Pressure

I felt the need to write about pressure since I was feeling it and I hope you relate to it.

Pressure
Will you be so kind as to
freeze--
Cryogenically freeze--
a melting rubber band?
Look at its quirky folds and
compare it to the pressure grooves
on my face.

pressure
pressure
BUILDING
UP
WELLING UP
CAN'T STOP!

Or subsequently experiment
shaking--
excessively shaking--
the tipsy contents of a coke can?
Feel its pressure 'gainst your skin,
Experience what I am feeling
RIGHT NOW!

News FLASH (flash, FLASH, flash):
Volcano erupting, evacuate!

pressure
pressure
BUILDING
UP
WELLING UP
CAN'T STOP!

NOT NOW
GET AWAY
LET ME BE
YOU WILL PAY!

Trapped by pressure
Stumped by fear
Pressure relieve
or DISSIPATE!!

My First "Epic" Poem

Originally intended as a short story, it evolved into my longest poem. Very detail-centric, it's not about gardens though. It's up to you to decide what the garden of wilted roses symbolises.

Garden of Wilted Roses

There you stood,

standing there behind the deli’s revolving doors,

behind your bespectacled thin frame,

fingers resting on glass, breath

exhaling slowly in an icy mist.

Staring, staring across the curtain of rain,

the magical slow-motioned frame-by-frame

winding of each drop as it ricocheted

from the heavens.

Your mind, no doubt fooling you. It couldn't be me.
Or was it me, motionless across the street where

the cars ploughed, in a swirl of h2o, although I

should have been miles away somewhere in a

garden of oaks, writing this? You turn away in denial.

I can already imagine you rolling your eyes in self-pity,

collapsing in a heap onto the stool as you almost fall

over the manager tending to a complaint. The manager

has that typical New York gruffness to him but in it

you can only see mine staring back.

The cracks on the walls suddenly have outlines

of my face etched into them and the laughter of

two adults having a conversation brings back

memories of our cafe escapades long past.

Maybe you can't help feeling lonely, being that far

away from friends, alone in a four-seater table

reading Nora Roberts, but it’s likely to be

MORE than just that.

Perhaps the hope that you will meet

me at the next street corner even though

I won't be there.

You rush out the door as a customer walks in

soggy converse meets muddy puddles of

asphalt and grime.
It was a hallucination, a mirage.

You stand there in the rain as water dribbles down

your face in silent defeat, vocal chords straining against

the sound of crackling thunder and crow calls. People

look at you like "she's an embarrassment to America"

but you don't seem to care.

Your arms flailing and tearing at your hair,

frustrated

beyond

all

reckoning.

But then again, you've probably moved on,

having fun with your new catch somewhere,

probably Hawaii (I got your postcard, thank you very much),

while I sit in a garden of wilted roses writing this.

Angel and Devil

This poem is less about religion than it is about the moral dilemmas of right and wrong. In reality, the boundaries of good and evil are blurred. Nothing is as clear-cut as it initially seems.
It is also about how societal views have focused more on the ideas of angels and demons being of good and evil respectively as is clear in pop culture than on their religious significance. Something to think about...

angel and devil
heaven
hell

halos encircling
tritons commanded
bright lights
red aura

heavenly choirs
damning crying

majestic wings
scouring horns
good deeds
temptation irresistable
cherubim divinity

happiness
eternal guilt lake of fire

mere ideologies of good
and evil? Religious or
conceptual? Which qualities
of angels,which of the other?

Or both?

Misunderstood Love

Love is complex. Love is funny. Love can be misunderstood easily. And we DON'T need another sitcom or chick flick to tell us that. Instead, here's an "anthology" of two poems that does exactly that. :)

ode to a stubborn ex
Keep telling me you are sorry,
Then say you want me back.
But didn't anyone tell you?
With my X-ray vision, saw through
Your lies, who would've thought that?

After all this time gone past,
Words don't mean a thing anymore
cold-stoned heart, only
Beating from your mind,
Not your heart.

Calling my home, texting my
phone, visiting my school. Pause,
stop, reflect. Forcing your love on me
even though cold shoulder turned to you?

Ring, ring. Phone goes off and it's you
but I reject your love, let me do as I want.
Let me do as I please! No reply.
"Please record your message after the tone. "
Let this be my only
Only, ode of love to you.

"Beep..."

phone call to a foolish boy from a self-proclaimed psycho
Pick up the phone, i feel you there
Don't try to pretend you're not at home.
I know that we have broken up,
our love has died from time's past. But
if you fail to answer this,
I'll just have to tell you this.

