She Slips into Her Lingerie

She slips into her lingerie

Unperturbed by the grace she has received in all her years of sacrifices and sweltering for a good family

Although it gave her a sense of satisfaction

When everything falls into place

Nothing seems to work well where affairs of the heart and physical longing is concern

it is lost in the midst of it all

Not that she is complaining

But in her endeavor for a better tomorrow

She is still, after all, a woman

Silhouetted inside her own compound

Which is not just a garden

But a playground she hasn’t had the privilege to explore when younger

In all her nakedness

Therein lives the effeminate man tied and knotted to her for good..

.

To her

He is but an innuendo who pleases no one but himself

With her needs and craving bloating within

She hungers for some wayward touch

Someone who could unbox her insatiable needs with care and respect a woman craves

Someone with enough resilience to sail the storm

Someone who understands when her soil needs wetting

And leave moist on her leaves

So she could eagerly wrap her petals around him

With the same attention, care and understanding given her

A wild orchid longing to bloom

Her craving now screams louder than the crashing of waterfall happening below

And thus she rhythmically nurtures herself

Oblivious to the melodrama and reverie

Triggering herself in alternate low high arousal

Immersing her thoughts in the most luscious of cosplay

Herself as the protagonist

At other times, the willing slave

She’s on fire…

.

With each contraction, she jolts to the spasms reacting on her crotch

Harnessing her to wince in delight

She abandons all thoughts of the man bequeathed

For he hasn’t a clue where her hot button situates

He understands neither her needs to have her gape widened to subdue the itch

But her imagery lover does

She yearns for his unassuming gallantry

And strong reassuring arms with a thrust that could make her clamp onto his hips wickedly

And gyrate his hump

She longs for her senses to be awakened

Because she is all woman

.

Her needs may be inconclusive

But right now, all she cares is to soar above the clouds

With a man who could coax the child out of her

She longs to be touched, teased, kissed and kneaded

She longs to be the wholesome woman before the coming of age

To even out the missed opportunities in her teens she so often reminisces

And in her latter years as a damsel caught in distress inside a restrictive society

She wants to be carried under his pinions and more

Much more…

.

Again

she slips back into her lingerie

Again she loses herself in her own thoughts and caresses

But all those delights are but momentary pleasures

For as the sun sets

What which lasts was her struggle with silence and loneliness tormenting her in the fading twilight

As she straddles silently, her grief awaits her in the cuffed room

Of false pretenses…

MEMOIRS OF A GIGOLO

“You are my tender flower of the night

And I am your gardener

I tend to you

So that you will continue to bloom

and blossom

and flourish

Not wilt

Without sunlight

So that the bees may take interest in you

And the weeds will not choke you

And you are self assured being where you are

Once dejected

But now again chosen.

I feel elated and rejoiceful

So that I could go tend to other flowers

as well and make the whole garden bloom

With a life of its own

Although I spent my whole life

as a gardener

I don’t have the privilege to own

any flower.

As much as I wanted to.”

(Author Unknown)

~Krisis Politik Negara Kita ~ Satu Puisi~

Puting berliung dah bergelora

Disana sini berhuru hara

Apakah kisah selepas bicara

Bola disepak tak sampai ke jaringnya

Izinkan saya berbicara

Yang pusing sebenarnya kepala saya

Sama seperti penyelap cermin kereta

Saat ke kanan saat ke kiri, akhir jatuhnya

Takkanlah rakyat mudah lupa

Diketepikan sebenarnya suara kita

Maruah dicabar salah siapanya

Jika nasib terkatak ditangan musuhnya

Termimpi mimpi terharu haru

Wahai politikus generasi baru

Malam dah tiba kiralah bulu

Besok sekali lagi permimpin terbaru

Dan terbaru…

Dan terbaru…

Silent Killer

( In memory of the victims of coronavirus)

Silently she walks in

To your domain

With a strain in hand

Her alluring fragrance makes

You teary, nose slimy, throat choky

Temperature rises…

She held you captive,

For a moment, then leaves

A sprig in your hand

To baton on…

A melodrama perhaps?

