There are two ways of looking at every situation. Let’s call them A and B. If they were people, they’d be David and Peter. Or, as I remind myself to degender that ambiguous jellyfish of the mind, let’s call them Valen and Valen. Valen is the type of person who walks down the street every […]
Category: Prose
Get Your Mind Out Of The Gutter
Our issues melt away and run, like dirty water into drainage pipes. Black fishes into estuaries. When we are out of each other’s sight, we’ll be out of our minds. Flushed away and forgotten. Invariably some scum stays: stains on a manhole. Is it disgusting? For me to wish thusly: I want to know everything. What are you […]
#copout
#copout alternate forms: Cop-out, 虎头蛇尾 noun copout (plural “copouts”) Definitions (Literal) A situation whereby police officers have either been prevented from doing their job properly under any circumstances. These may include anarchy or cowardice. (Idiomatic) A term used to describe poems written with extremely high effort and thought but disguised as low-effort so as to […]
A POEM CELEBRATING SOME THINGS THAT DON’T WORK
Acrostics. Academia. Balancing work, life and a healthy sleep schedule. Breaking up in your head with people you don’t even go out with. Confessing to your first love at the wrong place and time. Denial when you don’t mean it. Even if you do mean it, does that really work? English as second tongue. Editing. […]
We Are Majulah
We are stamping each other to death in a furtive Cha-Cha. We will lock ourselves in birdcages but shout at those who sing. We eat our meals in a feedback loop and soon the man in the tasseled fez has taken our job. It’s ok because We Are Majulah; we are onwards we are progression […]
and it will never let you go
You knew when it’d come around. It’d never knock on your door, like a mailman with a parcel. It wouldn’t call you beforehand. It was all predetermined. It would kick your door down, yet creep in afterwards. And the time would indisputably be at night. It suits the ambience after all: it suits the mood of […]
transmitted messages to orphaned pagers litter the landscape, sullying the soil with words which follow others , phrasing phrases such as “I’ll call you sometime”, “I’ll see you tomorrow”, et cetera et cetera ad infinitum. we lie facing up, like numbers on a tattered phonebook – seeking reception – but we operate face down; plugged […]
ugly stage 