When I Was Dead

When I Was Dead
I danced till the asphalt drank the spilt blood of my feet
As they dragged across the heat
Tripping against music and beats
I danced when I was dead

When I was dead
The dust I kicked was bread in their mouths
Crutching their crotches while they went down south
Hiding their faces behind blotches
And showing their teeth before jumping on the bus

When I was dead
Freedom rose from my head
With sounds that pointed straight towards the cradle of a man
Whose name is the chill that the blizzard carries forth
I danced when I was dead

When I was dead
I opened the hole in my face
And while I kept the faith and prayed for grace
The grey days grew out in a fall of colours
Even though it never went anywhere
Even though it never went anywhere

But despite my demise
When I scribbled with my prize
In red-eyed hours I rise with volumous cries
Begging with hands slapped together
Under the cheap glow of the nightly moonlight
My soul was genius

For six time-filled months
Losing hours upon hours through a window to the world
I was alive even though I was dead
Pounding and strumming and picking and screaming
And plucking and poking
And grabbing hope from the unreachable-ness that was lurking behind somewhere
Somewhere out there
Somewhere over the rainbow
Where skies are blue and pink and stinks
I was alive even though I was dead

When I was dead
I danced till the asphalt drank the spilt blood of my feet
As they dragged across the heat
Tripping against music and beats
I danced… and I danced… and I danced… till I came alive

In The Shade of Sun

I came to you in a shade of orange
And you to me, in a shade of sun
Just a cursory glance
And my heart was won
We walked and smiled
Beguiled and fairytaled
And once the evening sprawled in our eyes
Our space traced its miles for years and years

But how I thank God
Within his pod of time we trod
He brought one to the other
When the seeking was sought

With a little push
Through the invisible thickness of chats and mails
And stale pseudonyms stashed in cyberspace cracks
Through an ancient web, and a network of answers to questions
Of wheres and whys and hows
Questions… questions…
Questions that erased impossibilities into oblivion
Questions that surfaced a sweet memory
Questions that navigated you to my direction
Questions that you ask while looking through lost and found

And you found…

In my stream of dreams
I never would have thought
That beam of smile I held for awhile
In a mere inch-long sticker print
Would scale the earth
To see the birth of unsullied love

Our eyes met again
Fresh
With stories rewritten on the skin of our faces
Beautiful anyhow
How you changed
Evolved
Bloomed from that point in time
Immortalized on a sticker and hugged between the leaves of your book
But your look shook me and my heart was won

Now I come to you in a shade of redness so deep
And you to me, still in the shade of sun

It’s Not A Halfway Mark

It’s not a halfway mark
Where the end is within sight
It’s not the point where we decide
That the might of quarrel’s blight
Has diseased love’s light

It’s not a reason to stop and think
Of the whys and wherefores
Of the grating on our nerves
It’s not the season to say the things
That bring cries uncalled for

It’s the time to extinguish blemishes
By the brilliance of our unity
It’s the time to begin counting kisses
Of tender days
Moments of fulfillments
Where we let flow our prayers for each other

It’s the time we let go of clenched fists
And hold back poisoned tongues
It’s the time we smile and celebrate
Where we rejoice with embraces
And revel in the thought that our journey has brought us here.

A Tokyo Rendezvous

Meet me at a place
Where the nights shiver in neon flicker
Where the velvet skin of the night sky throbs
To the hops and panting of baggy-pants pop
Where hunter eyes feel up the city skirts
And pull their fun with them in taxi getaways

Meet me at a place
Where giant soup bowls float their spirits high
Where flawless slurps begin and end with sighs
Where emotions bloom with sating aroma
And the lunch people bow
To invite the stomach growls

Meet me at a place
Of rubber and ropes and desirous hopes
Where the crack of whips silently wait in boxes
Where the shivering chivalrous remember their roots
And to the moods they swing back
Back to the streets with leering, honest eyes

Meet me at a place
Where the strong hands slide in deft nimbleness
Shredding strings and sowing song seeds around
Where opportunity wears its first shoes
And steps out into the cold, hard world
Lullabying it into molten

