The Muruku Murmurations

As a part of ' Art For Grabs ' last December 2017, Speak City Asia curated the opening ceremony with ' Poetically C orrect:  Dirty Laundry/Laundry List ' Edition. I am thankful to be a part of the line up and was quite nervous, I faced my fears with the motivation that I had to performed in front of my mother for the first time. She is my endless support and comfort zone. It has been four years since I returned from Russia, I still feel unsettled and somewhat nomadic. I have tried to unpack my suitcase time and time again Season after season Year after year. A part of me yearns to hang pictures on walls Pictures of memories with friends and families Those whom call me: daughter or sister Decadant people with whom I crossed paths with over a decade Sweet delightful meals shared in various rooms as the sun sets. I would like to place knick knacks on the shelves Each tell a story of the phases of my life Every corner turned Every stone I stumble

This piece is a rooted in stories and pictures about 3 memories that are very close to Dhinesha 's heart. It was an exercise from Arielle Cottingham 's workshop held by Spill The Ink . I performed this piece for Georgetown Literary Festival 's closing ceremony, an open  m ic  session curated by the If Walls Could Talk team. The assignment : 1. Share stories based on pictures with our partner 2. Freewrite with those stories in mind 3. Extract 5 favourite lines/parts and piece them together 4. Edit the piece and add in motion to represent the words 5. Present the work in progress with the motions and receive critique . My critique was: 1. Create a constant circular motion through out the performance 2. Pull out expressions from that pool/universe I have created with my circular motion 3. Stretch and express certain words 4. Play with rhythm and sound See see see sea See water See breeze See me Sea The seas par        ted. See i

I was at No Black Tie for  John Dip Silas '  NewSound  live performance featuring Tasha Aleia . I closed my eyes and let the jazzy tunes take me away, allowing  words to flow  with the melody. Let me paint Lazy streaks of purple seeping through the pastel blue Crimson red dancing with blood orange Soft lace of white layering lush rich emerald green Tinge of magenta melting with fuchsia And velvet black speckled with shadows of gray. Close my eyes and touch The shade of mood The stroke of emotion The curves and the way the brushes sway How the canvas sticks to tales Forever binding itself as one. Soaking up every ounce Letting the colours seep deep Lightly indenting its every taste Caress with every touch Feel the texture of grain and thread. Never listen thinking you already know what is happening and listen to the story. Let the story whisper e v e r y s y l l a b l e V-v-v-v-vibrate your ear drums Fill your mind Between the s p a c e s S

What comes to mind when you think of love? I tried  to do a bit of homework after Melizarani T. Selva 's and Bill Moran 's workshop  (by Spill The Ink ) on the use of repetitions and challenging myself to write a 'love poem' again. Love has got me thinking that life is as precious as loss that lost time is precious that ignorance is not bliss but the absence of knowing life if life looked like something, it would look like the look you have on your face right now. Love has got me thinking about dreams and ambitions when passion meets opposition when exceptions is the limitation when dreams turn into expectation then we get honest reactions. Love has got me thinking Beyond chemical reactions and rash decision when one erection becomes a rash and a rash reaction turns into cash When cash is the transaction for your devotion and value is merely an illusion. Love has Love was Love is Love will be Love can be Rational Irrational Co

Warmest Deepavali wishes to all who are celebrating and have a splendid time with loved ones. What is Deepavali without some Murukku and what is Murukku without Deepavali. Idhayam kanindha iniya Deepavaali Nalvazhthukkal From the depths of our hearts To the hills covered with lights From kitchens overflowing with aromatic dhal And dishes of different vegetarian delights From the city skies shining bright To our grandparents' houses lighted up tonight Sipping chai and chattering Adorning new sarees and l enghas Sitting down and sharing murukku Having meals together with smiles and ladu Warmest wishes from near and far May the light shine blessings upon you. - Swit Marie 0300H 18 October 2017 Bahagia HQ

