Together; Changing Times

there’s something special
about hearing a familiar tune
on another’s speaker; there’s
something cool in those bars
of rhyme and reason. do tell,
why did you not say before?

there’s something calming: seeing
a typeface you use to write
poems each day for a month or
“the quick brown fox jumps
over the lazy dog.” you’re
another with which I have similar.

~

would it not be better for us
to grow old together; friends
lazing at a hawker center, with
kopi o and whatever the future
can bring us. newer magazines
of chili crab coastlines, a new
design, a sense of rhyme, a
new aesthetic, and a tune of mine

The Understanding of a Friend

The both of us together is a wonder.

Our eyes pierce one another with analytical stares;
It wasn’t a casual glance of generalising scowls
This single moment means forever, we blink and then
the truth sets in, and you approach me silently
with open arms.

I feel the warmth of your dull coloured sweater
against the chill in this cold, dark weather
I feel the great joy of your embrace
against this congestion of bad days

A voice utters a series of words I cannot comprehend.
In the moment, I was utterly lost and struck with pallor.
I found myself saying, “What does it mean?”
“Appreciation.” Yes, that was the answer.

I wish that moment could have lasted forever.

 

Continue reading “The Understanding of a Friend”

In Their Absence

In their absence, the waves swell up at the outer rim and crash upon the shores with sounds unheard of, never heard by anyone. In their absence, flora illuminated itself as it branches upwards towards the sky as if the earth was reaching for the heavens, weeds untouched.

In their absence, the great fallacy of the beauty in isolation crumbles with the turbulence of an impending storm upon our consciousness, and the mystery of the canopy evades any and all forms of perception, in their absence.

Early Losses

I would be lying if I ever said it feels just like yesterday.
Those uniform days of uniform and shoes
Black shoes, white to black, no laces, only straps.

I would be lying if I said I missed those days
Of climbing up late on the yellow-tiled case
Of stairs, waiting outside, waiting to be scolded.
I run back home without worry in the world.

I would be happy if I could go back to then.
The end of those days, the beginning of the end.