Meet me at a place
Where multi-coloured confusion weaves mad
And monochrome people huddle in lines
Where rail tracks heave Japanese through Tokyo
Where kawaii jingles cock your head to the sides
And distract you from dirty straddling thoughts

Meet me at a place
Where garb groping comes in spontaneity
And the skin of culture grows stylistically
Where bright canary checkered flannel shirt
Meets coal mine black jeans topped with fedora
And that’s only one out of a million

Meet me at a place
A resting place for oil stained bristles
Where canvas faces hang without reason
And stare through existence without a care
Where there be stunning colours or just black
The walking wrinkled people just stare back

Meet me at a place
Under the cherry clouds that blossom free
Where all partakers come for a festive spree
In the biting wind of spring
Like the tingling sting of a journey’s end
You stuff each memory into the boughs of pink

A Culture

While innocence of peacefulness
Ran by in its wide carriage
Holding a chaotic past
Bearing witness to scraping of streets
With drunken feet
Passing deep thirsty girls by
Soothing their lady loneliness
(Perhaps each claiming a place for herself
At the booth of single darkness)
Against their lovers’ man hands
Both speaking spirit breath
Into each other’s heaven-reached faces

Whence they drowned their tongues
And bit into hip-hop firmament
Where coloured spotlights fought the night
And Him on the spinning pedestal
Who foddered music to their arms and feet

Whence they milked paper sticks
And blew ashen shots
Under blue lights
And their speak floated
Through the intercourse of other smoggy speeches

There, they came
From a jungle cleft
In a flood covered in youth skin
Of opened mouths and oblivion
Pining for the next story
To be spit into their longing ears

The Dilemma

The mystery sank deep
Into the veins
Of my double-beat heart
Rolling out my exhausted tongue
Like a one-week old worn out party blower

I put my knees down
Rested my head
Against the shoulder of the Holy Ghost
While desperation waded in my breath

I flipped the Bible with a flippant hand
Found Jeremiah in a well
Charmed and confused
With two minds
I tossed a mental coin

What secret loomed
Hid as doom within a day
And I returned
Back to the head hung mire
To start and start again

The Joke Of Vanity

Oh, my eyes
Pricked
By early poison-hours
Overflowing with sleeplessness
Made to watch themselves

And what I discovered
Unrecognizable
A pinch in the cheeks
A blasphemous wink
Pulling last night’s face strings
Like a rein on time

Mutinous legs –
No mistakes
About their unerring loyalty –
Only just
What a time they chose
To make a brake
On what I would hold proud
Its sprouts
If only they did

Then there is the mid-range
Cursed and outdated
Skirted and menacing
Melted through the fleshpots
Throwing back the heavies…

Then I remember the joy!

Pride

I was born today yet again
Feeding my red nakedness
To rainbow-eyed music heads
Bobbing to pseudo beatnik beats
Carrying curly smiles

I feigned wisdom through a cunning mouth
That invented existing rhymes
And sang flowered songs
In a hungry flavoured voice

So they came
The twisted claps and lauding lips
I saw the invisible rising of hips
And the encouraging aroma of darkness-drips
I stood and smelt my incensed pride

So I let my happiness climb
Through the evening of brand new handshakes
My name hanging starry bright
A legend in my head

And when the curtains dropped
The feet, they walked away
With them, each held the peal
That faded like a sunset
Leaving my smile to face the black felt of night

Over the Malayan tracks at Upper Bukit Timah

6.25pm

I chased the sunset
To the rain-drained train tracks
Browned with age
And blossomed with wisdom
Old gravel stones
Grey and touched by the moods of nature
Spilled each side
Guarding, loyal and silent
Yellow beaked mynahs in a pair
Lost in play in the brittle bush
While scouting for the evening’s wormly meal
And the trees, wild and wizened
Holding proud their callused leaves
Bending forward
To touch the transient wind
And as the bald blue sky
Turns magic orange over the Malayan Railway tracks
Nothing dies…
The murmur of the rubbered wheels on the roads
Continues speaking of a different story
With a louder language
Coloured with impatience
Covered with feeble excitement

