(Neil Gaimen to Terry Pratchett)
Will you make me laugh again
As I fall, grasping
Time suspended in the air
Will you make me laugh again
And set it right
Wiping the gray from the sky
Falling into the world you have spun
I see you again in your black cloak
With all your white anger
Underneath those twisted trees
Angel and demon hand in hand
You take my arm and say
WE MUST WALK TOGETHER
Making each other laugh again
No
Likes No
Comments do not
Get depressed. This is
A challenge not a competition
Your opinion matters most. Of your
Own work do not be ashamed. A
Work in progress is every poem here. If
It is lost in the rush, remember those moments
When the lightbulb lits up, your racing heart and Sweaty
armpits. Exhaustion is like a perpetual hangover but passion keeps you
wide awake. You feel like dance after you hit the post button:
Today I wrote a poem and tomorrow I'm going to do it again
Chorus springtime water frosty
Behold hurry foliage tawny
Solstice transform bosom sorrow
Enshroud woodland allure borrow
Unfaze blossom scarlet scatter
Stratus maple crimson alter
Billow pinions swallows stature
Flimsy wing-robe winter endure
Ensue aster rampage advent
Seedtime rasure lotus absent
Golden ebbing Prunus boomer
Springtide arrest jailbreak never
Are the deities in the mountains
Really having a feast of peaches
Even as I burn midnight oil by the curtains
A ray flew by but it's the chalk of my teacher's
Look I am only having a gander
Charmed by the gleam of her tresses
Hemorrhagic Wulin is in uproar over Dragon Saber
Idiom of an inch of time is an inch of gold laces
Length of my ear flips out from the other
Detecting the start of quarreling voices
Hurry to hide in clanks of fighting swords under table
Only not from goose egg and cane lashes
On to battles my green plastic soldiers march
Do I yearn to grow up in every March
Chicken Rice
Green plate of greasy fragrance
Comes to the table without formality
Table with strangers and plastic chairs
Only food really matters here
Steam is rising from pale on pale
Sink teeth into tender gelatinous
Blesses the tongue of the moment
But lift legs suddenly
As roaches scurry past
Shiver runs down spine
Reminder of no place is perfect
Dress
Getting stares at the cropped hair does
Not mean frills and flounces are a must
Nor heels, skirts and war paint
Knees are still there underneath trousers
So are twin peaks too
Even with pinstripes and suits
Will be cool as Coco and Marlene
Genderless is the new black
Nothing needs to be cured
Lip Balm
The tissue wipes away the balm
Leaving dried twigs on the mouth
Like angry red ants crawling on fire
Biting to appease burning anger
Getting stares again at sausage lips
Off to the Chinese medical hall
For quick and old-fashioned relief
7:37am
Birds sing sunrise colours
But he drinks black melancholy from his cup
Staining his tongue with the bitter of another day
He takes a drag
He looks at the rope of smoke
He watches the ants with food on their backs
7:46am
The day scratches its head
A ball with no goalpost to aim
He stops looking at the photos
Putting his wife and daughter in the carton of his heart
Rain suddenly falls
Into puddles
Into thousand broken mirrors
Of his past and dreams
8:10am
Today looks the same as yesterday
The same as tomorrow and the morrows
Sliver of his sleeves peeking out from under his coat
One thinks he pines for a second spring
He takes a drag
He looks at the rope of smoke
The rope to hang himself
She cries for mama
A ripple on the night pond
Waking to the dawn
of these ! $ &* ( ) . , prompts
Met that girl
from the dream
A ghost from the past
More I do not want to ask
Typing limits his vocab so
Mo Yan only writes by hand
Th smooth of this digital paper
roughened by my hoarsing thoughts, damn!
An experiment of a long month
Gulping blood and sweat
Impressing eye circles
With it's silent mouth
These verses may not be serene
Mountain spring or pure
But my wings fly blossom
To blossom for nectar pure
Who gives us our names? We ask
Not angels, death or the gods
Listen!
Your name will be called
*Someone said, 'Don’t get drunk on the liquor of your narcissistic poetry.' And I am guilty as charged.
His body roars medicated side-effects, reeking of untouched cod
Her nose twitches at the white line of powder, they are the gods
The figures on the bills and debts burn red against fluorescent bulb
To the airport to find the soonest flight away, she is the gods
She washes two faces and four dirty hands, her gift in double
Unslept, her eyes are crescent of laughter, she is the gods
The old man curls on the bench of abandon, the memories his rooftop
She is cardboards and half-starved mouths, they are the gods
The fall accelerates, he surrenders to his grave in the mountaintop
The waiting girlfriend believes he doesn't leave, they are the gods.
I am Kartoffelsalat, Rendang and Rice, washed down with Oolong
Imperfect and faulted, but give me my glory. Hoon, are you one of the gods?
If silence is the golden sun
why does it fester in my fruit
bringing back the odour of doubt?
I won't say much
because I don't want to sound like our parents
You always hate how they nag, still do.
Remember? Upon hearing your retort,
I didn't ask you to wait up for me
Pa spitted, you will know when you have your own children!
You shrugged, stormed into your room
Those words will stalk you
The prophecy will come true
Parents do own crystal balls
and we think they are uncool
What they don't tell you
Fear sometimes comes in threes
You are rows of cereals, milk, eggs in supermarkets
The cups, plates and pots in cupboards
Either you spray it, like a cockroach, with Bygone
Or you bring it to bed with you.
It will become bearable.
Sometimes piece by piece you die inside
Under your blankets you invent worlds
And the pain of change fits into place
You wake up the next day,
brush your teeth and drive to work.
You don't have much left
So you search for strength,
stringing words
You go for a walk under the sun
and see a line of ants
then it rains, disrupting the army
You are glad to be alive.
