They broke up I’m moving Swam in Spanish Banks with a friend Thought about noodles and nooses Alive another day
Everything is ok
What is ok? You are still breathing What is ok? No one is hurting you What is ok? You are safe What is ok? No one is abandoning you What is ok? No one is leaving you What is ok? No one is mad at you What is ok? You are loved What is ok? You have nourishment What is ok? There is no danger at this moment What is ok? You are creating What is ok? You are releasing What is ok? Your loved ones are here What is ok? Call and they will be there What is ok? It will get easier What is ok? It will get better What is ok? What is ok? Is it ok to stop asking now?
Untitled
I am the vessel with a thousand needles And they have kept me together From falling apart
I am the ship with a thousand threads Travelling in my journey But never going very far
I am the voice of a thousand songs Of which none of them is mine For I have never heard my hum
I am the desire for a thousand whales To take a deep breath And dive deep into the abyss
I am the kick of a thousand drums Searching for the beat of my heart The ever-longing of a call right back to me
And when I found my heart I heard the power of a single drum Within the heart of a whale Pulling a thousand threads Hooked to a thousand needles
One long push and one long pull A thousand times of hanging on to my bruised body Leaving one thousand and one scars For my beautiful life….For one thousand lifetimes
Untitled
If you ever choose to leave, ...I will understand. And sing until it’s time… for me…to go...
Glacier Bay
I cried when I saw Glacier Bay My tears and grief and anger could not come faster than the ice could fall I felt hopeless for home That the innocence of a flutter And the denial of minds and hearts Can break this sense of home for manufactured prison cells
This Dieverse Body
diversity divisity diminishing decentering dead colour bodies on the streets in the houses by the beats gendering misgendering misculturaling mislabeling decapitalizing decolonizing depowerizing depatriarchalizing these dieverse bodies rainbow targets or shiny bowling pins? the littlest minds create the biggest wars storms and bombs bullets from fawns diversity ain't no immunity run from the insensitive before insemination of apathy attachments to fallacies of assimilation assassination of identity in infirmaristic societies what about our dieverse bodies? does it fit with your linguistical anomalistical statistical empirical mislyrical mechanicalistic capital? what do we have to do? what do we have to say? what do we have to silence? Gag balls every day what do we sacrifice? what do we forget? how do we hide from the the ones that don't regret? point on the head shock to the chest blow to the knee the life is rest families weep babies forget mass adorns power elect dieverse bodies colouring books one after another breath on the hook diverse bodies laid to sleep waiting for privilege to sow and reap
心開 開心
Resilience
I left home to protect my family. What I did not know was that I was a “one" that needed protection
Dirty Laundry
Mom...what do I say to you? Now that we are seventeen springs apart, I have sat through seventeen winters with a memory of you That keeps on stacking upon itself It’s weird you know? You are not dead...but why do I feel that sometimes you are? Recently, I imagined you Laying still on your bed A quilted blanket over your soft body Your body animated slightly by the impulses of your impending death I imagined you slowly drifting No you don’t die suddenly in my picture Instead, you go, very slowly, peaceful and with no regrets… I am not by your side. But instead, I linger quietly at the door, Like when I used to watch you sleep Like you would watch me doze when I was your kid I was ten years old when I first realized that one day you might leave It was then that I always stood by the windowsill Every night The sweaty air pricks at my eyes The salty tear linger and refusing to move I used to cry mother At the sky, at the gods and goddess I felt strangely attached to That somehow there was someone beyond the stars that would Know why I was crying That they would take away a few years of my life and give them to you Because I knew at ten that you would leave me one day It made me love you deeply
It’s been seventeen summers You are not dead...but why do I sometimes feel that I was the one that died instead? I am no longer the boy you once knew The boy that you never held tightly when I needed you to The boy that wished so deeply for an embrace I wish I was the child in one of those hollywood movies Like every single late night sitcom And family dramas The culture I was inhaling was not mine My colonized mind wanted to badly for you to be like A mom in one of those white movies But it never happened…Am I racist?
I gave up on dad a long time ago The invisible scars of dad’s rattan cane Still whips my body I still feel the raised cane marks on my skin And I remembered touching them after each whipping I fell in love with them because I survived I survived each beating and those marks became what I thought I am I survived each threat that he made to me I gave up on dad a long time ago
Remember the washing machine in the kitchen? She was my only friend at home She protected me from the reins of dad’s cane She took me by her side and shielded me from the wielding of patriarchy She reminded me of who I hoped you might be Not a white mom like in the movies But one that I had hope would have stood up for me Like the way the washing machine stood there between me and the cane, frozen, witnessing the banshee screams of a Helpless child Helpless washing machine Screaming her lungs out every time I was beaten We both took our beatings
Mom, Seventeen autumns later... I no longer remember who you are and why I want you to be different Just as I had chosen to forget about the dad I knew.
