Annee Lam

Mary Jane 69

Sat, 14 Jul 2012 21:56:05 -0700

ring. ring.
hello?
breathing. stirring.
Mary Jane 69?
one moment, please.
ring. ring.
[she picks up]
hello?
softer voice. seductress.
don’t talk anymore.
your voice kills me.
chocolate poison.an aphrodisiac.do you want me?
i’m ready.
[he groans]
heavy. sweating.
too hard.
too wrong.
too perfect.
gasping for air.
shivers.
touching me.
[his hands make contact]
touching you.
[she sighs]
another time?
hush.
[he drowns]
every time.
for artificial ecstasy.
$4.99/minute.
thank you.

Mornings Hereafter

Tue, 26 Jun 2012 22:24:24 -0700

She sits in her usual chair,
her hands wrapped around her coffee cup for warmth.
It is unusually cold this morning.
I stir my spoon in my own mug;
the clash of metal and clay, creating the usual tinkering sound.
“Weather is bad today,” she says, without staring up from her newspaper.
“You should stay home.”
I grunt in acknowledgement.
The continuous sound of water droplets falling from the tap every few seconds—
I must remember to fix that.
The squeaks of old boards and shutters from our home—
The only comfort of life stirring in this house.
Everything as it has always been.
She takes a sip from her espresso.
She always liked it dark.
No sugar.
No milk.
No flavour.
No life.
“I‘m going out when the storm dies down,” I respond after a while.
She gazes at me with her exhausted and distant eyes.
“Will you be back tonight?”
It was an innocent question that I couldn’t properly reply back.
I get up and leave.
There are tears in her eyes,
and the coffees on the table turn cold.

shapes.

Sun, 24 Jun 2012 00:02:10 -0700

blankpagesandinvisibleink:

i write
prose
that

looks
like
poetry,

and i write poetry that looks like prose. because it matters less how my words are shaped,

than
that
which

shapes
my
words.

Humans are Cruel

Thu, 14 Jun 2012 20:15:00 -0700

10:23pm
Humans are cruel.
I don’t believe this because I am lost
But because it is fact.

1:11am
It’ll always be God versus Mother Nature
God’s not a perfectionist
But then, nor is She.
But He is more forgiving
She is more ruthless
We are learning
I know.

2:05am
How does one justify our actions?
Through rules? Social norms? Past experience?
It all leads back to morals
That’s how social norms and rules are created
Experience is the end result
Though this reasoning can easily be reversed
Correct me if I am wrong.
I have as much moral as the next man
Stray from the usual and I am a monster.
Normality is a creation.
How do you think that started?
Change will create chaos, but chaos will create change.

6:15am
The days are always shorter in winter.
She wants it that way.
It helps us move on.
To forget the cold, the hunger
The thirst
The redness.
Or perhaps it’s for hope.
She is ruthless but still caring
Call me an optimist.

7:06pm
It only takes seconds for destruction.
But I’ve been building this for years.
It was not fun.
Fate is not fun.
But it has to be done
For Her.
She is dying
His love is destroying Her.
Call it a calling
Call it too much
Or maybe not enough.

7:11pm
Stop screaming.
Stop the noise.
It hurts me to hear you cry.
It is necessary.
For the future, you see.
Imagine fresh water, healthy life
A paradise of exponential growth
Imagine that you were part of something beautiful
Just bear with it now
Just die peacefully
I don’t want any more sufferings
Think.
Your death will bring forth a new era!
We just need to wait
For the years to come

7:59pm
To kill is not a sin.
Intentions are the culprits
You think that I am delusional
You think that I am the devil.
I am no match for him, my brother
Whose eyes can bind me in fear
I do not look up to him
I know I will meet him someday though
Then I’ll let you know if we are related
If I see you there, of course.

8:00pm
Tonight is a short night.
It is Her wish, after all.

11:00pm
So don’t pray to God.
He’s too forgiving.
Yes, he will forgive me.
Because I do it for Her.
He loves too much.
Not only us but Her too
Pray, instead, for the short days She gives
For the hope of tomorrow
Because I am only human.

Last night, I had a provoking dream.Picture a time and place where humans were divided just because...

Sun, 10 Jun 2012 20:11:39 -0700

Last night, I had a provoking dream.

Picture a time and place where humans were divided just because they were born a certain way. The stronger and more powerful owns the weaker individuals by using them as slaves.

