a Guy under the Influence

Fields In-waiting

2010-07-18T09:59:00.000-07:00

There is a future
In nostalgia.

How else do we write
About
these ancient fields
In-waiting?

the present however,
Is eternally extinct.

no-self

2010-05-07T10:24:00.000-07:00

The tailor makes his own suit out of the cloth that comes from another.

So he is in fact wearing the other.

How much of this skin is ours, in this world of us-manufacturing?

This tautology requires us to peel ourselves off, hopefully to find no-self.

The Chanel and iPod Man

2010-01-06T03:13:00.000-08:00

Man is a stimulant-driven creature where purpose, beauty and truth show their side headshots every once in a while behind a smolder that is the by-product of our desire to immerse in what we think is life, only to ultimately remain always peripheral to it.

When it is all quiet, without even the whispers of fur, perhaps.

A fish in the sky

2010-01-05T21:57:00.000-08:00

A fish in the sky is as absurd and artificial as a suicide aero-plane in haste. Both are spectacles of head-tilting nostalgia. If only grounded flight is ever fanciful, what happens then to sky? I would like to think that she becomes the merciful backdrop that contains this shattered innocence, in spite of her. She has, over centuries, come to understand that her changelings now will forever prefer layers to simply surfaces.

Homage Regarding

2010-01-05T20:20:00.000-08:00

regardless, oh godless goddess,
there is much celestial quality to your choreography
that even the clouds choose to serenade
your relinquished throne,
and
whenever the heavens decide to
open upon your rainforest of good
intentions, you are always in full-bloomed mercy.

I can only stand in awe,
and withdraw.

onion

2009-11-05T23:28:00.000-08:00

how is it that we can peel a bulb
endlessly, and never reach its
core?
is it then vacuum encased we
mistook for air, where nothing ever existed,
and salt for irrigation, merely at its pores?:

to indicate, (simply)
more,more, more

that day (that day)

2009-10-25T21:20:00.000-07:00

hush up the days which tend to boast
and you might remember the unfed ones
in comatose:
that day that day, when the bookmark wouldn’t stick;
that day (that day), the adjunct to the rest
that tick.

curtain call

2009-10-15T00:14:00.001-07:00

Will we still recognize each other
During the final curtain call?
Will your drapes last longer than mine
Amidst our flashbacks and all?

bluebeard

2009-10-13T00:10:00.000-07:00

the numb release

from your reticulated embrace returns gradual
favour to my pallor,

introduces a bluebeard hangover
with parrots
on each side,

re-telling sceneries.

serpentskirt

2009-10-12T11:08:00.000-07:00

an arrest in sudden
heat by light of a left voltaic-pounding
snatches life’s penultimate breath at the lip:
the smoke thread is pulled taut along this
snake’s belly, where the next is only caught on
a serpent’s skirt.

if tomorrow is not future enough

2009-08-11T01:16:00.000-07:00

i was informed
of a
void deck reality
by the lyrics
in my head-
(phones):

"you and i
are not meant for the future.
all we have is
now."

then the rain came,
and the clothes had to be
kept.

perhaps tomorrow,
at Compassvale Southgate

if tomorrow is
not future enough

we shall all meet again.

not a poem

2009-08-11T01:14:00.000-07:00

these days
i find myself
preferring
to do poetry
in my head.

this is therefore,
not a poem.

my position that dusk

2009-02-27T01:46:00.000-08:00

I remember that evening.

It was like numerous other evenings when I could only be so lucky to have been spotted, and to have squinted, as you gently landed your distance on my face. We were in such hurry, almost desperate to realise the inevitable: I was racing towards ‘the next happening’ while you had more important surfaces. But in that instant, I had already come to understand the depth of your story, and my position that dusk – like you had meant for me.

Such was my happening.

an arm's length construction

2009-02-17T08:58:00.000-08:00

On a night that moves along
sideways,
I can only push my black pieces towards
you, and
pivot on your shoulder.
You pour me an arm’s length,
answering me with
some grey.

Look!

We are anti-gravity cranes
defining the perimeter
of our land with
alternating white...

the method

2009-02-17T00:18:00.001-08:00

The method was to pull the rug from underneath the crystal ball so that it rolls and crashes against a non-partisan wall - where 2 fish will emerge as they had been before: intact but forever withdrawl

但願人長久

2009-02-11T23:46:00.000-08:00

明月幾時有　
把酒問青天
不知天上宮闕　
今夕是何年
我欲乘風歸去　
唯恐瓊樓玉宇　
高處不勝寒
起舞弄清影　
何似在人間

轉朱閣　低綺戶　照無眠
不應有恨　何事長向別時圓　別時圓

人有悲歡離合　月有陰晴圓缺
此事古難全　
但願人長久　千里共嬋娟

-蘇軾

Upon the plain of black and white,

2009-02-08T21:41:00.000-08:00

it will be greycast;
but never has it been
more certain than when our pre-
technicolour hearts
(interweave and then) collapse into
a valley of monochromatic green,
where my castle
is vessel to your queen.