6.58pm

Haiku of Loneliness

Softly like cotton
All the humid and damp air
Touches his wet face

A happy gold smile
Shows up permanently pure
Looking at road kill

Pink and beautiful
A dress in all its splendour
On a lonely man

Good conversations
Walking slowly side by side
With no one at all

(Original poem without sticking to the Haiku metre)

Softly like cotton
The humid air
Touches his face

A happy smile
Shows up
Looking at road kill

Pink and beautiful
A dress
On a man

Friendly conversations
Walking side by side
With nobody

Everytime I Think Of You

Everytime I think of you
I get chills abound shooting through
Building up a grand jubilance
Common of a lover's heart

Everytime I think of you
Your sound my ears receive its dew
I pull away the wistful smiles
And write the miles of poetry

Everytime I think of you
My purposed days seem more than true
Silent but keen I mere exist
To lead the days hitherto

Everytime I think of you
Harp strings play and violins too
And the rain of roses render rich
My heart's hearty heart a little bloom

Everytime I think of you
My laughter grows for only you
And when worlds divide and souls depart
I’ll be sure to hold you closer to my heart

At the corner Coffeeshop at Kerbau Road

3.10pm
At lengths, the peaceful streets
Guilty with afternoon heat
And sudden-filled
Of jasmine wafts and incense
And lunch-time curry
Over the corner of Kerbau Road
The smell of tired bodies
And milling Indian men
With thrust chests
Enter a blue and white shophouse door
The gaudy sounds of flute
And tabla and Bollywood women
From a faraway music player
Decorates the quiet
And all at once:
An engine is brought to life
Another is killed
A new breeze released
And a rag-and-bone man
Points his finger to an oblivious passer-by
And all at once a new moment arrives
And leaves the previous behind
3.45pm

Bring Back My Beginning

Under spleen, when it all sprouted
In bloodied words in place of punches I cowered
Vulgarized. A pen I madly splurged
When the blazes I felt in swells of welts
I felt

Bring back my beginning I cry after
From the boughs and other wood things
The autumn words fell as I caught in frenzy
In crazy: the genius I crazed

Where Dylan scored and courted brilliance
Through flummery sweetness
With only the quill of his dangling wit
I shivered in honey quivers, vicariously

And I say all of the wind on which he wrote
He wrote a spell in riot I couldn’t quell
And gorged myself with solitude
As I passed my pen across with the raw

Bring back the beginning of outbursts
The life of swirls in thirsty whirls
Twirling ink and rhythm and rhyme together
Mashing sounds and meshing music words

Days when I stripped and careless cared
To bare the rare for all to stare
About the lines how coarse yet fragrant
They whipped the storm from my belly up

And in the weakened nights with swaying eyes
I pushed out words, I merely sang a monologue
And from the royal sights I cried in tears
That wrote out blessings with a kill

Bring back my beginning I cry after
The root of my ever-y
The source of the solace I sought
That granted petaled promises painted in smiles

And from bloodied words they came
Now they go, clean as can be
Shaven from meaning, droughted feelings
Dead as the grated sound of the barren silence boring in

Between the thorns of each day

Between the thorns of each day
The mouse-scared minutes I kneel my body to rest
Sleeping on my toes
Waking with every windblow
I hold an educated face
One that plunders smiles
And wears the plastic ones instead

And with this shiny smile
Bottled with the colour of gloom
The roped up man
Pretty in his robed up self
Lays his footprints and handshakes around
Non-oblivious to the big, cold wind
Eagerly waiting to serve another one to the world
On the 'ol sooted platter

And so, the prison-waiting begins
The fast and fragile clock hands throw time
While my head repeats the honest words
I welled up myself

Between the thorns of each passing day
I push through the iron
Still keeping my brain
Raging for the light to drop on me
Waiting still for the perfect word
Hidden behind the very tips of my fingers
Telling me my sun will still be shining

Inaugurational B.O.

