The Dysfunctional Pilgrim

1. It is the ache in your spine 2. It is the hollow of your ribs, when your lungs have vanished 3. It is the swell in your eyes, but not from tears 4. It is the stickiness of tears, finally falling 5. It is the blank blue of the late night 6. It is the clear grey of the early morning 7. It is the soft pulsing in your skull, not hurting but ever present 8. It is 9. It is 10. It always is

I miss my old skin; my new one stretches too thin. It itches, tearing me     apart. It Hurts. Will I get used to It, or Will I grow a New one? New Haven, March 2018 (Hello! That's my first poem since my poetry course and I don't know if I like it or not. I guess I'm experimenting meaninglessly)

I still know the address by heart, where The days were long and nights longer No matter the rush, I always had time It was almost like I could create time Back then 2am was ‘oh, still early’ There was no sleep and little rest It was okay to starve and keep running The constant chaos made sense The stress that gnawed at me At the same time fulfilled me When I bled I knew I was alive The exhausted thrill fed my drive Now I live a half-life of half-places Half-done dreams, half-begun plans A Half-hearted life between adult and child But a rudder that chooses neither left nor right is a useless one Maybe it’s because kid-me Didn’t imagine a year beyond 24 I’ve lost my way Because I’d never thought I’ll get this far This uncharted terrain overwhelms me So much so I’d rather the ship sank And I go down with it. Motivation - please find me again. I say let's just move, one simple step at a time But my head and my heart and body are split into different idea...

there’s a page to be filled a blank canvas waiting for words, and ideas but i say tomorrow there’s a bed to be filled a tired body waiting for rest, and sleep but i say tomorrow there’s a life to be filled a big world waiting for deeds, and me but i say maybe never there’s a hole to be filled a darkness waiting for dust, and me, and  i say maybe - Note: this was written a long time ago. I just found it again while rummaging through my stuff. 

I'm back, peeps, if you're still following. These are a set of poems I sent in for a poetry competition this semester. It's a set of three, but the last one was "canyons grand", which I have already posted up here, so I won't waste your time on it.  Milk The spilt milk drips  like murky white blood drops staining the brown floor and collecting black dust.        The broken glass creates icicles shattered and silver dust scattered from fallen wishing stars. Who did this? Who did this? I did this, and so did you. The milk has spilt and stars have fallen - No reason to cry for the two. Tanjung Malim, April 2015 Commentary: I wasn't very creative for this competition, due to time constrains. I wrote a rough draft of this many, many years ago, and with a pressure of a deadline, I pulled it out again and edited it. Well, when I say "edit", I mean change everything except the first line, haha.  A Haiku f...

When Prof. Dr. Shirley Lim (writer of Monsoon History, among others) came to our uni to share on Asian American Literature, she shared this poem by William Carlos Williams with us: I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast Forgive me they were so delicious so sweet and so cold When she taught poetry to students (under the Budding Poets Society) in Hong Kong (I may be wrong about this information, it was a long time ago), she instructed them to use that format in the poem and come out with their own version. She actually wanted to do that with us but we ran out of time.  I took it on myself to give it a go, but there were two problems. First, I was writing it during a boring athletic lecture, and second, I was starving. As in, really, really, REALLY hungry.  And so I ended up with these two variations: This is just to say (V1) I have eaten the stray cat that walks around our five-f...

Tell me my name Tell my story Tell me my past and what you have in store for me Because my pride blinded me My fear swayed me My apathy lied to me and I rested in ignorance But now I sense of longing from deep within to know who I was, who I am what I'm called for, who I am to be I want to know Your reason for creating me of placing me here, of my name my life is no longer a game Tell me my name Tell me my story Give me a reason to live for Your glory Something i thought of after watching Rise of the Guardians. I love the deep themes amidst all the fun. Soundtrack was awesome too. No need to mention that the animators are GENIUS. If i had drawing skills, i would want their job.  I've actually written a lot of random nonsense while i was busy with assignments and whatnot. Most of them are poetry because when i'm short on time, or lazy, i'd just cram it into some short ....thing. I suppose i have the time to du...