Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Tasks Given by a Master to a Slave in Order to Earn His Emancipation

Remain nameless
among the onions of existence.

Reek like a king
staring at his executioner.

Peel this cucumber
without a blade.

like a monkey defending his coconut.

And I will show you how to be free.

Monday, January 21, 2013


At first they were diamonds.
But when they trembled, for a moment
and flowed down
his chest, they were
shards of sweat
on a brown man’s skin.

The tears
at the end of an affair.
And the black satin gowns
of shimmering drag queens,
soaked to the seams
with rhinestones.

Oceans and oceans of rhinestones.
Lovers swim vast oceans
and reach
the bodies of dead pirates
hugging their loot
of fake diamonds.

Fake diamonds, like fake names,
worn to deceive
the nakedness,
waiting in the dark
to receive

Shivering drops of
diamonds spilling
through the spaces
between the night.
And the way his naked body moves
against the light.

Saturday, January 19, 2013

The Grey Rainbow

The cars in KL are grey.
4,914,992 shades of grey, in fact,
according to JPJ in 2011,
that create a mosaic of greys
shuttling through the city.

But the underwear of each and every owner
of those grey cars
represent a shimmering rainbow
of prints, textures, colours
and desires.

Invisible triangles of colour are constantly
speeding down Federal Highway
straight into the heart of town
where the police
are waiting.

But the rainbow passes under their eyes,
This is grey magic.
There are no rainbows here.
There is only grey.

20 January 2013

Friday, April 20, 2012


Wake up little stone.
I know you think I don’t care.
I know you’d rather I
turn into a chair
than endure
one-way conversations.

If only you knew
how much I adore
running my fingertips
across your roughened surfaces,
all the ages of the world
contained by your stoic-ness.

If only you could feel
how I feel,
open your stony eyes
and admire the beauty
naked before you,
the human sadness

that can mill mountains
into clay,
jackhammer lovers
into sand.
It’s all I can do to step on you
to get to another just like you.

Tiny little insignificant
pebble of a stone.
We are more alike
than both of us
care to think.
I will show you if you grind this ink.

The King Is Dead

Under the light of a darkened moon
and led by wordless prayers as though to battle,
I rode a nameless horse, a broken sword,
and dreamed a dream of royal death.

I saw him fall on marble tiles, on his knees
pleading to be spared. I saw his body dragged
into the streets like a splinter drawn out from
a fingernail, finally facing his people.

There was no moratorium, no trial by jury.
Their hands tore him apart like paper. 
Some cut his body parts off to feed their dogs.
But none of the dogs dared to eat him.

The king is dead!
The king is dead!

Thursday, April 19, 2012

A Glass Of Water

Silence, as tall as a glass of water, appears
in the opening of your mouth.

It's chilled,
stilled, unassuming, unfulfilled.

No words written in abandon
by your cooled fingers.

I want to touch you, but you might smile,
and recoil in denial of everything.

Silence, as tall as a see-through life-sized question mark.
Silence, won't you quench me now?


I don’t want my friends to think I’m oversensitive.
It’s bad enough that I lose it when no one
calls for several days.
I know everyone’s busy.
Everybody’s got lives of their own.
To be honest, I don’t really know them anyway.
I should meet new people.
Lead a quieter life.  
Eat less.
Exercise more.
Have more acquaintances.
Take comfort in passing strangers.
Too many friends can kill you.  
Too many friends can make you think you’re loved
when you’re actually surrounded by bitches,
telling you their secrets, wanting you
to know what little beasts they really are.
But look at how surprised I look
when they finally reveal themselves;
I’m just as fake as they are.
I’ll sit in for photos and look like I’m there.
I’ll smile and laugh at jokes with the sort of conviction
that comes from nowhere.  
All the bitches I should’ve killed—
I’ll let them live.
Care less.
Ignore more.
Pass them by in darkness.
They’re nothing but whores.