Slaves were marked by a large and heavy metal ring that is attached and hung somewhere on their bodies. It is the type of slavery that is the epitome of doomsday.

Unfortunate members of families, no discriminatory of age, were lined up to receive this ring. The only choice they had was where the ring is placed. I found myself comforting my younger sister and myself that it didn’t hurt, even though I knew it would.

Flash back: I saw myself and a few other children eating leftovers of food thrown away. I was thinking about the day when they would find us and enslave us.

Flash forward and I saw myself being a part of a rebellion team, passing out precious food, such as pork, beef, and vegetables to people starving for anything. When the last piece of meat was left, I asked “Who wants it?” and a young girl with wide eyes and frightened look said “me!” and ran away after grabbing it.

Flash forward again and I was running away because they knew and they wanted to capture me. I ran along a path near the river and I was afraid to look back because if I did, then they would catch up. I ran up a hill and crossed the street and into the woods. There, I met a woman and she knew what I was doing and she warned me to run faster since I was still in danger. Though, it was a different danger in seems because there was another presence in the woods. It was not long until I witnessed a dark shadow of a human kill another individual brutally with an ax. He saw me and it was another cat and mouse chase.

In the dream, I had an amazing ability to run and jump, so I was leaping onto and off buildings like a superhero. Breaking glass windows to get through, while trying to lose his trail at the same time.

Though, I was scared out of my wits, I felt a sense of independence and a ‘this is it’ moment.

Overall, the dream had me reflecting on our lives and how this is not so far from the society we live in today. The only difference is that there is no justice for those less unfortunate. Justice is with the more powerful. Perhaps we need to stop thinking that equality will happen because someone else will make it happen for us. We should become the pioneers of our futures, or at least for the generation after us.

I eat aloneand I feel obscureWhy is everyone smilingwhile I feel insecure? I love, I laughI live, I...

Thu, 07 Jun 2012 10:46:00 -0700

I eat alone
and I feel obscure
Why is everyone smiling
while I feel insecure?

I love, I laugh
I live, I breathe
I wish for a friend
who isn’t make believe

I feel dark
when it is light as day
coping with how
you have made me this way

Dream Escapade

Sat, 02 Jun 2012 00:43:10 -0700

Burning –

This feeling of remorse

Forever in debt of my dream escapade

Open fields of danger and -

The lost cravings of passion

Undo the daydream

Into a slumber where righteous sleeps

Wonder provocative wonder –

Moon shines as dream light dances,

Back again to the burning sun

When Twilight Glorifies (NSFW)

Mon, 28 May 2012 19:26:06 -0700

It was in the Dark Room,

where my good Father sat

Our shadows connected and loomed

in the place I

grew up at.

Rigid, and strict

The room had always been —

Midnight, the clock ticked —

the secret released upon

this very scene.

His face was handsome and hard,

but his eyes were warm and saddening.

He peered inside my soul of shards,

and the allurement became

maddening.

He gestured me to the fire

with his books neatly set aside

He, the man, who I’ve always admired

and the cause of

our worlds to collide.

I walked over to Temptation and Sin,

feeling the notion of a pinned butterfly.

The fabric of forbidden seemed so thin,

and bequeath the weakness,

I began to cry.

“It is Fate with the wisest choice—

“Hush, my little child,”

he said with the softest voice.

“The night is young,

and savages run wild.”

He brought me onto his lap,

and covered me with chaste kisses.

His lips on my cheeks were sweet as sap,

but it tasted bitter with such

perfect reminisces.

My fingers brushed his soft dark hair

as I came for an embrace

He gave me his smile with a lustful air

and I leaned onto his chest,

closing up our remaining space.

“Beautiful flower,”

he whispered in my ear.

“You come to me from the Witch’s Tower;

Curses from God that soon becomes

my cure.”

“Damned Father,” I sighed in despair.

“You are already condemned in your blasphemous love.

So let your pleasure be in my care,

and our unison be watched from only

above.”

Slowly and abidingly aroused,

our white blanket lay forgotten,

pass the morality that we, together, have vowed,

where tender touches were

broadened.

The mood rose as the curtains lift

He trembled. “We can’t go on.”

Lies, as our movements became swift

“But you called for me, dear Father.

Your innocence is long gone.”

I know we were both drunk with desire,

and apologies were said with the most hypocritical regret

He groaned with the fiery of hell’s fire,

and I let him because my destiny was

already set.

“Tree growing in rotting paper, former Detroit Public...