After attending a couple of workshops, I wanted to write a piece that incorporated the elements that I have learned and present a 'homework' piece as a tribute to my heroes in poetry. As this month is Mental Health Awareness Month , Breast Cancer Awareness Month and recently Day of The Girl , I had those themes in mind for this piece. Pending is a tribute piece to the late Chester Bennington of Linkin Park , for now, this is what I can muster out in the mean time. Special thanks to Umar Abdul Azizi from Makhluk Seni for the impromptu accompaniment using the 'Seruling'. He is wonderful, honest and the punniest person I have ever met, so eager and hardworking in creating spaces for artist to experiment and collaborate. I am humbled to have him do this performance with me at ' If Walls Could Talk ' Vol. 40 featuring Pooja Nansi and Crinkle Cut. This piece is dedicated to: My mother who has supported me through my battle with Depression and Anxiety M

This piece was written when I was having one of my post-traumatic episodes and my mind was flooded with fear and anxiety. This is the side of medicine that most of you do not see and what makes or breaks a person. I dedicate this piece to all those in the medical profession who have lost their lives and soul in the line of battle to save someone else's life. For National Doctor's Day tomorrow and Mental Health Awareness Month Mr. ABC is a 45 year old gentleman with underlying co-morbids. Admitted for a coronary related disease because of his non-compliance to his diet of reduced lipids. Erm... Yes... No... I mean I don't know… But… Because... What? The... I… So… So... So What?! FBC, RP, LFT, VBG, Trop-T, FSL, FBS, ABG, Only 10cc! How is that enough?! Take 20cc can’t get, poke the ARTERY! Why so slow? What's wrong with you? That also you don't know? Comments and shouts smack repeated to the back of my head. Smack... smack... smack... smack... smack... sma

This piece was written during a workshop taught by Melizarani T. Selva , a person who told me that I should be 'workshop-ed' and who better to learn from than the woman herself. She taught me how to write myself into a poem , how to allow people to access me via my poetry but also keeping parts of me that are vulnerable in a safe space. We were given the privilege to use The Violet Flame, Kuala Lumpur where Lupe Parada 's beautiful works were on display. Prompt: In write 14 lines, write about a specific moment in time when you felt the most sincere form of love with this person, be specific about how this person makes you feel and it is a moment that was experienced by you and only you. Describe that moment, expand that moment, use sentences of different lengths. In the midst of winter, 7-ого Января (Sedmova Yanvarya) On 7th of January in the centre of красная площадь (Krasnaya ploshad - Red Square) The people wish, "С днём Рождеством" (S dy

There are two versions of this piece. I initially wrote it with the intent to extend but during Bill Moran 's workshop organised by Spill The Ink  at Twenty20Two , I decided to use this piece to 'litter'. He taught us about making the poem a dream spac e and using the poem to transport us through a space and how we relate to space in the poem. Fine time grounded porcelain time time time powder weaving time across time and time again through shallow time channels of dry dessert land, crackles time and shattered t i m e with t... i... m... e... dense solid clay, t ime unbreakable time , unmovable time   time time time time time unwilling to shift TIME . Above time and time beyond the horizon is t-t-t-time ti-me time TIME TIME TIME a massive intense thunder storm arising time and t - i - m - e spreads across the landscape. TIME roars fiercely but time is not threatening but soft time drizzling appears at first time then time turns into pouring time drowning

After more than a month of hiatus. I tried to w rite what was meant for #Malaysiathrowsherselfabirthdayparty show for Rasa Sayang during this Merdeka and Malaysia Month. Negaraku Tanah tumpahnya darahku Darahku seperti dakwat merah Menitis ke atas kertas sejarah yang tak dibaca. Mencemarkan dan mencerahkan Kejadian zaman dahulu sehingga sekarang Mengajar and menyerah Ilmu dan ilham kepada orang. Jalur gemilang menjadi barisan Yang memisahkan kawasan, menjadi batasan Di antara utara ke selatan Memutus talian warisan. Di mana perpaduan dan keamanan Dipaksakan melalui program Di mana beban rakyat diundurkan Kasih sayang dilupakan Dan moral perlu diajarkan. Air mataku menitis ke atas Hatiku yang rindu Akan sebuah negara Yang boleh membangkit semula Untuk menjadi negaraku. - Swit Marie 10 September 2017 Quill City Mall

