"Sonnet to a statue, hunched over in the leaves"

The statue: eternally in deep thought,
never looks up to face the burning sphere. 
Unable to find the answers it sought,
It sits, wrapped about itself, soaked in fear. 

What goes through your mind, my motionless friend? 
If you could somehow speak, what would you say?
Wish for your stone-carved existence to end?
Or never again see another day?

Yes, my hunched-over friend, I know your strife
For I am just you and you are just me. 
A bizarre case- art imitating life. 
It was just so plain, so obvious to see-

You and I both- yes, we are but the same. 
Locked by our thoughts within a stone cast frame.

Free Verse

I never had a penchance or passion

for poetry of any sort, even free

verse ones which I wrote so much of,
for I

only wrote poems to impress the girls.


another fight as they scream and shout and call each other insults instead of nicknames and threatening divorce suits rather than odes of love in this house of piles of clothes and books and newspapers and lies and somewhere in these piles is the love they once had 17 years ago on that very night they made love-

At night they lie seperately, together.

"fly away from the flames, oh young children of the night, take flight and soar into the endless velvet!"

fly, foolish, fearful children! fly
cast away the shackles that try to hold you down
to the ground and spread your raven wings
and think not of silly things like faith and
hope but kick up the sand, run and soar
and flap your wings more but don’t look back
at the children with the lack of the skill
to fly as they watch with hollow eyes ‘til the flame
makes them all the same: piles of ashes
piles of sashes and piles of bone -
there’s nothing left to see here, fly home, young ones. 
fly away from the flames, oh young ones of the night, fly
take flight and soar into the endless velvet, the endless night sky

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they awaited

prompt: ‘they awaited’


t o g e t h e r,

they awaited the end of their relationship.
for one last time, they would rest on the same
sinful mattress
stained with sweat, semen and lies.
For one last time and
one last night
They would reaffirm their love in the place
it had started
With less beauty and more savagery,
anger and dispassion.
As the two would see eye to eye
yet again.

It’s a perfect prince and princess scenario.

When they were done, she grabbed her
unsightly rags to cover her
once-creamy coat of temptation 
as the man took another gulp of denial
and oblivion.

"Onto the next one it is, then." 
The prince leaves his abode in search of another princess.


i hate this piece actually, i just wanted to sleep so I was too lazy to rewrite one. fuck it 



Storybook Heroes

In the pastel coloured child’s world
If you fight for it, you’ll get it
A splash of blood across a crayon drawing
But don’t you see this is bullshit?
Look! Your beautiful castle is falling
I shout with eyebrows furled

Between the brightly coloured pages
Lie a perfect, ideal story- where
Everything fits in and has reason
But, dear knight, do you dare
Oppose the king and commit treason?
Abandon your idiocy as the book ages.

To the dreaming storybook hero
You can keep at what you’re doing
Hoping to fulfil your childish dreams
And running away with the heroine
That’s how it’ll be to you, it seems
But can’t you see the chances are zero?

To the fools about me
Falling into the trap of age and puberty
And hiding , transmitting in the world of ones and zeroes
Wake up, children’s storybook heroes!


Inspired by reading possibly the most annoying series of tweets on my timeline I’ve seen so far

I made up a random rhyme scheme for it because so much free verse here

Tribute to the Slug Girl, draft 2

I’ve seemed to slow down quite a bit lately.
Everything and everyone seems to be so fast, so faraway
and even my own words escape me when they run from my mouth
as they seemed to slow down, to a grinding halt
I found myself unable to speak normally
Yes, Yuuko, I’m becoming like you
My tongue feels alien, alive in my mouth - yes, it’s now a slug
It refuses to listen to me as it writhes in its own silver slime
Frantically, I cut it off, yet it - and I - survived
So I took a dip in a bath of salt
And I could feel myself shrinking, shriveling, as though
All my worries and burdens were escaping me
Yes, my senses and thoughts are being numbed
I’m going to become a house for the slug-tongue, my face
fixed in permanent sorrow as the shell’s decor

Pity I don’t have a garden.


No, still haven’t quite nailed it yet. Will try again some time later. 



With harpoon in hand, dive
into the murky depths, and
drag out your hidden, fearful

Drag them out, quickly
to the surface, and
make them stare at the burning, piercing

With harpoon in hand, spear
The monsters where it hurts, injures
and let their blood, crimson
dye the seas! 