Sun, 27 May 2012 21:02:00 -0700

“Tree growing in rotting paper, former Detroit Public Schools book depository”

Nature is truly grand when it takes our wastes and makes it into its own.

This picture was taken by Sweet Juniper.
Please click on link to read more about this fascinating place.
http://www.sweet-juniper.com/2007/11/it-will-rise-from-ashes.html.

Lullaby

Fri, 25 May 2012 00:25:23 -0700

I want you to whisper to me
a soft lullaby
a song to ignite me
like fireworks to the sky

I want to dream of the light
as supernovas of your heart
bursting from a love
as a priceless work of art

So whisper a song
your heart sings true
a soft lullaby
of just me and you

For the Love of Creativity, Stop.

Wed, 23 May 2012 00:17:00 -0700

I have always had a guilty pleasure for dark and transgressive pieces of writing. It not only invokes negative feelings such as disgust, confusion, fear, and frustration, but if done well, it invites a different perspective on the world. Such authors include Anne Rice, who beautifully intertwines Christian faith into love that exceeds gender biases, or Chuck Palahniuk, who directly hands us the skeletons hidden in our closets.

Except, not all agrees with this point of view. Unfortunately, I do not everyone to.

Society has developed an interrelational and complex system that encourages morality, ethics, structure, justice, and overall goodness among the people. One step across that line and you are ‘not right’, evil, stupid, crazy, a troublemaker… But how does one define good in the absence of bad? This type of thinking is what causes close mindedness and bigotry towards those who dares to step out of the norm and take the road less traveled. The perception of bad and ugliness are subjective. Death can mean an end to life, or a supplier for new and young life. Solitude can be loneliness or a mode of meditation.

For this reason, I always find it disturbing that people want to ban books because it is too violent (Dark Materials Trilogy by Philip Pullman), too sexually explicit (“Kite Runner” by Khaled Hosseini), too magical (Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling, or too gay (“And Tango Makes Three” by Justin Richardson and Peter Parnell).

Therefore, I thank the writers who have written materials that have stirred up controversy and excitement for our restricted reality, and to bring us out of our needless fear of change.

As Philip Pullman said, after hearing the news that people wanted to ban his books:
“They never learn,” he said. “The inevitable result of trying to ban something – book, film, play, pop song, whatever – is that far more people want to get hold of it than would ever have done if it were left alone. Why don’t the censors realize this?”

All My Friends Are [Still] Dead

Sun, 20 May 2012 00:33:29 -0700

All My Friends Are [Still] Dead:

This is a wonderfully refreshing picture book. I enjoy the pessimistic, yet comforting point of view it takes on. It is real without sugar coating death.

Love Becomes Thy Belief

Fri, 18 May 2012 00:07:00 -0700

‘What is thy name?’ I heard myself ask.
‘My name is Love,’ answered the stranger.
‘You are Lie and Deceit,’ I replied back,
‘because Love is already dead.’
”Tis true I am Lie and Deceit,’ He replied,
‘But I am Love in the form that you believe
in thine’s defeated eyes.’

Inspiration from Lord Alfred Douglas’ Two Loves

Rumours are Meant to be Gossiped

Thu, 17 May 2012 09:01:00 -0700

Oh puh-lease!
Did you hear?
Yes, yes, I did.
I can’t believe it!
She did what?
With WHOM?!
He did that?
With HER?!
Nonsense!
What else?
Stop fucking with me.
They want to do what?
Where?
Can we watch?
Ha!
Broken up!
Why?
Who’s crying?
Laughing?
Which one is it?
Stain on her pants?
Stain on HIS pants?
He caught them!
Lying.
Cheating.
Together.
Any more?
He ate it.
You mean “her”.
She did it.
You mean “him”.
Okay stop.
I’m confused.
Who’s with whom now?
But she’s with him!
He hates her?
But likes him?
Straight, my ass!
No, into HIS ass.
Who?
The teacher.
Get out!
Let me breathe.
But tell me more!
I can’t.
Secrecy, remember?

My favourite season along with my favourite flowers and hobby....

Thu, 17 May 2012 00:14:36 -0700

My favourite season along with my favourite flowers and hobby. The triple threat is giving me a joy burst.

"Horas non numero nisi serenas — I count only the bright hours"

Wed, 16 May 2012 23:27:53 -0700

“Horas non numero nisi serenas — I count only the bright hours”

- Inscription on Ancient Sundials