winding

2008-09-19T04:09:00.000-07:00

i am frost-bitten upon realizing that
suddenly the diaphragm
refuses to cough out any more air:
(at least not this happy,
not this cold).
at least not now, not anymore.
with vapours on me,
i know that the winds were once here

the tide you are in

2008-09-07T21:31:00.000-07:00

perhaps it is time to open your eyes
and watch the fishes
that are your lighthouses
go by;
and then you will know
that you haven't
really been dry, even when this
human tide arrests itself
in masks of
4-ply

living is about

2008-09-06T03:18:00.000-07:00

living is about

being able to offer

everything in one second,

and nothing

the very next.

i love them still, though,

2008-08-09T22:23:00.000-07:00

i am surrounded at times by
friends who make me feel alone.

How i found love

2008-07-14T16:34:00.001-07:00

I found love
(illuminated) on a
bathroom wall, during
a blackout in Leh.

clouds i see, gods gone soft

2008-07-14T16:30:00.000-07:00

the clouds
i see
mystifying the mosaic of
designer balconies
mean
the gods
gone soft
in blessing these working-class
storeys aloft

still life

2008-07-14T06:32:00.000-07:00

if it makes
sense
is it still
life
?

all things are in love, for all joy wants - eternity!

2008-07-08T19:53:00.001-07:00

Did you ever say Yes to one joy? O my friends, then you said Yes to all woe as well. All things are chained and entwined together, all things are in love;

If you ever wanted one moment twice, if ever you said: "You please me, happiness, instant, moment!", then you wanted everything to return!

You wanted everything anew, everything eternal, everything chained, entwined together, everything in love, O that is how you loved the world.

You everlasting men, loved it eternally, and for all time: and you say even to woe: "Go, but return!" For all joy wants - eternity!

- Nietzsche (1969: 331-2)

Groundhog Day

2008-07-08T19:52:00.001-07:00

What if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: "This life as you now live and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and sigh and everything untterably small or great in your life will have to return to you, all in the same succession and sequence - even this spider and this moonlight between the trees, and even this moment and I myself. The eternal hourglass of existence is turned upside down again and again, and you with it, speck of dust!"

Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus? Or have you once experienced a tremendous moment when you would have answered him: "You are a god and never have I heard anything more divine." If this thought gained possession of you, it would change you as you are or perhaps crush you. The question in each and every thing, "Do you desire this once more and innumerable times more?" would lie upon your actions as the greatest weight. Or how well disposed would you have to become to yourself and to life to crave nothing more feverishly than this ultimate eternal confirmation and seal?

- Nietzsche (1974: 273-4), The Gay Science

流年

2008-05-15T22:05:00.000-07:00

有生之年狹路相逢終不能倖免
手心忽然長出糾纏的曲線
懂事之前情動以後長不過一天
留不住算不出流年

the world is an oyster!

2008-04-27T04:52:00.000-07:00

i looked up and there is was:

the inside of an oyster shell, suspended, as if someone had accidentally torn off some of its mystery to auspiciously reveal beauty in awkward scraps of 7 colours.

i held (onto) my breath while breathing.

why i breathe

2008-03-12T07:31:00.000-07:00

i only seem to
exhale so that our
breaths can
meet somewhere

sun in my mouth

2008-03-07T20:19:00.000-08:00

i will wade out till my thighs
are steeped in burning flowers
i will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air alive
with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
in the sleeping curves of my body
i shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of seagulls
will i complete the mystery of my flesh

- from 'impressions' by ee cummings

you therefore i

2008-03-07T08:25:00.000-08:00

you needed to rest your bones,
so i retired
you seldom wavered in your tones,
so i perspired
you somewhat mentioned tomorrow,
so i desired
you happened to choose to borrow,
so i misfired
you wanted to let me know again,
so i respired
you insisted on using the brain,
so i expired.

good night

2008-03-05T07:37:00.001-08:00

a spanner in the words
will fold, lift,
and
submerge
the blueprint
maps of talk,

until they soar towards
a good night's
landing.

cold turkey

2008-03-04T01:26:00.000-08:00

i will
tell myself
to
wait
until
saturday

all i hear at once

2008-03-04T01:15:00.000-08:00

all i hear
if i would
is that you'd
date me
if you could
and all i
wonder is
if i should
hear you
all at once

questions about your face

2008-03-03T23:52:00.000-08:00

how long ago did the crow land and step beside you,
when was the moon from underneath your cheeks due,
how are the wings of Peter Pan when the wind blew,
and where are the crooked lower walls i hardly ever knew?