Well, I have got your wallet here,
left it when you came over for "movie night".
In all the static undressing onscreen, perhaps
you got a little carried away emulating. Changed
plans and altered the hour's affair to sleepover.

Look, I understand what you may think, but
misunderstood you did. Deflate your ego,
come at once, 95th on Broadway by the
lamppost we first met. Or maybe, else maybe
you'll just find pictures of your chubby I.D self
circulating the net.

Regards, evil-genius-of-a-me-who-just-wants-to-return-your-wallet.

The Lost Poems

This is a collection of totally unrelated poems that aren't as polished and satisfactory and failed to get their own posts.This first one I didn't like due to its "been there, done that" quality. It's sappy and boring. Second one felt forced and contrived and last one's just...well, exactly. It's just too ordinary. But maybe blog readers like yourself enjoy the cliche, read it to believe it.

Love+Happiness
Like the fizziness of a light champagne,
The warmth of a golden mane.
The aroma of a french cologne,
It's how I feel when not alone.

This feeling inside I can't describe,
Only occurs when you're beside.
When you are here nothing else matters,
I only see you, my sadness you shatter.

And perhaps we could all agree,
All of us have one destiny,
To be loved by a beloved till the end of time,
And equate love and happiness as one and
The same.

Bowling for the Uninitiated
Hollow roar of predator hunting down

prey echoes, reverberates down lanes of wood,

Gluttonous owner grinning,

Reeking breath appealing.

Rolling, accelerating towards the pack of ten.

Veers off course taking long route, camouflage then

hooks back, eventually feasting in a raucous scramble,

no time to react.

Knockout! A strike- Body count ten,

none survive the cruel and vicious attack.

Hunting dog returns to owner with catch,

And sets out on its hunt again.

Consider This
Consider this:

The first snowflakes tumble daintily

Amidst oblivious city-goers,

Fuzzy evanescence on a tranquil sunday.

Beauty lost in the bustle of life.

Harsh winds crimp famined rose petals

As they cripple bent the rose stem.

Sighing inaudible breaths of loss.

Magnificent pale magenta unnoticed by

animals in a rainforest.

Child gives street beggar ice-cream cone,

Creased face lights up in a toothy grin.

In return fished penny placed kindly in

child's palm. Crowds that pass unable to notice

this unexpected act of compassion.

Consider these, then realise

Life is a speeding bullet train of which we are

passengers-Too tired to appreciate the landscapes

rolling by, yet thrilled enough just to feel the wind

rushing past our faces, comforted by the thought

Of heading someplace.

Poetry Convo

You know the inspiration well's run dry when you resort to bizarre poems about msn conversations regarding poems. You get what i mean...

Poetry Convo

Chat, talk, talking.

Digital words spoken by jpeg emoticons.

Is this poem about love <3<3<3?

Perhaps, expressionless : .

Yelp, talk, yakkity yak.

R u bored? Why not rite a poem?

Biting lip. Shudder, shrug, not for me.

Poems are way underr8d!

Fun? You mean fun-draining.

LOL, "backspace".

ROFL, "delete".

Chat, tense, shouting @#$%^!

Index fingers typing furiously-Rat-tat-tat.

Not joking, you could go places with this stuff!

o.O,Publishers only seal deals for prose.

Poems are an excuse to use singlish,

Make up words like yugch and qwertyuiop

(finger swipes keyboard)...

Get lost poetry freak, echo echo echo.

\ /

0= . . =0

0

Last message received 10 min ago,

Starts up notepad application swift,

Fountain pen of pixels a-leaking.

Red cross clicked.

Pool Session

Pool Session
Tiny ripples perpetuate your surface in succession,
Sending waves rollicking down your aqua belly.
You look down from intangible eyes somewhere
My strokes purposeful as i struggle in a sinking freestyle
'Gainst your power in volume.

With each stroke, arms dragging down air,
In a perhaps vain yet definitely subconcious
Attempt to keep myself afloat,
Bubbles rise back to the surface.

Yet your mystical force an aura carressing my toned body.
You are in control of each molecule of water,
You carry me down the length of the pool,
As if gently blowing on me with your hushed breath.

I tire out and slow down to a trudging pace,
But your support under me keeps me going
Making me feel as though I'm hovering in your depths.

Jolt! Flesh collides with concrete wall.
You gently retreat and slide off my skin.
As I grab the pool towel and walk away.
You are once again at peace and serenity.

Pool session over...

Reality Denied

Reality Denied

The hoodie hides my insecurities,
The blaring music overpowers all emotion.
I don't want to have to do this-
Do this, look emo and stupid.
Walk around with a frown on my face,
Pissed off at the world.
But see, thing is, I don't want to feel
If feeling means hurting.
Prevent any foolish acts.
So pausation for this poem ends,
Life resumes,
Reality denied.

