Poesia sunyaxah / Dreamshining poem
you who envy my deaths
By kevin martens wong zhi qiang
originally published thursday, 17 april 2025
on tigri sa chang
Koitadu | Content warning
Please first read about my writing in the Skribadorang or Writing section on the Igleza page here before reading the piece below so you have advance warning about the rather spicy things that I often like to write about, and why I choose to write about them, especially in terms of subverting unhealthy stereotypes about gay people, Kristang people, Creole people, Indigenous people, masculinity, neurodivergence, the body, healthy forms of attraction and sexuality, and using my writing to process the severe individual, collective and inter-generational trauma and abuse I have faced across my life. Please also first read about the Kristang Creole/Indigenous practice of sunyaxah or dreamshining that this poem is an example of in the Sunyaxadorang or Dreamshining section on the Igleza page here before viewing the text and image below.
Korpupintura ja fazeh na Kintafera, 17 Paskras 2025
Body picture taken Thursday, 17 April 2025
I am made only of the brashest certainty that I write these words
for the might of hell
to be once again unleashed onto me;
for I do well
knowing that I exist in only the most sublime states of creole-Indigenous
uncertainty. Keeping all of the ways you drove yourself to
ugly, anti-democratic heresy
concealed within these eight dreaming eyes
and infinite, endlessly self-healing skin. When I died
to myself, I noticed that you still had yet to give
yourself a purpose that could give you some clarity
and a chance to be more than an endless, recursive assertion
that you yourself
are made of nothing
but sin.
Disgust.
Pestilence.
Despair.
You open yourself to the light
and then fall apart in blinding, self-induced hyperluminal screaming neurotypical spite
for knowing that
there is nothing
and no one
actually there.
That you have never even come close
to seeing your real, authentic self clearly
much less
in your own
underwear.