paces

2008-03-03T06:14:00.001-08:00

should our

faces meet

again,

should our

paces still

remain?

do tell me

2008-03-03T06:01:00.000-08:00

do tell me
when you
realize that
you are
walking along
and
alone again:
i might just
walk with
you.

thread

2008-02-28T01:18:00.000-08:00

it is a fine and mighty
thread that is either
borne out of unison
or spun out of
hope in masturbation;
still, a thread so fine,
one can only be tugged
by it and strive to
be blind

(been) moved

2008-02-27T06:08:00.000-08:00

even as the bark peels, i peel it. as if

it needed the help. even as i sit perched,

i am shedding and exchanging breaths. even as

i look and stare, i dilate

with the changing lights. as if

i could fool myself into being exempt.

even as the locomotives encouraged each other, i could

only hope to cast a retrospective eye. as if

i had not (been) moved at all.

almost there

2008-02-26T08:53:00.000-08:00

you said it felt like
we were almost there
and i asked
where is there?
you said it was
more of
what was there
so i asked
what?
and you finally said
to feel.
i stopped asking
and i found
there near:
it was already
here.

faye wong

2008-02-25T20:10:00.000-08:00

-androgynously and
almost narf-like-
your gills
collect my breath while
only a brusque trail
is left even
without frills
(nor tail)

hunter(s)

2008-02-24T04:46:00.000-08:00

when your heart hunts it injures more than its prey when my heart hunts it tends to itself not they when our hearts hunt they seldom recognize the fray when my heart hunts out yours there is bound to be blood either way

unravel

2008-02-24T04:28:00.001-08:00

while you are away,
my heart comes undone,
slowly unravels,
like a ball of yarn,
the devil collects it,
with a grin,
our love, our love,
in a ball of yarn,
he’ll never return it
(so when you come back)
we’ll have to make new love

- bjork, homogenic (1997)

with or without you

2008-02-22T21:14:00.001-08:00

sometimes, i’d turn to check
for your prints, your smell,
but whether it means a lack
it seems too early to tell

(with you, i managed access
to gardens of my city;
only to bury what was being blessed
at a hyper-velocity;
with you, i ate my greens
and wore extra vests;
framed everyday life on screen;
without feeling any less)

sometimes, i will still turn to check
for your prints, your smell,
but whether you have since turned your back
it’s all too late to dwell

7-9

2008-02-21T06:21:00.001-08:00

for two hours, i was
the troll atop a hill,
basking under lunar-cy,
armed with sleeping pills;
for two hours, i sang
melodies to my fill,
at times straddling shadows
of my moat so still;
for two hours, i sought
my kick to the thrill,
only to shiver cowardly
in the wake of overkill

varicose alarm

2008-02-20T22:30:00.000-08:00

when one ever gets
awoken by the
varicose alarm,
rescue is quite on its
way in the form
of a rhythmic charm:

of routine lip-
moving trances,
programmed within
sanity-inducing pulses

if wind could

2008-02-20T08:35:00.000-08:00

if wind could displace
the moon-light cast upon your face,
then it must have been a tenderbreeze case,
since it remains a crease-less portrait
of all the contours i navigate,
cease-lessly, of late

once

2008-02-14T19:49:00.000-08:00

once seed colonies, once parched,
suddenly crack open to spill forth
life!

once larvae colonies, once still,
burst into frivolous mobilities of
locust-death!

once just pods in her cradle,
once gestating, and
sharing the same milk; (same lives)

yet she continues to insist on
blinking her eyes

明.扬 (walking2)

2008-02-12T03:05:00.001-08:00

“...does it matter whether it is the moon
that follows the sun, or night
that comes after day,
so long as there is light (明)
shone through each and every sway;

does it matter then, if this light is kept safe
or placed intentionally at bay, or
if its shadows are worthy only
of a heavens-high puppet’s play,
so long as this light has been scattered (扬)
and paved along this month-old
milky-way...”

walking1

2008-02-11T21:35:00.000-08:00

love-making should be like walking
where the scenery keeps changing

i see that
your back’s dripping
and i just can’t quit thrusting.

the pace’s hastening
the distance’s inviting

i see your palm
out-reaching
and yes, i'm coming!

canopies3

2008-02-07T19:13:00.000-08:00

filtered, and across
an ocean cavity, tones and
articulations (of the diaphragm)
arrive as murmurs
in the head,
that are heard
only through a silent heart.