Or a quaint love story?

She knows

That you will do anything for her

As you hung on the cliff

Circumambulating and spinning

Softly she ushers, your mind over

Into the vortex of deep slumber…

No harness, no more sprig

No one knows your secret affair

With that lady who veils your night

A kiss and your mind soothes

A blanketed reflection

Of pale regret

The lady is wicked

She’s a silent killer

No more said.

You Were Born to Leave Me

Spaces in between us

is not part of my plan

For within the spaces seeps in loneliness

coupled with suicidal thoughts

and a mind that turns runny with tears

I had you but I left you

alone

In search of your own destiny

Trenched within the crevices

of cold hard stones

Watching you gay churns tears inside

An innocent baby with high hopes for daddy

But you were born to leave me

Cant you see?

That your life may be better

I have faired worse than you think I am

Daddy has not left you a proud baby

But you are me

Yet you are not of me

And I pain inside

Always with thoughts of you

Because I failed you.

The heavens no longer dances for me

since a long time ago

Dotty dearest, Daddy is so sorry

Daddy’s world will only be ok

if only you are ok.

But daddy didn’t do much for you

And wedged between us is mommy

Please forgive me dotty.

God

“I believe there is a God. Some believe there is Only one. Some thought there is none. And some believe there are many. And therein concludes our little, little differences which gradually piles up into centuries old feud. And in our quest to seek the all powerful invincible God who largely remains invisible and powerless in solving world calamities, we became divisive and destroy others who believe otherwise. If humans were born of God, why aren’t we exuding the all natural traits of love, peace, happiness and forgiveness inherited us? Not unless we came from dust as some believe- dust, being residues of all things destroyed. Hence, our destructive tendency.”

Great Nation

“Poor people can be very rich and at the same time, rich people can be very poor depending on the level of accomplishment, satisfaction and happiness each desires. If everyone is made to feel that their smallest of contribution is important towards the daily life of a nation, if everyone is dedicated to the one craft they are good at that it inspires others to emulate and learn from them, then progress and modernization can be achieved without the fear of culture being lost. That’s what makes a nation great and everyone happy in the end.”

New York Facet 1

It’s morning now
Them New Yorkers hurried
Between cobbled pavements
And potholed routes
Stuffy subway stations
Littered tracks
Leaking ceilings
Does dreams began
With state of the art headphones?
Can life commute
Without common courtesy?
I ponder the pitter patter
As I gaze at their
expressionless faces
Looking over
them dusty windows..
.
.
.

remember me by

remember me not

for the bad things I

did not do

but for all the roses I

scattered on your fair

.

remember me not

for the warts found on my skin

or the greying of my hair but

for my politeness that graces

your concerns

.

remember me not

by the odds that

weigh me down

that made you wise

for it won’t come again

.

our photos have bleached

the stains has blurred

but as I outstretch myself

way up high

I could only see love

.

and feel the mood

suspended on the clouds

and that is how you

should remember us by

the umbrella that we held tight..

.

.

.

beacon of hope

I have gotten used to you

who appeared in my darkest hour

and became my beacon of hope

I wasn’t ready to give in

neither was I ready to give you up

but I guess I was built never to

to see any good child fatherless

or selfishly shade any good woman

away from the sun

when they deserve so much more

which is how we ended up elevated

under the spotlight of ridicule

.

I have gotten used to you

and with you in my arms

we hung on through all storms

fighting with the clouds till it

turns cotton white once more

but I guess I was built never to

be understood by the child

nor the selfishly good woman

of why living with both is better

than choosing either one

which is why you ended up agitated

under the spotlight of scorn

.

I have gotten used to you

but the beacon grew weaker

as you snuff me off your schedule

I wasn’t ready to give in

neither was I ready to give you up

but I guess I was built never to

father again another good child

or court again another good woman

then hiding them away from the sun

when I am convinced I deserve none

which is how I ended up dishevelled

away from the spotlight of it all..

