On Being Us

we are quite far from our middlescence
lurking on, pushing on
and stravaging sometimes

let them call us lotus-eaters
and poke fun at our demeanour
let them stare and label us bumbleshoot,
hampering their manna-rains

dudgeon, that’s what they feel
cos we muckrake them,
and they think we love throwing shade,
and that we take pleasure in the spotlight,
penning what the constituents feel

let them rant and continue to
call us age-old lotus-eaters.
we won’t mock their potbellies
and their shabbiness
cos that’s what they seek to trigger

we are still quite far from our middlescence
pressing on, carrying on
and still stravaging sometimes

the beau idéal, that’s not what
we seek to become
but let’s man up,
by pushing on what’s truly right

Inferno

Maybe she will be remembered
as the girl from East-Flanders
Courteous and well kept among others
You’ll forever be remembered
as the girl torn between the past
and the present
Maybe I’ll only be remembered
as the chap you held hands with
Or maybe I’ll always come to mind
whenever you see Omar Sy
Not because we’re brothers

She will always be remembered
as the girl with sunken eyes
or perhaps hollowed cheeks
I know, I’m sometimes bad
when it comes to choice of words
I know I won’t be remembered
as the boy who births awkward silences
You promised me,
so I pray you keep your word

She’ll be remembered
as the girl with the entire world at her humble feet and a golden heart
And anytime you think about Venice,
I hope I won’t be too distant a memory
Your heart has fought battles,
won, drew and even lost some
Let’s pray the latter is soon forgotten
But how do you forget
the sound of a bird that sings to
you every morning?
How do you mend a wounded soul?
So, you will be remembered
just like how you left,
in your toggery, with a hurried hug and a forced smile
Swift, and there you went

I will always remember you
as the girl who, while eating tacos kept asking why I aligned
the Coca-Cola bottle and the glass every now and then
Maybe precision was the word
you were looking for
Or maybe both of us were searching for
So anytime I think of precision,
you’ll be next in thought
Inferno

Suchomski

Maybe you’re the quintessence
of all our dreams
the perfect picture we’ve been
told about
a breath of fresh air
with a genuine heart and a
pure conscience

As the tides change,
maybe you could guide us to
be stalwart
And vary from our old ways,
of which we’re not proud to manifest

Maybe you are all that we have,
with your resilience, your grit and your kindheartedness
As we are somewhat still in pursuit of more

As months blur into years,
maybe you could once again
just breathe new life into us, Suchomski

For Her Never To Be Born Son

A precarious early autumn afternoon
not too hot and not too cold
if it were to be water,
it’d be called ‘lauw water’
maybe in our sister language

we sing no odes for children
and never dirges for unborn babies
this wasn’t the druthers of Ms. L
as you are the eponym of her
recent talks
but again, we sing no odes for children
and never dirges for unborn babies

so scale the heights wherever you are
Ms. L is aching now and so are we all
maybe you just came to embody
the brevity of human life
but we sing no odes for children
and never dirges for unborn babies
So keep clambering up wherever
you are

(c) Prince Kenny Jr

Cold Feet

Let me caress you henceforth
so I may fill you up with warmth,
whenever you have cold feet
don’t allow your heart to skip a beat
Cos some are in dire need of cold feet,
to make their hot summers complete
so some even go to feel the waters of Crete
So call on me as and when you have them
As I will stand firm
I don’t want to seem to rhyme
but you’re worth more than a dime
But just whisper my name always
as you take aim
cos it’s only for you that I came

Cheer up, dear brother!

you tasted the unknown waters
and touched the distant seas – afar
along the inconsiderate tides
with the sacrosanct skies, staring beneath,
unto your scalp
cheer up, dear brother
as winter blurs into spring
– with minuscule day sunlight
every now and then
and the longer nights bringing forth
shorter sleeps
Autumn is still in sights
the bamboo orchids lie dormant
along greying greens
cheer up, now and tomorrow
the seasons are passing through,
the moments come and go – for good
so cheer up, my dear brother !

FORTNIGHT (A birthday poem)

A couple of words, candid and true
It’s a year on, placid as the ages accrue
So no expressions of flattery today
And be that as it may
it’s a year on, all but not astray
it’s barely a fortnight
that Other and Jackie crossed path
So I’ll just allow you to a have an early bath
Cos it’s a year on, one more time
“Happy Birthday” is all what I’ll mime

Gone Forever

She misses the days of old
although she weaves her ways
towards her salient dreams
or perhaps, her pallid self.

so now that he has turned into a foe
and who knows as she sways
maybe she’d cease to gleam
and find solace in a darker shelf.

so all is but unclear
that she truly misses the days of old
now that he has turned into a big foe.

A Layer of Dew

a thing of bliss is always lovely
as and when it soothes out cuddly.

unto the layers gone afar
and the streams left to us -ajar

so every now and then
let’s hearken not nor pretend.

upon our awakes, are we wailing
with a desire to thrust out our ailing

but at times, grief is somehow brief
like a layer of dew, short-lived.