DRUIDSTON HAVEN

In the deep valleys tucked in between creases of land
folded earth and jagged ridges climbing high towards the sky
there is a hidden trail I follow.

I am strapped on and saddled
onto the body of a horse.

Phantom image, steady steed. I grasp the reins as it guides me
towards another bend, steep steps in the rhythm of click clacks
tick tock the sun is a lamp incubating the top of my head.

We follow the torching light illuminating the way until finally
the path slithers among grassy hills,
a stream running alongside us
scattered flower bulbs
splashes of sea
the scent of salted wind.

Perfect landscape
as if crafted for photograph or painting,
obscure enough for private collection
valuable enough for auction.

We gallop as a unit:
a picturesque image of everything the world should be.

Woman and animal
why is there no one else on this beach? No one else to join
this living dream I’ve stumbled upon.
I’m Alice in Wonderland, Lucy in Narnia—
where are the rest of us?

Where are the dreamers and the believers
the riders and the travellers? Stuck in an eternal sunset
perhaps they too were drawn
by the rapture of performance.

It’s just me and my Phantom trapped on reeling shorelines
and gently bowing underneath collapsing light.

NIGHT TERRORS

Doors never stay closed in this house.
Listen to the ten o’clock creaks in the hallway
in between the music padded in your ears.
Tell me a story, a story of you and me

Candy-coloured headphones, makes you feel
like Christmas, almost. Sweet, succulent dreams
running high on sugar and the notion that
in a couple of hours, when the fairy lights fade
this will all be gone.

Midnight, the same song’s still playing.
Show me a place where we can be alone
Alone?

I’ve never really learned what it means to be alone.
The windows rattle every now and then. Who is it?
A friend? A secret lover? The branch of an olive tree?

You tell yourself the night is still young,
reaching for the dwindling light on your laptop screen
flickering on and off, the same way your eyes flicker
the same way the lights do so now who’s in charge
of the switch?

Tell me a story, a story of you and me
The world moves while you’re sitting still.
It all ends so perfectly, you’ll see
No one’s here. No one’s ever
listening— Can you hear my cries in the middle of the night?

Can you see us drifting away into the light?

False Memories: Intrusive Thoughts and Snakes in My Garden

The snake crept into my garden today. It slithered behind the bushes, coiled itself around the tree of life and began to eat away at its apples. Every morning when I wake up, I say my morning prayers and I stretch out my branches to the sun. My leaves turn flat, absorbing as much sunlight as they can. I do my photosynthesis thing. I try to live my life.

Most mornings, the rest of the plants in my garden are as healthy and happy as I am. The bushes are neatly trimmed, the oak tree by the side stands as firm as ever, and the lilies in the pond are as gorgeous as Monet had painted them out to be. (I’m glad, because that was the only reason I wanted lilies in my garden.)

But other mornings, my Eden is in ruins. The bushes are disheveled, leaves are scattered everywhere, the oak tree is cracked in half, and the lilies are like wilted corpses floating above the overflowing lake. This is my garden, my responsibility, my creation.

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DC: REBIRTH

It took me about a week to figure out what to title this post. And as you can see above, I’ve practically given up. I wouldn’t call this a review for a couple of reasons, the first one being that I’ve just been reading DC comics for a little over a year now, and only occasionally. Not enough to know the FULL SPAN of every single arc in Pre-Crisis, Crisis, New 52, anything else. I started with Batman, because I’ve always been a huge Batman fan from Nolan’s movie adaptations, but now I’m trying to sort of reach out and get my hands dirty in everything else. So what better time to do it than when DC’s launching their brand new series? Also, that second reason why I’m not calling this a review is because, I’m just going to talk about my feelings about this series and the characters and stuff so expect little to no critical opinion? Maybe some? Who knows?

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MAKE YOUR MOVE

Like ships in the night, we never quite meet eye-to-eye.
You, sailing straight into sea, and me
settling by the docks.

Like trapeze artists, we never manage a perfect grip.
Contact is a split-second luxury
before we part ways.

All these fleeting moments lead to temporary settlements
of permanent disappointment, of inescapable uncertainty.

You’re the sun and I’m the moon,
orbiting around something we can never anchor ourselves into.
Defined by our movements, don’t you think it’s time
to decelerate, re-stabilize, reconnect.

Space is too big of a word for a problem too small—
pull me in closer, let me wrap myself around you.
Dazzle you with jewels on skin, slick-surface
polishing, a sense of desperate wishing

lingering, steadying myself onto this dock,
this trapeze board, this constructed reality.

Like strangers in a city, we don’t initiate conversation.
Instead it’s the unspoken words of glances and double-takes
a substitute for: ‘what are you waiting for?’
and ‘don’t you know me?’

SUMMER COUNTRY CLUB

Cordial bottle dripping with sweat,
my fingers print marks every time I thirst.
Easy way to tell time: watch the liquid sink
and the bottle doesn’t stay cool for long.

Radio plays that bubblegum song
that cherry wine tune, every melody sounds the same.
There’s a boy precariously balancing himself
on a beach ball in the pool. Even the smallest splash
makes the biggest fuss. Better call the lifeguard.

Time is a single thread twisting between my hands.
Earphone cords, relentlessly coiling together.
I can’t untangle my hands, untangle myself
from this endless loophole of sun and skin.

Blue seems to spread everywhere.
Ice cubes, pool water, ditzy sky, fresh
nail polish that tastes nothing like the Virgin Seas.

Loud yellow, blinding light, buzzing bees
infusing the air with the sickening sweet scent
of daisies, of the hysterically in-your-face
sunflowers that grow by the backyard.
(Why couldn’t they stay in the backyard.)

Days in the sun can feel like decades,
and minutes can feel like days. See my tan line?
How long has it been?
Easy way to check the time: take a quick peek
underneath those beach-shorts. How much have you changed?

The Legend of Korra: Air & Spirits

I’ve always been a fan of Avatar: The Legend of Aang, but for so long I continued putting of watching the next chapter of the Avatar series. Korra is everything I want out of a lead heroine. She is capable, smart, oddly charming, but also sometimes misguided, brash and frustratingly stubborn – which makes her everything a real person would be with the power of four elements sparking off her fingertips.

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Avatar Korra

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