Love's Absence (1990)

LOVE’s absence deprives life’s brazen frame –
     leaves an abyssal void which maims:
VISIONS erotic the heart cannot deny,
     awakes yeraning, demands a sigh,
     should courageously wait and unhappily lie
     ( a silhouette on a pyre
     engulfed by silky sheets of fire)
     tries in vain, remain, kiss your eye
     the muse awakes, fleet-footed flies
     discovers too late, an empty bed
     scent marks where you have laid
     arouse the senses, might not placate
     must bait, or patiently wait
     instigate, create or contemplate
     (this desired union
     an improbable return)
     to the gilded state
     and thus avert Fate.


London
19 March 1990


This is a recollection of Mark McCallum, who adopted and used his maternal surname, Carter. He inherited some small fortune, and was clubbing in tee-shirt and denim dungaries and jacket, I think somewhere near Max’s off Bayswater. He was with some British Airways pilot, but was always out on guys’ night for a good time, which he knew very well how to get it. He was, by all accounts, an English “party boy”. He brought me to London’s famed boys’ strip club, then run by a famous Singaporean “queen”. Impressive getting around with him.

Another thing Mark did after we caught Les Miserables together, was bring me to the cast’s favourite restaurant after the show, where I got to meet some of the chorus members, saw Angela Lansbury, and I was literally checked up Joan Collins. This splendid restaurant near Covent Garden is wholly unmarked, and distingished by the red brickwork walls.

If I Should (1990)

If I should, my woven history, bare
kindly appreciate, nay, not compare.
The visage full but where threadbare,
do gently fill, if you care, not dare.
If I should be bound by my workèd past,
creativity is checked by the last (not leash);
must untangle the knot that was cast (not released),
smooth the thread taut and fast –
for what is life’s greatest freedom, be
OF CREED, OF SPEECH, OR, FROM FEAR, FROM WANT. **
(If one should be asked, say certainly)
the liberty to start, create apart from what’s done
and to do so freely, in perpetuity.

Letter to Brett C. Callis
Singapore
16 March 1990

** The Four Freedoms declared by US President Roosevelt in World War II, c. 1943. See also the Norman Rockwell painting inspired by the same.

One Doesn't (1989)

One doesn’t have to be good-looking
To feel beautiful;
It is enough to be loved and be
Surrounded by all things wonderful.
Life is more than mere feelings
Whether of pride or insecurity
A realisation and experience
Of all beauty that Nature can give
Is Expressed
And worth more than appearances
Which can deceive.
Beauty, Love, Life still requires
One, even the very least –
To Appreciate.

Therein is all that Matters.


Frankfurt 1989


When I re-read these musings, which to edit and re-write is to lose the crisp juvenile sensibility of that period in my own life, I realise how immature my outlook then was. I blame it now, mostly for the lack of the benefit of growing up with strong paternal affirmation, which would have made any boy confident and whole early in his adulthood, and thus prepared for relationships that would be able to give. Instead, people who are seeking wholeness and expect or belive that relationships with bred that in them are often deceived by this heresy, and then to be very idealistic, painfully sensitive and often languish in melancholy. They are easily devoured by the idea of beauty, too often seduced by the prospect that wholeness in personhood lies in being appreciated. It may be more true to say that young boys become good men when they have been affirmed by their Fathers.

Uit Rusten (1989)

In silence, in stilte,
     darkness of my bed I sit
Cold of winter invades my feet;
Beneath, onder de deken I miss the feel
Warmth, of love’s familiar face asleep –
Thoughts so dear feels so real:
Ogen sluiten, glimlach zitten on lips,
Skin on skin, silky sheets sing
Leaves impressions echte as ink.
Love’s infinite longing for a friend
Vanish like dreams too quickly spent,
Left listening to the whispering wind
What does this hurting mean?
‘t advises gentle as falling snow
Begs the heart to let go.


Roma, Italia
27 November 1989

If I Should Die (1989)

THE WORLD IS A STRANGELY SMALL PLACE AND IF ONE DOES NOT THINK OF POLITICAL BOUNDARIES AND CULTURAL DIFFERENCES THEN IT BECOMES EASY TO COLLECTIVELY REFER TO WHOLE PEOPLES AS ONE CATHOLIC AND ANIMATED ENTITY.
THE WORD EMPIRE, KINDGOM AND UNION ILLUSTRATES SUCH AN ENTITY. ONE VISIONARY 1900 YEARS AGO PROCLAIMED IT AS THE KINGDOM OF GOD. ITS NATURE HUMAN, ITS MYSTERY DIVINE. THUS:


If I should die, I die a catholic first:
My life a play, my simplest thoughts a verse.
The dreams, faith, hopes quietly nursed
Might, mistaken seem ageless;
Immortality a call of thirst
Should suddenly, mightily burst.
Redeem a soul from the curse,
Gild an effigy with ashen dust;
Feeble these senses must
Labour the heaviest task:
Document thought, deed, emotion past
Realize the littleness of vast
A shapeless mould cast
Love’s furnace, inflame, passion’s blast
Mettle glazed to last
Reveals my spirited lust
Rambles, punctuates my play thus.


