after one too many

beers I realized
growing up I was told many a lie
they said
if I saved money I would be rich
hard work would bring me success
kind gestures would be rewarded
I found
admin fee ate my savings
hard work and income were on different platforms altogether
and those I helped took advantage of me
sincerety had gone
buried with the truth about history
and what’s right was what was approved by the big guy
before he was replaced by an even bigger guy
I was told that if at first I don’t succeed, I must try and try and try again
I found
that with no talent it was totally useless to even try
that everything had been predestined
that unless I was lucky to be granted the genes of fabulosity
I would merely be a common people

Food Lovers

I had one that resembles Italian food. Meat, tomato, cheese and mushrooms kiss each other passionately inside a creamy blanket. Too rich, too strong, too much of everything that one bite too many left me bloated, bewildered, almost bulimic. I wish I hadn’t eaten that.

I had one that resembles American fast food. Fat buns with chubby meaty burger, decorated with a limp lettuce and sorry looking pickles. Too cheap, too greasy, too corny, I felt like the fattest girl on the block. Why the hell did I eat that?

I had one that resembles Japanese sashimi. Tastes like a million dollar. But no matter how much I ate, I felt like I hadn’t eaten anything. Too fat-free, too chic, too bland, too empty. Really, I should’ve eaten something else.

I had those that resemble meals from eateries that shouldn’t be allowed to open in the first place because their foods are so bad they’re bordering on poisonous. I must’ve been crazy to even try them.

Then I met you.

A home-cooked meal so wholesome and warm and simply lovely. A delicious simplicity that stand above the zest of hawker foods, or the glamour or world-class cuisines.

It’s like a meal that warmly greets me in the morning.
It’s like a meal that patiently awaits me after a busy day.
It’s the loveliest form of comfort food.
It’s what recharges me.
It’s the kind that makes me feel complete.

Dedicated to you, who handle my psychotic moments like a pro!

tao on sanity

you are demons

you are darkness

your soul is at stake

dissipation is the threat

don't surrender the key

your soul is light
just dissolve

a heartfelt eulogy

I first knew Valentine when I was eleven years old. It was the years when the girls made pink cards for the boys and the boys took the girls to the movie and the girls were as sweet as the syrupy sugary drinks and the boys kissed the girls and the girls giggled and felt like the most beautiful things in the world.

I am sad to say that despite our rosy beginning, Valentine and I had gone estranged over the years. The main reason is because Valentine never changed. She stayed bubbly and cheerful in her pinkish innocence, she kept bouncing in a life filled with froth, thick chocolaty pleasure and soft toys.

Whereas I had witnessed black holes. I had looked directly into the ripped open soul of the devil himself. I had drunk from his cup and I witnessed how cruel human beings could be to one another. I was there when the tree cried. I was there when the wind wept. I was there when hunger corrupted even the most sincere soul.

I found that I am living in a world where everything is for sale, even love. Especially love. Valentine opted to close her eyes and I opted to open mine.
I see coldness in the general's heart.
I see fear in the soldier's eyes.
I see vanity in the pretty people's soul.
I see despair in the ugly ones.
Incompetence rules.
Freedom is for those who can afford or steal it.
Everybody talks too much and much too loud.
Nobody gives a shit.
Everyone's impatient.

Now that Valentine is no longer with us, I begin to see the point behind her fluffy exterior. I begin to see that maybe it wasn't so wrong to close our eyes for a while. Because by closing our eyes, we could live in an alternate reality, a pink coated realm where everything is resolved by sharing a box of chocolate.

Valentine has passed away. But it is not the time for us to grieve. It's the time for us to celebrate her spirit, and for me the most important thing that Valentine had ever taught is the importance of believing in an imaginary world where everything works in the end.

Valentine will forever be missed.

Let us pray for her.

the festival of beggars

Come my beloved son, it’s the time of the year
Let us go to the temple where the Chinese people pray
It’s their new year my son, another year of prosperity
Unlike us, they are blessed with money abundantly

Dress raggedly my son, do not wash up and be filthy
Do not eat your meal so your cheeks will be hollow
And they would look at you with pity
I know it’s raining my son and I see that you are drenched
But persevere my son, the money is worth the wait

Last year I collected enough to last us a week
The year before that was even better
This year I brought you along so we could collect more
You are five years old now, you should learn to feed yourself
I was on the street much smaller, what a cozy life you’ve had

Son, when the guards tell you to squat you squat
I promise you enduring the heat and the rain and the spit of the guards
is nothing compared to what we are going to get

After all my son, it is free money
It requires no muscle, no skill, no brain
So what enduring a day like a dog when you can feast for a week?