canopies2

2008-02-07T18:32:00.001-08:00

it can be utterly plastic

or glass-like, the way these shy sheets

of ceramic stars peek through

urban’s meso-layer

skirt;

it can also be completely wooded

canopies1

2008-02-06T07:26:00.000-08:00

how long can these luscious canopies wade us over
before
the tide of time announces that felling season has come
and
start stroking grey beards out of these promised longevity
silver barks?

i miss you

2008-01-14T23:46:00.001-08:00

i miss you
but i haven't met you yet
so special
but it hasn't happened yet
you are gorgeous
but i haven't met you yet
i remember
but it hasn't happened yet

and if you believe in dreams
or what is more important
that a dream can come true
i will meet you

i was peaking
but it hasn't happened yet
i haven't been given
my best souvenir
i miss you
but i haven't met you yet
i know your habits
but wouldn't recognize you yet

i'm so impatient
i can't stand the wait
when will i get my cuddle?
who are you?

i know by now that you'll arrive
by the time i stop waiting

i miss you

-bjork, "i miss you", in "Post"

Kerouac1

2008-01-07T23:18:00.001-08:00

"The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and can only be reproduced (though we hate to admit it) in death. But who wants to die? In the rush of events I kept thinking about this in the back of my mind. I told it to Dean and he instantly recognized it as the mere simple longing for pure death; and because we're all of us never in life again, he, rightly, would have nothing to do with it. I agreed with him then."

- J. Kerouac, On the Road, p.112

Pretty Faces

2008-01-07T08:17:00.000-08:00

Faces were never meant to be heavy
Even in this puzzle of who-knows-who-chronologically
Or situations that were meant to be funny
Why do you always all of a sudden turn elderly?
Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be, or
Perhaps it has always been about the bird and the bee
But that doesn’t mean that every other scenery
Would have to be subject to your cruellest sympathy
For it is most unwise to neglect to stop and see
Even in your little game of endless far-car-dee

corridor2

2008-01-02T10:21:00.001-08:00

when neon tubes line the

distributed drains of your corridor

love’s calendar has stopped

squarely on the 48th day

banishing my moistures

from the drought of your pores

i am the loiterer, blinded by the

signposts, and wetting your floor

with all our sands, now grey

corridor1

2008-01-01T09:45:00.001-08:00

down the corridor, you realize that parking footwear effectively needs not just sketched-out lots or almost-sacred spaces to perform the ritual of flinging divine invitations to deities, but like in temples, it also requires the calibrated histories of detaching soles from slipper, or shoe, before entering to offer worn-off cells or hardened skin as sincere smoke and ashes to many of its heavenly fathers remaining firmly on earth

corridor1.2

sweeping flightpaths and corridors, footwear is effectively parked not just with shapely sketched lots or gesticulated sacred spaces to perform the ritual of flinging divine invitations to deities, but like in grand temples of jetsetting, it also requires the calibrated histories of detaching soles from slipper, or shoe, before entering to offer worn-off cells or hardened skin as sincere smoke and ashes to the heavenly fathers who remain firmly in the checked-in rooms on earth

hiatus

2007-12-30T02:56:00.000-08:00

1.

the butt sorely misses
its posse cushion-flesh,
almost vice-versally,
postponing this rimming affair
results in an almost-
cardinal, withdrawal rash.
Then,
what does it mean
to take a break
and not want to be around
them humans anymore,
since
to distance from, for
its own god-damned sake
sanitizing is make-pretending
once it similarly becomes
a familiar chore

2.

perfect right angles
bookended soles of feet
the previous night’s shingles
on trunks to be bleached
explode, implode, contort, wrangle
like a vacuum-packed whale, beached
rays that cast upon us entangle
waves that erode, we hitch

3.

etched within my flock, or
school, the split-second
instinct of cartilage
delivers on one hand, an
overcast, a blockade; but
more so, a prized draft that
lifts the seamlessness of skies
and waters into the loft of
blue heavens. this is thus,
where keen horizons thrive on my flights of flying fishes
for their unbroken lines

to love

2007-11-25T04:42:00.000-08:00

what i would give
for a pulse is what
i will acquire with being
able to just love

a bittersweet moment in a foodcourt

2007-11-20T01:52:00.000-08:00

hunched but endearing
the tiny couple, tucked quietly
into a corner of their twilight
years, sat across one another
with plastic bowls of mee pok in
between them, concentrating
intently on the food and its taste,
nevermind even the food trays,
they can stay where they are
this is a bittersweet moment that I see:
overlapping years of straw-
laced mats, now oversized plates,
quietly seized just as memories
of yesteryears, of backlane smokes and
yoddling peddlers, the gentle changing of
scenes spell out not just a duration of
having survived, but a survival into a foodcourt

loose organs

2007-11-15T10:02:00.000-08:00

backpaddle (asap) and the spine will dislodge with the entire cavity in toll leaving the flesh in residual gestation of vomit that was once a heart, a lung, an appendix or something, but has now, decidedly remained within its flimsy wrapping only to be later regurgitated and then ushered to cannibals waiting peripherally in-line to grasp every wonderful bit of anatomy
backpaddle at once!