Rest in Peace

Some things require closure. This poem marks possibly the last time i write about death.

Rest in Peace

I prick up my senses and smell a blooming periwinkle,

Each delicate nectar whiff taking me closer.

Closer to the memory of you.

I see you in the innocence of a child,

I feel you in the comfort of my dreams.

And in each pocketful of sunshine in my life,

A little part of you will forever remain.

You are there- beyond the rays of a sunny rainbow,

You are the pot of gold.

You are there- the silver lining of a gloomy day,

Optimism, you would always say.

Some say death is a tragic loss,

Full of regret and sorrow.

But you taught me that life's like that,

For it will continue tomorrow.

Maybe it was your purpose on earth,

And you had fulfilled it well.

When the angel of death came knocking on your door.

Your legacy, left behind forever more.
Rest in peace.

Honey Bees

I wrote this poem in response to someone's feedback that I should try a more light-hearted poem. Well... you decide.

Honey Bees

Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing.

Doing what bees do best.

Working, working, working.

The honey bees.

Fly away and be free,

oh honey bees.

Who knows what adventures

You've taken venturing out

Past the garden gnome?

How I wish life were so simple

And carefree

Like the honey bees in the park.

Caged

Emo poem. There's nothing more I can say. It's about how people only make fun of others because they don't know them well enough.

Caged
I trapped your laughter one day,

Caught sight of my name in it.

Felt separate, lost, misunderstood.

And so i thrash this poem at you.

You don't know me.

Enough pretending you do.

Just tear up my labels and stereotypes

helpless, tossing, fallen.

Unfurl the straightjacket of my emotions,

punctuate every ill-begotten happiness with

nodules of desperation and hysteria.

Wrench my very being, heart and soul

As roots claw to break free of past regrets

And then tell me you know me.

Cause until then,

You have caged me,

helpless, tossing, fallen.

Random Thoughts

This is just a random poem. Some people say i'm random, so this is for all those people(guess you were right). LOL. But what fun is life without randomness and spontaneity anyway? Just read and enjoy and if you don't understand it, well... there's no deeper meaning behind it. XD

Random Thoughts

The fluid pen strokes of a waiter taking an order.
Fingers tapping dashboard to oldies on the radio.
Two kids on a worn down amusement park attraction.
A pregnant bride flees from her tabloid wedding.
A poem hastily scribbled on tattered paper,
You, reader, trying to make sense of random thoughts.

Mime Life

Many of us find ourselves helpless and with no say in what life holds in store for us. We listen and follow the wants of our parents and our friends. We end up living a life that we cannot call our own. In this poem, the phrase "mime life" is used to describe this sort of life since mimes are trapped by invisible boundaries (our lack of control over our own lives) and they exemplify the human spirit. Their have a mask to hide their true emotions and vulnerability and their actions are preconceived. They enact ideal human reactions to out of the ordinary circumstances just like how our decisions are based on society's criteria for "ideal". In writing this poem, my hope is that we may have the courage to break free from society's grip on us and push away the mold society has for each and every one of us. May we shape our lives however we want.

Mime Life
Unfulfilled hopes and unreachable dreams,
Fear of ridicule leaves aspirations unsaid.
Life does not halt to the yearns of a timid heart,
And the tolling of the hourly bells continue.
Unsatisfaction is the seed of action,
But action does not initiate unless commanded.
So you shall not play a part in this life of yours,
Leading another's life by their instructions,
Confined by a lack of confidence and self esteem,
A caricature of human existence,
Living a mime's life.

Just a Song

The next poem is a little surreal and requires your imagination. I was thinking about the power of songs- How they can dictate our emotions, take us to the farthest reaches of the earth, enable us to put ourselves in another's shoes, etc... In this poem, a song is personified as a living, breathing human through the narrator's imagination. The narrator listens to a song on the radio and it comes to life, then he confides to the song about his troubled love life and escapes reality through the song, then the illusion is broken when the song comes to an end (i.e Last line of poem).

Just a Song

Bubblegum infectiousness,

Psychedelic catchiness.

Bass pumping--

Upbeat tempo, then you GASP....

Your voice seductively luring,

And you are sprawled next to me.

Oh won't you grasp my hand!

Embrace it like forever while

Finding landscapes in its wrinkles.

And we can escape this place

Where love is always a ticking time bomb

Of overtimed patience and foolish vulnerability.

Fly past the morning chimney wisps,

But you are just a voice

Just a voice coming from the radio

I don't even know you personally,

And yet i do.

I said " You can call me John",

and breaking the illusion you replied "I'm just a song".

