severity of the impact.
yet, time after time,
the vessel will seal its bloody lips
on its own.
but filling up an empty shell with cracks all over, that haven't been healed by time, is not as straightforward
some of us survive only on the faith of others
and we keep cementing our brokenness the only way we know how:
to keep reattaching the cloudy shards of our existence
and line them all back together with silver
because that's the most we can afford.
kitusgi
is the art of embellishing broken things
and after thirty years of existing, i've learnt
that it is really a way of appreciating
that there are ways to make a vessel
hold water, to not be emptied;
that even those that have scars
are still valuable.
2017-07-24
9.53am
--
kitsugi
is the art of mending broken earthenware
using gold.
we too are made of clay
we too are ever at risk of wear and tear,
we too can harden with heat
we too can fall apart with pressure;
but our defections are not as easily glazed over,
our squishy fleshy skin does not create cracks when broken;
the scars ooze out scarlet liquids pumped out by
our pulpy beating human hearts
to give life to the vessel that contains all our insides but
for those that are barely alive, i keep wondering
what use it is to keep patching up the leaky wounds
if the body has been emptied of everything of substance?
it's difficult to find meaning in emptiness though,
so some of us survive on faith
of others more than ourselves
and for better or worse,
cement our brokenness the easiest humanest way:
to look at the cloudy shards of our existence
and keep lining them all back together with silver
because most of us can't afford gold.
2017-07-21 8.11pm
---
kitsugi
is the art of fixing
broken things using gold.
people too can harden and be broken with pressure and heat,
but although both are made of clay and may wear and tear,
humans are not earthenware;
public displays of abundance and defections are not as easily glazed over --
so our pulpy beating human hearts pumping blood even in the most unliving bodies
reminds us that the only way to keep us whole
is to cement our brokenness in the most human way:
by lining all our cloudy shards with silver instead
because most of us can't afford gold anyway.
kitsugi is the art of embellishing broken things
and after thirty years of existing, i've learnt
that everyone has silver scars
and there is beauty in that
even when we can't see it ourselves.
2017-05-23 5.23pm
---
kitsugi is the art
of making broken pieces whole
by gluing them back together using gold.
after thirty years of existing, today i learnt
that i have somehow, unwittingly, perfected kitsugi.
breathing humans can withstand a lot of heat and pressure, much like china
our hearts allow the pumping of life
as they beat and bleed, hurt, and often, then heal
but although both of us are made of clay, humans are not earthenware
we are neither naturally stiff nor inanimate,
and public displays of abundance and defections are frowned upon.
so instead of cementing the our brokenness with gold,
i've learnt that we're expected to keep lining all the shards using silver;
for me, i do this begrudgingly,
but with time, willingly
and much more generously.
kitsugi is the art
of embellishing broken things
and after thirty years of existing, i've learnt
that there is beauty in silver scars
even when others can't see it.
10.45am
135: let love and live
I can live and let live,
but I can't love those who only love love
but refuse to live and love.
20170529 9.10am
I can live and let live,
but I can't love those who only love love
but not those who want to live and love.
2017-04-26 3.56pm
but I can't love those who only love love
but refuse to live and love.
20170529 9.10am
134: honor+y
---
my name is izzaty
and i've been told that it's a good name because the root form, "izzat", means 'noble',
i.e. doing the right thing, not the royalty kind;
today i learnt that
"izzat" actually means honor
i.e. 'it's your duty to make sure you don't ruin your and your family and community's reputation' kind
today i learnt that
"izzat" is the cause
of family feuds
raging friendzonees, rape revenges
and testosterone-fueled trigger-happy armies
all of whom simply can't take "live and let live" for an answer.
today i learnt that
it's hard to stomach the fact that i've been a prey of being my own living prayer,
to be the personification of dignity
whatever that may mean
and to be responsible for the brutal consequences if i don't
however that may be.
they say names are a prayer
and now the invisible burdens on my shoulders have shown its form.
they say names are a prayer
and now i thank God that of all the decisions my parents have made
my name has a "y" at the end of it.
