Poems : Beau Sia


  Posted on September 24, 2014 at 4:33 am

where are the bottles
and the girls that come with them?

am I not in a video yet?

objects on tv
become objects.
it’s a silly game
we don’t know we play.

I love it when inventors
grasp the magnitude of their creations.

where was I?

trying to write many layered whatever,
capture the such and such,
moment the context and so on.

human experience
in the gathering dust of earth.

um, it’s called, socialite.
martini glass.

the term 6 figures
is ridiculous always.

I should be awarded
for my sleepiness.

I need more friends. why
the fuck
am I getting into this wallow thing?

what I need to do
is remember why I’m alone.

to gather strength
before the armageddon?

no. for a much more
compelling reason.

explained in the next book
you must buy!



  Posted on September 16, 2014 at 4:34 pm

Born within destruction I am created,
Time hones the being that I am today,
Yet many are the factors that designed me,
Shaped by my own environment,
Plucked out of normalcy and dipped into life,
I am he who is the mould of destruction,
A mould of all the world’s prejudices,
The harbinger of life’s disgust,
Carrying the burden of people’s fear,
Living creation of all that is wrong,
I am what no one wants to be,
The outcast.



  Posted on September 11, 2014 at 10:52 pm

dear audience,
my son agreed to perform this
so that I,
an immigrant,
could have a voice.

he does not understand this.
he has never had to leave
all that he knew and loved
in order to survive.

he is a tourist.
he will not drink tap water.

this is not for him.
this is for the philippines.

though I have not seen much of the world,
I believe that what I have to share
is relevant to many people.

thank you for listening.

yours, liz sia

and now, the poem:

welcome to the third world, assholes!

too late to run now!
you gave us visas to do what was beneath you.

importing us to build your cities,
nanny your children,
and nurse your fragile, antibiotic lives.

your ikea prices fucked our daily wage
and we are tired of sleeping
where your waste is sent,
so we. coming. over.

and you can’t do shit!
your children are too spoiled to stop the,
“immigration problem.”

our, “may I take your order,”
sends dollars, pounds, euros, and yen
back home.

gives our children education with computers,
our uncles houses with doors,
and relief beer cannot provide.

the first world taught the third world
how to use other countries in order
to benefit the motherland,
so now we
gonna colonize

from brixton to the bay,
tokyo to houston,
sydney to paris.

we learns fast, and we breeds faster!

the generation cleaning your toilets
will beget the generation doing your taxes
will beget your son-in-law.

we’ve had to adapt without a balanced diet
and we are not forgetting the deaths
that brought us here.

so thank you, for teaching us
now let us
teach you
what your salary could not.

you. live. in a world.

you’ve chosen to win at the expense of another’s loss,
your willful ignorance is just plain wack,
and your most favored nation status
has only gained you boredom, terrorism,
and high speed internet access.

we’re gonna serve the first world,
until you realize that we’re not just here
to serve you.

we’re gonna colonize the first world,
until you can’t ignore us
just by going click.

until our children stop being born
as the enemy.

until the first world
stops seeing the third world
as a different place.

written by my mother as writing device. 2005

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