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A rocky cliffside
jagged and beaten
hides a reservoir
as water drips
through moonbeams
the cracks of clenched fists
a candle wanes with dignity
wax melting
stronger than electricity
listen explorer
the cavern speaks
tremors
fear its rumbling
swaying everything
hold still
the ripple
from a drop
as mountains melt
submit
rocks fall into water
Quiet room
Deathly
Cold
Silent steps
Starless night
Still air
The night before
Bathed
In water
Wine
Before blood
A wedding eve
Hard
On dust and sand
Sobriety
Uninvited
Simple
Not just my feet
Stops
Time
Kingship
Everything
Unprotected
If heaven is as good as it sounds
then take me there
to a place that is forever
white and green with eternal springtime
like in stories where bread fall from the sky
like ash flakes after a campfire in the morning
like hope descending and unbecoming
where there is only love
where we are going
and more than I love
as good as it sounds
than impermanence
our life here below
our sadness
beyond present dissatisfaction
raised up to heaven
won’t I gawk
on the table unspent
forever mirthy
a joy that lasts
for nothing dies
like flowers
alive and held
so unweary
undemandingly
by
There is magic in my lungs
my heart is a cathedral
my tears are waterfalls
my hair is salty and bitter
my knees have scraped
against the hard grain of rigour
they hold the valleys of the world
my hands carve its timber
my brain holds a treasure
existence in a pool
fed by blood so rich
my golden regal tooth
my soul screams the loudest
if I listen to its tune
a hear the golden cymbals
I feel all life illume
Things are feeling better now but I don’t know
whether they actually are better. Nothing
has changed – the cogs continue to turn.
The home is panopticon. State is self-surveillance
in the disintegrated human-
every mistake, a crushing boulder,
when one hope is lost, a faint firefly
I still hate myself I still feel like I need help
Have you forgotten how to live? Why
try to do everything yourself? Trauma shrugs
it doesn’t go. Ribcages tighten and collapse
It is much easier to hate and remain inside
to not move forward.
Lungs are out of breath
become again.
“I’m worried about you.
Let’s talk.”
as if talking would change anything
but remind me that I am loved
All I want to proclaim is that I don’t recognise myself.
Love – a question or an open invitation?
What is the answer to suffering?
Not death. I don’t remember much of it anymore.
Only love, always suffering, union this side of the veil.
Always love. Who? I was looking at faces in RGB.
I didn’t expect the outside world to be so green.
Singapore returns to Phase 2 of Covid-19 restrictions after an influx of community-spread cases.
why did she remember
his favourite brand of cigarettes
when she
tried to remember
their distance
when she questioned
how much she loved him
choking
between wafts
staring at her curtains
the breeze rustles
the balcony
his disheveled hair
his smell
his shirt
his favourite spot to flirt
if only
she loved better
or never asked
she should never have asked
for more
than the smell of tobacco
from him
for him to love her more
if she loved better instead
if
to breathe
more than
oxygen tinted memories
in between bursts
burning polyps
but why
it never mattered
would he have stayed
not her tears or his promises
nor the spot he left behind
where she still revisits
if she looked at him more
would he still be there
at the balcony
smoking his favourite
the last thing he left behind
other than her
now melting
burnt to throw
she lit a cigarette for the first time
it hung in between the space
of her middle and forefinger
smoke haunted the living room
where she sat crossed legged on the floor
inhaling quietly
she never took a puff
but let it burn away
because she missed the smell
it choked her and clogged her eyes
it always had
it hurt
she let it happen
the night turned grey and passed
with slightly bitter tears
Twiddling my thumbs at the midsection of noonday, I gave up on life
and all that it promised: green edible leaves, the cornucopia, fresh water.
I didn’t know who I was anymore after relinquishing control
so I decided to just walk away from everything in my mind
I couldn’t quite comprehend the sensation in my fingertips, the sweat
rolling down my skin, traversing through the canyons of raised
hair follicles. I know I am not that good a person but I never
expected to see such a broken figuration, my guts spilling out.
My brain. I had a hernia once, it almost ruptured my genitals
when my large intestine fell into a place that it shouldn’t have.
I look back. I could have died. My brain is also empty. It echoes
with the silence that nothing mattered if I wasn’t rushed to the hospital
or if I didn’t live up to this gift of life, this great surprise.
I look at the potted plant on my counter. It is a money plant
dropping down like all crawlers do. It is the ultimate household plant
Money plants do not require much watering or sunlight. I wonder why it tries so hard.
My phone buzzes. I read everything but there was nothing of note or
nothing to note. No duty, no responsibilities save the ones I make up
for myself in my head, these foreigners. To God, family and country. Never did I
ever feel so selfish than at the dark noon of midday when in the middle
of my siesta that I decided to drop the ball. To die like everything mattered
and accepting that I couldn’t lift even a finger to die.
To Michael Hogan
I thought the red
between us
was fire
dark and
brilliant
consuming
all flaxen
but it was blood
and everything began
to exist
in our shared body
of the Lord’s
hands and feet
a majestic wave
like clouds
swallowing the smog
of all covenantal
sacrifices
and all my pain
began to glow and illumine
this darkened soul
who once was spent
cursing
in the shadows
of flames
where rivers of life now flow
waterfalls
from chasms within
a great cathedral
A single branch
peers
down a cliffside
whispers
cut
into its splinters
rocky
dry
a leaf falls
cold
victorious
a single branch
Jsolitaire Writing & Poetry 