i used to think that it broke my heart
but i've come to realise that it broke my soul.

b.

my mind has developed a mental dice.
1 side reads "yes", 1 side reads "no",
1 side reads "silence", 1 side reads "nod",
1 side reads "hope", the last reads "die".

this is my russian roulette.
CORRECTION: YOU ARE MY RUSSIAN ROULETTE.

how much more do you want to take from/of/off me?

why am i just not allowed to be
any less than perfect?

b.

i don't even want 4 minutes to save the world.
all i want is just 4 minutes to save myself.
i live in a world that is a pseudo bagdad -
your only chance of the slightest tinge of safety
is staying behind the marked "green zone".

i live in a world where the lines are blurred
& all that comes between you & destruction are
a series of red tapes that trip you as you
walk by navigating through the thick fog.
& that's it... you fall over the lines.
the alarm sounds - you're in the "red zone".

it's unfortunately a familiar sound
- you've been here numerous times...
& this, sadly & probably will never be the last.

you prepare yourself for the impending onslaught.
first the deafening sounds of mortar shells
& rocket propelled grenades going off around you.
you mentally & physically check : am i hurt?
damn it, death did not grace you today.
that means it's still a fight for survival.
your only will to survive are for those who rely on you
- the ones you left back home.

on some days that (call it whatever you want)
insanity / stupidity / strength hit you,
you stand up & fight the oncoming soldiers
with your bare hands... of course you lose.
they restrain you & haul you like an animal
to their headquarters for intensive interrogation.
tired, often battered, & with your soul crushed,
they return you to the "green zone" after a
signed forced confession that they've prepared.
upon your return, they throw a little red book at you.
they assure me that this curious little red book
has guidelines as to how to live "safely" within
the stringent & often suffocating confines
of the "green zone".

on most days you just play dead as the soldiers
take time to inspect your seemingly dead body
(admittedly, you've learnt it well enough
to make possums around the world proud).
they kick you a couple of times just to be sure.
sure, it hurts, but you've learnt how to "die".
just be stiff boo, they'll go away in a while.
they usually signal their departure with a spit,
which they do quite quickly, proud of their fast kill.
you count to 100 - they should be quite a distance by now.
adrenaline is coursing furiously through your veins
& you run back to safety of the "green zone".
you are alive. for today.


oh! & did i tell you about the fog?
the fog that devours the sun & with it,
your gift of sight as well.

my mind says:
it's just self indulgent crap.

you're lucky those words have not
found its way into my mouth.


breathe boo, it's o.k.

b.

b.

i count the hours since i last saw you
& felt your warmth beside me...
a creature comfort unexplainable.

oh the relativity of time & the irony of it all.
time has crawled & almost stopped at the
very minute you left for a better life...
when 10 years have just flown past my head
all at the blink of the eyes.

you have taught me so many things
about life, love & the world at large...
all without a single word exchanged,
but by the single act of living your life fully
& loving beyond human comprehension.

i see you through my daily routines,
bounding & skipping alongside me
as i go about the drudgery of my days
(all 15 of them) without you.

maybe i'm just dreaming out loud.

i want to have a tattoo of you on me,
i don't need it to remind me of you
- you are the last i would forget.
it seems a comforting thought & act
to always have you near me.
forever.

i should have this engraved in my heart:

near this spot are deposited the
remains of one who possessed
beauty without vanity,
strength without insolence,
courage without ferocity,
and all the virtues of man,
without his vices.

this praise, which would be
unmeaning flattery
if inscribed over human ashes
is but a just tribute to the
memory of SPOT,
a dog.




b.

excuses, take your pick,
the lesser of two evils :
1. i've been chasing my tail,
2. i've been chasing my shadow.

i've been wanting to write
but words have eluded me.
how did the language
i have trained with;
etched in my mind;
intertwined with my tongue;
tied around my fingers
for the last 25 years
... just melt like butter?

i tapped on my compass
- tink, tink, tink...
but i wasn't thinking
everything is running
on automatic.

i remember a friend
once told me that
one should always
drive a manual
before one forgets
because they're so
used to driving an
a.u.t.o.m.a.t.i.c.

(computers make
you stupid?)

i guess that advice
worked with life too.

yeah, lost...
but just a wee bit.
just trying to find
the right platform
so i can board the
next train of life.

but i guess getting lost
is just part & parcel
of the greater journey.
& isn't that the focus?
the journey?

well, but that's just
what they say.

i say i believe i'm at
exactly the right place at
exactly the right time.


angel of mercy
how did you find me?
where did you read my story?
pulled from the papers
desperate & hardened
seeking a moment every fix

all i wanted to say
all i wanted to do
is fall apart now
all i wanted to feel
i wanted to love
it's all my fault now
a tragedy i fear

angel of mercy
how did you find me?
how did you pick me up again?
angel of mercy
how did you move me?
why am i on my feet again?
& i see you.

b.

pictures of you, pictures of me,
remind us all of what we used to be.

i just spoke to an old friend,
one whom i've known for years
but never really known...
you know, the kind of friend
you've spoken to, but just never
really ... s p o k e.

so today we decided to finally
unwrapped the bubble wrap
& police lines around us...
to allow each other into our own
little circles of trust.

we spoke about transitions,
& family, & past loves, & new loves,
& passions, & finances, & loans,
& houses, & disappointments,
& hurts, & work, & pets, & health,
& a whole myriad of other topics
one would never have guessed
would ever intertwine.

amidst all our conversation,
as each topic flowed into each other,
this reminder kept getting stronger:
who are we but the stories we tell,
or the stories we choose to keep?

all these battlescars i have
kept secret under these clothes,
they are only just memories
until i weave the words
to make them a chapter
of a book labelled, "boo's story".

so as i will go along my way today
with some renewed perspective
of a life i'm living, the life i'm leading...
writing more chapters for my book
- my masterpiece, which as of today,
25 years & a week in the making.

there never really is one
final act of transition.
neither is there really an end
to a transitionary period
in a person's life.

we're all in transit -
on a train, bus, plane, or boat of life.
transiting, waiting, missing connections,
running across platforms... all that jazz.

calling for all remaining passengers
on karma flight 251 enroute to destiny
please board the plane according to
your row numbers...

excuse me, that's me
- i am in transit.

b.