.

.

.

rainbowed

we  have  had  many  good  years

and    like    many    strong    trees

we have withstood  many  a  gale

and survived the freezing months

and   that’s    all    I    believed    in

.

I am paced  to  walk  more  years

down  the  path  that  we  cleared

and imagined  it  to  be  our  aisle

then   take   in   all    the    blooms

that    scatters   outside   our   sill

.

and  that’s  how  our   journey  is

never    indifferent    from   others

never    imposing    but     special

because  sunshine   more   than

always   illuminated   our    tears

.

that      nourishes      the      seed

that                                rainbowed

even   the  darkest   of  darkness

that I must admit do  sometimes

blind  the   faith   in  each   of   us

.

but      like       conjoined       twins

outside     that     picture      frame

we   have   overcomed    distress

and reaped the fruits  we  sowed

always                               together

.

I   remained   always   faithful   to

our           one           commitment

and    I   hope    that    we    could

sustain our breath and  lengthen

what      we       have      cultivated

.

till            we            grow          old

if      I       may      be     so      bold

to unravel  the  truth  we  planted

that  we are a  bigger  part  of  us

and  that  we   belonged   to    us

.

.

.

what women prefer

some woman prefers looks

some woman prefers intellect

some woman prefers companionship

some woman prefers humor

.

some woman prefers success

some woman prefers power

some woman prefers money

some woman prefers stability

.

some woman prefers character

some woman prefers personality

some woman prefers care

some woman prefers love

.

some woman prefers fun

some woman prefers laughter

some woman prefers adventure

some woman prefers thrill

.

some woman prefers sex

some woman prefers danger

some woman prefers suspense

some woman prefers mystery

.

some woman prefers honesty

some woman prefers sincerity

some woman prefers loyalty

some woman prefers faithfulness

.

some woman prefer ability

some woman prefer capability

some woman prefer responsibility

some woman prefer maturity

.

some woman prefers gentleness

some woman prefers kindness

some woman prefers peace

some woman prefers calm

.

some woman prefers surprises

some woman prefers privacy

some woman prefers attention

some woman prefers quietness

.

some woman prefers words

some woman prefers action

some woman prefers talkativeness

some woman prefers silence

.

some woman prefers one

some woman prefers many

some woman prefers all

some woman prefers none

.

some woman prefers woman.

.

.

.

Old Chum

can we rewind back

our episode

of nondescript felon

can we picture

and tone it

in your colors then

of insipid black

then white

.

can we freeze frame

that televised bomb

being hoisted off the sea

then educate your mama

and your hobby cat

how dangerous

deep slumber with

mosquito coils can be

.

green fields all day

fanfare at night

through hazy clouds you lay bare

all the litters of fright

can you dust the soot off

those charming old lamps

so flags, frangipani and bananas

could jolly well band

.

one day like chemist

we both shall blend

the odd bathroom formulas

with that of your kitchen ends

then try to decipher

while the barber chair swivels

why the view outside the openings

is always as green as ever

.

but the cock crows too soon

to doctor jam’s tune

the kites, the bird cages, the ducks

they all revere to you

when thunder brings rain

with it sprigs of  mangroves grow

it clogs and floods the drain

it is you who follow those tows

.

I’d remember you by

an old chum who comics

but deep down camera-shy

with cheroot-like status

you humbled, you beatify

the putrid, the puny

the mundane

why oh why?

.

can we snip off those stills

of acrid smog

with balaclava, bicycles

no automated post box

you dance with your hand

with patience and good sense

you caption, then motion

our bridge now has no end

.

I’d remember you by

when I see lembus steering

and swerving on the road

so little to pacify

when I relish the nasi kandar

I will encircle and ponder

what life is like with Rose Chan

beyond that yonder

.

am digesting it all in

with a glass full of water

.

raised in USA?

.

.

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(This poem is dedicated to Ismail Hashim 1940-2013, finest art photographer and friend).

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