Posted in Poetry

Haiku: Strong Tears

I had forgotten

How refreshing these tears are

When they have no shame. 

October 17, 2017

Posted in Poetry, Sleepless Nights

Life Is

Life is an opportunity — benefit from it.

Life is beauty — admire it.

Life is a dream — realize it.

Life is a challenge — meet it.

Life is a duty — complete it.

Life is a game — play it.

Life is a promise — fulfill it.

Life is sorrow — overcome it.

Life is a song — sing it.

Life is a struggle — accept it.

Life is a tragedy — confront it.

Life is an adventure — dare it.

Life is luck — make it.

Life is too precious — do not destroy it.

Life is life — fight for it.

-Mother Teresa

Posted in Completely Random!!, Writing

Writers Club

Hello, fellow strange writing humans!

Are you looking for a place to be with other people just like your weird self? Good news: now you have one! I am unashamedly advertising this fantastic website where you can have all your writing questions answered, whether you want peer reviews for a book, advice about writing-related services, or the answer to questions like, ‘Why do I even write again?’ It’s perfect for poor struggling people who are thinking things like:

  • It’s hard to find reviewers for my book
  • Writing-related service providers (editors, book cover designers, etc.) are expensive
  • I don’t know if my writing is good enough, and I need feedback
  • I need more promotion for my book
  • I don’t know if my blurb/summary is good enough
  • Not enough readers know my book exists
  • I don’t know enough about what other successful authors have done to be successful
  • I don’t know if my book cover encourages readers to purchase it

If you find yourself wrestling with these kinds of problems, check out this link for the full advertising beauty in its entirety. Who knows? The Fight Writers Club might save your life. (Or at least your book characters’ lives, because we all know how violent a pen can get when a writer is going through an existential crisis.)

And to you poor writers out there, note that membership is a dollar a month. (I know it’ll be hard to sacrifice a cup of Starbucks coffee every few months for this.) Do I know how the site itself actually works? Of course not! But I wanted to put this link out there for any of you who might have been needing it.

So cheers!

Posted in Poetry

Free Verse: WIND


























October 7, 2017

Posted in Sleepless Nights, Writing

Lost Battle

Last night we fought. You were my worst enemy. You had been following me for a long time now; even then I could sense you hovering over me, waiting to dig your greedy claws into my vulnerable flesh.

You were a shadow. A darkness. A bloodthirsty hunter that panted after my very soul. As I lay in the quiet night in the open field, not a star twinkled as the two of us waited in stifled silence. There was not one light of salvation to bring me comfort as you bided your time. If it could, my heart would have broken as its deafening rhythm tried to break free from my cage of a chest, but fragile as it was even then, it could only fragment and burn in the pressure, the pressure of your steel hand against my body.

We were both waiting. All I could wait for was the sound of you baring your hideous teeth, and how hopeless and helpless I was as I anticipated the sound. As for you, you waited for the right time, the time when my breath came the quickest and my heart beat the hardest to strain against the confines of my body.

If I could have screamed as you slashed cruelly at me, I would have.

Your hand clamped over my words as they were ripped from my throat; you tore at my throat; you suppressed my cries but amplified them in my head as I tried to fight back. The area around us was deathly silent — or did it shriek indignantly as you tore me apart to leave me for dead? I grabbed desperately at your arm, but you clung mercilessly as my blood dripped from your hands and mouth. My ears bled. The sky above no longer existed; only a sheer black wall cut off the heavens from the earth.

My heart shed tears of red. Your laughter lashed out harshly and stung as much as the wounds you had caused. You gloated over me triumphantly, feasting the craze in your haunted eyes as you beheld my broken form lying half-dead on the coarse brown grass that regained some color under the watering of my bitter pain.

The night murmured in a ghostly passing whisper.

From afar, faint voices echoed toward us. A feeble light thrust itself toward us, and as you looked up in alarm, my glazed eyes recognized your starved face. My lips mouthed an inaudible intake of breath as you gave my bleeding figure one last look of disgusted contempt, then bounded off for your devilish cave, leaving me to stare up at a slowly clearing atmosphere.

