The Aromatic Smell of Death

Not too sure what had brought this on. I was thinking about murder, and the process of it, and all the sensations related to it. And the many ways you can murder someone, or yourself. And then, there you have it. A poem. 

I can smell death.

It is in the bloody scent,
Just before the butcher slices the chicken's throat.

It is in the exhaust,
Emitting smoke from bikes of mat rempits who are going way too fast.

It is in the cranking sound,
Of the car's malfunctioning gearbox.

And also in the ashes,
The remnants of vanilla flavoured tobacco.

It is in the air, everywhere.

I smell it in the perfume on my friend,
Leftovers from a bareback conquest.

I smell it in the train,
As it chugs along on poorly maintained tracks.

I sense it in the mud,
As small children run by with slippers that have flat soles.

I sniff it out,
In dark clogged drains where the mosquitoes breed.

I camoulage myself.

With the taste of chilli,
And herbal tea.

With anti-bacterials,
And mosquito coils.

With car maintenance bills,
And better life insurance.

With SpeedStick deodorant,
And cruelty free shampoo.

I can smell death,
But I hope death cannot smell me.

- SB
3.16am, 27th May 2016
Ghetto HQ




SB is a conflicted soul of sorts, who is mad enough to go chase after what she really loves as opposed to conform to society and her mother's idea of a successful person. She prays she makes it in life, because she will not be able to tolerate the nagging that would follow if she doesn't. Her inspiration comes from everything around her, as well as made up situations in her head. Good luck distinguishing between the two. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

2020

I  wrote this on the flight travelling back to Malaysia in 2020, leaving Australia after what would have been the last time I see the person that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I was observing the people around me, it was an 8 hour flight with a lot of turbulence, who would have know that 2020 would be that kind of year as well. It is funny how things tell you of what will come in its own little ways. Looking around absorbing the sensations to accommodate my body to my surroundings, Infusing my skin with lavender and chamomile to soothe the tension in my muscular fibres.   On my left, a rubik cube frantically trying to solve itself It is but a process of working out possible solutions and running through know standard operational patterns Constant rotations occur and in mere minutes the puzzle is solved.   On my right, two European centurians ecstatic to journey to a new land Partners in life and adventurers ready for new horizons just above the equator They see spirits an
Read more

Swinging From Memory To Memory

Of recent adventures and endeavours I realised how much I liked to swing . This is how I wing it at swing. Hope this is as much fun reading as it was writing. When I was young, as memory recalls, My mum would take us out to play, We sometimes 'hang gai-gai' at nearby malls, Or go to McDonald's to eat during the day. On the weekdays when we would get the chance, To get some fresh air at the playground, Every kid would have one thing in their glance, We would race for the swings or run around. As I grew older I had a few favourite animations, One was from Jane Goodall's favourite book that became many adaptations, Tarzan swinging from vine to vine was all it took, For us nature lovers to love apes and get hooked. And then came along the 'All American Rejects' Swing, swing, swing from the tangles of my heart, Listening to that song had relieving effects, Cause any rejected crush made me fall apart. I remember there were days that w
Read more

Siren Serenade

This tune came to me while I was driving earlier this year and I didn't really progress much with the lyrics and completed the first draft this month. Yay #newshit! This piece revolved around the long distance relationship I was in, where I would feel like I was lost at sea in dealing with the undercurrents and waves of security. I will sing in the shadows For the arms, I seek to find Lost my way coming home Maps drenched in the late monsoon Paths washed by the passing tides Blinded in salt and brine Cobblestones swallowed by sand Mermaids' sirens call to land Hoping my voice can be heard Through the ocean deep May the waves carry my song Send a signal out to sea. Drifting with the swirling winds Bobbing in the mist and breeze A lighthouse to mayday back And sailors to hear my plea. Filling up the emptiness with empty memories Seabeds consume our flesh Leaves bones dry in the sand Cavities lined with words unsaid Letters in bottles unsent Tidal waves fully take over To capsize
Read more