hyperactivity

2007-11-11T10:02:00.000-08:00

ike rain
trik le fr m ghett es,
h avens ab ve,
a d sandw ched i olations
o to my tiny
isla d and i to
t is whispe ed
co fessi n tht is
tha kf lly, too war m
t stay p t

spectrum

2007-11-03T10:13:00.000-07:00

this is
but the
coming
of age
of its
ancestry

my greenery

2007-11-03T09:58:00.000-07:00

entice red lanterns
to play in black
colour-clad wasps
eating into the air
push night's hurry
into forever's gold
engage my greenery
supplant and stare

15 by 20

2007-11-02T01:57:00.000-07:00

resting tips
tapping, sending,
retrieving pixels
that occur,
attract, consume
and delay
real reactions
beyond this
15 by 20
that is
not just
flat, but
also sad

p s alm

2007-10-28T22:21:00.000-07:00

Rain, where
curtains fail,
delighting
ponds into
dam-building.
This gift
that destroys
is totally human,
and almost
religious.

betwixt and between

2007-10-26T10:10:00.000-07:00

a little to the right
(your shoulder's showing)

to the left now,
(keep your arms in)

to the right again,
(shuffle shuffle quickly)

O!......................
and
you
just
tip
so easily
over

i, attended

2007-10-25T11:05:00.000-07:00

i
sit
alone
tending to me
tending to you
tending to meaningful social actions
alone
sat
i, attended

size and measure

2007-10-25T01:51:00.000-07:00

when evil is pronounced, aspirations
that launch kamikaze moles
of ki off its epicentre,
race them against flows,
only to land as balancing weights on eyelids,
ceasing to be only after someone
somewhere has been
made atomically
lesser.

so,
how big do you feel today?

smallest peaks

2007-10-24T11:37:00.000-07:00

morsecodebeatspepperingdwindling
soaringstringstugginglifting
dirtytexturesscratchingrubbing
smallestpeaksscalingreaching
alasejaculating

imagerie

2007-10-24T11:33:00.000-07:00

死 B
u
i
l
d
i
n
g

every 3 days or so,

2007-10-22T23:52:00.000-07:00

feel eyes moving
off your body

(relentlessly

coveting
)

off your back, your trunks, your subterranean skins
ahoy ahoy ahoy!
casting synthetic ropes tipped with
homing
hooks, then
at around every third day, start
grappling; reeling
in the saline solutions and amoebic matter

that provide the blueprint for the next 2 days of endless
mimicry

first thought best thought

2007-10-22T13:15:00.000-07:00

i wish to jump

crowded at the extremities

2007-10-22T13:06:00.000-07:00

lately i have been crowdedattheextremities there seems to be toomuch to unload that maybe i should
just stand still and
stop collecting

"Break open skin!
let loosethem over-excited toxins
as they perform
their
long-o
v e rdue
arc!"
If
only
I'd
stop
bouncing and for once,
just jump. .

DNA

2007-10-19T12:11:00.000-07:00

w H a t' syou rexac t scaf ol ding?

10 11 10 11 00 Program ming

laug hAlon g withth isparti cular spring

weepen dlessly atthe aw fullypla inKing

plastic

2007-08-28T11:13:00.000-07:00

whenevers
emit loose chains
of opiate smoke - in
reverence of brittle
whatevers.
(sending
second-hand ascensions
into its mechanical
suction
)
- withdrawal is the new
ohm; and He: who moves through
delicately,
conducts a rain dance
through his ears. and (soon
it starts to sprinkle.
then a king wave.) that finally lifts
this prayer to the next
highest visible octave.

inhale!

the placebo effect

2007-08-24T09:46:00.000-07:00

clad in postmodernity's
camouflage half-
attire, the image that forms
is
ironically archetypical

- of
fellow comrades in arms
strapped onto a collective trigger
which detonate bodies like homing shells, yet
sprouting feet that remain
firmly planted on bloodless, placebo ground -

this happens to be your martyrdom
(amid urban Singapore, 2007), unleashing
warrior images that run amok
in the MRT,
as long as the cloth upon your head shuts out
imaginary detractors like myself

then soon, the skies will open
and together we shall behold the flames that will enrapture
like astronomy's fireworks
celebrating the ashes of the history of seas

