When Things Don’t Work Out: A Collection of Poems

hello? can you hear me?

i’ve been meaning to say something

even if the signal’s not pretty.

i don’t think i can do this anymore. 

i’ve grown tired of the city

where my screams tend to evade me, 

my confessional streams 

poured all over the polished floors 

until i ran out of dreams-

i need a getaway across the seas;

somewhere deep in the country 

where i can still feel a breeze; 

a breath of dying somewhere pretty 

as if i carelessly ripped out a page 

out of my half-written biography 

that takes up too much of my head 

until they all cooperate to collaborate 

into my nameless anthology

but how can i craft such a thing 

when i’m not even dead?  Continue reading When Things Don’t Work Out: A Collection of Poems

National Poetry Month: Echo Edition (Part 2)

All I Can Do

by Jaclyn Heng

This is for the times I’ve had to keep a count of the number of days that went by without me getting whistled at or getting looked up-and-down while walking from my car to the BRT when travelling to college each day. A mere 7-minute walk and yet the Days I Did Not Get Catcalled count never reached a number where I needed more than my own two hands to count. 

This is for the one time I sent a middle-finger to a man whistling at me from a lorry, on a day that I’d had enough. I told my parents about it and immediately got told off for being vulgar, then spent the next week using a different route to college in fear that that same man would come back for revenge. 

But most of all, this is for all you girls out there who don’t even get to feel safe when walking alone on a street. 

This should not be the way we have to live, yet it is.  Continue reading National Poetry Month: Echo Edition (Part 2)

“Where are my human rights?”

Where are my human rights?

When did I lose my status of humanity,

become a race all too different.

When did the sins of another

become the sins of my father?

How did tomorrow’s terrorist

become synonymous with today’s entrepreneur, dreamer, son and brother?

Why do the blood and tears of my kin dilute in the face of justice?

  Continue reading “Where are my human rights?”