132: wanederlust
how is it
that everyone else is onthego and underpressure and overworked and inbetweenjobs and inthemidstofeverything and
are constantly running and falling and getting back up and spinning and running and getting back up and spinning and running and getting back up and spinning spinning running running running spinning spinning faster and faster and faster and faster going oh so fast oh so steadily
and all i seem to do is spin and spill tears and run and ruin away?
how is it
that i can be full to the brim
and spill out only gas and steam?
how is it
that i constantly find myself tiptoeing at the tip of my sanity
and drown in dreadful nothingness?
that everyone else is onthego and underpressure and overworked and inbetweenjobs and inthemidstofeverything and
are constantly running and falling and getting back up and spinning and running and getting back up and spinning and running and getting back up and spinning spinning running running running spinning spinning faster and faster and faster and faster going oh so fast oh so steadily
and all i seem to do is spin and spill tears and run and ruin away?
how is it
that i can be full to the brim
and spill out only gas and steam?
how is it
that i constantly find myself tiptoeing at the tip of my sanity
and drown in dreadful nothingness?
131: nts
in case you forgot,
you are more than blood and bones and tinglings and thoughts.
in case you forgot,
you are a complex being, fragile but loved but tired but brave.
in case you forgot,
you are human.
it's okay to just be.
it's okay to just feel
hell, it's okay to just feel sorry for yourself
sometimes
it's - okay, breathe, breathe, breathe
in
and
out
and in
and out and
internalising toxicity has never done you any good -- no matter how many times you replay all the guilt of the past three decades making you constantly feel like you are
out of time
out of control
out of your mind
but of all the things that you stop yourself from doing out of fear,
please don't stop yourself from living because you're scared of being burnt.
sometimes facing your fires is the only way to let out steam,
so go ahead:
shout at the sea at the top of your lungs at 2 in the morning --
use vibrating showerheads on lazy sunday mornings or lonely weekday nights --
down llaollao generously topped with rainbow sprinkles and crushed graham cookies --
let tears extinguish your flaming eyesmindtongueclenchedfists -- just
let it
all
out
and give yourself
permission
to accept that you may be an organised mess
that you may lose yourself in
but will eventually find your way out at some point.
instead of fixating on the hands of the hours and minutes and seconds tick tick ticking away
as you tick tick untick no tick get ticked off by the things in your neverending checklists
try to accept that you'll only be able to see yourself in retrospect so you can't timetravel back to fix your future but also
try not to worry too much if you can't seem to live in the present the way self-help books keep telling you to.
i know your eyes are covered with layers of open-burn smoke disney-tinted lenses underneath half-eyelids wishing they could remain closed
and it's okay that the only thing you can see most of the time are your hands wiping away frustrations from your eyes, creases from your forehead, and snot from your nostrils
because your sweaty palms and farmer-like digits and unpolished nails
have helped you verbalise what you think and want and need,
have clawed into your aggressor's hands at your most vulnerable,
have cupped water for you to gargle after supermintyhot mouthwash,
have on countless occasions placed antiseptic and plaster on your scraped knees,
have pushed yourself up after kissing the earth from falling down, thanking god, or both,
have touched and tickled and been tingled by those who have returned your love - no matter how brief; despite
having been born or shaped or grown or scarred in ways that are unacceptable in other people's eyes,
they are a part and a reflection of what you are and what you are capable of:
perfectly flawed but able to do and carry and protect and heal
more than you can possibly believe.
so please,
forgive yourself
as much and often as you give excuses for other peole being the way they are
for you not being more
for the times you regress and fall through
for all the opportunities you probably missed because you couldn't get up right away or in time or at all.
because really
it's okay
to not be okay all the time.