on the back of one of modernity's Cyclopses

2007-08-09T08:20:00.000-07:00

we were both waiting
in traffic, along
this one-way piece of shit
i glanced sideways, hands
firmly on the steering wheel
and we met, on a plane
amid, exhaust and
noise, you
watching over your
shoulder as if you have been beaten
into that mould, i
find
your humanity your decency
hardsolid
brillantlycast
almostangelicandsuddenly
tearful
you kept your ground your
stare, demolishing your charcoal
your labour, and blinding that singular blinking
eye of your man-eater. i
was the first to waver,
to hurridly escape this heat and cower
in the comfort of coolness
the lights changed, and i seemed to still be
in waiting even though i had proceeded some way
straight ahead while you,
slightly-hunched and god-like, continued on
to the right, turning, on the back of
one of modernity's Cyclopses.
i sit trembling still
to this day, thinking of the seconds
(we met
in a place without frills): it was where there was just the
right amount of condensation - on glass!
that could perhaps
never be reached by all that physics
or politics is

only the gentle are ever really strong

2007-07-30T21:20:00.000-07:00

tender was the night
and so
can

you

the Fallen idol

2007-07-29T20:00:00.000-07:00

driving home from work one evening his heart refused to skip a beat
it was as if he could foresee himself maintaining
skillfully,
his centre of gravity for days to come.
at ease with
the uncharacteristic dry June air, he wetted his lips
almost triumphantly
for he knew that by doing so he could
quench history
and irrigate his future yet,
somewhere in this ajar city, a pocket of desire, momentarily unmanned,
in unwitting stupor fashion
unleashes violent shrieks, tasting
the long-awaited freedom with their
voices. now
a deadly calm threatens his co-existing
serenity and
just like that, he was chipped;
felled. all these -
while he made his way home whistling a
tune,
behind the armour of
his 4-
wheel drive.

-SQ806, bound for Shanghai, 200707

Rouge

2007-07-29T19:52:00.000-07:00

within

an unescapable red
of
transfused destinies: harrowing

a
red that seems
bent on commiting
these sophistications into some
1-
dimensional Russian roulette
shoot-out (bang! bang!)
transfixing our accummulated agencies
into effortless structures-in

perpetual
vulnerable transit-

O, glorious Red! how you have always
fed,
upon chance and risk
O, foolish Rouge! how you have always
led: continuously
instinctive,

even if it means rendering
you
eventually blue

-SQ806, bound for Shanghai, 200707

shutter

2007-07-29T08:28:00.000-07:00

cautious placements positionings
guided by accurate placards
once cannibalized were at least
devoured commensally,
prey-predator alike: includes
eachother, even in the blink
of an ey
e
now
a
snap
has
been take
n
on
ly in bite
s where the par
tial fle
sh that re
mains in the jaw
s, caught bet
ween the tee
th
ac
count
fo
r the linger
ing
sten
ch of the
ul
timate
ly dis
tan
t, in
ept,
ever
yzomb
ie

listening to, @ 94kmph

2007-07-29T08:02:00.000-07:00

travelling cable lines on
a backdrop
of skyblue
signal that music
is airbound; all around
we just have
to fill in the notes,
tilt the marbles, and
create
asymmetry!
thus conducting scenic
tunes in our
heads

the 1st song

2007-07-03T20:15:00.000-07:00

We love our machines for they go the distance for us
We hope they love us back
With all the work that they are tasked
We only have ourselves to thank

Tis not a sad sad world, so make merry and idle
The machines have freed us from labor
And we can just go forth unbridled
Unabashedly, for we can never falter

Or is it? Or is it? Or might we have just erred?
For ‘balance’ is a term I’m sure we’ve heard
Yet with the chants near and impending
Are we still the almighty techno kings?

Koyaanisqatsi, life, life out of balance
This, this speed we’re in (Koyaanisqatsi)
Koyaanisqatsi, life, life out of fashion
Can it be a sin? (Koyaanisqatsi)

Cast through the windows, our deepest, darkest desires,
As warm waiting kindred gesture for massive hire
The rays that touch us barricade us sometimes
Don’t be the only passenger who hears these sonic chimes

Going (…)

What a lark, what a swoop!
I have found myself a space to coop
Paste that face onto the screen,
Wallpaper it, and watch it preen

Treat yourself to yet another extension
Kiss the wave with a surgeon’s precision
Ride a lover’s kiss with two keys
Be with someone whom thou never sees

Koyaanisqatsi, life, life out of balance
Carry, carry on this postmodern conversation (Koyaanisqatsi)
Koyaanisqatsi, life, life out of fashion
Introduce to the world your next reincarnation!

The places that you have visited
The rooms that you have stained
The relationships that were requited
All traces, traces left in vain

Dive in, dive in, but leave an anchor
As a precaution just to be sure
Let your senses fly,
fly by,
faster,
faster than the blink of an eye
In this digital heaven way up high,
just pray you don’t shiver yourself dry

Question: can we ever go slow again?
As if it was part of the programmer’s long-forsaken plan
In time, can we return the author his pen
Before the pages get turned over and over again?

