Tag: singaporean poetry

Fear Of Your Empty Beer Glass

Once, you asked me what I would want for myself; I answered as you would have wanted, i.e. mark of a man, a six-pack, job that pays good money etc. 5Cs and COE, a happy family. Another time you asked me ridiculous koans: what is the sound of two butts farting. If a NSman shits […]

the sharpness of theses at 2am

pause for thought – one mistake begets another. A treatise on compulsive lying: how one wears long sleeves even in summer, how one nods along to the rhythmic ritual of “yes, I am fine.” No. Break the glass – this is not just an emergency this is real life. Real in the sense that there […]

d&t class

Reminded myself not to talk to you. Not even to look. I’m always reminded that I am not Swayze – and you are not a ghost. That this is happening now. That we are not some formless clay spinning on a wheel waiting to be touched. When & how did we end up this way? […]

dream notes

Last night, I dreamt of an old friend picking up smoking, cigarettes with the look of pencils (because she wanted to be a teacher, you see). I dreamt of people I did not know. Last night, I dreamt, aside from her smoking lead, of a table mired in the middle of nowhere, all of us seated: […]

Shallow

Observe. Spit in his face, and he turns the other cheek. This man who is not even a doormat. A doormat is welcoming, even when stepped on. He is but the puddle you step over: shallow, dirty, unwanted, cold. Once, a part of something greater.

Apostles

You once asked why I followed you, kept with you at all. I said I knew it was right. This is how I knew then: weights left my face, my fingers fragile, hushing breaths. I feel you even when you’re not here. Father always told me that there’s a special place in Hell, just for […]

How to Fulfil a Prompt (poem for SPWM 2016)

There are little Aprils remaining on this Earth. These childish, dark months are diamonds. Yet like this long ramble not worth a kopi-o. Dr’s Chee’s wife likes to go for strolls outside. 家里aircon 坏 liao, she said dripping Niagara Falls. They couldn’t repair it, money was very tight. And to witness poets write nonsense, Desmond […]