2017-04-19 6.26pm
you are more than blood and bones and tinglings and thoughts.
in case you forgot,
you are a complex being, fragile but loved but tired but brave.
in case you forgot,
you are human.
it's okay to just be.
it's okay to just feel
hell, it's okay to just feel sorry for yourself
sometimes
it's - okay, breathe, breathe, breathe
in
and
out
and in
and out and
internalising toxicity has never done you any good -- no matter how many times you replay all the guilt of the past three decades making you constantly feel like you are
out of time
out of control
out of your mind
but of all the things that you stop yourself from doing out of fear,
please don't stop yourself from living because you're scared of being burnt.
sometimes facing your fires is the only way to let out steam,
so go ahead:
shout at the sea at the top of your lungs at 2 in the morning --
use vibrating showerheads on lazy sunday mornings or lonely weekday nights --
down llaollao generously topped with rainbow sprinkles and crushed graham cookies --
let tears extinguish your flaming eyesmindtongueclenchedfists -- just
let it
all
out
and give yourself
permission
to accept that you may be an organised mess
that you may lose yourself in
but will eventually find your way out at some point.
instead of fixating on the hands of the hours and minutes and seconds tick tick ticking away
as you tick tick untick no tick get ticked off by the things in your neverending checklists
try to accept that you'll only be able to see yourself in retrospect so you can't timetravel back to fix your future but also
try not to worry too much if you can't seem to live in the present the way self-help books keep telling you to.
i know your eyes are covered with layers of open-burn smoke disney-tinted lenses underneath half-eyelids wishing they could remain closed
and it's okay that the only thing you can see most of the time are your hands wiping away frustrations from your eyes, creases from your forehead, and snot from your nostrils
because your sweaty palms and farmer-like digits and unpolished nails
have helped you verbalise what you think and want and need,
have clawed into your aggressor's hands at your most vulnerable,
have cupped water for you to gargle after supermintyhot mouthwash,
have on countless occasions placed antiseptic and plaster on your scraped knees,
have pushed yourself up after kissing the earth from falling down, thanking god, or both,
have touched and tickled and been tingled by those who have returned your love - no matter how brief; despite
having been born or shaped or grown or scarred in ways that are unacceptable in other people's eyes,
they are a part and a reflection of what you are and what you are capable of:
perfectly flawed but able to do and carry and protect and heal
more than you can possibly believe.
so please,
forgive yourself
as much and often as you give excuses for other peole being the way they are
for you not being more
for the times you regress and fall through
for all the opportunities you probably missed because you couldn't get up right away or in time or at all.
because really
it's okay
to not be okay all the time.
2017-04-19 6.26pm
126: NaPoWriMo Day 4: Still I Survive
Day 4's prompt, re: Maya Angelou's Still I Rise.
#pckl #day4 #napowrimo #npwm
---
My emotions twist and turn from troposphere heights to oceanbed lows;
sometimes I ✈ through and over ☁s and between 🌈s
other times I'm ⚓ed and suffocating with nowhere to go.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
My mind is a circus with a one-way admission;
the 🎡 keeps me grounded, 🎢 pumps my adrenaline
but I keep getting lost in 👻 mazes of inhibitions.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
My 💓 is an organ everbeating and overbattered;
keep being insisted that sticks and stones may only break bones but i doubt
there's sense in leaving verbal wounds untended, as blood keeps oozing out.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
My chest is "endowed" which oft-translates to "My D wants your D";
because the chances of being cupped by 👹 on the street
are ridiculously higher than finding a cup with the right fit.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
My legs are my vehicle to escape with an expiring key
they allow me to 🏃 and jump and 💃 and get down and dirty
but Doc said I'll have messed up knees by the time I hit thirty.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
---
Sorry for the late post! I had the idea yesterday but it took a while for the words to materialise in my head.
#pckl #day4 #napowrimo #npwm
---
My emotions twist and turn from troposphere heights to oceanbed lows;
sometimes I ✈ through and over ☁s and between 🌈s
other times I'm ⚓ed and suffocating with nowhere to go.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
My mind is a circus with a one-way admission;
the 🎡 keeps me grounded, 🎢 pumps my adrenaline
but I keep getting lost in 👻 mazes of inhibitions.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
My 💓 is an organ everbeating and overbattered;
keep being insisted that sticks and stones may only break bones but i doubt
there's sense in leaving verbal wounds untended, as blood keeps oozing out.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
My chest is "endowed" which oft-translates to "My D wants your D";
because the chances of being cupped by 👹 on the street
are ridiculously higher than finding a cup with the right fit.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
My legs are my vehicle to escape with an expiring key
they allow me to 🏃 and jump and 💃 and get down and dirty
but Doc said I'll have messed up knees by the time I hit thirty.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
---
Sorry for the late post! I had the idea yesterday but it took a while for the words to materialise in my head.