The Cool Junkies

Junkies are drug addicts. But in the case of my poem, these junkies get their fix from attention. That's right, i'm referring to the groups of "cool" people we meet daily who for some misplaced sense of superiority, think they're better than the rest of us. They try too hard to be "cool", to set the trends and follow them, in their relentless pursuit of attention and acceptance. However, in the process, their individual unique personalities are drowned out by their actions, and they become predictable and boring, almost akin to robots.

The Cool Junkies

Cloned,

Serial-numered,

Unthinking Cyborgs.

Similar swaggers juxtaposing

Gel-slicked hair and untucked shirts,

Programmed vocab of symbols and censored beeps.

Exhaling nicotine charred breath,

Mint in mouth.

Artificial semblence,

"Fake" says your digital profile.

You get high on attention,

But got caught in its web of addiction.

Led to your withdrawal symptoms,

Shards of once colourful personalities lost.

Rip off the masks!

Away with thy unholy stenches,

Or begone-Homogenous Beings,

Undeserving a human lifestyle.

The Chase

Life is a neverending race for a final goal, though many of us aren't sure of what it is. This poem is about how people work slavingly though they aren't sure why and how society influences us.

The Chase
You-The one on the train to work-

Bopping your head to music,

Prim suit and bowler hat.

Life takes forever, think

Think.

Suppose you're too vain to see

Your fruitless humdrum life.

A goddamn lie,

Monotony 101 amplified.

Your actions are self-imposed

Delusions to hide the

Misery, hopelessness

Of the blatant pursuit

That is life.

Life swallows you whole in its obsessions.

Your fashion a testament to society's trends,

Society's unspoken regulations molded you,

Leaving you blinded by the voices of others.

Your own voice lost in the cacophany of sounds.

You pretend to know why,

but you don't what you're doing in life.

You are still lost and confused,

A child lost in the sensory overload of times square,

Of in-your-face billboards and ubiquitous neon.

Searching for a deeper meaning to life,

A final goal,

A common destiny.

Until then life is a meaningless chase,

A buffer period between loss and nirvana.

You hate that money is the universal language

And that satisfaction will never come.

But you can't stop the race,

You can't give up the chase.

So you'll run,

Aimlessly trudging down the winding path,

Of experiences that await.

Not knowing

The places you will go,

The people you will meet,

Or how you will finish the chase.

Adolescent Rants

My poems are posted in chronological order, so this next poem was the second one I wrote. It's about dealing with death and loss and how children are forced to mature when placed under these circumstances. Due to the nature of its subject, I think it's fit to reflect on the friends and loved ones we have lost as well as reach out a hand to their families and friends who may still be coming to terms with it.

Adolescent Rants

How do you inform someone their loved one has passed?

If it only evokes reddened eyes,

Shedding tears of regretful sorrow

For an oblivious soul-Don't do it.

How do you tell someone an acquaintance left the world?

When it will only inspire awkward moments

Of silence-wrought empty stares and shrugs

Against sighs and fast-mummered prayers-Say it quick.

How do you hammer together right words for an elegy?

If you can't spell death without sadness

and funeral without truth-Shy away.

How do you say goodbye at a funeral?

If you doubt a corpse can hear,

and death can feel-Walk away.

How do you do all this if you're a kid?

GROW UP.

My First Poem

This was the very first poem I wrote a few months back, to prove to myself that poets were just ordinary people who wrote flowery stuff and didn't understand what they were writing. Obviously, my perspective has changed since then but have a look and draw your own conclusions. For some unknown reason, my first few poems revolved around love.

If only
If only the sun shone brighter,

Then it would blind my vanity-

The vanity of living by your standards

Encapsulated upon your loveliness.

If only the grass was greener-

Then you would be by my side.

Whisk away my cries of a thousand sunsets

Lifting our souls to heights untold.

If only lovers were blind to whim follies.

Forgiveness would come easy for the couch ripped in anger,

Shattering arguments cemented on envy and suspicion.

We would tumble, fragile limbs embracing

In a sea of love and passion.

But all of the above is my childhood voice,

naive and unafraid to dream

In a world where the abstract and simplistic are thought foolish.

So i guess we'll have to settle on the multi-layered complexity of our love

And only dare to realise such fantasies in poems.

Introduction

This is a blog of poems. If you don't like poems you probably won't like it. Specifically, this is a blog of self indulgent poems I wrote to please myself and to satisfy my need for catharsis. I didn't originally write them to please anyone or for the purpose of having them read. My main motivation for posting my poems is to share my views on stuff. But if you have suggestions on how i could improve my poems or you just want to tell the whole world how bad, or good my poems are, feel free to comment at your own discretion.