Phone Notes
I'm not a poet.
Poetry that I've written in the past, I've always considered a form of personal communication or catharsis, meant for the eyes of my muse or mine alone.
But I've had a recent realisation that there's value in sharing work which may have some form of universal appeal.
After all, it's for the reader to ascribe meaning to the poetry. It doesn't have to retain the personal meaning the poet originally intended it for.
To reiterate again, I'm not a poet.
So there are no rules of poetry I follow.
These are as the title suggests, notes from my phone, and any resemblance to poetry is purely coincidental.
I've lost much of such notes I've written in the past.
Going forward, I'd like to preserve them here for posterity.
(This post is periodically updated with new works and old. You can save it as a bookmark.)
1. Plastic perfection
People with no rough edges,
There's something repulsive about them.
Like the sanitised disinfected smell
Of a germ-free hospital ward.
2. Karaoke queen
I don't miss you anymore,
Only the sweet sound of you singing
While you put your makeup on,
A fuzzy way that always had me feeling.
In my car when you played your favourite song
And in the passenger seat sang along,
You looked so happy, radiant and carefree,
Not even the gods could've seized that moment from me.
"Why don't you ever sing in the church
with your sisters?", I asked,
"I don't get time to practise, baaby!", you laughed.
Karaoke nights on the weekend with your family,
I couldn't care less about the event, respectfully,
I longed only to hear the sound of your singing,
Loved how it always got me feeling,
I could've lived off it forever,
I needed neither food nor water.
Sometimes I miss that sweet sound from before,
Otherwise, I don't miss you anymore.
3. Filicide
The father looks at the son's lifeless body
After his suicide,
He feels two emotions—
Annoyance and shame.
4. Old age un-romanticised
To the qualities of youth we cling on;
Vitality, vigour, health, sharpness of mind,
And admire who managed to hold on,
For having aged like fine wine.
Whoever to the effects of old age fell prey;
Frailty, impotence, disease, senility,
They have aged quite badly, we say.
We romanticise preservation, fermentation
For as long as our lifeforce may persist,
To remaining pristine and youthful
In the mind, the body, and the spirit.
But not growing old.
For to grow old we know is to decay,
And what's so romantic about decaying, pray?
5. Aftercare ecstasy
Is there an experience more ecstatic
Than...
To lie against her body
Cozy, warm and bare,
To smell her soft fragrant hair
As she pulls me closer,
To feel the rise and fall
Of her weary breath
Harmonise with mine.
6. Fatal limerence
Her and I together,
We should be in a melancholic tragedy
With a lived sadly ever after,
Instead we exist in disappointing reality.
I put on a love song she shared with me,
And looked at her sweet pictures
while listening to it,
It's making me fall for her,
A decision I'm bound to regret later.
I want a taste of her heavenly lips,
Then be lulled to my heavenly death;
What an absurd fantasy,
And yet fitting, considering
My self-destructive tendency.
She's a femme fentanyl,
I can't get enough of her,
Is this even worth the thrill
If it won't last forever?
Will I pull the trigger?
Or bite the bullet?
Questions only time will answer.
7. Placeholder
Right place, right time
Flawless fit into your timeline,
Did I like it? Didn't matter
You moulded me just fine,
Into the perfect form
Saying the perfect words
Playing the perfect chords.
No room for error
Lest I wanted hell raised,
Partner, lover, friend forever,
If it gave you the ick, it was out,
What did I desire? Didn't matter
I pleasured you however
Like the perfect placeholder,
Till I had had enough.
To connect with me
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