Friday, December 4, 2009

Skin Art

Her skin was a canvas.

The girls expressed themselves in ink and needles,
immortalising beauty onto her,
in sharp aesthetic lines and sexy curving blackness,
in watercolour illusions,
they used her as a conduit for their electricity and
she had grown accustomed to being violated
and transforming into art after hours of pleasuring pain.

She sleeps,
her nightmares seeping into silence.
She wakes and another tattoo emerges,
fairy wings resting across her shoulder blades,
a rosary circling her ankle,
prose poetry creeping up her elbows.

She cannot come to terms with permanence,
absolute untainted faith and undying love.
Time was an unseen ghost haunting her relationships,
causing fight after fight,
and he doesn't understand.

So she allows the other girls to claim her largest organ,
then giving away her heart to a boy who never wants to grow up and dictate its beats as he should.
Give her a bucket to kick and
she'll dance life away,
her goodbyes in the rhythm and proof of her existence
in the hands of those trigger-happy girls,
and the eyes of that forever fighting, unhappy boy.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

Roots 2.0

The years pass as ephemeral as ever and I miss the desert,
its silence, the weight of dust.
I miss running,
my feet bare and my heart free,
my passage distorting mirages.
I miss the relative simplicity of the past,
the ease with which I fell and stayed in love.
I miss watching strangers doing their washing at the Nile,
while crushes give me piggy-back rides
and I dance with my best friend and her boyfriend.
The white heat go unnoticed as we made our way past armoured tanks and military towers,
men in robes taking a shit by the side of the road,
donkey carts beside our van, on the way to school.
Katy used to croon in my ear,
Gibson Stratocasters synonymous with drug deals,
Literature and Physics at the tip of my finger.
The years have passed and all I can do is dream,
yet again I dream and I am haunted,
the desert calls to me to come home
and I close my eyes to heighten my senses.
Let my heart be free again.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009


I have forgotten.

For the past few months, I have been collected, serious and overall good. I forgot who I really am.

Some eccentricities survived law school:

But my mind was bogged down with thoughts of the future, of saving and changing the world.
Criminal and constitutional law, social and environmental awareness.

Music was just a reprieve, a de-stressing mechanism.
Art was confined to fashion blogs and attempts at running in high heels.
Saturday nights reserved for studying.

And then, Samhain. A night traditionally denoting a time when magic is at its strongest, most potent. A night of celebration, of saying goodbye to the summer and its scorching heat and of welcoming in the falling of the leaves, welcoming the beginning of winter and the solace and silence it brings.
I was taken back to my roots.
Magick and music in a huge-screen LCD display of fireworks and a dancing, prancing Native American Chief:

I was a groupie for Halloween. I was me again, circa 2005.

Thanks a bunch to my standing Friday night date, Alisha CHANGI. Oh, how much I love that motherchucker.

Moving along... in the process of finding cams_groupie/Liyana Flowers...

Sunday mornings had been reserved for family events and catching up on my reading (god forbid, of blogs).
And then, Nina. Faressa.
Lucky bitch was about to be off to freakin' London for two months! So we made a point to meet before she had to catch a flight out of this wretched city we pathetically call home.
We spent the day in traditional LiyanaNina fashion: iced lattes at the tobacconist (where we talk about our sex lives), movie (Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs) followed by lunch (originally, we planned on sushi as usual but the movie steered our tumblies towards spaghetti and -duh- meatballs) and then magazines and iced passionfruit teas that cost as much as the magazines at the apartment.

With Nina's help, I remembered wanting to live in a caravan, traveling, free, accumulating shoes, ponchos and dreamcatchers... And BOOKS.

I have finally recalled my dreams, my loves, my hopes and aspirations.
Now, reconnected to my roots, I desperately wish to stay grounded, loving peace and mathematics, regardless of the limitations I have realised have been imposed on me... self-inflicted barricades.
Please, please let me stay essentially, me.

peace, love and math,

Saturday, October 3, 2009

'Tis the Season

It is fall and the leaves are turning,
Education commences and
the goodbyes begin.

I watched the sun rise as I held him.
A good bye accurately defined,
Love communicated through text messages
and meant through the years of friendship,
and promises of a future.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Solitary Refinement

No one can fully comprehend the precision with which isolation has found me, how much I cannot completely be loved as how I need to be loved, how deeply, heart-wrenchingly I wish I am not alone.