Heaving quietly to regain my breath, my mind’s eye could only focus on the brief image of your face. Your bloody, bloody face. Your bloodthirsty eyes.

You could only focus on the brief image of your warped face.

Last night I lost. Against myself. 

Posted in Completely Random!!


when words throw up on a page, they don’t think about how people will react to them. is this a blessing or a curse? do we need it or would it be better to clean them up? or do we let people see their ugliness and soak in the discomfort?

what if the truth is what is thoughtlessly spouted… or what if it’s mixed in with the darkest of lies.

the things I’m not allowed to say…

the rejects–

don’t you know what it’s like to be rejected?

don’t get me wrong;

maybe the worst enemy has been the one inside my head all along;

maybe it’s the voice inside that whispers, ‘Everyone is against you.’

the young think they know it all —

no, everyone thinks they know it all, not realizing there’s so much more to learn about life

and death

and grief

and sorrow

and joy.

is it all more complicated than we realize, or is it much simpler than we would dare to think?

i can’t make meaning of my own words from the past:

‘number twelve for those who were present;

the ones who witnessed it all and left the rest to us.’

i hate being stuck in my mind,

stuck in my body,

stuck in one place for so long in isolation.

we’re all trying to be deep

when it’s the simplest truths

that make us think hardest.

the abstract reflects our confusion at the world.

please don’t make me explain my thoughts…

Posted in Completely Random!!, Sleepless Nights

Life of a TCK

Home – your home overseas. ‘Home’ – your passport country. 

1. When you go ‘home,’ everyone knows you. Except that they knew you when you were a baby. And you have no idea who they are. But hey, they still know you — and you’ve gotten so big!! Time sure does fly!

2. People at ‘home’ tell you, ‘Welcome home!’ but don’t stop to think that your home has been overseas for most of your life now. 

3. You don’t bother telling people where most of your friends back home are from, because all of them scattered across the globe by now. Plus, people will just think you’re trying to show off when you’re seriously just trying to tell them where your friends are from. 

4. It’s a small world after all! Because you meet your sister’s friend that she met in Thailand, then realize that that friend is the brother of the friend that you made in South Africa, and then realize that they were also friends with another one of your friends back in China. (True story.)

5. The ten countries you’ve visited are nothing compared to most of your friends… until you come ‘home’ and realize, Oh yeah. We have traveled a lot compared to a lot of people. 

6. You cannot remember the English name of something for the life of you because you’ve only grown up saying its local name in the language at home. The struggle is real. 

7. Layovers in a country don’t count. We just know that. We just agree on that. It’s a universal truth. 

8. You’re not laughing at people’s accents in your language(s) because you think you’re superior; it’s just funny because you have no idea what they’re even trying to say. And they think you must not be fluent in that language just because their accent is so awful. 

9. You try not to share what something reminds you of because it was most likely in another country, and you don’t want to be that kid who’s always boasting about every place they’ve been and all that they know about it. (Because you know everything about a country and its culture and food and language after having been there for a week.)

10. The word ‘home’ is relative and fluid. So it doesn’t bug you to call the hotel or temporary apartment or friends’ house ‘home,’ because it’s just easier that way when you’re moving all the time. 

Posted in Writing

Free Verse: Until We Forget

It all came crashing down


A screeching sound,

One filled with wails

And screams

And terror. 

Thousands of faces–




Crushed with one blow

Under tons of rubble

And smoke

And death. 

Sixteen years later,

We still remember

The darkness

And pain

And sorrow,

But not only that–

We also celebrate

The heroes,

The hope,

The love,

And the unity

That arose

From the ruins

Of hell. 

What was night

Was turned

To day. 

What light was lost

Was found. 

What life that passed

Was celebrated. 

What hope that died

Was re-ignited. 

And this hope

Will continue to blaze

Until we forget. 

September 11, 2017

In memory of the 9/11/01 attacks.