Anxiety #1

January 10, 2020 By Lune Loh in Anxiety, Mental Health, Poetry Leave a comment

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Suiteroom – Take 4 (09/11/2019)

December 29, 2019 By Lune Loh in Algorithms, Dark, Data, Dreams, Poetry, Rooms, Tea Leave a comment

Everything was dark
when the room lights
were replaced by ifs –
what else can function
if all I do is compile
dreams? They come in
too hot, too fast loops
that defragment and
scatter all my drives:
how I overdosed on data,
strolled about the fibre,
and added and added.

Suiteroom – Take 3

October 13, 2019 By Lune Loh in Algorithms, Copout, Dreams, Drinks, Path, Poetry, Registry, Rooms, Tea, Words 1 Comment

C:\Users\Lune>darken puddle
‘darken puddle’ is not recognized as an internal or external command,
operable program or batch file.

C:\Users\Lune>add tears
‘add tears’ is not recognized as an internal or external command,
operable program or batch file.

C:\Users\Lune>dose check
‘dose check’ is not recognized as an internal or external command,
operable program or batch file.

C:\Users\Lune>hot tea
‘hot tea’ is not recognized as an internal or external command,
operable program or batch file.

C:\Users\Lune>stroll room
‘stroll room’ is not recognized as an internal or external command,
operable program or batch file.

C:\Users\Lune>d:

D:>cd Google Drive\Poetry

D:\Google Drive\Poetry>type Suiteroom_3.txt

Suiteroom – Take 2

September 17, 2019 By Lune Loh in Dark, Fiction, Love, Poetry, Tea, Water Leave a comment

Everything was hot:
the tea you brewed,
this flush you didn’t
notice or notice you
brewed. I’m with the
tea leaves, a bottom
too dark I sank to.
I strolled into a cup,
thinking you’d drink
from it. I’m sorry i’ve
added a dose of tears:
you weren’t eating nor
drinking well, either.

Suiteroom – Take 1

September 11, 2019 By Lune Loh in Dark, Dreams, Fiction, Love, Poetry, Rooms Leave a comment

And once you strolled
right into the dark of
my eyes. Two points:
you didn’t notice this;
or I needed to weep
something sharp, like a
teardrop. Seconds pass
like the daily dose of
longing. Hot iron is all I
cry nowadays, the kind
steaming on your table.
Your gaze found a lamp.

An Empty Barstool is Love

July 8, 2019 By Lune Loh in Alcohol, Bars, Cities, Dreams, Poetry, Sun, Water Leave a comment

(after Pooja Nansi)

Dreaming on a Barstool: on an infinity
of regression of dreaming barstools; we
in a dream bar / you crafting cocktails for;
/meinatelegramcommand; @yourusername;
we watching Europe go by as art noveau;
two blue ticks consent to a means to an end;
4.00 / morning / bak chor mee / eyelids/lips;
poem for you soaked in vodka & tomorrow;
you opening whiskey an observer effect;
sizes A4 on the rocks, A3 shaken, A2 stirred;
one night, we went to a bar to drink water;
one day, we discovered alcohol to be water;
I woke up in a universe without dreams;
we watched the bartender set twin suns;
being-in-itself & being-for-itself, for myself.

No End to Start

April 19, 2019 By Lune Loh in Copout, Immortality, Konnet, Ouroboros, Poetry, Space Leave a comment

(after Marylyn Tan’s ‘re: origin story / ARCHETYPAL EVIL’)

Being immortal is being
sated about being salted
in cycles – day and night
the pry and shut of eyes.
Once, Ah Kong was young
and fleshed out, peachy
with beginnings. A fool,
not knowing that fruiting
is the end, or figurative –
how time is tried, tested
as a painter being tired
of the biggest canvas.
Not the cosmos, but in
housing a weary start.

*Ah Kong: Romanization of the Chinese noun “阿公”, meaning Grandfather.

Lune L.

Poetry | Fiction | Registers

Category Archives: Poetry