Standing on their naked stance
Waiting for war to give a chance
Fighting sticks and stones without a glance

Buried futures cast in ashes
Cradles drowned from tears and clashes
All because some crazy wind blew by

Prophesying ghosts of justice
Making clowns out of a ten-piece
While holding on to someone else's keys

Sitting on a kingly seat
Strangling, smiling, looking neat
Turning round to ask what it's all about

There won't be
No there won't be
There won't be war anymore

There won't be
Lord, no there won't be
There won't be war anymore

But now the page it takes a flip
A hero taking to the streets
With all the stars promised into a heap

What used to be a circus show
Buried now beneath the snow
Hope stands at the edge of morning glow

Hands that once used to hold black
Now promises to hold sorrows back
Putting truth and faith onto the track

Pointing a finger to the sky
Fist unclenched with a joyous cry
A glorious march now to victorai

There won't be
No there won't be
There won't be war anymore

There won't be
Lord, no there won't be
There won't be war anymore

The Prayer to The Mother

Dearest Mother,

They say it’s you we can turn to
In times of tight-eyed prayer
When tears have shed bare
From imparting too much of ourselves
Giving away our moments of existence
During when we just forget
And plough in all our time for the self
Thinking in the end we’ll not regret

But how naïve and bland we make out life to be
When truly, we only say “please”
On the rocky second we start to feel queasy
And learning to presume your very presence
Is perpetually just a handslap away
Closing out our eyes for mere longer blinks
From the piercing light through the chinks
In our cotton-armoured lives
And leaving the mending to your divine tool hands

I put my hands in prayer for your help, dear Mother
To unleash our slithering pride instead
To build on a humble garment
And leave judgement to whom we thank our existence

And despite the temptations of praying
For the sad and selfish needs of Me
I pray not for certain miracles to be
Not for the ashes of hurt to be reborn
Not for peace of my mind
Nor even possessions of any worldly kind

I pray for a bigger miracle
Not only for the bodily experience
But the mind and soul of every person in this world
Be it friend or foe
Strangers or people we know
Everyone we love or hated
And people who slide through the paths
Of our everyday lives

I pray for the fiercest of their personal storms to subside;
That the petals of peace be washed upon all lands;
That love will not be just a word of transient moments
But an enduring one they can find in their hearts;
That apathy, fear and self-centredness be sword down;
So that pain would only be a mere recording of history
And that the smiles of our offspring shall be sweetly savoured
And that we know God has always been by our side

Catching A Moment

I forgot to catch that moment
You know the one that closes your eyes softly
Running rain music between your ears
With Christmas hand cupping your face
While seeing the feathers of these silences
Turn each soft second
Around the fuzzy wet windows
Seeing haloed tungstens pass
And you're packed up in woolen warmth
Enjoying the melancholic cold blowing on your hands

You know the one that forms your goosebumps
Hearing melodic full whisperings
Quietly misting up the glass
With your singing breath
Along to the caresses and weightlessness
Of the black and whites
Of the jingles piping in

Nostalgia II

It doesn’t take old songs
It doesn’t take old voices
It doesn’t take an ancient pen
To hold you back in
Where you started and started again

The winds will roll out their tongues
And move swiftly
To lick nostalgia upon a river of time
Through your skin
Your Ears
Your Eyes
Your Nose
Your Tongue
Wherever they deem a suit to smart you in the heart

I reckon that be a rescue
From the rolling of your conveyor belt days
Or perhaps just a pain loving moment?
That the winds are blamed
It’s possibly only a simple choice of thought
Where you decide to either play in harmony with yourself
Or gangster bang your sweet present
And poison the minutes you’re in
With a myth
- A ghost of yourself