Words are empty to me. Moments flickering, ephemeral, never lasting.
A year can pass with constant company and the happiness that follow but one night, one hour, one second apart and I crumble, fallen as if I have never stood before.

Maybe it is a choice as they say, but what if I'm not the one choosing?
What if I am the one chosen?

To carry the everlasting ascribed burden of loneliness.
To only be present in the past and future, never being satisfied with what is now.

Impulses beat within my heart, electrifying my fingertips, setting my skin on constant fire.

I turn to you for asylum.
But who am I to do that?

Monday, September 14, 2009


Love is dancing outside my window,
Freedom inviting me to let go,
To forget and to laugh.

I see you in my imagination,
beautiful and perfect,
you speak of the universe and of the human condition,
you wait for me as I wait for you.

High heels and dreamcatcher pendants,
history sold like secrets on the streets,
gypsies and troubadors,
caravans and acoustic guitars.
This is me in limbo,
growing up with my heart broken yet beating.

I see you in my dreams,
you come to me in an effort to help,
peaceful and perfect,
you save me as I save you.

Love is dancing with me and I believe.
It's not enough but I still believe. courtesy of the Hubble Space Telescope....(the hodge 301 cluster - multiple generations of stars in the tarantula nebula)

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Northern Lights

I'm walking backwards into the ocean
My feet bare and my hands open and empty
The past has taught me nothing
And life goes on,
Its beauty transient and of the moment.

I've foregone other connections
And I'm left with a million unanswered questions,
Ignored potential and conflicting principles,
Ambiguous sentences and unfinished thoughts,
And life went on.

The years pass without my notice,
Days devoid of actualisation.
We laugh and forget,
We dance and say goodbye,
Slowness sets in and my rut grew embellishments,
Decorated with illusions and selective memory.

Northern lights call me away from the city,
My dreams call me away from you.
There is proof of love within our hearts,
But is it enough to keep me from walking back into the ocean?

...Disclaimer: Painting of Aurora Borealis from a Google search, I take absolutely no credit for it.

Sunday, June 7, 2009


It was just me, Lidia and Lola beneath the open-mouthed salivating sky. We stabbed silently at our already bleeding hearts, gutting them of the remnants of that thing called 'love'. We were jaded, our eyes now broken glass full of bonfire anger and hunger and mortality.
As we were killing ourselves to feed our pain, our skins created friction, touching, scarred, hurting, train tracks, microscopic holes. I gasp, overwhelmed by the orgasmic energy of suicide. Broken. Over.

Sunday, May 31, 2009

Dangerous Angels

Dust gathers in my arms, coating your void.
I've made my decision, I'm sewing shut my mouth,
Sealing in my secrets and kisses.
I'm sewing shut my eyes,
Sealing in the hurt, the glass, the glamour.
I've been dangerous for far too long,
Growing and breaking my wings too many times
I've been procrastinating my insanity,
Building up the madness in my mind.
And so the gates open one fine day
The rush of schizophrenic seizures,
catatonic calls and overwhelming waves
Hit me all at once, fucked me up big time.
I was in love, and I was loved back
I had passion and I had a friend.
But society felt my fire had to be put out,
Woke me up from romanticism with cold water.
I had to be separated from a soul-mate,
Disattach me from supposedly dancing delusions.
My parents never knew, they shot their own daughter
I fell down like a dog falling from the night sky.
I'm broken up, not gonna bother keeping it together now.

....... just something from my 2006 archive.........

Tuesday, May 26, 2009


Following recent events that caused the breakage of my heart and therefore my mind, I'm going back to face my demons and battle with my Borderline Personality Disorder. I cannot undergo psychotherapy or pharmacotheraphy so as to save my parents from distress, so I'm going to be self-learning coping skills. I do have some idea on how to proceed, and I am so sorry but I cannot seek social help. Someone I loved very much shouted at me last night to stop thinking selfish thoughts before hanging up on me and that was my trigger for wanting to deal with the fucking disorder, without burdening anyone else.
BPD has affected my life for too long and I had unknowingly allowed it to deteriorate my relationships. Before it can get any worse, I'm going to deal with it.
I don't know how long I'll be gone or if I'm ever coming back but tipsygypsywoman might act as a journal of my treatment.

