Poetry Chapbook is out on Amazon

For all you readers who have asked about where to get a hardcopy of my poetry, thank you for appreciating my craft. In honor of you, the chapbook is now out on Amazon and clicking on the link below takes you there.

Thank you for reading. Much love and wishing you peace, joy, and comfort this New Year’s 2015.

I Want You to Be Whole



Bali, Jan 2014


We Imagined Money Into Existence

Hans Holbien The Rich Man Brit Muse

Grant me a few moments to ruminate

over the philosophy of money–

Rich men try to bring it to the grave,

while the rest occupy Wall Street;

When someone says they don’t have faith,

it merely means they don’t have faith in the notion of faith.

We have faith in money like we have faith in gravity.

What would happen if every single person in modern civilization

started bartering with spoils of the land?

And said, “Away with pieces of copper and paper notes!”

Would it be our own Operation Bernhard?

Would it cause complete chaos that leads to mass suicide

or would it free all of humanity from

counterfeit and engineered debt?

What then, would we use to bail the banks out this time?

I turn on the television and watch

NASDAQ, Standard and Poor, NYSE Composite

(Forbes Fifty Richest Men in the World!)

roll by on the screen;

yet money isn’t inherently evil,

it can be a tool for the greatest cause–

but I fear we might have forgotten how powerful

human beings can be, when we sit together and imagine

instruments into existence.

And now we have virtual currency,

speculative transactions only possible

because of a collective faith (ah there that word is again! you exclaim)

and courage;

All things are possible, all are welcome,

Currency does not discriminate.

We shall sing and be merry at the marketplaces,

waiting for the bell, awakened to the truth.

Just wait till the Silk Road goes out of business,

we shall take all those bitcoins we stuffed in paper wallets

and go to the nearest casino and stuff our faces silly

at the international buffet.

© Alicia Khoo

NaPoWriMo Day 30


Never Good Enough

Who determines the

standard of beauty?

What we allow to exist

in advertisements and movies

determines the depth of a

plastic surgeon’s pocket.

I want to grow old, gracefully:

wrinkles and stretch marks

pointing to the number of years lived,

the songs I sang,

all the times I ever laughed

and wept;

and the words that come out

of my toothless mouth

magnifying the scars of my heart

every time I tried to love someone

but they wouldn’t let me

because they felt so unworthy

of anyone’s time,

that they would never put on those

dancing shoes and read my lips.

We walk on opposite directions

on either side of the street;

one to the scalpel and botox,

the other to tear down billboards

of filthy lies;

Come with me and we shall reclaim

what once was ours.

© Alicia Khoo

NaPoWriMo Day 26


Brave New World

He Said What?

He Said What?

What has become of us?

Celebrities are the new gods,

(I’m not sure what we’re celebrating)

televisions are the new temples,

time and money spent on gossip magazines

and going to pop concerts waving our hands in the air

screaming for joy or shrieking with manic tears:

these are our new sacrifices;

Weapons of mass distraction.

© Alicia Khoo

NaPoWriMo Day 23

Postcard from Galapagos


Instead of stamps and postmen, the Galapagos isle relies on a barrel and the kindness of travelers to move its mail.

Lost all goods at sea

Living in abandoned shell

All I have is yours

© Alicia Khoo

NaPoWriMo Day 19

An Ancient Postal System:

Galapagos island relies on travelers to deliver the mail

“Floreana Island’s postal service hasn’t evolved from its origins hundreds of years ago. But unlike Darwin’s finches, it doesn’t need to adapt to survive.

Instead of stamps and postmen, the Galapagos isle relies on a barrel and the kindness of travelers to move its mail. The guests, mainly cruisers eco-touring the Ecuadorian islands, sort through the stacks, looking for addresses within delivery distance of their homes. They also drop their own messages into the receptacle, adding another link to the chain of mail.

The practice started in the late 1700s as a way for English whalers to communicate with friends and family back home. The men heading out to sea would deposit their correspondence, which sailors returning home would collect and deliver.

The “post office” looks like an installation piece by Robinson Crusoe, with artful piles of driftwood and other organic detritus surrounding the elevated barrel. Stickers, scrawlings and a poster of Golden Age Hollywood stars adorn the artifacts as if they were a bathroom wall in a bar.

A New Yorker named Maura approached my parents with “Brookline,” thinking that the Boston neighborhood might be close to their home in western Massachusetts. She kept one destined for Cambridge, Mass., planning to drop it off during an upcoming trip there. The Swedish family grabbed a Stockholm-or-bust postcard and gave me a patient grin when I asked whether a holiday in Copenhagen was in their future.

In my cluster, I found cards addressed to California, Toronto, France and Germany. One for Vancouver said, “We are stranded on Postcard Island. Send help. Quick. Stop.” A sheet of thin, fraying paper covered in tiny print needed a lift to Romania. I was tempted to deliver it myself, worried that it might disintegrate before a Romanian-bound traveler could save it. After flipping through countless images of sea lions and blue-footed boobies, I finally scored: East Capitol Street, Washington, D.C.”

Article found at http://articles.washingtonpost.com/2010-01-31/news/36873153_1_galapagos-island-floreana-island-travelers