The Muruku Murmurations

To imagine is to picture; to have vision; to form an image in your mind about some thing; about anything without the limitations of what we know and understand. I wrote this thinking if I did not think and imagine my words instead, maybe this is what it will look like. I imagine with my eyes open, So that I can actually see The thoughts that are yet to be formed The ideas that pierce through my cornea into the air that recycles through my lungs The layers of unrefined gems still covered in dust and ash on the shelves of my mind Waiting to be picked up and given a chance to shine. The windows of my soul are the dreams that invade the dark and stormy nights When my eyes are closed shut Tight from the shy moonlight that peaks through the window pane. No cotton candy clouds or sparkling glitter seas or unicorns that prance with multi-colour manes that is now a trending flavour of sweet things and desserts. Stories that burn pages and lines ...

I was sitting in front of a structure at an MRT station one day with my mind quite distressed by the many things that seemed like chaos in my mind. I left myself to be hypnotized by the effects of clockwork. There is something calming about clockwork Tic toc tic toc tic toc Around and around the clock It goes on and on and doesn't stop. Mechanical and in control Predictable in its flow Doesn't change its role Even if the the world decided to crumble. Constant and gradual in its movement, Equal in every measurement, Perfect in its requirements, And every second lost becomes a sentiment. - Swit Marie 1900H 17th December 2016 City Hall MRT

A big part of our poetry class with Mama Lia (who conducts home school for  Team Demigods ) is self discovery and addressing issues that we are facing in our lives. This piece was written after I had done some reflection on who I want to be as a person when I am alone in the world. Visual: A music box in an empty room Theme: Self The air is cold, damp and still       A solitary bulb dimly illuminates the empty cobweb-laced room       The humble stream of light falls from low-rise plaster ceiling       Softly showcasing the centre of the unpolished pinewood floor.       Dust particles hover in minute, subtle movements Till they settle at the base of       a petite porcelain maiden. She is dressed in tulle and fancy frills       Her torso shimmers with glitter and tiny sequins. Poised in her stance, in attitude she holds       herself gracefully....