bulging bloodshot
slanty suspicions
beady scrutinization
follows
everywhere they roam
myopic views
past and present
does it matter
hanging
immortalised in the past
to present show
captured anguish
delirium parade
deathly silence
echoes
Thursday, 6 September 2007
Monday, 3 September 2007
Marathon
I’ve been running
much like she
going somewhere
yet getting nowhere
I sight a pot of gold
yonder horizon
I paused just for abit
but it gets farther
the landscapes change
orange to brown to green
my feet they stay still
I stretch my fingers
I never win
Petal P. Rose
much like she
going somewhere
yet getting nowhere
I sight a pot of gold
yonder horizon
I paused just for abit
but it gets farther
the landscapes change
orange to brown to green
my feet they stay still
I stretch my fingers
I never win
Petal P. Rose
Plucking fluff off the week past
Thursday, 23 August
Was at work till late – pitching in preparation for an event the next day. Person in charge went home early and there were a few unhappy folks. It wasn’t even my event directly but being in the same section, I had to do my bit.
Friday, 24 August
Early in the day
Day of actual event – again, got roped in where I wasn’t supposed to be. Crisis management called for hands on approach. Carrying chairs from one level to the next is not a joke as is being an overseer of things. Heavy. Perspiration. Hoarse from exhaustion. Lack of sleep, I mirror the eye on a perfect potato.
After the event
I scooted off fast as my legs could carry me off to WOMAD and into the arms of civility and Asian Dub Foundation. Uninhabited, I threw off the veil of goodness and worked my way through the acts. Leaving all cares and fuck-nots.
Saturday, 25 August
Didn’t feel too clever this morning as a consequence of leaving all cares and fuck-nots. Unfortunately, the brain recognises the lack of sleep and there was a massive traffic jam blocking my train of coherent thoughts. Not helpful when one has to sit through a serious discussion of the ASEAN draft charter. Unable to contribute constructively, I excused myself to the book fair beckoning seductively out for my utmost immediate attention. Coming back to witness flames being thrown by certain someones that shall remain nameless. I ducked out onto the streets, glad for respite from the heat. My shades, they shield me.
Sunday, 26 August
One movie screening, one campaign launch, plenty of Filipinos and Indonesians and a smattering of locals. Makes for an interesting mix – all confined into The Theatre of The Substation. United in their stand of “Domestic work is work, not slavery”, red hot push for recognition. Charismatically lead by their leader, they cheered. A stark contrast to the sniffling I witnessed after when they watched the movie. A tad simplistic for my liking but hey, it does the job if you are plunging into this cause cold. Needless to say, being the cold bitch that some have said that I am, it hardly tugged at my heartstrings. Am I too unfeeling?
Monday, 27 August
Work work work…hardly could wait till end of the day where 2 mystery men await me. It wasn’t quite like “that”. I was excited, yes, but not in a sexual way, silly. Excited as to what these meetings could spell out for the future. Both meeting was time well invested and now I have more on my plate than ever to push around abit. Then start putting it into my mouth, curiously chewing it for taste as my senses explode as they chase up to cope with the unexpected.
Tuesday – Thursday, 28 – 30 August
Shall not take you through these mundane days. It was absolute torture – don’t want to pain you too. No worries, it was just work – it IS torturous. To know that my very existence depends on my job is bloody painful. Moving along….
Friday, 31 August
My brother Nikkhil didn’t happen as anticipated. What an anticlimax. Pah * sticks tongue out * Hung out with the Rani herself over vegetarian tom yum and kopi, exchanging world views and activist angst as per our habit.
…and so I met her last night. I have heard stories about her. I was in an anticipative mood after all. I wanted to see if she is a representation of her. She, who is always hopeful that the next man would provide her security and love. She kindly offered to drop me off at Arab Street. It was a short ride with her, her new love and her son but I learned some things off them. Hearing the stories and hardships that she has gone through – I hope she finds her solace, warm in the new embrace.
Arab Street with him and them. A spanking hot Lamborghini pulls up. Driver, not hot and no, I don’t want to spank him. My wrist might just break. Sniggering behind his back, he is blissfully unaware of the attention he’s, I mean, his car, has drawn. Sitting there, inhaling second hand smoke, I drift away, lulled by the easy breeze off into my own personal womb.
Saturday, 1 September
Brunch with him late. Supposed to be brunch but with my precise late timing, I deferred the appointment to 1pm…further pushing it to 1.30pm…pushing the boundaries?