Peace, Love, and Math,

Monday, May 25, 2009

Tabula Rasa

maybe i've run out of benefits of your doubt
you've put up with all my shit for way too long
maybe it's over for now but please don't shut me out
maybe love isn't enough but you are where i belong.

when you smile at me and you mean it
my world lights up and inflates, ready to fly
and when you hold my hand and tell me to sit
beside you, behind you, before you i would die
when you just look at me
i am happy beyond words and reactions
when you laugh with me
they don't exist, baby, the issues and complications.

so how 'bout a clean slate?
forget about the secrets and lies to date.
how bout we start over?
since we already have forever.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Gandhi vs Sid Vicious

Forgive me for having a dream.
Pragmatism has always been inherent in me
And in the bigger picture,
I understand the necessity of delayed gratification.

Maybe law school is too traditional in your opinion,
Maybe I should resist conformity,
But honey can't you see?
It's the only way I can think of to make a difference.

We share the same ideal,
I want to save the world and plant more trees,
You want to save the world and discover altenatives,
But you don't have the right
to dictate how I should go about it.
If I don't master the system imposed on society,
How the hell can I change it?

Maybe it's ok for you to fight guerrilla-style,
Anarchists in our own way,
We cannot reach a consensus
And I do not understand how we're so much alike yet
destructively different.
Maybe it's ok for you to take the harder road,
But honey can't you see?
I believe an inside job is more effective.

Forgive me for actualising my dream,
I'd love your support,
But I know it's not my place to ask.

A Different Kind of Goodbye

If it's ok with you, I'd like to say goodbye now
Remember the times I lost my mind?
I walked away as you were reaching for me,
My eyes closed just like my heart,
I left.
If it's ok with you, I'd like to say goodbye
To the moments when I broke your heart.

If it's ok with you, I'd like to make amends
Remember when I lied and you fell apart?
Can I atone and make it up to you, please?
If it's ok with you, I'd like to earn your trust back.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Do The Math

The many names given to a million shades of the same colour,
The 92 000 solicitors in Britain,
The summation of 3.14159,
The thoughts you thought of me,
It must all count for something...

Dainty crosses and dandelions on underwear,
Plastic trees and 3000 year-old mummies,
Best friends and soul-mates,
There's a story behind everything,
It must all count for something... somehow...

Sleep-filled nights and coffee-fueled days,
Scores of paper and hours poring over books,
Cigarette breaks and distant plans to quit,
There must be a light at the end of this tunnel,
and not another tunnel,
It must all count for something!

What's this about, silly clumsy occurrences,
Broken glasses and doctor's appointments,
Love would not stand down
And we're holding hands again.
That definitely counts for something, right?

Wednesday, April 29, 2009


Sometimes I stay home all night
Waiting for your senses to come back
You walked out and left me with your Louboutins
Did you think I'd chase you in my Agent Provocateur?

It's been two days and already I'm crazy
I miss the way you kiss
And I miss the way you walk in that dress
Won't you come back, baby?
I'll open a bottle of '78 Latour and
put Funny Face on the flat-screen
Won't you come back, baby?
We need to re-up our lease!

(Cameras follow our every move,
Secrets and lies told and posted to the world
You can't hide nothing from me
And I still love you, baby
Walk away all you want
We're lobsters, baby
So... sorry for ruining your life)

And sometimes I go out on platonic dates
Loving the company and attention
You call and I come a-runnin'
Did you think I'd have no alibis ready?

It's been a year and god forbid, you're still my girl
I miss the way you fight me
And I miss the way you let me catch your tears
Won't you come back, baby?
I've got strawberries and a ton of Cool Whip
Won't you come back, baby?
You know you belong with me!

(Repeat Chorus)

Walk away all you want,
I'll still wait for you, baby...

Monday, April 27, 2009

Is It The Same For You?

The sadness was apparent only in her eyes. Memories bittersweet and beautiful linger behind her gaze, an air of loss and setlling wrapped around her like an aura of flickering auroras. She cannot change what has happened, the moments that have passed, the opportunities she has missed. So she wonders wistfully, musing about what could have been. Thoughts of the costs she has had to bear plague her like a subtle companion trying to poison her contentment. At a loss of alternatives, she is helpless. Fow what she wants to believe is love; for that sake, she hopes. She takes is on faith that it is as it should be. But she cannot avoid the sadness weighing on her. A blanket of sober tears is the only comfort she can depend on, the only proof that the past was not meaningless.

Is it the same for you?

