The Muruku Murmurations

A poem about my alter ego in a dream I keep getting. It starts the same and goes slightly differently every time but the feelings are the same. And in the end, I wake up to reality questioning... Dear Sveta Metchnova, You have been here trice over, Wandering the dimly lit corridors, Wondering what all of this is for. It is the same abandoned multistorey, With a grim carpark full of trolleys, Resembling a scene from a horror story, But you do not seem to be in worry. The air you try to breathe is dusty, Accompanied by a mist that is moldy, Stale like bread rotting in the pantry, The lack of fresh oxygen makes you dizzy. A leaking pipe hypnotically drips, Drop after drop after drop, Getting tense you bite your lips, Trying to bear the sounds that wouldn't stop. Slowly you quicken your pace, Searching for a mysterious place, Your shadow blends with the darkness without a trace, Now your heart begins to race. The corridors look familiar, The run...

I wrote this for my brother who loves his cereal. Cereal was always a fun breakfast choice for me so why not have fun writing about it. Good Morning sunshine! A nod in the mirror to reassure I am fine, After a good stretch and a deep breaths, Time to face the day and all it's tests. Scurry down to the kitchen, Looking up at the top cabinet, "I hope it's there" I beckon, The doors burst wide open like trumpets. I grab that eye-catching rectangular cardboard, The rustling sound of it's content... Oh my God! *Shhreekk* Flip! Mhhmm, that silver foil... That shiny silver foil. Gently, gently, tear it open, The sugary fumes intoxicate like a love potion, It could be flakes, honeycombs, rolls or stars, Cereal has never disappointed me so far. The chimes of tinkling when it hits the porcelain, The gush of milk that I keep pouring, Just the right proportions, Of this fluids and solids concoction. Crunch!!! Oooo... How can somethin...

I was sitting in the car with my cousins and it just hit me how much we have changed and grown and become closer to each other.  Cousins are our first friends, They're our friends till the end, I come from a big family, So cousins I've got plenty. Whether it's rocking out to S Club 7 and creating our own dance moves, Or random messages that say "I'm thinking of you," Or road trips that I remember ever so vividly, My cousins and I have got so many good memories. I love that this bond has grown so much, Because we sure are a nutty bunch, We somehow find every reason to hang out, And when we do, we go all out. We're crazy, my cousins and me, As crazy as crazy can be, But I hope we always remain this way Until we're old and our hair turns grey. - JN 11.50pm, 24/10/2015 (Saturday) Taman Ehsan, Kepong

To my dear friend, Micheal Alouf from Paris, France. For all the ' Bonjours ', ' Como sava ' and ' Mercis ' I should have said to you all these months and years. It was truly a fine Sunday morning, In Paris, the city of ' amour ', The Lourve was free for visiting, For all who love art, history and more. I wondered the corridors one by one, Absorbing the fumes of artistry, I basked in the open veranda of statues under the sun, Reading up on glorious Greek mythology. Then I made my way to the floors above, To explore Napoleon's Apartment, Into his guest room I swerved, There stood a man taking a picture in that instant. He politely asked if I could help him, As the selfie did not do any justice, He thanked me, took me on a tour on a whim, As all I could only see was just the surface. Bonjour, what is your name? I am Swit, I am Michael, It was pleasant all the same, It made my visit much more special. As we walke...

Sometimes it only takes one meeting to make a lifelong friend. It can happen anywhere. This is to one of the very first people to have seen Come Hell or High Water, and one of its earliest fans, who is still a friend till today!  In neither your place or mine we met, How much more fated does it get? You had come on a trip with your university, Attending a film screening that was in the vicinity. You watched my documentary & watched me stutter away, And during the question and answer you had such nice things to say, You told me to let you know when I was in Manila so you could take me around, In a foreign land a kindred spirit I had found. That was almost two years ago one fateful night, In an art space illuminated by Baguio light, Through Facebook we have become great bros, Keeping track of how the other is doing or where the other goes. Thank you for always encouraging me & being so inspiring, Telling me to keep being me and to keep d...

People can sometimes surprise you with their kindness, even though you only just met and will probably never see them again.  I can safely say, You're the friendliest person I've met for only one day, We both had a similar issue, And had to go to the same place too. I asked if I could hitch a ride, You said "sure" and didn't take time to decide, Your good deed you refused to let me repay, I guess you were thankful that at least one of us knew the way, We talked all the way to the registration department, You told me about your dreams to jet set But I could't help but stare at the Jesus magnet, That was above your glove compartment. I didn't get to properly thank you, Because you had to rush off as you had things to do, So thank you for helping me although you didn't know me, And for restoring my faith in humanity. - JN 12.50pm, 12/11/2015 (Thursday) Home, Kelana Jaya

There is inspiration to be found in everything, even in the suffering of insomnia from over brewed Ginger tea.  It is 3am & my mind is buzzing, From ginger Chinese tea I had unintentionally over brewed, I had drank it at an untimely hour, And now its magic was working all too good. My mind searches for something to calm it down, Combing through social media hoping it will all become a blur, It's three thirty and there isn't a single sound, As my mind buzzes not a soul begins to stir. It is five am and somehow I have woken up, I am feeling the beginnings of a minor headache, I am slightly hungry and could probably use some grub, But I am still in that in between of feeling sleepy & being awake. It is six am & the headache is real now, I reset my alarm for the odd time of nine forty two, It is six oh four and someway somehow, My thoughts have now stopped short at you. - SB 6.04am, 8th September 2015 Ghetto HQ