the last sin
  pale ashen sky
a bleary eye
clouds of recurring screams...
i am a zoo
  an octopus leviathan
tentacles into an ocean
of unformed emotions...
syphilis and love  
  syphilitic pall
stifles the clear blue
i contort...
shell and pearl
  amidst highs and lows
in life's ocean flows
a shell peony-mouthed...
i am an unmarried mother
  fed on stings
of barbed milk morality
my child-plankton...
the lovers
  cell upon cell
bridge of their union
hung on the pillars...
  ogre of age
and time cavil
at a warm picture...
the young today
  innocence thaws
at the altar
of ambition...


as i am obviously in pain
i think i should go home
relax in bed spread-eagled
just laze around
maybe have a fruit or two
and take up a book
a book is a great relaxant
a perfect antidote
to all downers
which one should i choose
Bukowski’s poetry or novels
bought from Borders in London
or the yet unread
The House of Blue Mangoes
picked from a sad bookstore in Kodai
meanwhile at office i surf
to and read a poem
by Emma Neale

today being a fourth Saturday
Lotus Notes are understandably quiet
all i can hear are the rumblings
in my stomach
after a dose of antacid
there is a little silence
that’s when i snatch the opportunity
to punch in this poem

you gotta make the best of it

am i feeling better now?

( 27 September 2003 )