Untangling

Lately, I’ve started to untangle myself from the things that I had gotten used to doing

Once meaningful things that have been a big, functional part of every waking day

But how unfair, this all feels, as I unravel an abandonment swelling

left by smarting pains from bruised egos that would rather smite than listen

The untangling has somewhat been vampiric

and energy-draining

all maybe because the heart bleeds

it is unnecessary

Why do we give up so much for something we’ve already lost?

Why do we give up so much for something we’ve never had?

Why do we give up so much for someone who doesn’t want to be found?

Why?

 

If I didn’t have tomorrow

If I didn’t have tomorrow,

I would give you all of today.

But if today is not enough,

remember we have yesterday.

If I didn’t have tomorrow,

would you give me a moment today?

But if today doesn’t have a moment,

you are an everlasting memory.

Oh, if I didn’t have tomorrow…

JY
(28.01.2016)

 

The Silent Farewell

I miss you
I missed you today
more than how much I missed you yesterday
so much
I’ll probably miss tomorrow
when it comes

It used to be the raindrops
that would tell you this
and how much
would be all those I’ve missed
combined

Like your departure
would never be enough for
a life to fill
a lifetime

 

By JY
(28.01.2016)

 

 

Home?

“My minibus broke down,close to my destination. So I’m driving the situation for your information” – Thoughts of The Janalist (Happy Valley; 1:44a.m.)

Green lights glow
in the #Redlight district,
And they’re signalling
“Go!”,but saying “you can never make it”
‘Cause you’ll never make it
Even if you make it
they’ll break you
before you take it

Shadows creep
in my peripheral vision
distracting what I’ve envisioned
trapping my own mission
So I free myself
reminded
this is a temporary situation
for one who’s limited edition

Standing on a ground
that man made
and the signs read ‘home’
The signs spell H-O-M-E
but I don’t feel home
When I feel a whole hole
and home is not what it used to be
when it undresses me
but I’m already naked

But this is home to many of us
who choose to stay
staying is the easier way
but we crawl to belong
to belong is to sing through a song
when there’s more that we can do
when there’s more ground that we can break
and they tell us “so long”
they say “it’s too late”

When change is something we do
and not something we want
when changes tell us to go
Where do we go?
Anywhere but home

When “home” can’t spell your name
but it always gets your bill right over your bill of rights
With a name it made
when it was colonised
Breeding labels we can’t recognise
building high-rise, toppling paradise

At the heels of skyscrapers
we’re running out of papers
Newsmakers
newsbreakers
displaced from newspapers

When development
speaks in a language
that excludes me
potentials overlooked
at the expense of my community

 Watch this minority
pack their bags in majority
maybe you’ll see
the real movers of the economy

JY
(28/10/2015)

 

Spin

Tamar Park, Admiralty, Hong Kong (May 2015)

In a constant spin
I carve your face
with frozen hands
numb from the memories of you

Unexpected twists
leaving dents in the normal
the twirling frees from marks that question
your name escapes me again, but the legend

Fading into a brain fog
where there’s plenty of space
but no room to remember
where sleep tiptoes
and I gently walk into the morning

In sunlight’s grace
smiling
I can’t forget
how the stars spelt out your name
in my dreams
It’s a dream come true

Propelling to space
where constellations abound
we roam in circles that don’t click
In this
I found a clique

Your wish is my command
and my command is that you wish -click!

You’re a wheel of life
and a wheel in mine
where it’s easier to see you roll
than walk away in a straight line
Between three-sixty and 365
I would never trade this roller coaster ride

Redundant words are
with the grace of your speed
But they are where I don’t want to miss you anymore.

JY
(11/10/2015)

 

At the End of The Day

At the end of the day, I return to my fetal position
under your victorious roof,
celebrating over the demons we’ve fought
and the angels who’ve come for us.

At the end of the day, I tiptoe through your sleep
with a grumbling stomach, which my mind muffles,
with flashes of words that fill me before you retire.

Hollow, I feel, but only know so, when loneliness leaks
and I am left with a smarting pain.
And I crumble in your house
and yet still have a home.

Not knowing what tomorrow holds, or the same morning,rather,
I keep them in my memories and extensions of me,
extensions of me adorned with patches of you, who shine through me
in my lowest points, in my highest lows.

At the end of the day, I cup your chiseled sacrifice in pure honesty of tears and joy
beaming three decades of union and thee offsprings who don’t come close.

At the end of the day, you love me the same
regardless of what animal I turn into, the tail of humanity…
a motherhood shaped perfectly, shaken, but never distorted.

At the end of the day, where do I stand?
Between the demon and the angel who return to a fetal position under your roof…at the end of the day?

 

Heat

Everything is so cold

It’s not cool to breathe

out heat

crawling out of my mouth

begging for oxygen

only to bring me home

where the world once stood

I feel my voice

overused

misused

abused

when it can no longer speak

but think

and the thoughts

scream louder

than a house

without its people

The warmth embraces me

until I am consumed

and can no longer feel

but all I’ve become

Always ready for tomorrow

but never for the future

What was once so hot

is no longer the heat

too

I won’t come looking for you

’cause I finally feel you

in the fall…

 

Everything But Broken

Arms stretched

Under my breath

I breathe you

But do you feel me?

Are you broken? Or is it I?

Maybe it’s me

because I can’t tell

I can only say, what I can’t tell

You and I, we are everything

everywhere, we’re everything

trying to be something,

yeah, we could be something,too.

something and somebody,too

anything, but broken.

Or we’re nowhere to be found.

And I don’t ever want to find

ever want to find us broken.

Everything,but broken.

 

Scarecrow

Whip. Lash.

Slash.

Bounce.
Mobility.

In the field, they revolve around. Centred on an invincible king, whose arms spell out
d-o-m-i-n-a-n-c-e, unread by men who try to dominate.

The crops have grown

         on bloodless soils,

       where men have walked,

       where man has tumbled

       in the presence of the king.

       The king who is tied to

       embrace. Sometimes

       begging the sky for rain.

     Sometimes, begging the

     rain to stop.   Always

       grateful        for the sun.

       From             the tip of

       of his             seasoned

       hat to                 shredded

       hays               that fall

       in the                   wind.

     Silence                   bursts,

     knocking                   men’s

     teeth.                  Unfazed

       by                       the

       birds                   that

       flock                   together.

     Whip.                     Lash.

     Trim.                     Slash.

      He is                 reduced

      over and               over

    to grow.              The king,
he remains          to outgrow.

 

Silhouettes

In conflicts, we become silhouettes. In tensions, we become gaps,full of lines,we could be broken but we’re still beautiful.Still, better than shadows that remind me of emptiness and a weighty hurt yet hollow.We’re better than strangers.We’ll always be better than strangers and I just love you, better than a stranger.

Sparkles across the sky.

Clouds suspended like smoke.

Could it be from the puffs of life’s chokes?

the pleasure of life’s jokes?

 Or grenades and bombs that just blew off?

I see what we cannot feel.

We’re shatter-proof.

The yolk sinks to remind us of tomorrow.

We’re right like night and day.

And we could be wrong either way.

 

Conflicts shade our silhouettes, the colours cover the grey,too.

And grey is a colour that leaks in the lines  that we don’t see

when happiness beams from cheek to cheek.

 

Full of lines, we’ve shaped our co-existence

my fingers move freely, forever tracing the contours

of your soul.

 

Words, no match for the world that travels far but never deep.

So when we crash into a soul-curling melody,

We fall into the depthless existence of the unspoken,

nursing things we could have said.

What we could have said are no regrets.

 

And it’s beautiful down here.

There’s no ending if you’re not here.

And I miss you out there.