Off to Literati as I read 3 of my poems. Fingers frozen, almost numb, the sheet trembled like a leaf but being the professional, I read, nonchalant, hey, I’m cool and I’m in control. * wink *
Arab Street again to witness a punk gig, hung out with 3 other roses and a thorn. (sorry, you, didn’t mean it as if you were a pain) The punk gig was L O U D, my heart thudded with each crash of hot sweaty bodies. My only prayer,: don’t let any of them fall on me.
Sunday, 2 September
Had an open house at Migrant Voices. It rained and that sucked. I made tea and did I mention that in the midst of all these, I baked 2 cakes – vegetarian ones, in fact, no eggs! A certain someone would be so proud. I radiate happiness as I beam under his benevolent smile.
Was at work till late – pitching in preparation for an event the next day. Person in charge went home early and there were a few unhappy folks. It wasn’t even my event directly but being in the same section, I had to do my bit.
Friday, 24 August
Early in the day
Day of actual event – again, got roped in where I wasn’t supposed to be. Crisis management called for hands on approach. Carrying chairs from one level to the next is not a joke as is being an overseer of things. Heavy. Perspiration. Hoarse from exhaustion. Lack of sleep, I mirror the eye on a perfect potato.
After the event
I scooted off fast as my legs could carry me off to WOMAD and into the arms of civility and Asian Dub Foundation. Uninhabited, I threw off the veil of goodness and worked my way through the acts. Leaving all cares and fuck-nots.
Saturday, 25 August
Didn’t feel too clever this morning as a consequence of leaving all cares and fuck-nots. Unfortunately, the brain recognises the lack of sleep and there was a massive traffic jam blocking my train of coherent thoughts. Not helpful when one has to sit through a serious discussion of the ASEAN draft charter. Unable to contribute constructively, I excused myself to the book fair beckoning seductively out for my utmost immediate attention. Coming back to witness flames being thrown by certain someones that shall remain nameless. I ducked out onto the streets, glad for respite from the heat. My shades, they shield me.
Sunday, 26 August
One movie screening, one campaign launch, plenty of Filipinos and Indonesians and a smattering of locals. Makes for an interesting mix – all confined into The Theatre of The Substation. United in their stand of “Domestic work is work, not slavery”, red hot push for recognition. Charismatically lead by their leader, they cheered. A stark contrast to the sniffling I witnessed after when they watched the movie. A tad simplistic for my liking but hey, it does the job if you are plunging into this cause cold. Needless to say, being the cold bitch that some have said that I am, it hardly tugged at my heartstrings. Am I too unfeeling?
Monday, 27 August
Work work work…hardly could wait till end of the day where 2 mystery men await me. It wasn’t quite like “that”. I was excited, yes, but not in a sexual way, silly. Excited as to what these meetings could spell out for the future. Both meeting was time well invested and now I have more on my plate than ever to push around abit. Then start putting it into my mouth, curiously chewing it for taste as my senses explode as they chase up to cope with the unexpected.
Tuesday – Thursday, 28 – 30 August
Shall not take you through these mundane days. It was absolute torture – don’t want to pain you too. No worries, it was just work – it IS torturous. To know that my very existence depends on my job is bloody painful. Moving along….
Friday, 31 August
My brother Nikkhil didn’t happen as anticipated. What an anticlimax. Pah * sticks tongue out * Hung out with the Rani herself over vegetarian tom yum and kopi, exchanging world views and activist angst as per our habit.
…and so I met her last night. I have heard stories about her. I was in an anticipative mood after all. I wanted to see if she is a representation of her. She, who is always hopeful that the next man would provide her security and love. She kindly offered to drop me off at Arab Street. It was a short ride with her, her new love and her son but I learned some things off them. Hearing the stories and hardships that she has gone through – I hope she finds her solace, warm in the new embrace.
Arab Street with him and them. A spanking hot Lamborghini pulls up. Driver, not hot and no, I don’t want to spank him. My wrist might just break. Sniggering behind his back, he is blissfully unaware of the attention he’s, I mean, his car, has drawn. Sitting there, inhaling second hand smoke, I drift away, lulled by the easy breeze off into my own personal womb.
Saturday, 1 September
Brunch with him late. Supposed to be brunch but with my precise late timing, I deferred the appointment to 1pm…further pushing it to 1.30pm…pushing the boundaries?
