September 2011
11 posts
lost in the world
I’m lost in the world I’m down on my mind I’m building a still To slow down the time
young boy of 15
always the quiet one,
he preferred to put a fortress around his thoughts.
impenetrable to even those that shared the same blood.
never put down his walls,
never wanting to show weakness,
he pushed others away to deflect his pain elsewhere.
men aren’t supposed to cry, right?
…bullshit…
...
5 tags
Rach Gia: Stream of Consciousness
The last place I thought I’d see you was Viet Nam.
It’s been four years since the screaming has stopped, since your back was the last thing out the door. And four years since I wasn’t even there to see it go. Four years; and the thing we most shared that weekend was silence.
Here I am at age 20 in your que huong, but here we were at opposite ends of the boat, making its way through river deltas...
8 tags
“smile to remind people that there’s still beauty in this crazy world we have now”
– Alladin Pangilinan | Southeast Asian Prison Outreach Project Pen Pal
Saloth Sar
Saloth Sar was born on May 19, 1925, to a middle-class family in a riverside fishing community. If he was to have been born in America, he would have spent his childhood in the glamour of the Roaring Twenties, only to have the majority of his youth amidst the Great Depression. But Sar was not born in America. He was born in what is today north-east Cambodia. And he would experience much more...
penguins
Why are you so awkward? People tell you this all the time huh? That’s because they fail to see what’s beneath The black and white exterior that is fur.
People only see you on land, Where your short legs render you incapable Of walking without bobbing your entire body To either side. But I see you.
I see a kind and caring soul. Not many are willing to take sacrifice to the level That...
draft #4: homeland
the Pacific touches the bottom tip of Southeast Asia a long thin “S” shaped strip marks the land my parents still breathe when their tongues speak dialects of bắc and nam
i unravel a culture fresh fish sauce stench in the barking market center the motor bike exhaustion pipe echoes through the city of Sài Gòn my arms wrap tightly around ba as he drives off to remember home before the war where...
