If

If I were one of those little people

I would come and visit you every night

peeking through the tiny hole on the screen

just to hear the sound of your breath.

If you were having an unpleasant dream

I would run and swing to your bed

panting and sweating

just to softly sing on your ear.

If you were about to embark on a journey

I would sneak inside your pocket

hiding so that no one would see me

but I could see the beautiful scenes with you.

If you were catching a bit of cold

I would bring the magical herbs

carrying them with the help of grasshoppers

and brew them in a hot pot to comfort you.

By the end of each day

as I go back to my realm

I’d sleep with your scent left on my hair

and your warmth as my blanket.

One of Those Nights

The anger, the stress, the hurt

enough for them to culminate

Until we found ourselves

dwelling in disappointment

Resulting in arguments.

How selfish hearts could be

it was close to being revolting

Only to release this fit

venting it to the loved one

Without contemplation.

The night left us in remorse

and magnificent lessons

Together again in each other’s arms

simply by love and affection

Uttering words of apology.

I learn

I understand

And I love you.

After The Walk

Perth; Canon Powershot SX10 IS - Photoshopped; November 28, 2008

As the fumes escaping my mouth

I watch it glide gracefully

before being engulfed by autumn

But its tail leaves behind a scene

from a series of a journey

Bitter smoke invites the tears

I rub my eyes

Dejavu…

It was when the taste of separation

gladly planted its claws on our shoulders

Dreaded the days that slid even faster

we buried ourselves in each other

For fear of endless separation

Looks exchanged

Bloodshot and exhausted

Silence took over…

Moons have passed

the fight over the distance goes on

The unbearable absence of touch

only letters and voices exchanged

A new and ongoing walk we are on

never before were we this strong

Everything is worth the battle.

Deluded

I sit back

quietly humming to myself

while watching them frolicking

playing tag and sharing laughter

Maybe I’m just not as hip

Though how much I try to reach

they’re just zombies walking

When I do touch them

they fall silent immediately

Maybe I’m just a parasite

I try to smile from afar

slowly rocking back and forth

Might as well get their attention

or so I thought

Maybe I’m just not striking enough

Only a few remain loyal

Only those few stay in the circle

While others don’t mind me

These few love me truly

Maybe I’m not that lonely

La Nuit Porte Conseil

Night shall console me

Wrapped inside these heavy wings

Till light comes again

Like A Dream

My feet are floating above the fuzzy ground
My inner ethereal beauty in captivity
Blurred vision but sensitive to the touch
like soft feather swept against my soles
There are more than three melting clocks
with deformed faces here and there
and a woman with drawers as her breasts
I am walking on invisible stepping stones
Everything is surreal
I am surreal.

Festive Festival

Pause on your track

take no more steps closer

I want you to listen carefully

the sweet tunes of my anklets

Can you hear them jingling?

The rustling pleats of my dress

sequins beating their eyes as I move

gold coins dangling around my face

My fingers snapping, my wrists twisting

Joyful sounds of santour and tonbak

Join me and let’s hold hands

feel the bond, share the merriness

it will melt your sorrow, trust me

Wings will sprout on your back

making you move as light as feathers

Look around you

all smiling from ear to ear

Twirl, sway, sing and clap

Put your hands up in the air!

Dance like you’ve never danced before!

Kelelelelelelelele!

Pictures of You

As much as I stare

they don't speak as loud as they did

As much as I touch the hands

they seem not to wave back at me

The city lights, the buildings, the beaches

The green lawns, the parks, the living rooms

Only in my mind do I hear the laughters

Only in my heart do I still feel the joy

But subconsciously I know

Only few of them stay

How cruel it is

for not being able to reverse

How despicable the reality is

for not allowing dreams to stay longer

I stare

I coil

I weep

Where are you?

Her World

The holy month is her last name

inherited by the aristocracy

Pushed into an entirely new game

a world full of kindness and hypocrisy

Crisp joyful cheers all around

excited her purity and innocence

She soon had herself prettily crowned

with love and indulgence

Rainbow was cast over her

as she climbed up showering herself in hues

Never the playground became blur

something that no one would refuse

Just like Alice eating the cake

a mature woman she has become

True origin she will not forsake

which is as sweet as the divine plum

I Am Like You

Backyard; Canon Powershot SX110 IS; August 15, 2009

Short life
That’s what I have
But I’m alive
In God’s grace
Beautiful.

Route To Extinction

We are like marching ants

Constantly drooling over smells and scents

We might as well devour those withered plants

And carry the leftovers to our tents.