113: scald
of numbers one to ten:
of indifference and going crazy
of in denial and feeling guilty,
on the scale
of all the things through which i've been living to everything i'm capable of being,
of the truths i've been believing to what i'm trying to be achieving,
on the scale
of greatness and sanity
of good health and charity
of godliness and clarity,
i think i finally understand
where i stand.
because on the scale
of underwhelming limits and limiting overgeneralisation,
of forms zero to infinity,
of anorexic to obesity,
i worry
to a senseless degree
of what i am
on scalea
of indifference and going crazy
of in denial and feeling guilty,
on the scale
of all the things through which i've been living to everything i'm capable of being,
of the truths i've been believing to what i'm trying to be achieving,
on the scale
of greatness and sanity
of good health and charity
of godliness and clarity,
i think i finally understand
where i stand.
because on the scale
of underwhelming limits and limiting overgeneralisation,
of forms zero to infinity,
of anorexic to obesity,
i worry
to a senseless degree
of what i am
on scalea
100: breaking news
how do you
brake
the news
to a child
that their only parent
is gone
?
here's one way
:
letting her
estranged villagefolk
who came to take her home
break
the news
at the schoolgate instead
.
because nobody prepared you to face
her
breaking voice
,
her
breaking down
,
as she tries to remain standing
in spite of her wobbly knees
;
as she struggles afloat though
her vision is drowning in tears
;
bothered breathing
,
sobbing and suffocating
;
and you watch
jaw dropped
hands shaking
mind numbed
because nothing prepared you for this
.
holding this
trembling soul
shaken and stirred
by the twists of fate
of having lost
her sole supporter
?
trying to
unbreak
herself
in her state of mind
of worrying about every single thing
of unpredictable uncertainties
---
then you start to realise
that she is no more prepared
than you are
.
nothing
prepared
me
for this
.
how do i
break
the news
to a child
that their only parent
is gone
?
---
written: 13/4/13
last edited: 3/12/13
brake
the news
to a child
that their only parent
is gone
?
here's one way
:
letting her
estranged villagefolk
who came to take her home
break
the news
at the schoolgate instead
.
because nobody prepared you to face
her
breaking voice
,
her
breaking down
,
as she tries to remain standing
in spite of her wobbly knees
;
as she struggles afloat though
her vision is drowning in tears
;
bothered breathing
,
sobbing and suffocating
;
and you watch
jaw dropped
hands shaking
mind numbed
because nothing prepared you for this
.
holding this
trembling soul
shaken and stirred
by the twists of fate
of having lost
her sole supporter
?
trying to
unbreak
herself
in her state of mind
of worrying about every single thing
of unpredictable uncertainties
---
then you start to realise
that she is no more prepared
than you are
.
nothing
prepared
me
for this
.
how do i
break
the news
to a child
that their only parent
is gone
?
---
written: 13/4/13
last edited: 3/12/13
93: Down With Love!
She said
he's over one hour late
stuff about her ex
stuff about conflicts between generations
stuff about middle children
stuff about school
stuff about exes bring baggage
stuff about her family
stuff about why she's afraid of the dark
stuff to not make her look like an idiot
(to no avail)
Naked doesn't even begin to explain
how she felt -- but
She should've known better
For having always been transparent --
She should've known better
For they say people living in glass houses
should mind what they do --
(but alas)
She uses that excuse again --
that she keeps forgetting
to keep being rational
to keep acting professional
to keep doing what's right
to keep avoiding what's wrong
to keep reminding herself
(again and again and again) --
Crushes will most likely
crush her.
92: Down With Love?
