I’m not good at naming poems

lacking a punchline,
an extra dimension,
a title that unifies



For years I have struggled from

the indispensability of your words and

this endless resistance has left me

deranged, breathless in a perpetual vertigo.

As I immerse myself in your

indisputable wisdom, I am awash with the

light from your tear-spilled eyes that are

shining with dreams that I used to dream

You stare at me, unblinking, with profound

intention, like a sad, musing raven,

like an unexpected judgement.


I turn away with a jolt of heartache,

And the black inertia, with its venomous teeth,

devours me from the inside.

I have no choice but to  rage

with every cell of my being

to pursue a  life that does not involve

your innocence and your love

so I can prevent you from being stained

by the dark parasites living deep

down inside the shadows of my soul.


So I tread on glassy roads and I

tremble from the steps that I take

and I break

away from your angellic wings

your beautiful vulnerability

and seek desperately a place

a place where I will never be found

to keep you safe.

Memoirs of a Geisha (afterwards)

When you looked at me

The teapot acquired a mind of its own, and

It pushed away my rigid fingers

Broke free from my trembling hand

That was yearning for the side of your face

And something to hold onto


All of a sudden I could hear nothing

Nothing at all, nothing

But shards of porcelain-screams

Smothering my heart in monstrous bites

Its blood, the blood of the teapot

As brown as the bark of a tree,

Trickled down my palm and

Carried away the little, frantic pulses as it passed over my wrist and

Splashed ruthlessly onto my kimono

A hot stain branded onto an unfortunate nightingale

Slashing its neck with its liquid, careless brush

I could do nothing as it reached

For the soft-pink cherry blossom trees

Making them wither


I could do nothing as it ruined

A perfectly stitched world

And took away its stillness with an alien colour that was both

Permanent and destructive

A colour that matched your attentive eyes

Noticing every single move that I made


I apologized for my clumsiness

Bowed away the heat that was burning my hand

My onesan, my older sister, my mentor, dramatized my silliness

By stressing that it was my first time entertaining a group of men

As an apprentice geisha.


“Why, Chairman, look what your charm can do to a girl!”


You only smiled, that generous smile that gave me hope

So many years ago, when I was just a little girl

As much hope as a thousand paper cranes could carry

Into the sky

I listened as I wiped away the spilled tea from the table with a cloth

Drying the mess on my hand

As a maid came in to do the rest


And I blinked, and snuck glances at you

I wondered if it was possible that

You figured out my sister’s protective lies

Flung out skilfully, jokingly into the air

Lies that were spread elegantly on the tatami floor

Half-shining with a golden hue that both sickened me and frightened me


I wondered if you knew that behind the painted paper fans

A geisha put on a smile like she put on makeup

Affections might as well be frustrations and disgust

And the kinds of persons we geisha allow you to see us be

Were as real as any illusion on a hot summer day


And I wondered that despite all this—

If it was possible for you to have the slightest suspicion

Just the tiniest bit of doubt that

Those words, spoken by my sister

In her act of mending the discourteous

And ridiculous gesture I conducted—


“Why, Chairman, look what your charm can do to a girl!” 


Had it ever occurred to you that

Those words, coming out from a mouth of a geisha

Could actually and accidentally been the truth?


This poem is closely based on the story of Memoirs of a Geisha, a book by Arthur Golden, which I just recently reread. I think it’s a beautiful story, and I was inspired to write this poem. It’s not exactly the same as the original story, but it’s very closely related, anyway.

Also, I read my poem (this poem :D) in public for the first time. It was a small, friendly crowd at West Minister, the Great Wall Tea Co. I was really nervous before I went there, but I loved the experience. I will be more active and start spreading my name! 🙂




Tonight when the clock strikes twelve, it’s your turn to be afraid

You hold me in your arms, because you can’t stand being alone

I let my eyes rest, counting the shadows in your dreams

Shadows shaped like hands in a nightmarish breeze

Frantically reaching

Those awkward grabs in the muggy air satisfy me

I have found a new way to be happy


They’re coming for you


This is not what you’re hoping to hear

You lower your gaze and take a look at the mess beside our feet

Pieces of my heart shattered, scattered, littered

Everywhere on the living room floor, where we first made love

And also where pleads and mockeries congeal

Rolling back and forth on their bellies

Becoming indistinguishable as a chunk of goo

Like a deformed, melting baby


This is your moment


Your moment of glory. Days ago you reached out to me with your words

Blood trickled down my numb, zombie-face

A blade stuck in my left ear, etched in flesh

While our broken love fought its way in, deadly and corrosive

I had failed to defend myself from this unexpected infestation.