This piece derives from an image that I got during worship a few Sunday's ago about the condition my life in relation to my problem with depression and anxiety. During the workshop with Bill Moran, I turned used this image for the exercise where we needed to place words in spaces, using time as a erosion, Links to the workshop and more information can be found here . Fine grounded porcelain powder weaving across and through shallow channels of dry dessert land, crackled and shattered with dense solid clay, unbreakable, unmovable unwilling to shift. Above and  beyond the horizon is a massive intense thunder storm arising and spreads across the landscape. It roars fiercely but is not threatening but soft drizzling appears at first then turns into pouring drowning rain   nursing the land like tears wetting dry course lips that has been thirsty for taste and life. Seeds in the ground submerge by sorrow, hurt. Not new seeds but dormant seeds with reviving residue of hope and

This piece was written after I went for Scott Sneddon's workshop on Performance Poetry and a challenge by Melizarani when she saw my blonde hair. This piece is about layers and how each person has the potential to be more than who they present themselves to be. Let's be proud of who we are. Lyrics were taken from Justin Bieber's What Do You Mean Let's make Malaysia great again Let's make the world a better place Let's take away the pain Let's take away the rat race. Let me shake your hand And take your hand So we can make a stand At the front of this stage On this rich and flourishing land And put in motion what we have planned. We have come to an age Where words don't stay on a page They are typed out on timelines And taking and giving offense is now fine Animals are allowed out of their cage To be proud roaming predators To instil fear and go on a rampage And let out their rage. I think everybody is trying hard. It

This piece was written during The Muddy Confluence, a workshop put together by Afi Noor and Lily Jamaludin from Speakcity Asia for Projek Dialog and  Thinkcity 's Pesta Puisi Kota . A day filled with spoken word, heavy topics that hit home, and a melting pot of beautiful muddy poetry. Prompt: Write 14 lines about how you arrived at this city and what makes Kuala Lumpur your home. Kring... Kring... Kring... Nenekku sampai di jeti (My grandmother arrives at the jetty) Kulitnya kering dari Gunung Timur Cina (Her skin dry from the East Mountains of China) Kurus kering badannya. (Her body; just skin and bones.) Kring... Kring... Kring... Datukku sampai ke stesen kereta api (My grandfather arrives at the train station) Kulitnya kasar menjadi orang buruh (His skin rough being a labourer) Melombong bijih timah (Mining tin) Bertemu di Jalan Petaling-ling-ling-ling (They meet in Petaling-ling-ling-ling Street) Di mana Wong and Tang bertemu dengan harapan.

This was a homework assignment that was given by director Chris Ling for the #MalaysiaThrowsHerselfABirthdayParty spoken word theater show. This is a poem written for MALAYSIA. You have been swept over by waves and waves of men Of different colours and loud deafening voices All wanting to reap of a free land A land that is rich and pregnant with potential A land where rulers couldn't measure up to the lead nation When they bartered jengkal, hasta and depa For the value of currency and what the powers that be define economy. Your straits were promised to become straighter And your quarries will be excavated to become industries for quality Resources stripped of its sources by the sorcery called segregated education Fields ploughed by our own hands get handed over to the fiends claimed as legal pirates. Celebrating your own 60th birthday because you want so much to be counted as a senior citizen To reap of the benefits because so much has been taken from you B

