DAY 24 – SENSATION BUFFET CONSPIRACY

SENSATION BUFFET CONSPIRACY
you said last night you think I am magic.
& you have that inescapable purple in your aura,
pivoting like vonnegut’s wampeter, which is why
the animals are magnetically-drawn to you,
unlikely cult carp whisperer.we all eventually have to do psychic maintenance
so half-hour to midnight means walking
on elevated concrete roadside benches,
holding in hand that feeling of being sure
like lollipops in the mouth or stone bracelets,
like sitting crosslegged under the esplanade bridge.

someone but not me needs to paint
your bullock shoulders your nimble wrists
your inability to unplug from Real Life:
maybe it is because you want to be
a different height that you refuse to
allow short-circuits.
is this what they mean by industry?

binding your own wrists in neoprene cuffs,
you permit leather blindfolds that can’t cover the
quirk of your smirking mouth & your insistence
that your hard-on is good for at least something,

even if it is hanging dirty towels like
a criminal execution. your kisses are

a study in botany,
like things to be taken apart and examined
under bright lights and steel tweezers.
like the ball of your thumb is a thing
to be taken to heart.

even afterthoughts of you feel like
the uniform fuzz of carefully-shaved head,
firm touches, scented turquoise pineapple
crystalline and now I know

the sound of a three-hour telephone voice
is a tall glass of citrine, sea kelapa syrup
spread excruciating over the railwork system,
like a lapdance, like the fatigue carried in the
arched feet of someone who inhabits heels, like
trails of formic acid, like
busy, busy, busy.

I miss you
even when I am next to you,
you said,

and I took this as thundercloud omen,
storms wielding wet bargaining chips
but you’ve always loved finding the sublime
in the mundane and I’ve written so many
poems about marrying the divine and the
profane that we know we can find
both pedestrian and arcane in the
rain.

you said, I am afraid
we are only really good for each other in bed
but some good advice is do what you love.
stretch before dancing. and eat more broccoli
even if you don’t particularly like it. wax
lyrical about your mussels one more time.
buddy wakefield famous slam poet says
when you feel like stepping back from the mic,
step forward.

I am backing away very slowly now so
I don’t startle you. I am whispering to the carp
instead of teaching them foucault that it is
perfect to be afraid. that it is permitted to know
you are breathtaking in spite of yourself.
buddy says, stop fucking with the moon,
so I tell you, I’ll meet you on the green platform,
on the third floor, on the astral dimension
just above this one.

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DAY 12 – EMPAT PERKATAAN SAJAK KINK ED.

dental damning gummy latex
scissor sister mindfuck pretext
D-ring harness golden shower
subdrop switchblade foucault’s power
snowball fluid felching dilate
knotted hempen suspend sedate
tribbing dribble malegaze lesbian
squirter robot drilldo sybian
figging insert ginger greyhound
milking prostate sigmoid tightwound
ribbing foodsafe softvore tension
diaper regress ageplay pension
edging denied bespoke cockcage
omo bladder wetting frottage
bestial crushfreak knotting refract
unbirth dioptra med-grade inspect
nosehook strangled vacuum rigger
hypno aural cursefile trigger
blindfold gaslight sensate deprived
needled needful pleasure derived


‪#‎SingPoWriMo2015Day12 ‪#‎SingPoWriMoDay12 ‪#‎marylyntan
————————————————–
The EP Prompt
– write an empat perkataan

DAY 08 – THE LAST FIVE YEARS IN X’s

love, the first time I watched << all about lily • chou-chou >>, we spent half a year referencing indie japanese cinema and getting angry about 2% skim milk, ke$ha’s name (pronounced kay-dollarsign-HA!), & people who eat tapioca unironically. the next faceless boy with whom I appended my name on the other side of an &mpersand had eyelashes like even-toed ungulates and convinced me through his set-square ways that I should probably be more poly(nomial) in the next equation. he called me a sl*t when I shaved my head, but not my slit. I once wrote a poem about chinese men 🚮 and how I could never date one because it would feel too much like the penetrative act of bamboo torture. but you said this morning, 1/4 chinese can or not? so these days I pretend all the people in my tarot deck have disappeared to convince myself you’re still the right direction^. ^with your own post-nuptial contract conditions


#‎SingPoWriMo2015Day08 ‪#‎SingPoWriMoDay08 ‪#‎marylyntan The @#)(*) Prompt – write a poem including the following symbols: ! $ &* ( ) . , ‪#‎bonus – include @ # % ^ < /

DAY 06 – CUDDLE/P@RTY/SIGNPOST

‘WELCOME TO 21 HOURS OF CUDDLING
FOR MY TWENTY-FIRST.’

