My friend always tells me that she can’t understand my poetry–tilts her head in a funny angle and quips in a bewildered tone,” why can’t you say things in simpler terms?” And she’ll shake her head in a funnier way and say stuff like I remind her of Shakespeare who spends 10 stanzas describing a fainting spree. Of course, she did not say this cos she didn’t bother to read shakespeare and could not have possibly counted the lines without flipping to the said page but this is how she feels.

But I’m sure that she’ll know what this poem’s all about. Its about my dirty caffeine habit–no less than 4-5 cups a day, something Hannah repeatedly calls my blood “90% coffee” and proceeds on to suck at my wrist in a drugee way. Basically I got some coffee at the vending and found the cup versatile when I finished it in class. It became my pen stand and source of inspiration (cos the cup said “super multi vending”) and I thought it interesting and started a poem on it about me buying coffee form the vending, then swirling it on the hand and observing the motions while I swirl, as if I’m being sucked deep down into the whirlpool, then as the ice cubes melt, I realised that a long time has passed since I stared at the contents and contemplated, so I gulped down the coffee and threw the cup away.

Coffee at the Vending

Multi-Vending drowns the voices,

Cafeteria goes.

Swirls the cream elixir,

Coffee coffee toast.

World revolves around,

Whirlpool sucked deep.

Deep down under,

Deep down its me.

Hands up to lips,

Swish, gulp, mint.

Cube fades to hint.

Tick, tock, slipped, slurped,

Away leaves the last.

Crumples, folds once,

Twice, Thrice, Toss!

Feeds into the hollow,

The Caffeine-Infested Soul.

This is a playful attempt I should say. Did in during lesson time :p

I realised that when I write poetry, I should write it in crowded or maybe distractive environments and when I don’t really intend to write poetry at will, but just write it cos I’m bored.

Hope this added perspective to your daily cup!

Meanwhile, peace.