Moving a Mountain of Platinum


A cosmic shooting gallery

Have you ever tried to rip space apart
using the scientific method;

It is like ripping metal with your bare hands.

(This is the future my friends)

Like keeping rhythm with a hypothesis
And understanding that which is all math–

Math that exists outside of time
And time is infinity minus one;

That the diversity that leads to unity
cannot merely exist in just the number one
of the Arabic code:

Like an electric eel in a fishbowl
that gets moved
from one end of the galaxy to
the synapses of laminin
in our bodies;

Because life, breath and truth–
(even though we can imagine)

All these in the fullness of magnificence!
simply cannot be contained
by our minds;

Yet we blink. (and absolutisms
are absolved like
equations of peace
upon us)

Right now a rock bigger than the earth
hurtles toward us
and is caught in the asteroid belt;

It is subdued while we drink our coffee
and contemplate
divorce or suicide;
forgiveness, evolution, or altruism.

© Alicia Khoo

In memory of Jason Molina, December 16, 1973–March 16, 2013
(RIP Jason Molina, you live on in the music you gave to us)

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


We Are Not For Sale


Yearning burns

and anxiety swallows me whole;

I look out the golden cage,

at the mud or at stars–

it is a decision I must make,

an act of the will.

Like the girl whose boyfriend lied

and sold her to a brothel in


Too ashamed to go home,

scared of his violence

and too hooked on smack,

she finds a picture of herself at

nine years old,

in every public toilet in the city,

her father’s handwriting

in purple ink on the back:

“We know what happened and we don’t care.

I miss you. Please come home.”

When we hear the sound of keys,

only prisoners rejoice.

© Alicia Khoo

NaPoWriMo Day 29

We are not for sale.

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