I wrote this as an ode to a wonderful explorer I met who connected with me in a very unexpected way. He truly is an adventurous soul. Thank you for the dances, the stories and the memories. Joyeux anniversaire Sylvain ! You are a synergy of sorts Transforming energy From song to song, From dance to dance Translating rhythm into motion And motion into expression. The way you soak in every moment How you take the time to live The way you steer with the flow Allowing connections to form Perceiving the stimuli around you Allowing yourself to absorb. Your lips speak of humble things Simple exclamations Of pure satisfaction Pursed with the indulgence Of the sweeter things in life. The freckles on your skin Map out every place you have ever been Every wrinkle Is every line from a story From the days you lived And the hours you spent living. You are alive And living things should never be limited You let it grow Let it explore It never stops Never

This blogpost is a behind the s cenes  thought process of how the ' View Points ' piece and performance came about. It is The Muruku Murmurations 2nd year Anniversary, 23892 views on the blog and 400 likes on Facebook! Much thanks and appreciation is due and this is probably the best way/place to start. This piece came about as I was trying to write something new for the slot I signed up for If Walls Could Talk Vol. 36 this July. It is a rare opportunity for me to be given a chance to perform twice in a month and I am tremendously thankful for it. My first performance was the Rather Spectacular! Showcase which was a result of the So Fab Lah! Workshop conducted by Spill The Ink and facilitated by Scott Sneddon . For 3-4 hours over the course of four days, we had a rather intensive workshop that produced spectacular results. We learned the Suzuki Theatre Method and had a glimpse into the world of the View Points Method. It is true that this wasn't for

This piece was written and performed during If Walls Could Talk Vol 36 It was written with aspects of Viewpoints and Physical theatre incorporated in its presentation. It is definitely a piece best watched and I do want to keep molding this piece into something that impacts and breath-taking. Suzuki says it takes three years for an actor to assimilate his method. In his training in Japan with his Suzuki Company of Toga (SCOT), Suzuki attempts to bridge the gap between the style of traditional Japanese Noh and Kabuki and that of modern theater. Jan 23, 1985 Look at this view! This point of view is amazing! Look over here! Look over there! Look to the North and to the South! Look to the East and to the West! Look at what's in front and behind you Look around and now, within you Close your eyes and see what is in your view. Point to the bar Point to the exit Point to the stage Point to the lady with beautiful long hair Point to the man with a muscular phys

I made a recent getaway to Singapore and wanted to spend some time living and exploring. I sought out this place not by chance but by pure attraction to a night of fond memories and a new found haven. Your trip will not be complete until you visit The Other Room . A part of this piece was performed at Rather Spectacular! Showcase led by Scotty Wings . He made all this writing possible and has transformed me with his dedication and work. 'Shadows' was performed with Afi Noir, Jack Malik and Dhinesha. It was a liberating experience courtesy of Spill The Ink Poetry Lab and If Walls Could Talk Here resides the lurking shadows of curiosity Where the unknown meets the wandering soul There is nothing more than finesse and character Carefree and wild is the playful creator. Sitting in the corner where the corners of her smile meets the crow's feet of her eyes Her face caressed by the delicate light that shines from the warm fluorescence Leaving a silhouett

I tried people watching and caught my eye on an intriguing subject. It was a challenge to stay focused on describing one thing in detail. Thank you #EvilAuntyLia for the exercise. Subtly your feathery eyelashes flutter through the air like air borne dandelion seeds floating as where ever the breeze takes it. The slits in your rich chestnut iris reveals a glimpse of your mysterious soul that you keep concealed from the masses. Clear is your gaze that translates every ounce of thought and emotion that transcends from your mind as it is without hesitation. Crow's feet creases fold from the angles of your eyes during moments of joy that strike your fancy especially when you are taken by surprise and people touch your heart. Rowdy and reckless are your eyebrows, without care, taking any shape it pleases lining your eyes with borders when they stray too far. Your eyes are deeply set like your passion for exploration and always open looking out to every thing tha