But all in time
Before you think you got it
That you’ve been guided back with candy shots
Through the dangles of dreamy reenactment
Forcing your eyes spinning white
Watching the crackling frames
Of your backward spool
Swallowing spit
In shiverness
Down the gullet of delicious memories
Your old fingers gouge the pouting sockets of recollection
Trying in hardness to live within the fingers of your fist
Elastic time will snap you back
And there you go
Swinging through the leaves of a yellow past
Never knowing what really hit you
When all it was that did
Were the sounds of the little soft notes
You hear in peeling layers of nostalgia
Within the solace of a quiet moment

Bruise berry

Bruise berry eyes
Dark brown ignorance
Craving sunlight revelation
Caving in to fool emptiness

A complete fabric
Wizarded
Plant of apathetic tears
Fallen wet of colour
Down a feathered face
Never bothered, ever simple
Dimpled with moulded smiles and frowns

If there be smoldering days
- breathless ones that collapse with a bang
Fathering running heartbeats
And widening shock-eyes
That’s when the fall is felt
Upon the very proud skin
Losing touch
Collecting love
And catching careless beads of rays

With eyes closed and looking within
The fodder fed man shakes
Along the beat of the heat
Gaining speed, gaining greed
And when the bruise berries open
The apathetic tears begin again

A memory would not be one

A memory would not be one
If it’s not even a memory done

Choking In Chinese

Scarlet bearing cheeks
In a truth moment
Starkly bared
Breathing in waters of embarrassment
And cold curled lips
Twisting like a cynic’s mind
A moment hardly undone
While clock hands nodded
And clock heads smiled
To my groping
As my English tongue killed
The actual words it was born to speak
The bush of courtesy procreated
Between the stuttering and the confused
Staccato winds unwound
Leaving droplets of Chinese
In their faces
Where their pretend yeses
Pretend to be
And their pretend eyes telling me
“You’re freaking Chinese!”

The Smiling Us

As if a mirror is not enough
Seeing crotches and bareness all
Sweeping lengthy fingers of nails
Across
The length of droppingness you’re worried about
But no not nothing can be anything done
And in dressed up skin
Or an undressed pre-party chest
A-heaving
Excited wet teeth
Tappy
A chattering smile
Cheesing at a piece of you
And at once it’s gone in a minion minute
To leave a gentle mantle
Pretty enough to remain
Smile prints in your head

But oh!
What gluttons of moments we are
Refusing the passings of clock running
Snaring the non-stopping tick-tockings
Click-hogging on DCs
On silver knobbles with trigger happy fiddlydees
Stuck in moments too long, too round
Too wasted living a shot, a second longer
And all the lonely, lovely ones
Sadly try
Rubbing on stinging masks
Painted on with happy black colours
And get it stolen away by a godly flash
And the moment’s washed and faded
Merely cast in bits
To be swept and kept within lucidity of the past
For man to see
What surface freedom
What redness blown on faces shown
Sprawled naked across the world
To only give one man gold
And smiling us run amok cyberwards
To feed the deed of plasticity
Into bright liquid windows
Bright enough to grow five tonne heads

Well, Is that frozen bliss?

I am a pote

For I am a pote
With words I coat
A slaking moat
I am a pote

For I am a pote
I hoard for heights
To seek for might
I am a pote

I am a pote
At times I choke
On words unspoke
For I am a pote

I am a pote
I’m sad and broke
But very much stoked
For I am a pote

Through the oceaned sky I grope
With perverse blind eyes
Finding a fix to ruin the stagnancy
Of the rotting black wounds of my idleness
And through massive liquid windows
(At times of a darkening green
At times of reaching my glassy eyes
At times when I stop
And start again)
The starries,
They bare all ten fingers of their souls
Waving it a thousand and more times
To pull me in their shrouded thoughts
And I get unsobered with their liquored words
I get moved
And hope for strokes
To stroke hopes
And I am a pote

Within the lids of my sleeplessness

Within the lids of my sleeplessness
I find your vivid self dressed in dreams
Loving life with so much might
Loving me with heartaches and grit
I made a vow, now, to help myself
Pass red lights and dropping currents
To feed back in showers what I have got
And I pull under frowns and groans
On stubborn mountains
On roped up seas
But in spite of that seeming hopelessness
I’ve got my share to give
Just a matter of a sit down time
But it will be there, darling
To reach you in stretched out arms
To wrap you within a longing me
I will be there and I promise you
But not during when you think
Or not during when I might
But it will be when
During a time you will smile
And find that Love has always been holding your hand
And I will be there

