Praise and Worship

There in that room
On that hour of that night
Was a little space, just
a little space
She could
call her own.

In the warm glow
of yellowed OHP light
And the warmer company of friends,
She sings and feels
God.

embracing her, as the
night
envelopes her,
a velvet quilt.

"Hush," He whispers, "I am here."
And for that moment,
everything
that worries, that tenses, that puts down,
dissolves
For that moment, her eyes
open.
For that moment, she feels
safe
warm
protected.

And soars.
Free.

short poems inspired by NS

Alpha

Materialistic
Capitalistic
Chauvanistic
Egotistic
Pig.


Cup Noodles (a haiku)

Camaraderie,
Add water and MSG
And hearty laughter.


Black

You can
Kiwi my boots,
My shoes and
My belt
But you can't
Kiwi my soul.

poems that are some how related. somehow.

1.
Reflections

As I look upon the vastness of history;
the breadth, the depth of it,
I am forced to look at

myself

and wonder
how and where and why
do I fit in?

2.
This one's for you.

Throw a pebble
into the vast ocean
and it joins
all the other pebbles

ever thrown in.

3.
And I wonder.

Breathe a sigh
Just a warm, quiet sigh
Or perhaps heave a loud heavy one.

Let your breath
And all the sadness,
hopes dashed,
loves lost,
it carries

join

all the rest of the sighs
ever breathed.
And perhaps, just perhaps, you'll find
A measure of peace.

4.
About the romantic in me?

Lie with me
here
now
together.

under the starlit sky
under the same velvet blanket,
the same glorious fresco,
the same

mystery,

that wishers, and hopers
wisemen, and thinkers
fools, and dreamers
lovers, and the ones they love, had loved, and always
loved,
of all time
had lay under
and wondered.

Lie with me.

tears in heaven

It's brutal here. Here where
a bitter war rages
against muggers and calories and repitition. And time.
Time is the most brutal of them all.

Yet the girls, they yearn
they yearn to come to the front,
to the Glory and Honour
Of pretty girls in pretty cars
with pretty plastic perfumed pencils
packaged in pink plastic wrappers,
And plastic smiles.

Yes, they send their daughters
here to fight, in a place where her
soul will die.

Eunice cried in the toilet today,
Locked herself in the cubicle, her inner sanctum.
We would have been with her. Really, we would.
But we had a lecture at three.
And Mrs Tan said:
"die die, cannot miss..."

At least Julia was there, to
put her finger down her throat.
To expel those vile calories. Please don't blame her.
She needs that. She needs to
cling, ever so tightly
to a glimpse of
heaven?

Oh, and by the way, Charmaine cut herself today. To feel
something
anything
It must have been
Her second abortion.

And as for me, I went home
And in those wee hours of twilight
Between Chem and Math
In that little space I could call mine,
I treated myself

To glance in the mirror
And cry.

on nostalgia

fade

it's sad how
treasured memories
slip away
slowly
ever so slowly
like a lover you want to hold
fading.


dearest dear diary

a writing,
an attempt to preserve
the unpreservable
tenderly.

jog

as i run

only the pace lingers.

the mind quiets

but the heart races.

recollections

flood the soul

like the wind beating upon me.

the day's truimphsand failures;

yes, failures,

rush through me

comforting me.

and then i feel God

in the embrace of the cool night

singing.

Coins

He simply sits there
Gazing by the old fountain
Down by 37th street and 8th Avenue
As the bustling multitude of life
Shuffels by.
Sometimes can't help but wonder
Between the mouldy cracked fountain
And the tired old man
Which is the monument?

And he sits there still
Patiently waiting for when the hustle, every once in a while
Stops.
And breathes.

Today that breath
Took the form of a young man
A go-getter
Sporting a sharp Ralph Lauren Jacket
Sprinting between his executive job
And his trophy wife.

When the young man just stops
And the hustle around him fades
And he has that same familiar look in his eyes.
The same look everyone has
When they
Stop.
Staring back at the old moument.

The young man reaches deep into his deep pocket
Brimming with dimes, quarters and dollars
And pulles out a single nickel
Closes his eyes
Draws his breath
And tosses it ito the old fountain.

There ends the brief relationship
Between the old and the new
As the young executive rejoins the city bustle
And the old man slowly
Reaches into the fountain
Picking that single nickel
And puts it into his little collection box
A jar of coins.

Friends Forever

It's funny how
Our memories never seem to grow old.
While our hands get more calloused
Face gets more chiselled
And hair grows in the weirdest places
You still stay as innocent as ever
In my heart.

Somehow I still remember your cute ponytails
Your young face and fair skin
And the way your eyes twinkle
Whenever you smiled.

And it's funny how
The multi-coloured inks
Spread in a bold chilidish font all over my autograph book
Never seem to lose their bright colour.
The "Friends 4ever"
Scribbled on the day we parted
Still shines brightly.

It's funny how
All the rest of my photographs yellow
Yet the ones with you in it
Stay as fresh as ever.

It's funny how
I can so vividly recall every childish joke
We laughed at together
All those years ago
And still laugh to myself
Tenderly.

And you know what?
Here's the funniest part.
When I finally do see you again
After all these years
You're not quite that little girl anymore
Not quite so bubbly
Not quite so warm.

And somehow
When I look back from here
The colourful words in my autograph book
Seem to have faded slightly,
The photos seem to have
Yellowed.

And the memories of that day
When we pinky-promised to stay
Friends Forever
Seemed so much more distant.

haikus

1.Playing hide-and-seek
Sunlight flickers, blackened leaves
Teasing as i pass.

2.Angsana seeds have
Drifted onto the pavement.
Warm evening sighs.

3.Across the blue sky
White clouds sail by and I ask:
Will we meet again?

4.An effervescence
Rises, rises beyond me,
Too many bubbles.