Author: hotsurf

Like to travel, read, play cello etc.

You are precious to me.

Do you know…
your freshly dried hair
make the sound of
thousands of tiny silver bells
when they are tousled?
You are precious to me.

Do you see…
when you take a bath
under candle-light,
there spread diamonds
on your golden skin?
You are precious to me.

Do you hear…
your thoughts
as they
hit the right timbre
echoing in my dusty & grim chamber?
You are precious to me.

Do you taste…
the fertile sea,
whiffs of
salts & organic matter
amalgamating a single entity?
You are precious to me.

Do you feel…
the unspoken innuendo
getting cold
while new colors
rushing forward in glee?
You are precious to me.

Do you pray…
less because you are
afraid or helpless
but for those if without
you would never see as clearly?
You are precious to me.

Do you sing…
that wordless, formless song
got passed down down
and still it’s the way it is
& you understand?
You are precious to me.

Do you fly…
to a place that
no-one-can-see-
everything-can-see-
you-see-that-you-can?
You are precious to me.

Do you write…
like a slaver
building cages for meanings
with words that
can never quite cut it?
You are precious to me.

Do you gaze…
into the deep, find comfort there,
lose yourself, bring it back,
(back & forth) x 2
ever since you became afraid of that one thing?
You are precious to me.

I like the hair.
I like the diamonds & gold.
I like the sound, the salt, the song, the thoughts.
I am precious to me.

In my head.

He’s watching you like a film,
he told me so.
I asked if he’s angry with you,
his reaction was violent
I took it as a no.

I asked if he loves you.
A single water-drop was all I got.
He handed me a short strip of film,
can’t focus on the background
but there’s some kinda animal.

He lingered around a bit after that.
Time to leave me alone.

A wild dog & a lost kitten.

A wild dog sniffs out a kitten
whose mom has just died.
After snacking on its dead siblings,
it eyes the last of this family line.

Little thing has long lost
even the will to look up,
as the wild dog laps at it
for the taste of its mother’s milk.

The dog could have ended it
with a swift closing of its jaw.
But at the last moment
something tells it to stop.

Instead it lets the kitten
tag along and teaches it to hunt.
Sharing its meals even when
the catching is rare and small.

Day by day the kitten grows
falls into step with the wild dog.
Quite the pair in their time,
sneaky & intimidating like no other.

Miles over miles send out shivers
with their howls and roars.
Years after years sticking together,
never losing the scent of its partner.

Time comes to pass & the wild dog
pasts its prime.
No longer can he keep up
with its feline friend.

Though the kitten now has
become the lion.
It always shares
the best parts of its catch.

One day the lion finds the wild one
breathing its last breath.
It laps at its nose and mouth
until the struggle ends.

The wild lion would one day
return to this spot to die.
Remembering the wild dog
who once gave a lost kitten a life.

Period Talk – July Edition.

part-the-red-sea.png There was a hackathon weekend during my period the past month that I skipped. I was tired and could not get up at 7:30am to catch the 8:00am starting of the event. The other reason would be because it’s an all women event. What can I possibly miss right? For a technical hackathon with all ladies, surely it’s not as exciting as if there were more men than women… I’m a sexist against my own gender. I’ve observed in the society what and more importantly who holds the power. I’ve been let down by other women who try to impose their value on me, just another mere female that is lost and weird and needs guidance. They are so kind-hearted, I hate it. They are so supportive, I hate it. They are so selfless and cheerful, I hate, hate it.

I played action figures instead of dolls (they creep me out). I played adventures instead of dressed-up tea-parties. I’d rather be dead than looking proper and prim and ready to serve just because. In my mind, what society wants with a woman has nothing at all to do with me. But I also seethe, oh, how I seethe. When I see dedication page on the books: “For Joanne”, “For my wife without whom …”, “For mom whose love…”. When I have a dedication to write for my book I will say “For my father who loves me enough to show me how the world really works. For my hubby who doesn’t care what I do as long as I will agree to having his kid one day.” Let the flow be real.