There It Goes

I never knew the grind of non-poetry
Of never freedom sounds
Of safe illicit pounds of words
Shredding light away from its inner glow
Now I know

Someone’s given me corns of scorn
Through the wind from his eyes
And slapping pink pies with thorns
Killing the rain I slurp up from
Soon it’s gone

Just when I thought for comfort from blood
I sought a little merry
But not so terry, the words I heard
They ravaged my eager smile
Wait awhile

And with grass green eyes I look to the Pantheon
How tastefully savage
Their nude words age with beauty
While I bathe in their mirthful prose
There it goes

Before the age of old and logicness

Before the age of old and logicness
Or logicity. Or logic sanity.
Before it catches on
Upon my diswired brain
Before it wires shut completely
To offer wise betrayals
The wisdom of the kingdom
That would prevent the switching on
The halo-light inspiration
Mauling at every hair on my head
At everywhere I walk
Before it stops sending shiver shots
Of beauty songs in cursive
And I get fiery scared
For the day I stop illogically
And begin myself in linear lines
In opened book meanings
Then the shivers would be
Of a different species and breed
They would breed fear and fright
Of onlookers perhaps and judges too

And Everyday

And everyday, the chatter of the sun
Sprawls across
As it speels towards the morn

And everyday matters to me
Because I look forward
On my face a smile adorns

And everyday seems brighter
Than the day before
The light shines forth from you

And everyday is a better day
Because you exist
And I am grateful for you

An ode to life

I met with magnificence today
Something I’ve not known for all my life
Its stateliness rings
And yet humility stretches throughout
A voice unwavering and strong
And power I felt like bell tolls
With an orchestra of strength that blasts out
A tide of might and inspiration
Its ruling grounds grand to the hilt
Always poised to take on the world
Towering over day and sweeping out night
Yet little enough to know what’s right
The song unsung that explodes in my head
Melodious hauntings in strings of splendour
Sparkling majesty that shines in honest brilliance
With its robe shrouding everything
In sudden crashes and deliberate strides
Bowing down to only the creator
A king of life and gold and silver
Munching punches and blowing gales
Commanding masses to breathe and be hale
With chills of war and a famine of peace
It leads the choirs of kingdoms to sing
And soar through the lands on spread out wings
With the help of angels in splendid white
From heaven they charge with fists for peace
And bolts of anger in their hands
And tears to quench the hungry
It never was proud
But confident with a distinguished face
King of treasures that cannot be seen
Of greatness that rides the high skies
And trumpet shouts of joy when life itself can smile
With arms raised to the roar of drums
Savouring the beauty of stars
As they burst and burn into blossoms of regal colours
Impressively built to save the world from sullenness
And there’s no chance of stopping any time yet
Because it has all and everything to write about
More than just feelings and senses and marching soldiers
More than God and truth and love and lies
And it is fearless and fearful
Gallant and selfish
It opens castle doors and gates to hearts of men
And how this massive infestation of life
Could ravel into one
Is a secret that everyone knows
It's all about disappointments and joyousness
And creation and destruction
More than what a song is able
More than what is you and me

A poem in 5 minutes

So now I begin to write
Of what
Of how
Of anything at all
That I’ve been given this mere time
A span to spew
As much I can
As much I might
With all my might
In this mere 5 minutes
With simplicity I strap upon my back
To make out words
In the hope of finding that click
With meaning
With nirvana
With profound insanity
Which, in the end have not any
And now to rush in such
I end at the finish line
Prematurely late

Untitled

Hurry now
The time is up
It’s never too late
But it’s now or never
Just cross your fingers
And breathe your wish
Just say those things
And it’s been wished upon
Hurry now
It’s almost time
The days are shutting
Their numbers near
Lest your fears be sparked
In wide-eyed moments
Smooth it down
And let it swim

