The Muruku Murmurations

I wrote this piece during one of my LRT journeys. I try my best to clear my mind during these long rides and find some quiet, some times I write when I feel like a train of thought forms and lines keep running. This piece was performed at Oral Fixation in July. Let's take a peek into history... Pick me! Pick me! Pick me! I would yell with the tip top of my eagerness I was too small for the teachers to notice Small enough for the other kids to pick on They picked me apart. You see I wasn't a cookie cut cutie I wasn't anyone's first pick I didnt check all the boxes growing up. Growing up I didn't have boxes to tick No list of ambitions or expectations I braved my face Every time my words did not leave a trace Your absences of words cut deep, deep in my heart. I grew up being picky Picky about my friend Picky about my attire Picky about my desires Picky about which pieces to pick up It seemed easier to pick at the negatives Than...

That feeling when you find yourself unable to find peace and everything around you messed with your senses and leave you in much discomfort. The very experience one has during a panic attack and the severe realisation that at that moment, you are your only saving grace. My teeth clench every time I stand here Coldness flowing through my veins My Joints ache in pains I am uncomfortable For multiple reasons, I stay I stay thinking that I am wanted I stay because I am obligated I stay for the sake of being present. I find myself Unable to blend in Cautiously Avoid being jarring So I don't prick people with my torns Always looking for a purpose tediously So I don't melt into the wall like wallflower. I smile and be of good cheer Pretend that I find you fascinating Entertain superficial whims that have no enriching value Listen as you don't think through your thought prior It tires me to be here. I don't belong anywhere Not with you...

I was walking through Malacca with a good friend of mine. I recalled the stories we learned during our History lessons in school and wrote this short piece. Pahlawans composed In their glorious posture Confident in their stances Silat weaves their body Between power and stillness Moving the mind and soul As one with calm and strength. - Swit Marie 0420H 9th March 2018 Jonker Street

It has been a while since I did rhyme one. Time to oil those rusty gears. I wished that you would say something Not because you owed me anything Don't pretend to be a sphinx I want to know what you think Is this ship on its way to sinking Or are you on your way sailing Your silence means many things But to me, this means everything. - Swit Marie 1040H 14th February 2018 Bahagia HQ

This piece was inspired by The Greatest Showman's song, ' This Is Me '. I performed this spoken word piece at my first 'featurette' for Malam Sayu Berpuisi . It was the rare opportunity to perform at KLPAC . I sang part of the chorus as the finale of this piece. I tried to use the many different elements that I have learned from the workshops that I attended in 2017. break 1 breɪk verb verb:  break ; 3rd person present:  breaks ; past tense:  broke ; gerund or present participle:  breaking ; past participle:  broken 1. separate into pieces as a result of a blow, shock, or strain. Hello, can you hear me? You are B-b-b-b-b-b-breakin up Eight days, 8 months, 8 years That is a loooooong time to be a p a r t . . . Break my aching heart Into pieces that Rake my fields of joy Break apart like a tree struck by lightning Split in half, burnt to a crisp Collapsed, defeated. Break d o w n Break... My thoughts Break....

I spent most nights of the end of 2017 unable to sleep and pondered about love, fate, chance, uncertainty and how my life could have been different if he had stayed. It is a void when dreams don't come true and the reality I live is truth. This piece was given its title when I contributed this to the Speak City Asia newsletter called 'Tiny Walls'. Take me now on a stroll down memory lane As the sun begins its descend I find you standing there in plain sight Along the horizon of light and shadows where your silhouette is marked In opulent angles The arches of your brow Touches your high cheekbones Lifting your charming smile Deepening those cheeky dimples A carpet along your sleek jawline defining your edges. Your face looks like it has seen much Like the moon that is still visible Pale translucent blue in the afternoon Still present despite the sun already luminating the bright sky Still whistling softly among the swallows that fly Nestled b...

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 stum...