With all your strength, slay
The monsters within the trenches, deep
beneath the surface, hiding
and refusing to die! 


Written based off a random tweet I tweeted earlier today.

Anyway. It’ll take a a while but I’ll get over this hump -this hilarious depression, born out of nothing and signifying nothing. I’ll leap back into the endless abyss of the internet and drown these thoughts of worthlessness, for whenever I talk about them they hide in the recesses of my mind refusing to face the sun. 

I’m not satisfied with this one either. It sounded way better in my head. It just sucks to read it. I’ll apologize to whoever may be reading this then. (and the spamming of images on timelines.)



Tribute to the Slug Girl, draft 1

my friend seemed to have moved on to a new life recently as following a bitter breakup her entire life seemed to have slowed down in the literal sense
as every single action she took
and every word she spoke
seemed to come to
a grinding

When we saw her tongue, we were in shock for it seemed to have
turned into a slug - her worst, childhood
fear and we panicked,
rubbing salt into her face
in an attempt
to get

The girl’s head became a shell for the slug-tongue
after she shrunk in a bath of salt
and face fixed in frozen fear
Every time I went back to visit her garden
The snail would still be there
Casting its accusing gaze
on me - ah,
I feel


Damn it, I really wanted to use this line I came up with earlier. 
"The girl’s head became a shell for the slug-tongue

after she shrunk in a bath of salt”

But it doesn’t seem to work here. Will probably try again some other time. 


Prompt: ‘sleep’

Every night as I lay in bed
I close my eyes gently
And lying on my back I
cross my hands over my shoulders
place my blanket over my face
and pretend to be dead.

In my death-like sleep within
my cold cloth coffin I lie motionlessly,
finding joy and peace in the sounds of
the rotating fan and of my brother’s
snoring, like near soundless sorrow at
my own funeral wake.

I’m a fucking weirdo.


Prompt: Parasite, courtesy of my brother. time taken: 3 minutes because I’m a busy lad.


How a creature like me feels
Having latched on a presence as great as yours
Following you throughout the seven seas without you
but sucking out your blood and life force all the way
is beyond my limited understanding.

How a creature like me feels
Having being only one of millions of other small presences
Each, having found yet another great power,
them silently, for forever and always
is beyond my limited understanding.

How a creature like me feels
Having no ability to fend for myself,
And thus, on your ability and capacity to care,
with no reason to live except to exist
is beyond my limited understanding.

How a creature like me should feel,
Having to be reliant on greater power such as your magnificence
Without any way to leave, to float
with no creature, no source of life, no power, no future 
is also beyond my limited understanding. 


Once upon a time
We laid upon the field at night
This bizarre sadness within us still wouldn’t go away so
Counting the stars
We couldn’t help but feel melancholic
We had realized what little significance we each possessed
And after we had thought about life 
about our conniving family and friends
We just talked, almost solemnly
Realizing that our lives were brief - 
"Upside-down". You said, smiling
I still remember those words you had said that night
Thinking back, we laughed a bit
We had a bizarre heart-to-heart
Once upon a time 


My first attempt at writing something….’upsidedown’. In the sense that it can be read both ways and still make some sense. Hmm, I rather like this one, actually…but that’s just me.


Our family’s computer room is too small
So I use the computer
alone in my room.

At dinner, 4 heads downcast in
prayer to the same electric God
that seems to have taken our dinnertime conversations as tribute.

A battle of crescendos
screaming across the living room
"that’s just the way your mom and I communicate, son"

Physically here
yet spiritually
we seem to be miles apart 


Dear Father,

Yes, you there. I’ve decided that you are my god.

I am but a humble marionette

Bowing in your presence. Let me be

Toyed with , like you have done with me a

Thousand times before, only this time it will

Be your duty and it will be my faith.

Let me, once again, be cast aside

With the rest of your broken toys

In the corner to bask in your vast shadow

Oh Father, I am but an ant in your glory

Let me dull my senses, lose my emotions, cut off my feelings, and become

Your faith-driven puppet

And let me do exactly as you command, without complaint or sentiment.


Prayer to a faceless God - a haiku

I remembered what mr. Ong or mr. Koh called the action of using a phone before dinner with wifi- the “blackberry prayer”. Have a haiku of sorts. ————-

As it rains outside

I stare into the iPhone

Like a monk, praying

I refresh twitter

Check Wordpress, load Facebook

and Open my e-mail

Yet nothing can quite

Shake the feeling, that I, still

Am alone indeed.