Built From 10

Built from 10
Gone a long way
Chemistry tunes with bursts of gold
Sleeping and it's been untouched forever
Riding on waves of excited nostalgy
Used to be great

The Apple – A Poem

With all its might and flurry flushes
Furied madness in its cheeks
Pumped to its full ripeness
In tight muscular delight
And squeaky smoothness riding on plump

A scream of hairlessness in a red lump
On my palm
An ego’s egg
Or a bald bosom (Of course it’s bald)
It feels nice… the apple
In its own waxy ozone
Smartly neatened out
Unlike chalkboard smooth
But smooth like the dragged out note of a harmonica tune
And a nipple of twig
Perfectly erect and dry

An evil thwack like sexy heels
On chunks of legs
Against wet concrete on a quiet sleepy night
Bounces of empty
And clucks on your fingertips
Straining out, almost to burst
A muffled punch on frozen meat
Bland but bright and fat
That’s the apple ring
A slap, a flap
A muted snap
But that’s not all
The chorus gets louder
Your teethy whites come down
And the clash of dampened cymbals
And the scratching of a breaking bough so crisp
It cleans your attention into oblivion

In rainbows and fires of good and bad
Where sleep lost angels dwell and gather
Shrouding sweetness onto perfection
And reaching deep to its seeds
From which all genesis of appleness grow
An armour, a malic condom
Budding on pink buds on your tongue
Sometimes squinty-eyed
Sometimes wide-eyed salivation
Bountiful and rich
A barrel of scurvy fighters
And a deluge of lust pouring in
A practise pad of sorts
To use your tongue on the most saccharine flesh
Bound by purity
Bound by the tempest
A bait so sweet it opened our eyes
The moment of shame when wisdom came
Listening to the slither
Of a hiding laughter
And it’s sunshine brightness
A wafer of heart thumping poetry
That stands in the shape of a zesty state

Grand with spits of mirth worth smiles
Crazy days that keep you alive
With leaps in heightened excitement
Meadows of freshness under your skin
Almost the substance of daintiness in sleep
A sleepy-eyed lover, bowing over
To bury his nose in the nape of his stranger’s neck
The fragrance, a secret blowing fast
Ploughing in with careful fingers scraping
To grasp a deep breath of its yellow musk
To forget the bitter taste of yesterday
For a moment
And it loses its smell
Deep within, saved
Leaving only the beginning of a rotting start
Racing itself to a brown death
And while you smile
To the blooming smell of apple loins
Mindful with squandering thoughts
Of earthly simplicity
The ethereal winds gather height
With languor strapped to their skirted backs
Spread upon the lands
Seeding smells, seeding smiles
Under the same old sun
Nodding its ancient head
Everything in the skin of the earth
Will then beam in its greatness
And lay down till the next sunrise

The OCTOBER Songs

OCTOBER

When candles were blown for the 21st time
And the world was filled with beerful hiccups,
A storm, abating, gently dying,
Was when the world began its colours crawling in
And the hum of music was complete with visions.
The realization of all things perfect
Stood with angelic likeness
With a voice of naked beauty in song.
All time was with us
And a thread to sew.
Only a fool would not know which way
When a glow was blooming right under his nose.

NOVEMBER

Smiles pressed into our faces from the promises made,
As we listened to Johnny over and again.
Knowing this, the first on the list
Of living it up:
“No way November we’ll say our goodbyes.”
It seemed the path, he’s paved for us
Of biblical rules,
Of poetic bliss.
Where none was trivial,
Our breathless sighs were a constant peak to our days.
This was the time
Virgin pleasures wrought.
This was the time
The first of all things were born.

