The words in a torrent flowed
Enthusiasm then unbound
But as the poem grew
The torrent slowed
The words could not be found

Advice she sought from one old man
To guide her on the way
Keep it simple keep it short
Was what that old man did say

When a pup is born it is the norm
To stagger on wobbly legs
Made of rubber no control
Over multi jointed pegs

But given time the muscles grow
And develop more control
And as the weeks and months progress
The pup becomes a whole

And so it is with our kids on here
You must learn to walk before you run
Then in the fullness of time
The greater works will come

cut flowers
because we believe
that they are so wonderful

and our wrists
because we percieve
that we will never be beautiful

I pictured you so differently in mind
I'm disappointed with you turned out to be
Who you were all along.
I've spent my lifetime searching
Four years allotted just to you.

While you...
You talked over me
You ignored me
You didn't care about me
You made me feel worthless
And I was in love with you.

But I made excuses for you
I wrote your lines
Molded you into my Prince Charming.
I made you the lead
Of my autobiography.
But when the curtain closed
You were still the same boy
Who wasn't in love with me.

Then one day I fired you,
I cast someone else.
But you kept returning
In the flashbacks.

Stop grinning.
Stop grazing my arm.
Stop winking.
Stop
     c
            o
    n
f
       u
          s
  i
n
      g

me.

How can I move on
If you're still in the script?
If you're still in the play?
If you're still in my life?
You know I can't,
And that's your ace,
You've done it to plenty of other directors like me.
And you've always been a good actor.

No one asks you why you are smiling.
Sometimes it's just easier to smile,
By pretending
You become invisible,
You go unnoticed,
And it's easier
Than explaining what you can't put into words,
To souls who don't even care anyways.

Chonny: -in car- Hey, dad?
Dad: What?
Chonny: Which way to the doctors again?
Dad: You have to turn left here and then go straight. Okay, hey what you do at doctor anyway? You sick? Eat some panadol then.
Chonny: Oh no no, I'm going there for a blood test 'cause I wanna find out what blood type I am.
Dad: Oh, ok. Is this what you do in your spare time?
Chonny: It's kinda for my work.
Dad: It's kinda... gay.
Dad: Hey boy. How's school?
Chonny: Oh, not that good... um... I get bullied at school...
Dad: Who cares? I just want to know the result from your report card!
Chonny: Oh uh uh they're pretty good, I got a A+ in math.
Dad: Mm. That's okay. 7 times 7!
Chonny: 49!
Dad: Mm. That's okay.
Chonny: I got a A+ in Chemistry.
Dad: Mm, that's good, make me the drug.
Chonny: A+ in Physics.
Dad: Mm. That's okay, you could have done better.
Dad: What about the English?
Chonny: Uh.. I got uh....
Dad: What about the ENGLISH?
Chonny: I got a... I got a...
Dad: WHAT ABOUT THE ENGLISH?!
Chonny: I got a... B, B+.
Dad: B+?! WHA, WHA, B PLUS?!?
Mom: B PLUS?!
Dad: B PLUS AGAIN?! That's it. Too late. No more chance. You die.
Chonny: WHAT?! Why?
Dad: You die, ok? When we get home, I'm gonna go to the backyard, okay, get my butcher knife, chop the branch, chop the stick from the tree, very long one, and I'm gonna have to whip a *****, I'm gonna have to whip you! I'm gonna have to whip you!
Chonny: NO! No, sorry dad! I'm sorry!
Dad: Sorry is not an excuse, okay. Just listen to my lecture, listen, listen carefully.
Chonny: -sniffs-
Dad: Ok. A, it stand for the good job. Ok. A stand for the good job, you have to get A. It stand for the good job. A stand for: A doctor. A lawyer. A dentist. Ok? All the good job.
Chonny: Then that means A can stand for a garbage man.
Dad: Garbage man? Ga- garbage man?! GARBAGE MAN START WITH A G! NO WONDER YOU FAIL THE ENGLISH! YOU CAN'T EVEN SPELL DA GARBAGE MAN! Just get out of my car, ok. We already at the doctor. Just get out.
Chonny: -gets out of car-
Dad: Garbage... ugh. Garbage man start with a G. Even I know that and I can't even spell garbage.

30 Minutes Later

Chonny: -gets back into car-
Dad: So how was it? Your blood all good?
Chonny: Yeah, yeah, it was all good.
Dad: So what the result? What blood type are you?
Chonny: Um, my blood type is B positive.
Dad: B positive? B PLUS?! B PLUS AGAIN?!?

You.

Maha salama

I'm not "Religious".
I believe in sin (Wink wink- If you know what I mean)
but I don't believe in religion when it cajoles or demeans.
Yet there is a ray of light in the windows of my dreams.
And it calls to me in a voice at once radiant and dim.

I call it the universe, but were I Religious, I'd call it "Him".

I am not loud, nor do I preach.
I believe in soft voices, and hymns sung only in one's head.
I believe in the reach of silence, broad and inky and welcoming.
I believe in my own inner thoughts and their peace (and too, their dread)
Yet there is a voice that tells me, in words softly said
that sometimes only the loudest sermons truly can teach.

I am non-religious, and I have been for a while.
I believe in dulcet whispers, and the sweet touch of sin.
I believe in Metal Music, and the musical devil within.
Then why, whenever I see someone capitalize "Him"
does my mouth turn up at the corners,
and grant me an unasked, yet welcome smile?