Regret is a dish best served with chocolate and wine. Ignorance is best served with vodka and lemon slices. Love is best served on its own. Ignorance is bliss Sometimes that way is best Never knowing you Never having you Never seeing you Never meeting you Never loving you. Then I would not know Of what I am letting go Of what is at stake Of who is waiting on the other side Of when I should walk away Of how this would have become... The trace that is left behind When I face the terms And wonder if any if not all of it was a mistake. When it comes to leaving you When it comes to telling you When it comes down to this This time was expected This time that was unintended This time that was wasted This time we come to an end. - Swit Marie 0417H 31st May 2017 Geek HQ

We both weren't bad people, not necessarily bad for each other but definitely not the best thing at this point of time. Young is your heart Naive is my soul Cracking is your life Bit by bit With each day that passes Right from the time we said "Let's give this a chance." What was left is the Image of who we thought we were Tinted with disappointment. - Swit Marie 1718H 27th May 2017 Vainglory Championship

When you come to a state where you are fully drained and there is nothing left to give and no capacity to receive. Internally spent Like a room up for rent No questions asked about who came and went. Physically wasted Emotionally drained Mentally tainted Straddling along with the pain Layers of vibrations of raindrops Falling on the streets Colliding with leaves Drenching my hair Falling till my tears stop Colours are faded Scars and wounds of the jaded My heart again forsakened Never again to be awakened. Wrecked like a weary ship Sails tattered and battered Creaking like quivering lips Knots loose and scattered Faint is my voice Silenced without a choice Unable to push air Through my vocal chords As breathing was a dead affair from the time it reached this corpse. - Swit Marie 1501H 2nd June 2017 BK5 Swit Marie is a 'Jacqueline of all trades' who loves wearing plaid who thinks in rhyme all the time A believer in making dreams come true, she w

One of our very first official class assignments was to write a poem based on Maya Angelou's poem, ' Caged Bird ' using flowers with the theme of Freedom vs. Oppression. We were given only 30 minutes to write, the poem had to have a similar style and length. One of the lines were used to form a new stanza for the next assignment, it can be found  here . A straight stalk, solely for one; a white, half bloom, considered as perfect. Tucked in a pocket snugged beside stiff lapels of a pitch black blazer. A rose taken, a rose given for a reason. Slight breeze flutters through its subtle petals as the groom scurries down the aisle; a distinct rush of nerves felt by the stalk as it hears a whisper, "Is this my beginning or the end? A posse of roses and baby breaths chatter excitedly, enveloped by pretty lace and wrapped in ribbons to accentuate their colours, In the hand of a young, established lady. A rose taken, a rose given for a reason. Their st

In West Coast Swing, connection is one of the key concepts of making or breaking the dance. We tend to lose it when we rush and try our best to find it when our space is running out. Connection. A word so easily defined and understood but difficult to explain. A bond of two separate entities joined at a point that creates a bridge for information to be transferred. A beginning for new developments and possibilities that leads to endless amounts of potential because one foundation is built upon another. A pathway for energy to flow, for transformation to occur between different forms, where modifications and implementations can transpire because there is a medium for it to exist. A channel for conversation to interchange between individuals, cultures, generations and worlds, links in ways best left to the imagination, beyond thoughts, chance and limitations, stretching through multiple facets of humanity. A world that is not quiet, where one person is not the only per

It's a rare moment when something clicks and a very honest raw connection is made. It is something that I treasure very deeply and it becomes very difficult to let go. It's been a month since Asia West Coast Swing Open, all the thrills, lessons, skills and emotions. More dance inspired poetry in the making. I heard your name from across the room Uttered by experienced women of the trade I saw your silhouette glide across the lacquered wood floor And watched you move your slender body To the rhythm of a top 40's pop song playing in the background We were amazed by your skill, Your effortless ability to create gorgeous flow of emotion, drawing in the crowd with the rhythm And loving the moment as it went You came alive as you brought light towards your performance Your eyes twinkle like the stars in the velvet deep blue night sky. Your face looked my way As I spoke of silly things You saw me shy away from intimidating spins As I thought that it was all