Koyaanisqatsi, life, life out of balance
Towards dimness, towards disappearance (Koyaanisqatsi)
Koyaanisqatsi, life, life out of fashion
Towards thinness – the next best penance (Koyaanisqatsi)

:)

2007-06-26T08:33:00.000-07:00

these days, a smile becomes easier when there is nothing to it, really, except the double pressing of thumb; and you do not even really need to smile though the essential consolation for me remains that there isn't a frown saved on as automatic instead on this hurried interface

the good gynecologist

2007-06-08T09:21:00.000-07:00

sentences and structures performing pedagogical
pregnancies are let down by instant scrupulous
surgeries, blistering beams and a
dry numbness of anesthesia
an autistic delivery
receive instead these
smaller replications as if
mother and child have been denied of petty form,
since these laws of birth only thrive on being written

the future in history

2007-06-06T20:54:00.000-07:00

i can't help but wonder,

how does one rid an echo, a stain
or a history of timepiece inclinations
without purging the blood out of your own
stillborn conceivement raised under
youthful indiscretions?
and/or
how does one confront these
slipshod confessions or static
impressions without diminishing the ease
to swallow and digest the equally-current
life course transitions?

i can only keep wandering

water cycle

2007-06-06T18:30:00.000-07:00

liquid water now cooled that has already once been boiled can again turn gaseous and reach boiling point but this time through mere dutiful evaporation so long as we are talking about the same water that remains in its original rectangular flask, for these tranquil transparent surfaces contain more volatile energies than any artificial flame can ever hope to offer;

more amazingly, these aroused atmospheric vapours will eventually condense above a different flask and in due time learn to take up its shape

(of course, some will inadvertantly fall back onto the site of its non-stop epic flight but they will find that the solid flask now assumes the more rounded structure of a bowl where there is now more room for congregation nearer the increasingly permeable surfaces)

the genius of rufus wainwright

2007-06-06T01:52:00.000-07:00

his eclecticism his blueprint my saviour
from the daily grind
i stand enraptured by my chanced-upon epic
find of wails that weave between
his jungle of ingenious bass
staring out of glass nourished
i hear him bravely make his political
case while the other zombies remain
heavily under the spell previously cast
he has helped me break my mechanical
fast am i inside or outside?
i think of all these as the lights teleport the listening one
to join the only essential tribe
that seems to be missing its only son

many have said that you have become

2007-06-05T23:19:00.000-07:00

many have said that you have become much too abundant and perhaps also too steeped but as i walk through your fronts and backs and shoulders there is much life in your charming lanes life that is no doubt changed but life regardless that has grown from the generous donated layers of the lives of others and as i say it to your modern face you have shown to be more than anything that the architects could have planned for as from time to time you reveal your grace to a few who cared enough to sweat and i thank you for this afternoon of pure embrace when i find myself perpetually head up high, feet slipping again and again losing myself exchanging breaths and juices with your children until i realize finally that you are your pearl, and as i leave you be, quietly my prints have already been etched onto your skin and i am weighted down yet alarmingly lighter as if trying to delicately slip into the other pearls that lay either beached or just in the way

skinny legs

2007-06-05T18:19:00.000-07:00

my skinny legs to match my jeans
my hide-behinds that help gather my beans
my palpitations that render me lean
my page that is torn up by the dean
my scrubs to keep the insides clean
my flights insisting that i have been
my larva that i pour onto my kin
my lows very much in their teens
my words are as direct as is seen
my search for purposeful amnesia and requiem
my legs will outgrow my tight-fitting jeans

10 metres of tar, 1 little red man

2007-06-04T06:41:00.000-07:00

2 metres of pavement, so i called out your name
was by here by is by there
i could only notice the colour of your hair
but you no longer smelled the same
and you could only ask why i was dragging this
(metremetremetremetremetre+month) between us, and to where
i hear the dice crack as you fist-fully reshuffle our constellation
cruelly revealing a brand new configuration that no longer
sparkled the same as our sands have all been emptied
just before you came ~ almost too cordially ~
this dusk has managed to coyly stuff these
(years months days) just beneath the (minutes and seconds) above my skin
starting from the (metres and yards) your glow that i see
where unsurprisingly as neither our fingers nor pallor
kept up with our increasingly redundant game
since (neither of us are to be blamed
and i myself) no longer smelled the same

