poetry
water
26 Apr 2019, adapted in 2022the smooth flow of the clear fluid
may remind one of the endless flow of time.
seconds tick away
like a leaking pipe's drip.
life stems gracefully from the water,
as easily as it can vanish before you.
water takes on the shape of its circumstances,
much like the hopeless, the lost,
chasing their oppressions.
laminar or turbulent, water keeps moving.
moving. moving throughout life.
2022
january
18 Jan 2022
two thousand and twenty-one went out
with a bang and an alarm, mass
extinction of your authentic life
and the birth of a counterfeit life
a husk of what could have been
the fourth floor of your campus is warm
your classmates don't reflect
you don your identity
yellowed and crumpled
and for the first time, it's not yours.
there are stitches on your spine
you wonder how that eye bleeding webcomic
opened a third eye. you ponder this alongside
what those lyrics by will wood and the tapeworms
actually say
you wonder where the sunshine went
the rain never showed either, for that matter
and when your breath gets shallower
and your heartbeat gets fainter
you can't help but laugh it off
latex glove
04 Mar 2022, reworked 22 Mar 2022
a glove is a useful tool
it pre empts disasters
prevents contamination
but the question is
does a glove have the capacity
to fix everything?
nay, for it is merely blue rubber
the hand may choose,
but the glove has not a say
gloves don't reverse time
they don't mend wounds
or piece together the broken
gloves can't make one a saint
the hand of whom corrupts
suffocates
deceives
keep running
22 Mar 2022
keep running
even when youre tired
even when youre hurt
even when youre ill
dont stop to eat
or sleep
and definitely dont
stop to wait for anyone
keep your eyes forward
the finish line is soon
they sing for you
keep running
other (please specify)
24 May 2022
others don their disguises
dressing in wilted husks leg by leg
a smoked mirror cabaret, a wardrobe ballet
masks of makeshift matte
others hold their blank canvases gingerly to themselves
barren of compassion, backs faced to change
painted empathy estranged to genuinity, never once pursued
warmer mindsets are a dim perchance of tomorrow
today, others remain boulders of stubborn spite, slate grey
burning
26 Jul 2022
my desk in class is ever so slightly askew
i sit here listening to singing voices
siren’s cries on loop
a melody so shrill and distant
my own harmonies play, yet i don’t hear them
my desk in class is made of plastic
yet it all burns the same
smoke fills my lungs
as directed by my mindfulness routine
memory
26 Jul 2022
i don’t remember how this poem goes
i don’t remember how this story ends
i lost my notes for this poem
may they find peace with my house keys
maybe my poem was an epic poem
lines upon lines of higgledy piggledy
leading nowhere but to the end of time
maybe it was a haiku
fleeting and ephemeral
nobody ever reads those
as pen touches paper
keyboard button pushed
memory warps into a blur
a foggy river, if you will
brimming with nothing
i look into it, no reflection
i don’t remember how this poem goes
on the rainiest night in july
29 Jul 2022
the heavens grey, distant with murmurs of a voice not mine
clouds seep through the sky
and my math textbook gets blurrier
a heartburn of insult
a chestache in the bile of bitter resent
a resent so empty it turns inward
but the rain will fall
a harmony in the symphony of clockwork
the moon takes the place of empty, unfulfilled sunlight
songs start shifting their lyrics
in my honour
of grit, of fear, of hope
i take a deep breath
of my ephemeral catharsis
on the rainiest night of july
16 Aug 2022
.
.
.
.
(translation)
the ground turns black under me.
the moon is missing from the sky.
the sun's fire has not ended.
i don't wish to stay
in this bad place.
15 Sep 2022
.
..
.
.
(translation)
around me, people chatter but don't communicate.
i don't listen. i don't want to listen.
why do i feel cold?
maybe it's the fan.
2023
determination
20 Feb 2023
the world keeps spinning.
the universe keeps growing.
the cosmos do not echo for you or i.
but how joyous that we get to be a swatch in this infinitely vast mural.
how wonderful it is that we get to try. again and again.
to paint the world with a toothpick.
to make the most of our three seconds on earth.
flowers blooming. petrichor-filled air.
the golden sunlight. the broad horizon.
a comforting breeze. a cup of tea.
a comfy scarf. the memories we share.
i'm staying determined.
for the changing of the seasons.
for the people i see every day.
for love.
for life.
the garden city
22 Feb 2023
the garden city
is weeded out biweekly.
eye contact
20 Mar 2023
you look at me
'at' isn't the right word
your eyes fix on me
the gap of your pupil
spilling into the cavity
of your skull
it brims with compassion
a layer of thick oil above
covering what lies below
when i look out at you
my gaze turns inward