Thursday, October 29, 2009

Aqualung's "Strange and Beautiful"

You'll fall asleep--
I'll put a spell on you.

And when I wake you,
I'll be the first thing you see
And you'll realise that you love me

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Forgive me if I didn't sleep at all

by Ewong Martines
while I lay there beside you,
for I had rather relished the sight
of your slumber: ever beautiful
and tranquil, as if innocent
of this crime
of this night.
The slits of your eyes,
woven with lovely lashes
of a desert goddess, closed in
on the harsh light of day.
You drooled while dreaming
an outrageous adventure—
you had taken me again
to that realm
called heaven
even by atheists. And yes,
you were snoring,
but it was a song so pure
it conjured the rainbow
after a typhoon. My fingers
mapped your summer skin,
and the wild tigress turned
into a stray kitten in the streets
of my heart. Your lips
I kissed,
then I, too, succumbed
to the clamor of
sleep tight and
sweet dreams.
Your face—my final
memory, mesmerizing—
every pore,
every hair,
every line,
the picture to which I whispered: I
wish you were mine.

"The Embrace" by W.N.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Vienna Teng's "Eric Song"

Strange how I fit into you
There's a distance erased with the greatest of ease
Strange how you fit into me
A gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs

Friday, October 16, 2009


by Ewong Martines

I imagine us together
trapped under this warm,
furry blanket; our bodies
naked, sweaty, arms
and legs tangled.
In strange synchrony
we shiver, the pulse
of a caged bird waiting
in vain to be freed.
In blinding pleasure
we moan. Wrestle
gracefully. Wander
like the nocturnal waves
of the Pacific. Fluids flow
flesh to flesh, droplets
forming letters to plead:
"Oh Sun, please don't come!"
Our tongues locked in each
other, we gasp deliriously
for air. But we'd rather
suffocate in this musky,
forbidden affair.

revised version:
Us trapped I imagine 
under blanket furry
warm; naked and sweaty
our bodies, tangled legs
and arms.
In strange synchrony shiver
we: pulse of a caged bird
waiting, waiting in vain
to be free.
In blinding pleasure moan
we: like waves nocturnal
of Pacific wander. Let’s
wrestle furtively.
Flesh to flesh
flow fluids; droplets form
letters, plead: "Oh Sun,
must not come!"
Locked our tongues
in each other—O how we gasp
for air! But choke together
we'd rather in musky
mad affair.

*Artwork: "Embrace" by Deborah Howard