Pchum Ben

The city boys are riding to the countryside today

They’re looking sleek and dressed so chic for aunties and for mum

Returning to the simple life before they moved away

Pagoda bound for ancestors these days we call Pchum Ben

In country towns and villages the peacocks strut about

So happy to return a man who left as just a boy

And from her simple house the mother looks so proudly out

A son to feed is all she needs to fill her heart with joy

And dad is saying ‘bat bat bat’ to son who is a man

He sits and wonders what will happen in the years to come

Perhaps his son will come back home to live in Kampong Chnnang

To care for mum for now he knows his life is nearly done

So feed the hungry ghosts my boys for time will go so fast

And raise a son who’ll think of you once earthly days have passed



Dead or Alive

What did you find in the bottom of the bottle
How many demons to release
Poured you a drink and then poured for you another
One way to get a little peace
What did you want when you told me you were leaving
I watched you falling out the door
Did you believe I would lose myself in grieving
I felt like I'd been through the war
You're so unkind on the days that you are drinking
How many days are in a week
Alcohol won but the friend got lost I'm thinking
Help wasn't something you would seek
Everyone knows never trust an alcoholic
They only want another glass
Hatred you'd spew after being melancholic
Thank you I will not kiss your arse
Nothing is found in the bottom of the bottle
Saving the pain on which your heartache seems thrive
Drinking is one way to numb the pain of hurting
Dead drunk but feel you're still alive

The Grim Reaper

You think I am responsible
I'm not
The flesh upon my weary bones
May rot
My putrid life is festering
Like sores
So you think I have no values and
No mores
Despising is the easiest
To do
For understanding needs the will
From you
And no man would invest his time
You see
But destiny has played a trick
On me
For I was once a someone in
These parts
But once the rumours spread we close
Our hearts
A man who's labelled does not have
A choice
They cast you off and take away
Your voice
And being out there's no way back
You know
And I have reaped what other men
Did sow

Watered Silk

Scraps of disappointment in the tree
The warp and weft is hanging now in shreds
The fabric that was wrapped and made us we
Is nothing more than many broken threads
I brought my needle why don't you have yours
Repairing what we have a task to share
But you disdain my craft and thus my mores
And you would leave our life just dangling there
So I will weave a different tale alone
The warming red replaced with silver chill
For loving you has ultimately shown
The beating hearts to easily are still
My solitary silk is watered tears
My comfort cold to come in lonely years

Lose track

Today could be the future in your hand
Decide which forward foot would be the best
Then action all those things that you have planned
Or will this day be wasted like the rest
Initiating change is sometimes hard
But life cannot be lived by standing still
It’s time to leave the pack so pick a card
The future can be anything you will
And don’t assume my words are meant for youth
We live until the moment of our death
The clock is ticking every second’s proof
That life should run until its out of breath
Today is our tomorrow if we choose
For time’s a precious track we mustn’t lose


When I awake the night is silent still
The day is always slow to make a mark
But soon the golden chariot will fill
The sky through which eternal it will arc
The darkness must resent the end of night
But subtle now the sun divides the cloud
The jaundice is the promise of the light
The day will cast the night away like shroud 
Each day is born but no one can foretell
The drama and the tragedy to come
I hope that my endeavours will be well
This day it will be life and death for some
Tomorrow certain sun will light the skies
Less certain is if I will see it rise


Every morning coffee brewed at dawn
Always makes it just the way he likes
Then she goes to market every morn
Small old woman sits on big old bike
Sons she carried three and one survives
Lives with her in tiny wooden shack
Doesn’t think of other people’s lives
Much they have why dwell on what they lack
Family and food define her day
Cooking cleaning helping only son
Coffee sweet with milk his favourite way
Everyday her work for him is done
Love for three condensed to single man
Mother’s love as sweet as milk in can