the placebo effect

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

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

tender was the night
and so
can

you

the Fallen idol

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

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

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

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

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)

:)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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