Saturday, September 5, 2009

a secret unveiled

a secret untold, bursting to unfold
a tragic story shut in the Pandora
of a girl, a woman with withering soul
the secret whispered: “to the light, to the light”

has never seen the sun, so bright
or the shimmery stars in the night
the shore of fresh salty breeze
or a humming bird’s kiss

four decades of darkness in the ghastly dungeon
tormented
shuddered at the sound of creaking vault
misery

the world?
is smaller than her heart
her world?
bares the scars of perverted warps

her eyes fixed upon the stale spinning blades
and then she was saved
but the memories of monstrosity remain

Friday, September 4, 2009

they called me Miss Boon

i rolled myself off the bed this morning and in a crouching position on the floor, i asked myself: is today friday?

and just like popeye given spinach, i bounced to the showers and got ready for my "1st day" in school. unbelievable truth-ed to commonwealth from sengkang to meet someone whom have not been formally introduced to, even though i had vague impressions of him wearing a blazer to work, as a waiter @ bakerz inn at least 4-5 years ago. (i repeat, blazer, as in those worn by guys singing on stage on sundays in new c church. and i stress: to work as a waiter. and i thought: over dressed, but funny.) i even contemplated bringing balloon or an overdue 8 days as if meeting an irc friend.

+++

i entered the P1 classroom after jon and there was a moment of amused noises from the kids as if their art teacher had brought in a scandal to class. i couldn't help but beam with excitement as they checked me out with curiosity even though jon had already put on his "don't mess in my class" mask. i was introduced as "Miss Boon" even though we thought of giving myself a japanese or korean or an incredulously long indian name since that could be the 1st and last time for me to meet the same bunch of kids. i insisted on Miss Boon.


the class even had an Art Pledge! to pledge to give their best efforts in creating good art works. that's funny.


jon recapped with the kids about color shades and coordination and i took the chance to walk around and snapped the class. then i walked around the class trying to look important as the kids colored their flowers with crayons. these children are really funny. you can so distintively know who loves art and who doesn't, just by watching the effort they put into coloring and tracing their works.


a lot of them still didn't understand what it meant by using a color but it in different shades. like light blue, sky blue, ocean blue, midnight blue.....etc............ but they're imaginations and creativity weren't crippled by the lack of knowledge.


at the end of the session they chorused: Goooooood Byeeeee Miss Boooooooon Thaaaaaank Yooooou Miisssss Boooooon. and it felt great. haha


++++
this was pasted on the door. i found it so funny. like the flow of events is so random. from doing the clapping and stamping of feet to Farhan being thirsty. wahahha

jon briefing the kids and every 2 minutes someone will turn around and look at me like i'm an alien.

can tell he didn't really like art. his flowers were messily colored over with thick crayons. you can't even tell there's a flower in this.

every now and then a kid will come up to me and ask for approval for their coloring. there's this malay girl who came up to me and said: Miss Boon, you're so cute. you look like my mother. damn. i'm not a mother! old already... old already.... :(

this kid almost colored his flower entirely black. then he realised it was kind of ugly and began to scrap the black part off with a ruler. which made it even uglier.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

purple grass

You lie on the purple grass
tshirt over your head
the grass flies flutter away
you had too much to drink
too much to drink last night

the smell of crushed purple grass
and still you wanna get drown
get drown in the autumn leaves
and never gonna rise

you're the darkest star
yet you shine in the dusk
my eyes dart from yours
and then i sank,
i sank into the purple grass

where are

it creeps up my back
tickles my neck
your presence assaults
shoving my soul out of its shell

crushed by the luster of sun
it tickles, it pains
swallowed by the entrance of fire
exits in quickening shame

you shouldn't be so near.
yet, where are you?