Showing posts from 2017

Nomadic Suitcase

As a part of 'Art For Grabs' last December 2017, Speak City Asia curated the opening ceremony with 'Poetically Correct: 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 stumbled over
Every chip that knicked my…


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 mic 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 receivecritique.

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 it became hard when you and I parted.
It was hard,
it was hard when I h…


I was at No Black Tie for John Dip SilasNewSound 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
Sink in and understand.
See beyond the person

Think Love

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'sworkshop (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
Unconditional Playful

Happy Diwali

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 lenghas
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 0300H18 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 My late grandmother who i…

Doctor, doctor...

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?!
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... smack...
Till I unna…

Red Square

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 dyom Rozhdestvom)
Merry Chris…

Hour Glass V2.0

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 space and using the poem to transport us through a space and how we relate to space in the poem.
Fine time grounded porcelain time timetime 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, timeunbreakabletime, unmovable timetime time timetimetime 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 time rain time time time time tim…


After more than a month of hiatus. I tried to write 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

Hour Glass V1.0

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.
Finegrounded 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 rainnursing 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 faith. Taking a…

Be The Trump Card

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 is a very tough system.
What do you me…

Jalan Petaling

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. (A place where Wong and Tang meet hope.…

My Malaysia

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
But no, you are only 54.

The Explorer

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 stays the same The journey continues.
Picking …

Behind the Scene: View Points

This blogpost is a behind the scenes thought process of how the 'View Points' piece and performance came about. It is The MurukuMurmurations 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 everyone but I wanted this fo…

View Points

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 physique
Point to the person with a…

Speak Easy

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 silhouette of mystery and delight

The Watchman

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 that inspires and awakens th…

Remember That Time

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 painLayers of vibrations of raindrops
Falling on the streets
Colliding with leaves
Drenching my hair
Falling till my tears stopColours 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 scatteredFaint 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
BK5Swit 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 would love to collaborate with you
An explorer …

Fated Bouquet

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 stalks grasped by trembling mani…


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 person and the univer…

Where To Begin

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 surreal
I found you in…