The Town

There is a little town
In the middle of no where
That no one knew
Where it was.

The township wanted to attract more visitors
The town was dead and ailing
Businesses were crumbling
The inhabitants lifeless

The town council held a meeting
To think of ways and means
To increase visitors to the town

They thought of all ideas and plans
But they could not figure out how.

A little girl came up with an idea one day.
“Why not, we paint the town in rainbow colours, and call it Magic Town?”

The adults thought it was a splendid idea
So splendid, that everyone took part in painting the town
In different shades of colours
They even painted their houses in enthusiasm!

After painting their town, they waited for visitors to arrive.
They waited.
and waited.
But no one came.

The little girl closed the town in a box
And they did not see sunlight again.

—-

Written in The Little Black Book (2010) in Melbourne, Australia as part of Melbourne’s Emerging Writers Festival.

The Man With A Scar

There lived a man
with a deep gash
across his face

The gash was deep and purple
and lined the left side of his nose.

No one knew the story behind the gash.
He was a friendly man in the neighborhood
Who walks his German Shepherd every morning.

He was kind to plants and animals
Children who saw the scarred man would run in fear.
Babies would cry and whimper.
Mothers avoided the man by walking away from him.

One day, a small boy threw a pebble at the scarred man.
It hit him on his head, and sent him falling onto the ground in a “thud”.

Enraged, the scarred man chased the little culprit and pinned him down onto the floor
and slashed the little boy’s face with a blade, the exact same way his scar looks like.

The little boy screamed and kicked but he was pinned down tight.
Once the scarred man let go, the little boy ran back home, crying.

That little boy grew up and became the man with the scarred face.

—-

The Little Black Book (2010) is a compilation of poems written in cafes in Melbourne, Australia as part of Melbourne’s Emerging Writers Festival.

The Safe

There was a safe
In an old building
That no one knew
What was inside

It was a hundred years old
with a metal turning knob
with over a thousand combinations.

I placed an explosive on the knob
and blew the safe open

It was dark inside
I took a torchlight
and made my way down
the steps leading down
deeper and deeper
it went, the temperature
humid and wet.

I wiped the sweat on my forehead
At the end, I saw a big room
With diamonds on walls on all directions

In the middle, was a old woman
polishing a pile of ugly looking black rocks.
She did not notice my presence
and was feverishly focused on her job.

I saw a pile of diamonds on the floor
and grabbed a bundle, before running up the steps

Up and up I ran up the endless steps,
There is no light, it was completely dark
Not knowing, when will it end.

At the end, was a steel door
Which was sealed shut.

—–

Dedicated to Philip Thiel, who possesses a metal safe in his home.

The Little Black Book (2010) is a compilation of poems written in cafes in Melbourne, Australia as part of Melbourne’s Emerging Writers Festival.

Where Is Mummy

I came to a little cafe
On a typical Friday morning
I saw a little girl
Sitting on a chair across me

I asked her where is her Mummy
And she pointed towards me.

Horrified, I ran into a little alley
I came to a dead end
And she was there,
standing and pointing at me.

I collapsed from shock
and blanked out
Into a deep sleep
Somewhere else.

In my dream, I was a little girl
I saw my Mummy.
I ran towards her, but she disappeared
Before I could touch her.

“Mummy, Mummy, wake up!”
The little girl shoke my body awake.

I looked at her closely
and realised she is the younger me.

“Mummy is here.”
I hugged her tightly.

Written in The Little Black Book (2010) in Melbourne, Australia as part of Melbourne’s Emerging Writers Festival.

The Secret of the Magic Pies

In a cafe down in Hawthorn
That serves magic pies
A taste, and it will become an addiction
It was famous far and wide
Everyone wanted a bit of the magic pie.

I asked the owner one day
“What is the secret to the magic pies?”
He replied,
“The secret is in the kitchen.”
And smiled a wide grin.

One night, in the dead of the night
I picked the kitchen lock to discover
the secret of the pies

To my astonishment, there was an old woman
With a big metal ball chained to her ankle
Her hands feverishly rolling the dough on the table
There was a thousand pies stacked up to the ceiling!

She looked at me with her red sinister eyes
Her skin as pale as white flour
And gave a ghostly shriek
That sent me running away.

A Class of 40

In a class of 40 students
There was a boy who did not remember his name
He did not remember his parents or home
He did not remember to bring his pencil box either.

He asked his classmate
A boy of his age sitting beside him
If he could borrow a pencil

His classmate refused
Although he had a box full of pencils.
He never shared anything he had.

– – –
In a class of 40 students
A teacher noticed a boy who did not bring his homework
“Stand at the back of the class!” she shouted at the boy.
The poor boy became the laughing stock of the class.

– – –
In a class of 40 students
There was a boy who suffered from forgetfulness
No one knew and no one noticed.
He never came back to class the next day
He is still no where to be found

——

The Little Black Book

Death Cost Twice as Much As Sex

Today I went to a book fair
There was two books for sale
One was a book on DEATH
And the other, a book on SEX

“The DEATH book costs $10 and the SEX book, $5”
A guy with blue eyes at the counter said.

“And why does DEATH cost twice as much as SEX?”
I asked curiously.

“It takes twice the courage to die than to have sex.”
He answered.

“How about, we do some love making before I kill you.”
I seduced him with my fingers and lured him away to a dark place.

— – –

“Mummy, where is daddy?”
A child with blue eyes asked.

“He disappeared right after you were created.”

I smiled and looked at the bare patch of the garden.

——

The Little Black Book

My Little Black Book

I have acquired a little black book from the Emerging Writer’s Fair 2010 for $2 and decided to set a task to doing it justice for such a pretty looking thing. From now on, I will update a post every other day on my new poetry works (written in the book while travelling on the train/writing in cafes around Melbourne). After completion of the poetry series, I will compile them and put them up for sale (muahaha!)

While they are free, my loyal readers should be the first to read them anyway. A word of warning although – they are morbid (morbid = double espresso of darkness).

The first work will be updated tomorrow, its time to bookmark my blog on your RSS feeds :)