6 oktober 1989

While sitting in early Autumn in front of the Habsburg Palace, Wien
(Vienna, Austria). It was also from the foyer balcony of this very palace where Hitler returned to the land of his birth as dictator-ruler of the Third Reich, and addressed the people as victor and liberator. The film of the event that survives and is sometimes replayed in documentaries, is so stark that you cannot immediately associate it with the sereneness of this place. Perhaps, all storms do erupt somewhat from serenity.

Some aspects of the sonnet represents great personal importance, by way of its confessionary nature, to me. It is beyond denial that the concept was inspired by Rupert C. Brooke’s excellent if idealistic War Sonnets.

I Live With The Possibility (1989)

I live with the possibility
that soon shall I meet one
whose nature would cause mine
be aroused to passion and
excite to matchless permutations
of risky computations;
perhaps tomorrow or the day after
little does the “when” matter
except that I’m ready
best and collected
for such opportunity.
You, whom I had stolen
once a glance, across the pool
whom I chance to stand shyly
in the elevator with
one, as good as dear as You
whose lips formed words of love
as I fell
ideal of beauty, as you
physical and ethereal,
whose open heart and perfect hands
I can only dream is my good fortune
someday to welcome with mine own.



1989
I remember writing this in Dubai, on the way to London, and reflecting on my other recent summer flights to Europe. Again, based on the notes on the original scripts and copy, it was a time which was just a few years since I found myself familiar with the continental lifestyle, being just 24 years old, and very, very impressionable.

One Night (1989)

éèn nacht

Could I help not noticing
Beauty himself standing
by the window
hands in pockets
dreamy eyes wide

Could I help not to think
youth himself enjoying
the happy beat
of music rapping feet
dancing to dawn

Could I help not dreaming
heaven himself staring
a tastefulness
love awaiting chance
an invitation to dance

Could I help not asking
love himself awaiting
heart be still
skip a beat
contemplates defeat

Could I help not smile
laughter himself teasing
frolicking night
revelry till light
a thoroughfare

Could I help not hope
child himself laments
brief is the while
to hold and to smile
kiss a while

Could I help not repeat
opportunity himself passing
lasts one night
might never knock again
I remain
You gently, quietly, abashedly ease from sight



Expansion of an idea of one guy trying to pick up another guy at the dance floor at EXIT, a gay disco in Amsterdam, popular among the young local and foreigners especially in summer. There is some inspiration based on how I met Hans de Wit of Schiedam in mid-June, one weekend in 1989 during my three week vacation there. This guy is the epitome of Dutch youthful handsomeness, with a sauveness and pensiveness that was disarming. We became fast friends, and definitely the envy of many.

Blik - A Moment (1989)

Let my heart heave a sigh
If only I had kept that glance
And now need not deny
Myself dazed in a trance
If you only knew yourself
Unexpected cause of my vanities.

I love the way the sun did dance
Upon fair hair brushed back
I dared not breathe, lest chance
I should miss your glance looking back.

Your acquamarine eyes
Pools of azzurial light deep set
I long and search for dyes
To match the brilliance mine has met
And capture the light that gleams within
In memory and constant recollection.

Feel the heat of flint
An improbably transaction
With one as beautiful as you
And how would I have loved,
How if you knew!




Frankfurt-am-Main
1989

A Sure Smile (1989)

A sure smile
that twitch on the edge
of lips, lifted
like accents over the unspoken word
caught my happy eye and cannot deny
this delightful sign
an endearing look
and hope longingly
a repeated chance
capture that rapture
of departed lips
breaking into smiles.

Downtown Amsterdam
donderdag, in juni ‘89

O My Friend What Have You Done (1989)

O my friend, what have you done?
We have thought of you, the One
Above all the anguish pangs
Hero whom poets sang
When I was blind, you made me see
Notice wintry wonder around me
You dragged me out to appreciate
Express all I left unsaid.
How you liberated me
Whilst quiet, you, Prometheus bound
Tortured you whispered not a plea
How your performance astounds
Heave my heart to my mouth
Invent new hymns fit for you
Mightier than a cry, breath, hue
A reflection on true
You have robbed us of Life!
Unwarned, mocked us of love
Break from conformity
This deed you have done callously
Shatters fraternity
Weep I must, mourn this musk
That stings my memory
Sleeping, sulking, to saunter each dusk
Finds cause in this heresy.
O Beauty! Marred by deed.
Be cold as snow, silver as sleet
Love you as you go
Even ever more
As dampness invades my feet.