I love you. 


I think I understand what an apocalypse feels like now

I have learned how easily a world can end

It’s you leaving me, and it’s as simple and as childish as that

That makes you a good teacher, though you’re not that much of a learner

Which is why you will never understand the jolt of pain in your chest when I slap you across the cheek

You will never understand the anger you feel when I call you a dog-hearted bastard

You will never realize the way your nails curl inward and scoop up your flesh, a shitload of blood gushing out

Even if you’ve seen it coming, you won’t be able to prevent it

You will never find that time bomb I have placed inside of your kidney, which will explode in precisely fifteen seconds

Taking me with you, though I’m already gone

Note: This is not based on personal experience. I do have an ex but I did not plant a time bomb inside of his kidney. Okay, maybe he is stupid, because all ex’s are, but let me just declare my total detachment and non-involvement in the emotions and actions described above. I am merely experimenting with a dark, psychotic voice. And to those of you who’ve been reading my poetry for a while…you’ve probably noticed I’m a pretty dark person LOL but only in my literature, not in real life. Thanks to all of my regular readers ❤ I don’t have a big circle of readership, but I really appreciate the ones who come to my blogs and read my poems.

From Kim, with lots of love, and why am I babbling about this I do not know. 😀

P.S. Oh and yes, I know it’s physically impossible to plant a bomb in somebody’s kidney…it’s more of a metaphorical thing. 😀



Darkness spilled in from the windows of our houses

Our dreams became the splinters in our mind

And every time we tried to wash the blood off our hands

We scraped off skins, muscles and cells

But we were rotten to the bones

Endless darkness, down down down to our very core

There it was, the curse of the devil gnawing at the our heart

Our ability to love



We offered forgiveness to those who offered something in return

We performed charities only we had something to gain

We loved only when we were loved more

And we cried and complained when we weren’t love enough



We had overcome that darkness

We had thoroughly absorbed it and made it our own

Darkness had become us as we lived in light.


Eventually, we are light.


In my hand I hold a piece of sunlight.

It crumbles. Pulled to the ground by the gravity of its love.

Its love for earth. Like golden cookie crumbs and a child’s toothless smile.

Back in those moments when we knew nothing at all. Ignorance is bliss.

Back in those moments when the sky was just the sky and it was vast because it is was.

That was before we tried to understand everything. Before we lived by the so-called reason.

What good has reason done for us, so far? This reason. Ha. We think it is the truth.

We point at it and name it the truth. It becomes the world we live in today. It becomes our vision, a kind of blindness. It becomes God. It becomes Evil. It becomes whatever it needs to become so we can exist.

Like the Matrix. You have seen that movie? I just watched it last night.

And I think that world is not so different from ours.

Who really is our enemy?

How can you tell what’s real or what’s not, what’s love and what’s hate, what’s life and what’s death—

You’ll know it’s real. No, seriously.

Tell me if this is real. Tell me if your life is real.

Tell me this world isn’t what I think it is. Tell me.

Tell me when it’s all over.

Tell me that we live in a utopia and not chaos.

But hey, we are.

Don’t you know?

We are in a utopia. Of course we are.

No, seriously.

We are in a utopia.

And that’s the truth. That’s the reality.

Why am I so sure, you ask?


I have my reasons.

Pray for Japan.

For the second time

The centipede’s back arches. Spikes of twisted glory.

Its million legs cast a shrieking shadow

Over fallen cherry blossom petals and

Bleeding kimonoes.

Its faceless



Your breath away.


By Kim T.