controlfreak v.2

2007-06-04T01:50:00.000-07:00

blood lips synched and thick gloves bleached
the cues on the floor are out of reach
stage sanitized to your fancy whim
X-shaped wooden stars dance above potpourri's prim
of amber varnish and shading vertical lines
we are now in a puppeteer's dream
your team (who's team?)
too anxious to satisfy your insatiable brim
or fill that awfully loose shoulder seam
question: how do you touch if you insist on keeping those fingers meek?
so i'd stop this streak my dearest and sweetest controlfreak

giantlerette

2007-06-03T22:43:00.000-07:00

fee-fi-fho-fhump-Delilah's-triumphant-heart-this-way-comes
see-sigh-so-sorrow-who-would-have-known-it-to-be-this-narrow
scree-scri-scro-scurry-the-lesser-gods-flee-hurry!-hurry!
thee-thy-tho-thud-she-is-all-out-for-fresh-deity-blood
go-golia-goliath!-scorn-seeking-its-destructive-right-to-turf
slurp-slurp-burp-burp-lands-either-move-or-are-usurped
bim-bam-slim-slam-she-tightens-the-collars-of-them-lambs
sis-sash-cris-crash-Zeus'-gall-is-bathmilk-to-her-flesh
zig-zag-zig-zag-waywardly-waves-her-lonesome-flag
squish-squash-mish-mash-ironing-weeds-and-trees-lightning-flash
cree-cry-crow-crack-ruined-are-the-earthy-beans-of-Jack
flee-fly-flow-flar-afterwards-hers-(repostitories)-eternal-scars
zaa-zee-zam-zoom-watch-her-set-her-clock-to-the-howling-moon
tick-tock-tick-tock-hostile-is-such-love-borne-out-of-wedlock

controlfreak

2007-06-03T06:56:00.000-07:00

minimal as the cues on the floors may seem
(with bleeding lips synched & thick gloves bleached)
the stage is fully sanitized to your fancy whim
X-shaped wooden stars dance above potpourri's prim
this is a puppeteer's designer dream
(of amber varnish and cascading vertical lines)
your team, your team
too anxious to satisfy your insatiable brim
or fill that awfully loose shoulder seam
question: how do you actually touch if you insist on keeping those fingers meek?
so i'd stop this streak quick my dearest and sweetest controlfreak

i probably shouldn't be but i am

2007-06-02T21:53:00.000-07:00

i probably shouldn't be but i am my very own lionheart solar system self-sufficient please) ( polite as a tease that engages in this series of star wars for loot gravity is anchor to my defenses planets are glorious caves i cannot shed centripetal is my care
otherwise this system can always orbit somewhere else where yet another column of air is displaced yet another continuum of mixing cocktail atmospheres start all over

and
all over
again

(curiously&quietly ~ you&i

2007-05-31T19:49:00.000-07:00

(curiously&quietly~you&i have repetitively refused he&she as if we have been dancing off each other tragically mirroring within a disciplined binary even though you&i are profusely he&she domestically & that these awkward steps can all be improvised upon eversoadjustedly - trust me&reach over with a present palmful of reticent rescues oh-so-appropriately ~&quickly)

z-e-i-t-g-e-i-s-t

2007-05-21T00:58:00.000-07:00

polite wires sacroscant flashlights governing traffic instant messages customized auxiliaries disposed winks cryptic penultimate defenses withering font sizes crowded folders equally neurotic viruses blacker than black boxes accessible glitches conveniently relinquishes silent offices timid neuroses highly charged beneath the surfaces gothic publishers rubbery trenches devastatingly chic insulators polite wires sacroscant flashlights governing traffic instant messages customized auxiliaries disposed winks cryptic penultimate defenses withering font sizes crowded folders equally neurotic viruses blacker than black boxes accessible glitches conveniently relinquishes silent offices timid neuroses highly charged beneath the surfaces gothic publishers rubbery trenches devastatingly chic insulators polite wires sacroscant flashlights governing traffic instant messages customized auxiliaries disposed winks cryptic penultimate defenses withering font sizes crowded folders equally neurotic viruses blacker than black boxes accessible glitches conveniently relinquishes beautifulest tortures cruelest teases persistently sticky pulls and pushes wide-eyed closures narrow laned passes one way ticket to vain juxtaposes committed fixtures nonchalances restless pressures for mileages silent offices timid neuroses highly charged beneath the surfaces gothic publishers rubbery trenches devastatingly chic insulators

mr weatherman

2007-05-17T19:49:00.000-07:00

bring it on mr weatherman
for your shoulders are still intact
i'll take you on mr weatherman
quid-pro-quo fact for fact
oblige (I) mr weatherman
ratify our clandestine pact
comfort (he) mr weatherman
make him stand tall and erect
discipline (she) mr weatherman
rein in her self-destructive sect
pardon (we) mr weatherman
delay our eventual wreck

(this debt, this debt)

now, now, mr weatherman
patiently remind us again why
we are kept to be so wet