Wednesday, 17 August 2011


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.

Sunday, 5 June 2011

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.

Tuesday, 24 May 2011

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

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.

Monday, 23 May 2011


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

Tuesday, 17 May 2011

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.

Monday, 16 May 2011

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!

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?

Sunday, 8 May 2011

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

Friday, 6 May 2011

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

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.

Thursday, 5 May 2011


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

It’s dark outside
The humidity is almost unbearable
I cannot release my sweat
the glands have turned numb

It’s dark outside
The sea has kindly shared its goodness
by crushing its colossal waves
leaving corpses scattered

It’s dark outside
It’s going to get even darker soon.

Sunday, 24 April 2011


Black garter belt
Latex gliding inside
Intoxicated customers

Monday, 18 April 2011

Blue and Wishing

More rain yet to come
Fragrant air, wet grass and soil
Combined with my tears

Sunday, 17 April 2011

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.

Saturday, 16 April 2011

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.

Sunday, 20 March 2011

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…