Sunday, 14 October 2018


You entered into
           my life
on the face of a
           warm breeze

and unfurled me. a
         flower in the
midst of spring. Opening
         to the gentle touch
of the moon.

a shrubbed field. yellow.
         dotted. full. bare and
open to the sun.

therein, my spirit

awaiting the touch
         of your soul
                to awaken.

Sunday, 1 July 2018



Two continents apart
we met on a third 
      By chance. 

I snuck in front  
    of her in the airline
queue and gave 
   her my most sheepish

forgive my impatience 
    my eyes said. and she
   by graceful ignorance.

I thought I would 
   never see that 
boyishly beautiful 
  face again.

Then, in wet Malay air
 we found ourselves
outside sharing a

A car ride later, 
 against the backdrop of tall palms 
her asymmetric earrings only
 set off by her loose 
slacks, soft leather brogues and the tattoo
    - of an arrow- 
         on her left arm.
Something inside me came alive.  


 Her eyes: dark cherry brown.
 fuzzy milk
        chocolate hair. 
She was full. All cream
               all richness.


We arrived. Do you have a partner?
   she or I
   I don't remember. But I 
answered: "No, but I do go both 
ways." "So do I."

          An affirmation.


Over days, she shared her
  cigarettes with me 
The burn in my throat
  only reflecting 
 how I burnt for her.

She, so sensitive in her
     wicker constitution.


One dark night (The Godess
only knows how we got there, bless her)
          we lie on a bed...
   desire tangible in the air.
Like smog.
my head against
        the pillow, hers at the end
of the bed. She leant (or was it leapt?) forward
 and kissed me.

      Cherub lips
all petals 
     and wet tongue on
peach down.


Touching her was
   touching a

Which only burnt
brighter when
 I bathed her 

lathery hands 
slipping over
 breasts naturally onto
              the unashamed 
                   convexity of hips,
              soapily and gently
   grazing her crevice.


Seeing her naked was 
   an apparition. 
                 all incurvate.
 I burnt more.

The image
of her naked body
         from behind
    into my mind.


Hot, Dewey and Fast:
 we lit each other up
at our apexes.
       all stone churning friction against stone
                 pestle and pestle at ends 
                 and lips brushing and buds pulsating

Legs slit, scoring and intersecting 
         incising until our silken
                  liquids were one. 

I ate - there is no other way to put it - 
   tenderly, greedily, at 
      her Corsage orchid. 
So vigorously, with such hunger,
                                       such thirst, that
At times I almost couldn’t bbbbreathe. 

She pulsed
      under me
        (into me.) 

Legs spread wide
     with my full 
         bristling bulb 
at her juncture
   she opened her 
  lungs and 
that brought her home. 


it was my turn. 
   Oh Goddess.
 she was soft.
  so hard.

in drunken splendour
it was everything.

       it was nothing but
the flame burning bright.


She was.
Full woman. 

Tuesday, 26 June 2018


Come closer.
It is in  your breath
 that you tend.

Engulf me,
  like the waves
lap the shore.

Give, but not,
  too much.

Because, like
  the sand,

i can't retain.


He came into me,
    tall, phallic, lean,
beauty-FULL. beautiful.

he left. quicker than
  he came. yes I mean,
like, during sex.

He indented my psyche,
  dented it. knocked it
    knocked me in.
every fucking time.

and now, all I have
 left is the cavern.

regret is a word,
  only left for the

The Chapters Will Write Themselves

words drip from
         my fingertips
and slip off my
         tongue onto
the pages of my
         life, that I
keep writing
     and t-trying to

there is no eraser.
  no backspace, no
     delete. only
margins for error,
     pages for them;
                  of them.

they can, at best,
   be reduced to
but what if I
   wanted them to be
a chapter?

The chapters will
     write themselves.
word by word.
     space by     space.

breath by

inhalation. exhalation.
fullstop. comma.

they'll neatly fold
when complete

and ever so gently,
   or maybe sometimes
with a ____jolt
start anew.

the chapters, love,
   will write

Wednesday, 7 March 2018

Half a crescent

When it's been
       about half a
        crescent of
         a moon

and you're thinking
       about a fort-
         night ago

already reminiscing.
        It's time to let
                 go, baby.
        It's time,
               to let go.

Tuesday, 30 January 2018

I promise you -
  it will lift
    it will lift
     it will lift.

The smog will
  separate. and
light will seep

Darkness will
 slowly but surely
turn to light.

You will wither
  and bloom.

Friday, 19 January 2018

Moon Sisters

Birthing bone.
  Crown of strength. 

Fully fledged maleficent

The moon.

We hold each other 

Blood sisters

At the start
    of the only month
I've come to
    __understand. When
I don't long for
     any lover's touch

you crawl into
    my bed and
surround me
  with your warm

taking the blood
      that br/
from me and
a bond
        eternally strong.

You, are my
of my choosing.
           my kin.


Sweet molasses
 our synergies

Only the
 darkest honey
is delectable.

It grants shifa
 and lines the
river beds of

But are we
    not eachothers
shifa (healing)

Tuesday, 16 January 2018


Pain. So much pain.
 when did it start? i
jog my memory - can't

Was it the day he struck
 me with the back of his
strong sinewy hand? Or the
 time i saw him approach
and felt a wet stream run
 down my legs?

Was it when i didn't want
 to go home from school - no
wait - the time I couldn't bring
 myself to go to work?
because i knew what awaited
 me for unhinging the cup-
board door - or was it not
 performing the way i thought
he needed me to? or was it packing
 washing away while it was
still damp - or him, or them,
 swearing at me from the

Fear. So much fear.
Time warps. My
 ripe uterus coils up in
it - harder - every four weeks.
 My heart beats it, un-
predictably, but like
 clockwork at some point
every day.

What evokes it? is it
 really that i am feeling
death crawl up the arteries
 in my left arm, and is it
really death's spokes in
 my chest amidst a lunch
meeting - no when i travel
 across the world to check on
his health?

Why does the coiling up
 of my uterus feel so
comfortable compared to
death pull-
 ing at the strings of
my life-line on the daily?

yet at the same time why
 do they both cause
me equal but opposite anguish -
 complementary burdens -
partners in this product
 of angst and biology
of nature and nurture.