The Unboxing of a Prude

She bordered herself off,
And now this witch is burning
Locked in, her skin gets thin,
The fire of all this yearning!
Consumes and consumes,
Until she cares not about bruises.


The beast is starting to grin,
It sets in her heart and propels from within,
Banishing walls she once had built.
Now this banshee is-a-loose
And she thirsts for some love juice
To quench the flames erupting from the hiatus in living.
She seeks for the fountain to soothe thy wishes.


*Picking up from my confessional, journaling, bordering up theme… This is where the witch is at.


Near-Death Frugality




It seems like a beautiful day.
Until evening comes
Pedestrians in clusters pass by,
And a car almost hits one.
He crosses by her, willfully
while she steps back, fearfully.
He does it just so
He can stop, not far from,
Where he almost killed someone.

When a man needs to go shopping,
Walk backwards, he is not stopping.
He will smoother you into cement
With rubber circled shoes that make you bend.
No time to wipe her face,
For her tears are dropping.
He does not notice such disgrace,
His sight is focused on stocking.
She realises, she has nearly died!
The driver’s lust was too fast for her idle stride.

Oh, the existential burdens of life!
I wish I could scratch this reaper’s scythe!
The anger and vengeance that arised,
Reminds the mind:
Being human means balancing both sides.
Always remember to live like it is your last night,
For you will die, unaware of the time.




I wrote this after nearly being run over by a car, while I was crossing the road. The car was too fast and it came out of nowhere, so he should have seen me. Those situations remind us that life is so fleeting. It could have ended there for me and it so shall will, for us all.

What actually scared me most were my thoughts! I wanted to hurt him, I wanted to vandalise his car, which is not something I would approve of. And then, the subsequent thought is to reprehend yourself from thinking this or feeling anger. Then, anger is diverted towards thy self and you feel a dichotomy, at times, wondering, how many beings live in you?

Anger, is a human feeling and while we reside in this body, we will feel it. So, this is reminding me, I am human, what sets Humans apart from another is

  • Their self-awareness (otherwise, anger will be seen as caused by someone’s antics, when in reality, our own perception of things propels it) .


Feeling angry or threatened, does not mean the person had the intention to or actually did threaten you.

We need to account for our own views and meaning that we attach to situations. That is what creates the feeling. A combination of both. I call this – the “us” or “we” chemistry.

  • What they choose to do with it. Anger, is a survivalist primal feeling and it serves as a protective layer, it serves to protect our vulnerability and feeling hurt or rejected or unworthy. I not only felt my life threatened, I felt unacknowledged and unworthy that day, when this guy ignored my presence on the road, prompting me to retract, for the sake of parking 2 meters away, so he could shop. Priorities, priorities…

This is also a lesson for the ego, for it is true: we are nothing. We are little speckles of nothingness in this voided world! I don’t exist in some people’s world and I never will. As they will never be part of mine. Now, try to tell that little girl inside the well, who grew up to believe she was “special”… she won’t budge.

If you are an existentialist, you will be able to see, this episode exposes my struggle with both “death-anxiety” and the feelings of “specialness”(why did it happen to me?). Well, life is about up and downs and we will feel pain, there is no such thing. “Why not, me?”, Wayne Dyer would enquire. Everything that happens is perfect and meant to be. Even disgrace as I came to learn. Despite my rational understanding, my emotions do not accept this. I still need to integrate my both sides. I am working on it.

One of the topics I have been studying and focusing on is Buddhism and Psychotherapy, concerning will power. There is a debate around the fallacy of the idea that we make conscious decisions. Many times, they have been made for you. Our thinking is partially moulded by external influences. Our family, teachers, bosses, friends. We may think we want something (marriage and kids), but the idea that this is what we need, has been ingrained into us by society. If interested, check this out:

– Thinking Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman –,_Fast_and_Slow

It explains the thinking process and how much of it is made by the unconscious.

– [The One You Feed] 222: Jeff Warren on How to Meditate with a Busy Brain via @PodcastAddict

And [The One You Feed] 221: Robert Wright on Why Buddhism is True via @PodcastAddict

This podcast has saved my life! I devour each episode!