DECEMBER

And rain it was that gave its light
When moments came in flashes and might.
It offered a treasure, first of many;
A string of chords and words aplenty.
It helped when Christmas soul returned,
Touched my heart, and I pulled a tune.
How I made her heart surrender,
How it happened I’ll always wonder.
For it was just mere affection,
I didn’t do much but to love her true

JANUARY

I remember the part
With shouts and bangs
And then the music began again
In the sea of smoke and resolute drunks
Popping Chinese through a microphone
And a series of claps in a drunken trance
While our bonds tightened
And our own resolutions made
With cheers in our hearts
And a new year began with a kiss
So sweet, I’d played it in my mind
For the rest of the day till the next new year

FEBRUARY

Our lives, entwined
From the very first time with music
So my valentine appeared
With a bag of love filled with loads of it
As if she truly read my mind
And knew the wishes of my heart
For she never fails to put
A ready smile on my face
And she never fails to drip
A few more drops of love on me

MARCH

And here’s a toast to Saint Paddy’s day
The end of the list for Johnny, that is
But not for us, no siree
Coz we know we’ll still be safe
From April Fool’s till a new Christmas
And probably will still be on the “so on”
But let’s just see for now
If April’s really fooling us
But I guess it really was the other way around
It was always the plan
Right from the start

APRIL

My heart warmed up and pumped
When my eyes fell upon the efforts
Of the hands of my angel
The world was ours,
The time was ours
For now we’re at the halfway mark
And everything sour and everything bitter
We know could be worked out better
So cheers to this sixth month
And to many more

MAY

Now, as the days, like lullabies,
Peel off in layers of tunes
To find their way back from being lost
Within the feathers of songs
And grab a moment in time
For a moment to ponder
Might be slightly a task to do
So here, might I say
While I grow more insane
With a keenness for you
Is one of the moments
I shed no light
For it is when, these times
I fill them up with love
And only love for you

JUNE

And all of what went through my mind
In all of what went through my mind
No fingers or toes of mine
Could relish the delight
Of pointing to an easy direction
Knowing exactly where & what kind
Of memories in a lyrical whirlwind
Would surface
Like teabags soaked with thoughts
Singing in my head
I only think of you
I wouldn’t give a second song
To another one
Because there wouldn’t be another like you

JULY

With sweat and tears and blood and sighs
I blew and stretched and whipped a storm
I wrote my girl a birthday song
I made a great day for everyone
To everyone, I sang that song
And everyone smiled and clapped along
I knew by then, it wasn’t wrong
The girl I loved sat right in front
For it was to that girl I wrote that song
One which told her she’s the only one

AUGUST

My lion pride was stroked when my eyes unveiled
To the most wonderful sight on earth
With dappled warm and fuzzy lights
And the smell of rubber and burnt wax
’Twas the greatest birthday yet
And I’d wished it not to stop
And time did freeze upon the flare of colours bright
And did a little longer when I fell a little stronger
The candles shot into the blackness of my birthday sky
Into explosions of flowers raining down
Stealing darkness away for mere seconds at a time
The wish I had materialised
My baby sat before me and sighed her wish against my ear,
A greeting so special, I wish it happens again

SEPTEMBER

Where night was bright from little wax flickers
And holding wooden chopsticks and paper bulbs, walking
Unaware and ignorant
Of the gigantic night before us
With the moon in its full splendour
Smiling brilliance into the world
There, in our gait, we smiled back to each other
In the midst of many others smiling
We loved and laughed and spoke to the waters
And planned our next stage in the next year before us

OCTOBER

And throwing back my thoughts to the start
How fleeting it felt and how long it was
I’ve written down a year’s worth
Of laughter and tears and everything more
And though it’s the end; a cycle of sorts
It’s really not the end; there’ll be more to come
It’s truly a journey, a mere beginning
I can’t wait to see what the end looks like
An end with you
Where love abounds

In Peaks of Red

And I sigh with a glee of height
In stupor stages
As my mind takes flight in peaks of red

Your peachy laughter and pink sighs
A great prozac
A great someone to fall in love with

And it comes with no tricky tick
No more effort whatsoever
Than just a simple flick

I have my drumming of fingers
A secret song
My coveted thoughts, a-thumping

A Valentine thus spawns whole
Lovely before me
As my mind takes off in peaks of red