dolorous interludes.

for someone close to my heart.

I can’t think of how you’ll ever need me,
Or should want to call on me if you ever do,
Because we hardly even speak these days,
And when we do, everything feels rather laced-
Your smile, words said
or unsaid.

I can’t understand why things are now so different
From what they used to be,
So many years we’ve had, so many more I thought we’d share.
But I can’t think of when you’ll ever let me in
Again, because beneath the plastic smiles,
I am met no longer with the warmth of simplicity.

I can’t seem to do anything more to gain your
Old affections, and since I’ve reached the end of the road,
I can’t go any nearer, because the splintered
Fences really hurt me when I do.
But what I can do is wait until you’re ready to meet me
Outside; I know you don’t mean to desert.

I don’t know when that will be,
Because I can’t think of how you’ll ever need me,
Or should want to call on me if you ever do,
But now that I’ve told you where I will be,
You know where to find me should you ever
Again need me.

posted by voyeur @ 8/31/2005 01:41:00 AM

My consummate love.

Open mike night at the black box on Saturday- an intimate setting for an activity that will reel both your heart and mind in like expectant children being pulled into a roomful of candy by a pink silk ribbon escalator. It was more than an eye opener- poetry and all its manifestations- first a malay group with their drums and theatrical styles to entertain even those who cannot understand their finer works because of the language barrier. Then, a remarkable display of four brilliant pieces by my favourite local poet- Cyril wong, a genius in our time; I hung onto his every word like a prisoner chained by his neck from the ceiling- gasping, holding on, every second a breath of fresh air, every second a new life bursting, every additional minute my heart palpitating with anxiety lest i lose a word, a slight nuance- his voice, a pause, a punctuation, a glimmer in his eye- oh its sheer beauty brought tears to my eyes. Next in line a Chinese poet and his translator, thereafter an Australian poet with quite a witty satirical voice in the spread he had to offer, and lastly a group of asian Americans who rapped, with such intensity and soul- my heart broke into an applause the moment she teared- such vulnerability, conviction, and strength all at once- much to admire, and quite a cause poets all share.

-

For distant loves.

Despite the eventful weekend i had, the absence of three dear people (the last a very recent sunday departure) weighed heavily in my heart as i thought about those who were important to me and whom i trust quite entirely:

gen: i miss you lots dear, come home soon and i'll buy you a black bunny! (:

marcus: miss talking to you muchos.

gabriel: best friend. i hope you're safe in Boston now as i write this. write me soon or something okay? aye, i miss dialing 978***** already. :(

Word associations are much fun when writing, but when loss and love come within the same line, the inadequacy of words lends itself a stark contrast to the former instance.

posted by voyeur @ 8/29/2005 05:37:00 PM