Off to Literati as I read 3 of my poems. Fingers frozen, almost numb, the sheet trembled like a leaf but being the professional, I read, nonchalant, hey, I’m cool and I’m in control. * wink *
Arab Street again to witness a punk gig, hung out with 3 other roses and a thorn. (sorry, you, didn’t mean it as if you were a pain) The punk gig was L O U D, my heart thudded with each crash of hot sweaty bodies. My only prayer,: don’t let any of them fall on me.
Sunday, 2 September
Had an open house at Migrant Voices. It rained and that sucked. I made tea and did I mention that in the midst of all these, I baked 2 cakes – vegetarian ones, in fact, no eggs! A certain someone would be so proud. I radiate happiness as I beam under his benevolent smile.
Off to a preview at The Necessary Stage. A forum theatre piece, I could identify with all that was put out. I was too knackered to add on - it was too close to home. I didn’t want to touch myself. I needed to be okay for Monday pounces soon, much too soon…
Present day
As someone once asked me, “Do you sleep??” Seems like I don’t.
Petal P. Rose
Thursday, 23 August 2007
Angel
what are you hiding, Spanish eyes?
false pretences,
behind those lush eyelashes.
I asked you once,
nay, twice
lips mum
stop the worms from crawling out
you've already told me
about your trauma
your abusive Father
like a tele-novella
what of your wife?
you love her so much
why do you wince in pain
when I mentioned her name?
is it the distance
that is driving you insane?
or is it desire
of lust unattained?
I asked you again
we danced to lull the pain
I brandish a sword
pretend Lancelot
nimble on your feet
eyes do not betray
I'm not swayed by your avoidance
just stop this maddening game!
let it bare
stand naked
let me in don't leave me here standing in the wind
Update:
Just a piece of news...I've decided to go to Boracay for my break. Tickets paid for. Counting down to it. Leaving on a jet plane........
Petal P. Rose
false pretences,
behind those lush eyelashes.
I asked you once,
nay, twice
lips mum
stop the worms from crawling out
you've already told me
about your trauma
your abusive Father
like a tele-novella
what of your wife?
you love her so much
why do you wince in pain
when I mentioned her name?
is it the distance
that is driving you insane?
or is it desire
of lust unattained?
I asked you again
we danced to lull the pain
I brandish a sword
pretend Lancelot
nimble on your feet
eyes do not betray
I'm not swayed by your avoidance
just stop this maddening game!
let it bare
stand naked
let me in don't leave me here standing in the wind
Update:
Just a piece of news...I've decided to go to Boracay for my break. Tickets paid for. Counting down to it. Leaving on a jet plane........
Petal P. Rose
Wednesday, 15 August 2007
A place to belong
The refrigerator
Broken down
The washing machine
Broken down
The cooker hood
Broken down
Communication within the family
Broken down
My family
only held thinly
by an invisible threat
already taut
will break eventually.
This is home, truly.
Petal P. Rose
Broken down
The washing machine
Broken down
The cooker hood
Broken down
Communication within the family
Broken down
My family
only held thinly
by an invisible threat
already taut
will break eventually.
This is home, truly.
Petal P. Rose
Monday, 13 August 2007
Where do I go?!
I am itching to get out of Singapore....for a break, that is (first...). I am dying here - I need a fresh perspective on life and its offerings. I can't decide where to go but one thing for sure is that I want to roast myself brown on a beach. A week of absolute quiet..
I was thinking of somewhere in Bali - stay cheap at a losmen and go off to Hyatt towards the end my stay...The other place in mind is at one of the islands of Thailand.....or perhaps somewhere in the Philippines - Cebu or Boracay...Hmmm...choices choices....
Petal P. Rose
I was thinking of somewhere in Bali - stay cheap at a losmen and go off to Hyatt towards the end my stay...The other place in mind is at one of the islands of Thailand.....or perhaps somewhere in the Philippines - Cebu or Boracay...Hmmm...choices choices....
Petal P. Rose
My "usual" Sunday posting(s)
Unmasked
Thankless, I toil
on this foreign soil
I call my home
on this foreign soil
I call my home
I feel entombed
Drenched under the hot sun
I am one in a million
not so rare
fast forgotten
I am faceless
I feed the blank stares
of a nation that is taught graciousness
I am faceless
I feed the blank stares
of a nation that is taught graciousness
Unpretty
chipped, hot fuchsia
nonchalant imperfection
reflection of a failing?
or one who is flailing?
glazed eyes do not see
shielded by sunny daze
the dark comfort
my darkglasses bring
Petal P. Rose
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