Concerto No. 6 Outside the Post Office

Who would have thought,
I would be the kinda girl to sit
in front of the post office in Huntington Beach
listening to Allegro, Concerto No. 6 in B-Flat Major.
Oh the Academy of Ancient Music. Richard Egarr! Bach!

And turning it up, up so loud,
it’s like candy,
It’s turning my brain into jazz.
Like coming out of slavery,
I’m sitting right here rockin’ out,
like it were Bon Iver or Patrick Doyle
on steroids.
It’s the sweetest procrastination
you will ever have,
here, right outside the post office
in the middle of a sunny day.

How did I get here, you ask?

Well, first of all,
let’s just say Hatred and Envy and Sabotage
Didn’t break me nor kill me,
They just made my poetry stronger.
Yes, in a way, they killed me,
but I was reborn.
Like Viktor Frankl and Ingrid Magnussen,
I write on wallpaper and stick it
into the cracks of walls,
I polish the enemies’ stones like champagne,
cold and crisp without any sweetness
in the final freedoms of my mind.

I will not stop writing,
and I will fight to live.
You will continue to hate me,
but you will not have me.


Rogue planet is young wanderer


This modest dot

wandering the cosmos without a star to orbit –

100 light-years away.

“What a common thing,” onlookers proclaim!

(Yet she eludes close study)

disks of dust and debris
thrown out of a host’s orbit,
never reaching,
Never good enough.

Not a failed star,
a brown dwarf;

but stellar evolution without enough spark;
nuclear fusion causes light.

I end up free from gravity.

I speak in parliament about women’s rights.

There was a vast hunt with
a Very Large Telescope:
warm, young planets give off infrared light-

I will allow first guesses as to my scars
during a scan that covered 1,000 times of the full moon;
The composition that stains from excision.

“We observed hundreds of millions,

but we only found one homeless planet

in our neighbourhood.”

Sugar crystals in coffee
fascinate astronomers
50 -120 million years ago
(estimate of age)

Guesses of mass and temperature
short of limit
how I came to be
– the tiny beginnings of the sun, or
planet launched from its home?

Little object ejected from its native system,

Orphaned worlds, drifting

in the emptiness of time and space.

© Alicia Khoo

Feb 2013,
Ton Sai Beach, Krabi

A tribute to Ayaan Hirsi Ali and all women brave enough to become nomads seeking freedom, truth and compassion.

Poem inspired by:
“‘Rogue planet’ is young wanderer”
BBC Article 2012
15 November 2012 17:21

Johari’s Hierarchy of Needs

You cannot be angry at being robbed of something you never knew existed.

Like time, space, and the right to exist.

Privacy. Joy. Consciousness.

The freedom to express that consciousness.

Logic. Dignity. Minimum Wage.

The bounty of the earth.

And to be able to stand on any patch of soil on this planet

without being called an illegal alien

when you actually are home.

So why are we angry?

© Alicia Khoo

In the aftermath of the Worker’s Party winning the by-election,

Singapore, January 2013.