The Muruku Murmurations

As the sun drops further down the skyline, We climb up those steps, Filling the stairwell with our excited chatter. Squeezing ourselves into whatever cosy corner we can. Dim the lights! Adjust that spotlight! Mic stands at the ready. Poets, breathe in deep. It doesn’t matter if you are new, or a poet with a heavyweight belt of words, Those butterflies will start flying. But take heart, This is where walls can talk, and they say that you are welcome. This is where you hear the snapping of fingers as you speak, Your voice may tremble as you pour your soul into those scribbled lines, But still they listen and nod, Poets, breathe in deep. Coffee machine hissing in the background as you wait, Teasing your senses with the promise of dark, roasted inspiration, Then an expectant hush falls across the floor as a clear, musical voice echoes through those thoughts “Welcome to If Walls Could Talk…” If walls could talk, they would whisper, “look to their eyes.” A light ...

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...

NaPoWriMo Challenge Prompt Week 6: Today, I challenge you to write a poem about food. This could be a poem about a particular  food, or about your relationship to food in general. Or it could simply be a poem relating an  incident that involves food, like David Ignatow’s “The Bagel”. Still not convinced? Perhaps  these thirteen food poems will give you some inspiration. Red. The vibrant colour sprinkled atop. Spoonful by spoonful, Dished into the bowl. White. The noodles before it is stained. And the egg, fluffy & untouched, That makes me flushed. Yellow. The yolk perfectly poached & ready, To be penetrated & set free, Splashing its way into the mix. Brown. In perfect curves & clumps, Tucked away in the corner, Providing saltiness & satisfaction. Combined, These are the colours of perfection, With a side of leafy soup, And herbal tea. - SB 6.02pm, 28th June 2016 Ghetto HQ

NaPoWriMo Challenge Prompt Week 6: Today, I challenge you to write a poem about food. This could be a poem about a particular  food, or about your relationship to food in general. Or it could simply be a poem relating an  incident that involves food, like David Ignatow’s “The Bagel”. Still not convinced? Perhaps  these thirteen food poems will give you some inspiration. First there is a steaming hot mountain of rice     The kind that is fragrant, fluffy and nice, Every grain cooked perfectly, Did I mention it was fluffy?             The mountain of rice is then topped with curry, This curry is cooked with just the right amount of spice, It is what makes it yummy, There are mild curries for those who can't take spicy. With this rice and curry, vegetables are aplenty, For those who want to be healthy Or like their greens, By this point you are almost bursting at the seams. You are then presented with your options ...

NaPoWriMo Challenge Prompt Week 6: Today, I challenge you to write a poem about food. This could be a poem about a particular  food, or about your relationship to food in general. Or it could simply be a poem relating an  incident that involves food, like David Ignatow’s “The Bagel”. Still not convinced? Perhaps  these thirteen food poems will give you some inspiration. This is the hottest, spiciest love affair in the history of Malaysian mankind. Let's see if you can guess who my mystery love is. Oh my love, my sweet tantalising love, My number one and all of the above, So hot clothed in that spicy red, I would eat you every morning in bed. Soft and rich, steaming with perfection, Every grain deserves my attention, I would not share you with anyone, You and I will soon become one. Adorning accessories ever so colourful, What a sight you are, purely wonderful, Without them you lose your identity, They add many levels to your personality. You ...

Today's birthday poem is dedicated to a good ol' friend of mine. It was a chanced meet after an epic joint LEO event back in 2005. Back then he was able to tickle my funny bone and entertain me for hours. After 11 years, he hasn't lost his charm and still has magic in his smile. Happy Birthday Calvin! Drop by ANTE in One Utama, have a drink, get some grub and wish this awesome dude a happy birthday! There is more than meets the eye, You will see it when you give him a try, His humour both slap stick and dry, Yes! He is unlike any other guy. He flows with much efficiency, Goes about with chivalry and courtesy, With good cheer and great comedy, He is everyone's favourite company. A Jack of all trades, he masters them all  Never misses an opportunity when he gets the call, Hang with him and be sure to have a ball, He has the ability to stir up laughter throughout the hall. To venture near and far, then conquer the seas...

People are often taken for granted. I wrote this for a friend to remind her how amazing she is and also to remind her special someone that he is indeed lucky to have her. You break her heart, I break your face. ;) That grin on her face I have missed, It was gone for a while, From dating boys who were gits, I'm glad to see it again, twice as wide. Don't send her down that road again, Don't tell her she's the one, Then decide it's not for you and run, Why you boys choose to do that, I cannot comprehend. Be patient with her, It takes a lot to peel off those layers, The ones that were cemented because of the people before you, If only you knew the things she's been through. Even when things aren't great, Don't tell her that loving her was a mistake, Don't say things you don't mean, I'd rather not see her back in 'The Chronicles Of The In Between'. Things may not always be rainbows and butterflies, There will also be...