We hiss and roar at one another

Jokers we are judging from our grins

All we like to do is to endlessly smother

Without copulation we always produce twins.

Only a few of us stay hidden

Those who stay on the pure path of truth

They are not astray to the forbidden

However closely watched they are by the the sleuth.

The traffic is jammed again

Hunting for some more with spilled blood

Humanity does no longer reign

See how tyranny becomes the flood.

Perished

It’s dark outside

The wolf’s bushy tail has been unleashed

the howl is loud enough to be heard

because he was awaken too fast

Beware.

It’s dark outside

The humidity is almost unbearable

I cannot release my sweat

the glands have turned numb

Imprisoned.

It’s dark outside

The sea has kindly shared its goodness

by crushing its colossal waves

leaving corpses scattered

Pungent.

It’s dark outside

It’s going to get even darker soon.

Nuttenhaus

Relax
Black garter belt

Latex gliding inside

Intoxicated customers

Collapse.

Blue and Wishing

More rain yet to come

Fragrant air, wet grass and soil

Combined with my tears

A Short Conversation with Paint and Canvas

She dips the brush into the red paint

Her thoughts wandering in the deep

Yet her head almost falls to a faint

The talent is something hard to keep

She has realised that since long ago

But now it is simply nonsensical to weep

Where then must she seek the glow

The paint is leaving the brush little by little

She is becoming numb from head to toe

It is feared that she has become brittle

Such dreadful thought should be suppressed

As it is not something to belittle

Dear love, persevere for you are truly blessed

Waste the paint not and start your new quest!

Triumph of the Millionth Loss

It was not really a dream

more like shattered pieces of random scenes

playfully tickling my subconscious state

Blurred noises

Colour-blinded and retinas almost detached

What then has happened to it all?

The burden on my eyelids was almost unbearable

My sweat flooded the sheets as I was desperately gasping for breath

the very reality seemed to want to escape me

My head started spinning

as I finally opened my eyes

Good grief!

I heard the curtains chuckling mischievously

My room sighed in despair

Even my bed coughed up dust of exhaustion

Forgive me

I have wasted you again.

The Letter

When I whisper the words to you

do you hear me?

When I gently sweep your eyebrows with the tip of my finger

does it make your heart shiver?

When these lips land on your shoulder

does it make you surrender?

When our hands lose their grip from each other

does it cause pain in your heart?

When my hair brushes against your chest

does it make you moan?

When I mouth your name from afar

do you read me?

When I display my flaws and imperfections

do you accept me?

When tears run down my cheeks

do you reach for me to hold me in your arms?

When my soul longs for your presence

do you long for me too?

I hear

I shiver

I surrender

I’m in pain

I moan

I read

I accept

I reach and hold

I long for you.

A Serene Evening

The fireplace is singing with the sound of flickering flames

a scene of faeries and forest spirits dancing in the background

as if enjoying the warmth of the evening

Why then, don’t you also hear the flute and the harp

and the footsteps of little hooves

The tales of the Druids are being told

narrated to the tiniest bits.

The little girl’s eyes sparkle

a pair of strong and caring hands then lift her up

“Come then, my child.

A hearty meal awaits us.”

Laughter fills the whole room

the little girl mischievously puts a sugary cream on the baby boy’s nose

to which he gives a giggle of joy

The parents smile to each other, holding hands tightly under the table

Look at these wee angels, their hearts speak

Such beautiful gifts they are.

And the night comes, the lights are turned off

The faeries do what they like best

blowing sweet dreams into the tots’ ears

Deep asleep they are, as the mother and father watch from the door.

The moon emerges from its hiding

As the couple slips into the blanket, each in others’ arms

the little family finally bids good night to the world.

The Morning Offering

Good morning to another divine day

the sun god has appeared, flashing his rays onto this realm

where we mortals bathe in joy

And you, my darling, though afar from where I stand

I could feel your eyelashes on my bare skin

as I ask the doves to send my kisses for you

Another offering of bergamot tea and saffron sugar is ready

patiently waiting for your return

The day is softly embracing me with his open arms

that I step out with these small feet

Do be gentle to me, O mundane trickles of rain

For I do not wish to struggle under the storm of harsh syllables

Even if it comes upon me

my hope is to be strong enough to endure it

My den is waiting by the end of the day

the immense rug is still satiny to the touch, greeting me ever so courteously

And yet, the offering still remains untouched

Marking time and expecting…