‘STOP’ ‘CURRENTLY UNDER
CONSTRUCTION’

‘THE HOTEL V BENCOOLEN’

‘IT IS PERFECT
TO TOUCH YOUR FRIENDS
LIKE THIS.’
you shouldn’t touch people too much
lest you feel like your liver is rising,
lest your mother opens her mouth.

‘DON’T SIT ON THE HUMMUS.’
‘DO NOT TURN THIS INTO
DRUG PEDDLING PROCEEDINGS.’

‘DO NOT
CUT THE CHEESE
IN VERY ENCLOSED ROOMS.’

‘THOSE WITH CUSTODY OF ME
POSSESSED MISGIVINGS
WITH REFERENCE TO THIS
ODD FESTIVITY.’
my mother pronounces me
one of those slutty g*ys.

‘INSTRUCT THEIR FINGERS
TO BE FIRM.’
she tells me not to be promiscuous.
(even if I write poetry.)

‘LET LONGING BURN.’
bruises show up excellent
under fluorescents.

my mother tells me fewer things
now, but some rules still hold:

‘DON’T KISS OTHER QUEERS.’
‘FUCK LESS.
BE LESS.’

‘NO HOMO.’
‘NO.’

‘INVITE YOUR WORST ENEMIES
TO CUDDLE ORGIES.’


#‎SingPoWriMo2015Day06 #‎SingPoWriMoDay06 #marylyntan

#‎Prompt1: Write a lipogram – i.e. a poem that does not use a particular letter of the alphabet (e.g. “t”, “s” or the challenging “e”)

#‎Prompt2: Write a poem that challenges a rule, a law, a habit, a form, a subject, a theme, a mindset: or as many of these as possible.

DAY 05 – YOU KNOW THAT GOLDEN YOLKEN

feeling broken light right there the soft gleam
of skin on foreskin the slight coconut musk
of husky wonder the lemon curd of sunday
childhood baking imagine a daffodil fruiting
into bloom just below the ridge of soft delta
caramelised under the sun of your gaze

lover, they don’t tell you this but
fondess will not make phimosis retract
even when the hardness resurrects
the smegma remains unrepentant,
insisting on being there when you

get nailed


‪#‎SingPoWriMo2015Day05 ‪#‎SingPoWriMoDay05 ‪#‎marylyntan

‪#‎Prompt1: Write a poem depicting something ugly as beautiful, or something beautiful as ugly.
‪#‎Prompt2: Write a poem on the theme of resurrection.

DAY 04 – self @ 17 in 140 chars

@self: shld prolly stop talkng 2 white men on 4chan who call u sarcastic asian whore & maybe dont spend 5hrs collecting dolphin blowjob gifs


‪#‎SingPoWriMo2015Day04 ‪#‎SingPoWriMoDay04
‪#‎marylyntan
‪#‎Prompt1: Write a poem addressed to your younger self, without using the word “I”.
‪#‎Prompt2: Write a poem in which each stanza fits within a Tweet (i.e. max 140 characters).
** ‪#‎PowerBonus: Combine the two prompts.

DAY 03 – NONGENDERED R’LYEHIAN EROTIQUE

it’s a flesh wound, they say,
and purse
their thick cleaved lips
at the prone twitch-yiffing
of my wetly gleaming form,
which is

nearly as masturbatory
as wordpress.

we are tiny manimals calcite
and mineralised in amber
monument to the day
we came so hard
we fossilised ourselves.

there is a symmetry to the golden ratio of the
nautilus,
the cleaved foot of the goat with
a thousand young,
the raw milky glass-white of
translucent anal beads.

you fuck my flesh wound
with your polydactyl thumb
and a horde of sugar gliders bursts out
swimming for their lives.

I wilt like a corsage,
or most hard-ons.

it is not just because they are my
cosmic progenitor parents
that they are called
The Elder Ones.

we are hatching wordlessly
under the earth
and still

dead cthulhu
lies wet dreaming.


#‎SingPoWriMo2015Day03 ‪#‎SingPoWriMoDay03 ‪#‎SG50ShadesOfGrey
‪#‎marylyntan
Write an erotic poem
Bonus 1: …with no people in it.
Bonus 2: Pun.