Sunday, April 26, 2009

The Named



Thursday, April 23, 2009

The Forever Room

Buttons, perfume bottles and printed pages were scattered across the floor. The room was vast and beautifully chaotic. Everything arranged and otherwise, possessed individual stories of secrets, happiness and hope. The sound of tears and laughter echoed within the decorated walls, making love with each other, creating the most bittersweet music.
My bare feet cautiously guided me, navigating me around that room blooming and almost bursting with history. I lingered in that room for what seemed like one-one-thousandth of a second, an eternity.
As I perused the items occupying every surface, I touched the materials that sang back to me, touching me back.
There were wine glasses from Paris, tea sets from London, spaghetti strainers from Rome. Boxes of memories from all corners of the world. Books, antique and read, newly-published and ignored. Fantastic, seemingly random pieces of stuff.
Smiling softly as I allow the past to serenade me, I whole-heartedly appreciated the chance I had been given to discover again what I had forgotten.


Understand this: I do not know who I am.
I'm probably the vaguest person I know. I sum everything up in beautiful poetic pieces of prose, describing it in such eloquence that I miss the point entirely. This way, I trick others into regarding me as an intellectual when if stripped completely, I have absolutely no substance.
So many have fallen for my trick and are disappointed when they look beyond my mask and find a phantom instead of a princess. And they react accordingly, slowly retracting themselves away.
And I get stuck with abandonment, rejection and a haunting sense of loss.
I replace what should be my own opinions, passions and stands with what I assimilate from others.
In other words, I'm a million pieces of a billion people all wrapped in one shiny package with fake sparkles I pick up randomly to shine behind my eyes.
Not many of my 'friends' understand this about me; my struggle with identity, and the gorgeous masks and facades I paint over the confusion within. Those unfortunate enough to see the scared little girl shivering underneath are astonished at finding her, and they feel an obligation to help.
And of course, being a scared, jaded little girl, I rebel and refuse their help.

This is my story. This is how I am where I am now: alone, confused, alienated. I have pushed away those who love the parts of me that are essentially ME and I'm still doing so.
So that's why I'm changing.

My mind needs a revolution.
It's been too complacent, revisiting the same cycles of shit.

My heart needs silence.
My poor, wretched heart, twisted into complicated knots; knots I caused, knots others tangled within it; my heart needs a reprieve, the relief of silence. Its beats need to be of its own accord, coming into existence naturally.

And what do I need?

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Happy Pill

We don't talk much or often
We don't meet for breakfast, lunch or dinner
We don't have any pictures together
And we don't think of each other all that much

But there are times you make me so happy
Like the world is beautiful and
Everything's possible

(You don't call and I don't write
You're laughing with someone else and
I'm crying over another lost love
You sing and I listen,
I'm your biggest fan and you know it
I love you and I know it's not always enough)

We don't have exclusive memories
We don't have much in common
We don't really know each other very well
And we don't think of each other as much as I'd like

But sometimes your voice brightens my day
Like I was sad and ignorant of that fact and
You're my happy pill

(Repeat Chorus)

This is about Teddy :) xoxo

Sunday, April 19, 2009


His music leaves me breathless,
Helplessly caught in the perfect noise,
My mind ceases to function and
My heartbeats are erratic and dictated
Bass beats and electric guitar riffs,
I can't explain anything
And if you ask how I'm feeling
I'll come up empty.
Pockets full of change and nothing else,
Pupils dilated with ecstasy,
I'm tumbling in love once again.

Sunday, April 12, 2009


Photographs scattered the floor, myriad of moments. Emotions captured and showcased. Memories accessible at a glance.

Somehow it all rang hollow to me, echoing emptiness.

"What's your vice?" he asked, his voice like velvet, soft and lilting.

I try my hardest to meet his gaze and convey some form of truth from behind my eyelashes caked with days-old mascara, dust and dried tears.

"You tell me," I answered.

His beautiful face fell, disappointment clearly etched onto his immaculate features. "Don't you think it's time you speak without political influences? Just drop all the vague ambiguities and indecisiveness and show me who you really are. Just show me who you are, baby." He was pleading, hurt and hopeful.

Thoughts embraced my mind in a storm of images, stories and justifications following the waves undulating within my selective memory. I have hidden away for so long. Avoding the light of truth, diclosing my imperfections under a cover of lies, fallacies and illusions. I do not know who I am, who I really am. And it's all on me. I cannot show him anything that even remotely resembled myself. The extravagant masks I've donned for so long have become like a second skin to me, clinging stubbornly to portray the shit that I am in a flattering manner.

"I'm sorry," I gasped.

And I fled.