Lan – The Friendship Collection

back to back interviews
6 had been done and my brain screamed exhaustion
there is always something about the number 7
there you were
professionally groomed
impeccable performance
a shining young talent
with a compassionate heart
respect from a perfectionist to another
since day dot

I have never told you I admire
your earnest effort put in speed dating
I have never told you I am grateful
you accepted my machine gun bullets no filter comments
I always remember I told you
Benny is a crossbreed
while Milo is a border collie
I have never shared with you
I cherish our friendship beyond
the dog park and coffee catchups


bumps – reblog

‘bumps’ by Mike Ennenbach – click  bumps

This is my first reblog post, and it may well be the last.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I do.

This is not me

I am having a real hard time
to accept how oversharing
I am with you

It’s like constantly breaking a moral code
As if I had been lying all those times
before your arrival
All the descriptive words about me
aloof, distant, absent, drifted, silent…

I am completely being inappropriate
As if I am possessed by a chatter box amplifier
manifests itself in file download with high speed optic fibre
flying to be stored in your digital briefcase
the moment I am awake
synchronicity is in autopilot

Oh hacker! get me out of here
before my cheeks burn into hot coals

Nads – The Friendship Collection

fishnet stockings, denim skirt,
checkered shirt and an enthusiastic smile
wherever she goes she takes a fun house with her
others are living the life
she is life itself

on a park bench we lazed about to share
vino rosso e formaggio
watching the blanket of flying foxes take off
to forage for food at dusk
she converted me to a Sydneysider


time passed
memory faded

we met
we played
we dated
we parted

never fought
never clashed
never debated
never communicated

no sad goodbyes
no turning back
no once more
no foever ever

time passes
memory blurs


your pale beauty
hidden in a luscious emerald screen
your smooth ivory skin reflected off
the cobra blue moonlight

I run my warm fingers on your valley curves
along your spine as celo playing hauntingly
monsoon rain moistens my tongue
feeding the starvation in me

my hunger eyes and barren lips
no longer self contained
charging unshackled to shake you
off the cord

Childhood memory

my memory of school holidays
are of the farm life

the rooster crowed at daybreak on roof top
careless with the chimney smoke

the forest green tea plantations
dazzled in the spring rain

early summer crickets sang
amidst the bamboo bushes

village children’s twinkling eyes
fixed on pebble stones roast chestnuts

burning charcoals snuggled in the terracotta bowl
covered by a hand knitted bamboo basket

the card games and craft
under the kerosene lamps

firewood smoke and wet soil smells
connected me to my childhood
through the time tunnel
decorated with fireflies


My Honeycomb!

Do you know
you are meant to
be empty and lonely
for I was born to
come and fill you
with sweetness in
every hollow room.

We drip of
wealth and riches
overflow with harvest
cacoon in our happy home.

Oh my sweet sweet Honeycomb!