He said
We live on different planes of reality
I'm kidnapping you
I'm glad you're shorter than me
You might be surprised by how many exes I have
Here's a toy I bought at RantAi
I don't really like taller women
At least I'm not in debt
Have a look at this
I go everywhere for my girlfriends
I want to be like sustainable man
I don't want to worry about getting married
Pretty girls are usually crazy -- it usually takes 2 months for them to show their craziness
I'm kidnapping you
I'm glad you're shorter than me
You might be surprised by how many exes I have
Here's a toy I bought at RantAi
I don't really like taller women
At least I'm not in debt
Have a look at this
I go everywhere for my girlfriends
I want to be like sustainable man
I don't want to worry about getting married
Pretty girls are usually crazy -- it usually takes 2 months for them to show their craziness
And I listen
And I wonder
and I smile
And I frown
And I nod
quietly
And I wonder
and I smile
And I frown
And I nod
quietly
And he
Leans in to suggest what to eat
Taps my arm to tell me something
Takes me to artsy places
Introduces me to his friends
Smokes discreetly
Hands me a gift
Buys me dinner
Doesn't ask why I tested whether his toy would sink or float
Walks odd because of his injury
Invites me to experience art with him
Taps my arm to tell me something
Takes me to artsy places
Introduces me to his friends
Smokes discreetly
Hands me a gift
Buys me dinner
Doesn't ask why I tested whether his toy would sink or float
Walks odd because of his injury
Invites me to experience art with him
And I blush
And I grin
And I laugh
And I think
And I look
away.
And I grin
And I laugh
And I think
And I look
away.
But he
Doesn't care about time
Doesn't consider making a family
Doesn't plan for the future
Is haunted by his past
Is relaxed about his present
Can't do long-term
Can't stop smoking
Can't be alone
Doesn't consider making a family
Doesn't plan for the future
Is haunted by his past
Is relaxed about his present
Can't do long-term
Can't stop smoking
Can't be alone
Said I was pretty
Why do you do this to me?
And I am probably lonely
And I am possibly bored
And I am slightly agitated
And I am definitely tired
of Love
And I am possibly bored
And I am slightly agitated
And I am definitely tired
of Love
87: BittersweeTea
sweet
is my iced wintermelon tea
as i nibble at the gummy bubbles
and the flavored rainbow jellies
-munch
-munch
look outside
-munch
an old woman walks past
-munch
-mun--
her blanket over her arm
---ch
her hair unkempt
-pause
her expression confused
-stare
her clothes disarray
-focus
Homeless?
-assess
Disowned!
-conclude
Disability.
-pause
is my iced wintermelon tea
as i nibble at the gummy bubbles
and the flavored rainbow jellies
-munch
-munch
look outside
-munch
an old woman walks past
-munch
-mun--
her blanket over her arm
---ch
her hair unkempt
-pause
her expression confused
-stare
her clothes disarray
-focus
Homeless?
-assess
Disowned!
-conclude
Disability.
-pause
-munch.
-look down
chatime in my palm
-look out
blanket on her arm
-stop
chatime in my palm
-look out
blanket on her arm
-stop
Gulp.
sweet
is my iced wintermelon tea,
but did it always have
such a bitter aftertaste?
is my iced wintermelon tea,
but did it always have
such a bitter aftertaste?
Aug 11 2013
78: Adieu Kate
kate said:
"at the end of the day,
all teachers look for are mistakes"
but then i realised
that in our dualistic system of
black or white
loose or tight
wrong or right
we have lost sight
in the middle of the spectrum
in the middle of everything
and sweep under the carpet
because only adults
can have opinions, right?
become notorious rebels
"adieu, kate!"
as she faces the world beyond the school gate
because she will come to realise
that school didn't really prepare her for all that
but in some ways, it did
just not exactly like
---
kate said
"at the end of the day,
i was about to defend my profession
i was about to defend myselfbut then i realised
that in our dualistic system of
black or white
loose or tight
wrong or right
we have lost sight
of kids like kate:
in the middle of the line
in the middle of the graphin the middle of the line
in the middle of the spectrum
in the middle of everything
and yet nowhere to be found.
we stuff them into boxes
expecting them to still breathe
and then we wonder
why they choke when we ask them to speak;
we make them give answers
based on prepared marking schemes
they can't think too far
they can't think too far
-- can't give more than the examiner wanted;
we want them to be unique
yet shut them down when they areand sweep under the carpet
their blood, sweat and tears like specks of dust
we tell them to listen listen listen
and then we talk talk talk talk talkbecause only adults
can have opinions, right?
and then we complain
that kids like katebecome notorious rebels
or passionless zombies.
so when kate finishes school
i wonder if i can honestly say"adieu, kate!"
as she faces the world beyond the school gate
because she will come to realise
that school didn't really prepare her for all that
but in some ways, it did
just not exactly like
what we had said.