I am no longer your dirty laundry
21 December, 2018 The lingering branch of thought that stirs the waters as I wade fearfully into the fullness of roots and thorns I used to think that I did well to avoid pain. But I was hooked on the arms of time And pain is a 7-11 store That I have frequented since birth And the signs on the roads Had been staked into unfamiliar paths Waiting to welcome With sordid news that conjures Violent images and "unintended consequences" I used to think that I did well to love pain But I was pinned on the nails of self-impalement And blood is my late night supper That I had been feeding myself... Out of desperation You see. I am an expert at being lonely When it comes to hurting Toughness is the scapegoat Painted as a unicorn that people believe can only be seen once in a while ...If you are lucky I used to think that I did well to be pain But I was sliced on the table With angry lights projected at my body And I saw Faces I did not recognize I suspended myself night after night Upon window grilles and humid air Sending messages to the stars Wishing pain away for my protectors I used to think that I did well to promote my pain But there were no buyers that were willing to pay The idling of worthiness Found in a garbage pile of endless unwanted recycles I used to think I did well to know pain Until I discovered they knew me better...
Sometimes Sometimes I wonder if I am too far gone, when I feel internalized bondage strangling on my battered body. Sometimes I wonder if I am too deeply grounded, for the anchors holding me down were never mine to start with and they want to pull me towards burial. Sometimes I wonder if I bled enough, from the injuries pounded onto my body before I could say stop...I'm not a safe word for projections. Sometimes I wonder if I hurt enough, when sensations in my solar plexus just want to meet the fearful coming of startling impacts and rhomboids fighting to be touched.
Coming Out Day I'm not white I am mixed race I'm not male I am non-binary I'm not female I am non-binary I'm not tall I am in some places I'm not good looking I am sexy I'm not smart I am relational I'm not talented I am a keen learner I'm not simple I am fucking complex I'm not stable I am in an unstable world anyways I'm not rich with money I am rich with love I'm lazy I am working 24/7 with a buddy name Trauma I'm ugly ooo...I am... I'm not grounded I am a fucking Virgo I'm not fit enough I am a body fit for loving I'm not interesting I am such a whole soul experience... if you dare let me... I'm not beautiful I am gorgeous I'm not one with tight abs I am one with so many other body parts I'm not worthy I am not worthy of a miserable fucking life I'm not shallow I am an ocean bed of reflections I'm not doing enough I am tired I'm not a subversion I am an impression I'm not coming out I am coming out every moment I'm not an exotic-fication I am an essential fixation I'm not coming out I'm not coming out I'm not coming out I am going in I am going in I am going in I'm not I am dedicated to everyone who feels and knows how complex "coming out" means. you and i know its not a singular direction of energy because every time we "come out", we also go in within ourselves to engage with the very painful and vulnerable mirrors that we carry. coming out is not just an announcement. coming out is an anchoring through the craters of our emotional beings and the daring to burn the livid imaginations of past experiences and inflictions
Coming Out Day … (Again) emotional wave day grounding day hiding in day reflective day questioning day anxiety day cuddle day muddle day muggle day raging day grieving day sleepless day gentle day chaotic day who are my friends day who is my family day am i safe day who do i lose day who do i get to keep day who do i get murdered by day who do i get to sleep with day why am i why i am day my parents won't love me day my parents accept me day i celebrated me day i cried like a waterfall day i remember the times day i want the day to finish day my friends are waiting to celebrate me day i wrote a letter day i made a video day i choose my pronouns day misgendering day correct gender day i am queer day i got disowned day i collapse day i found my chosen family day i love myself day i look at the mirror for a very long time day i get a cake day i get cake thrown at me by queer-phobes day in the hospital day i might get assaulted day i have people who love me d
Maya Love, so carefully guarded, like songbirds in cages, where their truth is clipped from their wings, and the music of intimacy is shrouded by fearful clanging of chains. Let love not be lost in cages but be abundant in freedom. For it is only then can love be free to be experienced in all directions; in all ways and it shall never be weary. Let love be the ocean. Let love be the air. Let love be the universe. Let love be infinite. Let love be free. Love is never lost. Love is always present. Love is freeing. Love is freedom.
Gender Fuckery Can we talk about this? When gender fuckery gets assumed by gender fucking binaries in kink scenes and in negotiations in making mistakes and learning to be better
Can we talk about this? When you think that you are negotiating something Only to realise that the person you were negotiating with still do not get your gender non-binariness but wants to play with you anyways and then proceeds to treat you as a MAN or WOMAN because they know not enough how to play with a non-binary person
Can we talk about this? The hetero-normative responses and attitudes The assumptions projected through patriarchy, misogyny to the curious to the new to the never-seen-before to the never-touched-before to the person wearing a beard and spotting a pink tutu to the one that "looks" one way or another because of a bulge, a cup, a moustache, Adam's fucking apple (not mine)
Can we talk about this? The fuckery involved in folks wanting to play with non-binary folks but refuses to do the work to understand or ask and make mistakes and learn with each other about gender identities body experiences dysphoria
Can we talk about this? The lack of ownership over one self's responses and reflection when wanting to play with someone who shared that they have trauma Non-binary folks are traumatised daily from misgenderings and swallowing the insensitivity down to the gut Heartless comments fermenting and rotting Spreading over sensory neurons and nervous system protections Simply because someone is willing to play with a non-binary person only to be let go afterwards because destructive behaviours assumes power to exert exclusion
Can we talk about this? In a non-binary way? In a non-traumatising way? In a way that builds safety? In a way that builds community? In a way that encourages non-binary folks to access kinky play with trust? In a way that fucks our gender expression in the way we want? In a way that involves curiousity rather than non-consensuality of identity labels put onto people? In a way that makes boundaries fun and not jarring? In a way that makes for conversations that are reciprocal and meaningful rather than deceitful?