22 August 1989
0111 hrs

I have not known anyone personally, who have committed suicide. Yet the statistics suggest that there must be someone in the course of our lives whom we might know who would have attempted or succeeded in suicide. This is an exploration, if someone I knew were to have done it. It is possible that this was also inspired by the shock effect after watching Dead Poets Society, which I recall watching alone in a theatre at Surfers Paradise, located against the backdrop of the sea. I left the theatre close to midnight and had to walk back to the hotel complex, and stopped by the beach front where the wind, sand and surf was blowing in hard, and penned some of these words. It was just meant to release some very strong feelings aroused by some scenes in the film’s plot.

What Last Thoughts Should Haunt (1989)

What last thoughts should haunt
“Think of those who mourn”
Greater deeds need be done
I am not necessarily the one.
At least I am I, who needs me
Wise, foolish, honest, free
My chimed and fluted symphony
One act to end all suddenly
My sorrow, joy, life, friends and toil
Are important but never as much the need
To fall
Out of the Frame of Life
And bleed.
Then, late understood
A glimpse to be Free
Silence, deafening of my plea.
Release Me.



22 August 1989
0043 hrs

I think everyone at some point thinks of, contemplates, the idea of ultimate control over one’s life, and that inevitably means, death. Can we determine the how, when (details), and the consequences. But it is ironic, because if one prefers death, then what follows as a result, and the order of arrangements, should not matter. I think, then, anyone who explores this, is crying out for affirmation, the symptom of something gravely missing in their human experience, whether we call it healing, completion or release.

The Unknowing Love (1989)

The unknowing love of life within
     The breadth of unseen
Love that dictates, not understands
Compassion that awaits but never mends
A serpent’s tongue that begs kinder gift
Of trusted faith that lifts
Steps in darkness to certainty
Let me, let me, be.
I cannot answer, my voice falters
To have been heard at least was good
I cried out loud as I could.
Naught understood
But, “I was good!”
Winter, long past the summer of youth
Determines my fate, marks little use.
Cannot resist, unable to refuse
Allow me this one chance to choose
Nothing to gain is neither to lose
I shall face, naked, the Whip O’ Life
Rip open my heart, ride me of strife
Blank forever this thinking mind
Cut-off (they say, from the) production line.
Explore the dark choice consciously:
What will the world think of me?
Who scribbles short of poetry
In death invents a society.


1989

Quick reflections then of the odd futility of the experiences we seem to gain from mistakes in relations in our lives, where perceptions don’t match. Then in seeking catharsis, reads and writes poetry, to only to find other more eloquent voices from the past who have spoken of the same weakness of heart (Dead Poets Society?).

No One Listens (1989)

No one listens, only hears
     the lyrical whispers of my years.
No one knows, tastes the tears,
     discovery of love and fears.
Away from my family
     I am simply plainly truly me.
My laughter, hunger derision, voice
     leaping, hawking, none are false.
With those who let me be
     I am unchained, unbridled free
Yet those who claim loves me most
     Their sacrifice and affection boast –
I am endangered most of life
     Deceived by their dire action.
Oh within me is such strife!
     They being sorest of affliction
For me; I have been given best
     Wealth was never contest
All was ever wanted, met
     Their ways and thinking were set!
I felt all hate and anguish
     No prompt or reason to cease;
Until exhausted, then found extinguished
     The rabid rage released.



1989

My Senses Revel At This Fact (1989)

My senses revel at this fact:
Imagine the vast littleness of life
Which necessarily exists
For continuity
And must
Invent
An
Eternity.



The Esplanade
Surfers’ Paradise, Queensland

21 August 1989
2205 hrs

Address (1989)

Open your mind, release your heart’s passion
Fling wide the riddled doors of your imagining.
Deliver your soul with the rapture of lips;
Welcome that vision of deepest blue disappearing
     in the distant flash of lightning,
Like One, a Lover who discovers
     Love’s disguise.

Ride on, beyond the cold and blurring fog.
Pick-up your heels, rage, and be gentle – not!
True visions are blind!
These lead us to dare
Where only those who hope, have faith – would fare;
Blinded by what I saw
     yet still want more.

Must I awake to the calm
Borderline between
Truth – Imaginings – Mortality’s realm
And forge dreams, far-flung fantasies
Within these portals of Void and Reality
Thus be True as False might serve
For what is worth denying must exist
By the simple principle governing all Things
All that is named, IS
All that is, even of thoughts the least
May cease, but did exist.