---
kate said
"at the end of the day
all teachers look for
are mistakes"
i was about to defend my profession
i was about to defend myself
and then i realised
that she was not far from right.
because in our dualistic system of
black or white
loose or tight
wrong or right
we have lost sight
of kids like kate,
those who are
in the middle of the line
in the middle of the graph
in the middle of the spectrum
in the middle of everything
and yet nowhere to be found
and
we stuff them into boxes
expecting them to breathe
and then we wonder
why they choke when we ask them to speak;
we force them to answer
based on the scheme
not what they had discovered
-- hey, it's more than what the examiner wanted.
we want them to manage
by themselves,
so we sweep under the carpet
their blood, sweat and tears like specks of dust
we give them rules to follow
which we ourselves
don't heed or understand
and then say 'tut tut' when they are confused
we tell them to listen listen listen
and then we talk talk talk talk talk
because only adults
can have opinions, right?
and then we complain
that kids like kate
become notorious
or lifeless beings.
so when kate finishes school
i wonder if i can honestly say
"adieu, kate!"
as she faces the world beyond the school gate
because she will come to realise
that school didn't really prepare her for all that
but in some ways, it did
just not exactly like
what we had said.
---
i was once a kate, and i hope i educate.
---
kate said
"at the end of the day
all teachers look for
are mistakes"
i was about to defend my profession
i was about to defend myself
and then i realised
that she was somewhat right.
because in our dualistic system of
black and white
loose or tight
wrong and right
we have lost sight
of kids like kate
they are those
who are somewhere
in the middle of the line
in the middle of the graph
in the middle of the spectrum
in the middle of nowhere
and
we stuff them into boxes
expecting them to breathe
and then we wonder
why they choke when we ask them to speak;
we force them to answer
according to the scheme
not what they had discovered
because it's more than what the examiner wanted.
we want them to manage
by themselves,
and we sweep their problems
under the carpet like silly specks useless dust
we give them rules to follow
which we ourselves
don't heed or understand
and then say 'tut tut' when they are confused
we tell them to listen listen listen
and then we talk talk talk talk talk
because only adults
can have opinions, right?
and then we complain
that kids like kate
become notorious
or zombies.
but
when kate finishes school
i wonder if i can honestly say
"adieu, kate!"
as she faces the world beyond the school gate
because she will come to realise
that school didn't really prepare her for all that
but in some ways, it did
just not exactly according to
what we had said.
---
i was once a kate
and i hope i educate.
74: Moga Bisa
seorang
yang biasa
tapi luar biasa
kerana bisa
melangkau jauh bila mengadap gaung
melompat tinggi biar di jambatan tali
berazam besar untuk dijadikan realiti
yang bisa
melawan arus di aliran yang deras
tersungkur jatuh terus bangun kembali
meminta maaf sekiranya menyakiti,
yang
mukanya tidak masam
lidahnya tidak menghirisi
tangannya tidak berduri,
yang bisa
belajar
dari kebaikan
dan kesilapan
dari kesenangan
dan kesusahan,
yang bisa
menasihat
dan merawati
mengawal
dan memerhati,
berkali kali,
tanpa keluh,
tanpa henti,
dari hadirnya ke bumi,
hingga saat dikebumi.
ini
manusia
yang aku mahu
jadi.
5/3/13 3.42pm
I've been extra careless with my words and actions lately. :(
70: blow job
To think
that being a quarter century old
would help me
endure the mental torture
and the emotional turmoil
of figuring out how to minimise
the blow
of breaking another person's heart.
that being a quarter century old
would help me
endure the mental torture
and the emotional turmoil
of figuring out how to minimise
the blow
of breaking another person's heart.
29/11/12 2pm
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