Tag: poems

A vacant motel

I adjust my sorrows
To gears perfect
I listen to its beat
My lungs retract

My temper never prone
To overt enthusiasm
From your excess, thus I loan—

The lack thereof—
I don’t feel I ever scorn
To affect

We talk of nudity
Of character, I mean
Your tolerance of mine
Is slowly turning fine
This weight, I bore in you
A trait, I detest too—

Reading and poetry
Breed crevices beyond honesty
To these doubts, no answers fill
Rises a plaintive woe, immortalised by quill

I dreamt of war

I dreamt of war, and of PM Lee
there he stood, mien of equanimity
handed me a gun and told me to defend
oh what war are we talking about after 50 years of peace!

there were people who had homes
of crumbling doors and straw roofs and insufferable air;
partially decomposed bodies and
of sanguine faces

everything was deafeningly silent
why stand here in this dreadful hour!

“Singapore disappointed TPP is unlikely to be passed…”
were the headlines of today
as blinding contrasts to
the stunning glories of Schooling, Hartono and our Paralympians

I (we) watch
as the
world spins
yarns of
hungry for radical change
as if education has done nothing but
developed us in independent thought
breeding individualism –
and the world now seems to progress towards a hodgepodge of hollers and protests

the scandal of Park and Choi
the insolence of Duterte’s remarks on Obama
the unprecedented victory of Trump’s presidency; his imminent repudiation of the TPP that will beget
grave political and economical ramifications; his idealistic protectionistic measures; his lewd remarks about women…
oh what now, what else!

the world is now in thorn and din
a garden of oxidised rotten cores

but I’ll say it plain:
many have died for today
in hopes of flowering faces
and singing children

let the voices of deceased poets
ring louder in our ears

Chancellor Merkel’s words are not for Germany and America alone,
it is for us all:
“[may people of the world be connected] by values of democracy, freedom, and respect for the law and the dignity of man, independent of origin, skin colour, religion, gender, sexual orientation, or political views.”

A Pawn Shop

in school they teach you Math
and make you read Macbeth
oh they inject you with algebra
and in Physics classes, they introduce lambda
through their coerced advocacy of appreciation
and presentations that fill you with mortification
most of the things in that particular institution
are not particularly relevant

O phoney phrontisteries
adept with theories
failure at elements of humanity
“don’t expect schools to inject you with creativity”
“acquire it yourself”
they chant
“school is your second home”

an overtly glorified institution
with warped purposes
depressing passion
feeding egoism

(there’s more than meets the eye)
(even nature has no mercy)

the antelopes leaping through the grasslands
are escaping the rapacious vines that crush their rangy limbs
the fittest koi gasp for air
for the water pulls weak ones down to dark depths
the chrysalis is a pawn shop
where the butterfly trades strength for beauty

what are we

Magnets Rust Too

your pleasant smile
(like iron filings to magnets)
you held it there
contrived I’d say —
natheless kept me at bay

cognisant of inherent affection
not due
yet furiously fervent
in your presence

(your fingers were spindly
yet slender)
I always knew
from time immemorial
that one day
I’d to cease ‘t
for failure to do so
will leave me

we were so close —
singing the same synchrony
adjoined in hearts and
thoughts —
skin met, at the spark
of contingence
(yet breeds blood)

the distance was apparent,
invisible yet very much palpable
I dreaded being ill at ease
alas, like fallen Nick’s clock

could see
melancholy being the
foundation of your emotions
painstakingly powered with risibility

(take me away
enshroud in pretence
wallow in gratification ‘n
be blest in beatitude)

like iron filings to magnets
turbulent emotions
could be ephemeral;
a sheer phase, for
even magnets
rust too

Less is More

colour of seeming purity
shade of assumed chastity
fragments of pathetic fallacy

bemusing books
complicated contents

concrete spine
not designed
for feeble minds

caressed by spindly fingers
seeming prelude to comprehension
thrown like doll into
dancing flames

“What does this mean!”
they candidly ask

  yearn to drench woe
into pages
  let ink, in the form of blood,
seep through the papers;
  serrate the throats of
  puff ’em up with vile words

vanish the vulnerability
bleed the bother

wheels within wheels
you fear the unknown and
  so do I


deadly poison from a pipette
acidic solution soon to add
poignant stale atmosphere
mad scientist don’t you dare interfere

fuelled and metallic men were accredited
yet carbon copies copied and edited

it’s done
slowly they dump it in a terrarium
‘n manufactured an auditorium

produced marionettes
pulled ’em
left ‘n

only should thou be a copy
would thou suit the system
vitiligo is unlovely
deemed due rules that restrict like

‘n angels clasped
  virulent arrows

it’s done
they polished the conical flask
like magpies to diamond glass

there the flask was shelved
together with the rest

  they named it: “Universe”.

Thank You, Our Founding Father


we have You
to thank

Your leadership will serve eternally as an emblem
  for the younger generation
Your judicious governance
  marked with democracy and equality
Your legacy evidenced by
  our harmonious society
Your wise words
  catalogued in chronology

we have You
to thank

with hands of an architect
and with the mind of an intellect
Singapore today
morphed from dust and clay

we have You
to thank

Your tenacity ignited
our mere red dot
giving it the intensity
and international significance

Your fortitude paved
a successful Singapore

In paying our respects
we will never forget;
we remember with Gratitude
an esteemed Man

we have You
to thank

Rest In Peace, Mr Lee Kuan Yew, Our Founding Father

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