Eric's Song by Vienna Teng

Strange how you know inside me
I measure the time and I stand amazed
Strange how I know inside you
My hand is outstretched toward the damp of the haze

And of course I forgive
I've seen how you live
Like a phoenix you rise from the ashes
You pick up the pieces
And the ghosts in the attic
They never quite leave
And of course I forgive
You've seen how I live
I've got darkness and fears to appease
My voices and analogies
Ambitions like ribbons
Worn bright on my sleeve

Strange how we know each other

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

And with each passing day
The stories we say
Draw us tighter into our addiction
Confirm our conviction
That some kind of miracle
Passed on our hands
And how I am sure
Like never before
Of my reasons for defying reason
Embracing the seasons
We dance through the colors
Both followed and led

Strange how we fit each other

Strange how certain the journey
Time unfolds the petals
For our eyes to see
Strange how this journey's hurting
In ways we accept as part of fate's decree

So we just hold on fast
Acknowledge the past
As lessons exquisitely crafted
Painstakingly drafted
To carve us as instruments
That play the music of life
For we don't realize
Our faith in the prize
Unless it's been somehow elusive
How swiftly we choose it
The sacred simplicity
Of you at my side

Homecoming by Vienna Teng

It's desert ice outside but this diner has thawed my ears
Hot coffee in a clean white mug and a smile when the waitress hears
That I was born in North Carolina
Not an hour from her home town
And we used to play the same pizza parlor pinball

And there's a glance in time suspended as I wonder how it is
We've been swept up just by circumstance to where the coyote lives
Where my days are strips of highway
And she's wiping tables down
Holding on and still waiting for that windfall

But I've come home
Even though I've never had so far to go
I've come home

I pay the check and leave the change from a crumpled ten-dollar bill
Head across the street where VACANCY is burning in neon still
Well the night eats up my body heat
And there's no sign of another
And I find myself slipping down into that black

But things are good I've got a lot of followers of my faith
I've got a whole congregation living in my head these days
And I'm preaching from the pulpit
To cries of "Amen brother"
Closing my eyes to feel the warmth come back

And I've come home
Even though I swear I've never been so alone
I've come home

I just want to be living as I'm dying
Just like everybody here
Just want to know my little flicker of time is worthwhile
And I don't know where I'm driving to
But I know I'm getting old
And there's a blessing in every moment every mile

Thin white terry bars of soap and a couple little plastic cups
Old Gideons Bible in the nightstand drawer saying "Go on open up"
Well I'll kneel down on the carpet here
Though I never was sure of God
Think tonight I'll give Him the benefit of the doubt

I switch off the lights and imagine that waitress outlined in the bed
Her hair falling all around me
I smile and shake my head
Well we all write our own endings
And we all have our own scars
But tonight I think I see what it's all about

Because I've come home
I've come home

A Poem not too Obiang

Jason Leow (1993)

From fiddlesticks and By Jove
I pick my words to find
Alamak
stirring spicily on my tongue
like the first bite
of green chillies that sends
tentative excitement
popping out of their seeds

Why should I not drink
teh tarik and discuss
Lee Tzu Pheng
(without putting them in italics)
among friends who read but
Tread on the trappings of blind
Miltonic and Shakespearean worship?

Like the prata man's
flips and flaps of the dough
taking shape with each dose
of local flavour,
I look for my place
in a Singaporean life.

My place in the sun
is certainly not too LC
for some others' meringue pies
and afternoon tea.

- I really like this one, despite its occasional pretentiousness, because it at least makes an attempt to be proud of its local imagery and makes no apology for its opaqueness. Singaporean lit for Singaporean consumption!