– Passive frame theory – by Ezequiel Morsella:

In the new paper published in the journal Behavioral and Brain Sciences, associate professor of psychology at San Francisco State University Ezequiel Morsella posits just that in what he calls the “Passive Frame Theory.” Morsella suggests that the conscious does not do nearly as much as we thought. In fact, conscious thought is just a small fraction of what is happening in the brain. Instead, it is the unconscious that is doing everything for us, and we are completely unaware of it. (Medical Daily)

This Theory makes total sense to me. I have, not long, experienced conflict between my rational side and my impulsive irrational side. My irrational side is way stronger than any rational thinking I can come up with. This requires self compassion, because you end up fighting with yourself on top of trying to decide what is in your best interest? Knowing this, upsets me, when I hear people tell me: you are an adult, you know what to do. Yet, little do they know, what is happening inside their selves: currents and flows and floods and waves, carry your last steps. And even if your rational side is screaming for you to hit the break, you go full throttle, towards the wall! That is when you hit…and conclude: I am not listening to my feelings. I want to quench it. But, if I do, it means I made that choice, to not be…human”.

Tongueless Mouth

I have been struggling to balance my need to speak my truth and my need to preserve my privacy. This has been affecting my poetry. Not that I am short of poems. I am just wondering how much to put out. A part of me does not want to censor myself due to:

  • possible persons that may read and may relate, I would be taking this away from them.
  • I do not deal well with repression, I rebel against it. I shout to the world about my most deepest fears, worries, repressed desires so
  • I cannot hide secrets behind shame. It prompts me to accept myself or deal with the uncomfort of having your word used against your self.

As a result of this conflict, maladaptive behaviours have resurfaced, thus, I am down in my well of sorrows, again. I am not prepared to disclose them. But I do want to find coping mechanisms and I hope that I will be able to share it in the future and offer others, a different approach.

Right now, I am trapped in my head, hence, why I walk a lot. Still, with movement, a shift of perception does come. And it tires your body.. But allow yourself to go to bed in hopes that you can now close the lids of these eyes… And you will be awake again. Prisoner. They lied! The brain is another body. It is not part of what you wear right now = mind, body, gut, disconnection.

I love checking my photo album for pictures to alter. This is a very old one but it suits the current theme. That was a pimento pepper.



Tongueless Mouth



The day that my poetry got banned.
It got banned by my left side.
It is time to move on, no addendum
It is time to look towards the light.
And the black scarlet veil gets lifted
As the weights on the shoulder get too.
The perception, with motion has shifted,
Nonetheless, she is still partially skewed.

The Contemplating (Spoken)

I want to be human. It is happening
I am readying to go there.
I am opening up my stable shed.
Let them in, if they dare.
Coffee or tea, shows you care.
Breathing menthol, blowing haze,
Slurring melodies spelt
Word by word, make you shake.
Tickling fingerprints will be laid
So I can read you like Braille.
Hold that horse mane, hold it bare,
Tight on, with some gentle slapping,
Moistened lips to placate flare
Mesmerising love through tapping.
Have a seat, I haven’t started!
Whenever my base chakra tingles
It is the bell you ring,
so we can mingle.
For the slytherin goo I seek from you

May slide down my throat, reaching the bottom hue.

If you are brave enough to get close

This joy ride will leave you breathless

Never you have rollercoasted

In a machine that ups and downs, swirls you around…and that is so tenaciously restless.

Unsubstantiated Hugs

Unsubstantiated Hugs
All the cuddles that were promised

Seldom do materialise.

And the words that carried forth them,

Do not strike me as surprised.

Futile tales, promises broken.

They will never receive mine!

Yet I still can’t help but missing

What will not come into fruition.

Despite their empty words once spoken

Here beats, that ever lasting longing

Of being welcomed into arms.

The Enchanted Bucket

On the same place where creativity lays, madness lies, right beside. Watch where you go, if you decide to go inside the rabbit hole or in this case, the bucket.
The Enchanted Bucket
I stick my hand into my creativity bucket.
Careful what you may pull from there.
My anxiety stemming out of my fingers.
You may never get back from despair.
Going “Awol”! loud they clamor.
Yet It is far better living,
Inside this thickening armour.

Though I tell no one of this fact.
Let them shout across the planet!
It is my secretive artifact:
I am tuned into different channels.
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The Invisible Button Game

Careful who you tell your secrets to.
Has anyone ever played “Button, Button, who’s got the button game? When I was young and in my previous life (ha), young girls used to play that!
The Invisible Button Game
The blazoned sense of violation!
The door has been opened and shown.
Only to scare him off.
Though reasoning articulates.
Fact is, her torn was shown
And he took off.
Rushing it out.
Hence, I pushed him away,
For he had seen my beaten flower,
Having extracted from the nectar that day.
But that treacherous journey, he would not follow.
Better stay where he can play safe.
I put it in his hands. Like a children’s “button, button game”. Asking him to hold it.
He did not know what it was, he could not see it.
Thus, he released it.
Now, it is out in the open. He knows it.
How does he cope with?
By going.