I learnt too late and violently awake:
Struggle my denial that we are fruits of fate.
I decide, certain, shall not wait –
To run the course my passions make
From a widening dream awake escape
Hyperion unveilled dismay
Question the markings Time make
That all things are, or existed true
Still are by some imagined frame
Congealed and concealed in another World.
There is nothing firm, so permanent
Or fixed, for all past is alive, safe in me;
It dwells in ethereal urns and lucent orbs
Where consciousness sleeps, minds are free
Reality and fantasy in harmony
Make melt, mould, shape tumescent forms
Infinity of all things, here are born
Nourished by Word, Thought, in active tense
Make verse and rhyme echo common sense
Then release the wealth of Humanity
Which gathers wind, like storm and hail, inexorably
Awakening within, and creating anew Memory
Like trains of leaves blown askew by Nymphs
And Muses to breed a posterity,
Seduced by learning
To gain, Knowledge
of Everything.



1989

Rencontre d'spirit (1989)

In some corner of Existence I sit
Silent, complacent, clear:
Invitating all whom pass, to meet
Find rest here, endear, forget fear,
And listen, indulge one’s part, express
The myriad worlds of each our Imaginings.
All given, told, shall be worth the note
Melodies afloat on this Life’s rough dwelling
Tossed by fleet Time’s angry mode
Weathers chance to opportunity the epic
Stay course, the plot, denouement of intrigue
As each Act ends thus meet the applauding sky
Whence I entered in and shall exeunt by.

1989

I Have Dreamt Of You Much Of Late (1993)

I have dreamt of you much of late
which disturbed my sleep, left me awake.
These visions of you, wide, hollowed through
Filled with trees, shrubs and rose bushes leaden with dew.
What air, fragrant, moist and pure
A settling mist greets me with calm allure.
What magical lair, gleaming, inviting
Me within, feeling close and secure.
     There is my secret valley, winged by hills
     Where life is abundant, abandon and free
     Where rocks speak, and leaves whistle
     Longing for me, beckoning me.
Is there a realm where tired heart finds peace,
Away from rueful, urban seige?
Naked where I’ll life, pelased with the least
Desire nothing else, save far from reach.
Clouds, though sparse, lace the awakening sky
Dawn dances on, let the first light fly.
Then darkness is lifted like a sheet of grey
As the valley reappears, a great foray.

I toss and I turn denied of my sleep;
Determined to wrest this awakening dream
Now safely described, my visions slip
Into quiet retreat, to that far distant realm.


2.25 am
30 November 1993

I could not get any sleep and so at 1.03 am, I penned these words, after tossing while trying to get a wink, all the while seeing this vision of a green valley illuminated by a moonlit mist.

Mykonos (1993)

Π  ΜΙΚΟΝΟΣ

At Mykonos, I remember you
Your beauty framed by the blue;
Your cotton shirt stained by the hues
Of the Aegean sun, whom Night pursues.
     Evening falls; silence broken by marble walls
     Scattered among laurel and olive shrubs;
     Amidst which I sit, longing to hear, words overdue.
     Night deepens and darkness floods;
     Andromeda, Orion now rise; flies, and fleetingly falls.
     Far flung below, coastal lights blinked and withdrew.
By morning my memory of you is refreshed
Stirred by Siren breeze, washed by dew
Filling with musk, citrus, and your sweet caress;
Strengthened, resolved to the test –
But disarmed completely as you tease –
Drawing me, helplessly, to your breast.

Far from Skiathos, Mikonos – the Ionian Sea
I have forgotten you, found myself roaming free.
Yet neither the potency of Styx nor puerile Cupid
Could vex me from that bid
Hear cherished words, revive this ailing spirit
Sorrow, your embrace, loving, gentle, passionate, true
Which call out from my dreams and draws me close to you.


29 November 1993

I Know Tonight (1993)

I know tonight
that love, when it means anything, is most terribly obscure
like a flickering light
which burns constantly, yet fails to illuminate.

I feel, I know, and I should understand
Life’s all but imperfect, and
Meanders, wavers, stirs then deflect
Aspirations, desire, passion; reflect
My own anger and hate
And discover too late
The terrible emptiness after an impassioned wait.

Is it possible to love without full comprehension
Add patience, and build that grand illusion
That time alone should yield and tell
Of the dark, empty, abyss into which I fell.

I am but devoid of comprehensibility
This nadir of silliness makes all life grand
For no lower has foolishness ever put me
Floundered and keeled over much and sand
A wasted iota of love vanquished
I am happier dry, affection extinguished.


28 November 1993
After leaving The Westin Plaza, 12 am

I Thought You Were Great (1993)

I thought you were great as little Nikita
Talented and intense like lovers who
Knew instinct and a trick or two
Blew stereotypes apart and raved afar
River, look who you are!

I dispensed with the idea we might meet again
Shocked by the informal revelation of pain
To read of your death with tame disdain
And ponder the truth and feel insane
River, wish’d you remained!

I guessed at least we’ve met more than once
A couple of laughs and tears sampled too
What else could anyone ask of you
Who spoke softly, watch that frown
Now freed, a’last, from Earthen bounds!


2 November 1993