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


The Deepest Spot on Earth


When I was a child,

I was sent on a journey to

find the meaning of life;

or someone would die.

They told me,

“If you leave it out,

everything will be stolen

so cover it with a glass lid.”

I crossed the desert just to see

the Pyramids;

I wanted the answers

and found God in my hunger.

“Why are you scaring him?!”

He said that

my enemies taught me more

about me than I ever knew.

I see my reflection in a book

I wrote,

and the meaning of life stares

right back at me.

They were not satisfied with the

answer upon my return;

for it did not bring immortality

nor great wealth

(therefore, useless).

We’re dying Richard Parker.

Look into my eyes.

I lost everything.

I no longer owe you anything.

I really hate Facebook but…


For what it’s worth, my Facebook page is up and running! Yes I finally got around to it. Come on board to keep updated on my latest political rants and humanitarian causes that I support. Also from time to time I will throw in some jokes to end the day, so you might even go to bed smiling, or weeping. So a poet walks into Pyongyang…(See I had you in stitches already! See you on FB! :))

Also very excited to repost selected poetry/flash fiction from fellow writers if it interests/moves me.


All support appreciated!

Let’s keep the love of poetry, critical thinking, and freedom of expression alive.

I wish you bliss and liberty in the pursuit of truth,


Back from Work

Vladimir Kush 11

 Did you find the Indian ocean

 in a pot of luck?

Or the love of cups and dice

in a gypsy’s trailer?

Dinner’s getting cold dear,

and some of us are too full

for knowledge;

Today I drowned in a field

of wild poppies,

fireworks like when we were

overnight billionaires

trading in emeralds,

silver spoons,

and treacling honeycomb.

© Alicia Khoo

 vladimir kush artwork

Day Three of NaPoWriMo

Prompt: Out of Luck

My ex-wife wasn’t supposed to get this text

i went to duty free and tested all the perfumes, now i smell like a damn rose garden The dawn i went to duty free and tested all the perfumes, now i smell like a damn rose garden i went to duty free and tested all the perfumes, now i smell like a damn rose garden i went to duty free and tested all the perfumes, now i smell like a damn rose garden

never disappoints, never abandons, it is constant on our world of changing minds.

i was prepared to die a lonely man. still am. then i realize i wake to a constant companion, that something will be with me till the end of time. not marriage not children nor a house. something constant and eternal. i’m done chasing dreams and making plans, all has lost color and appetite, even you and what i could have with you, it is too late for games and playing life. i am invisible to you, and i will run even when i am next to you. I’m i went to duty free and tested all the perfumes, now i smell like a damn rose gardeni went to duty free and tested all the perfumes, now i smell like a damn rose garden i went to duty free and tested all the perfumes, now i smell like a damn rose garden

just chasing time again. i will walk alone, and my journey began at the end of hope.

Alicia Khoo

Titled: My ex-wife wasn’t supposed to get this text

Experimental Concrete Poem

Written at London Heathrow Airport, 2012

Letters from an Orphanage

As I watch you play in orange fields,
Blown open by landmines,
I marvel

How you will never have a huge birthday cake
with candles and whistles and a piñata and

friends from daycare,
to celebrate your

fifth birthday;
Your folks inviting friends you don’t like or your

best friend for today

and a new pal tomorrow.
Together, destroying Barbie Dolls, hairbands and plastic guitars,
yelling at Mommy that you would prefer

French fries and not green peas,


Spoonfuls of old rice,
raggedy dresses some other girl didn’t want;
every toy passed down is such a gift,
because nothing has ever


to you.

I think of how you would never see Disneyland,
that you would never have Mommy or Daddy
tell you a

bedtime story, sing you a


take you to the

library, or fret about your


college fund.

Smiles with so much joy
spilling over, even when your teeth hurt from
cavities, or when ankles are covered
with mosquito scabs, fresh and old that

never heal,
because you have no one to

dab lotion over the bites;
no one to tell you to

stop scratching.

How you clamor for attention–
anyone you could call Mama;
(Remember when another kid shoved you into the dirt,
I heard your cry and came running out the door)

When I found you, you buried your head

deep into my chest,
trying to find a refuge from this

sick war-torn grief-stricken world.

(Remember how you wandered the grounds all day smelling of pee;
Because you didn’t have any more clothes to change out of;)

Until I finally grabbed you and gave you a good bath.
Shampoo and conditioner, liquid soap,
And I draped a clean t-shirt over your head.

(How tightly you clung to me as I washed your clothes)
We watched a movie in Khmer as you fell asleep in my arms,




Maybe dreaming of a place where

parents never leave,
and where no one ever gets


for a bottle of beer.

© Alicia Khoo

Prey Veng, Cambodia

July 2010



They sit young, like new store bought candlesticks, the teapot calls the teacup black, his hair drips wax down his pants, like honeycomb. The cigarettes combust in her loneliness, pride kissed the cat, they call for more coffee. You’d think they’d be leaving, but no one is. The mirrors watch the teaspoons rust and her lips melt from heartbreak into the ice cream sundae sandwich root beer float banana split. It is too cold outside to sleep.
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