singaporean writing

  • This weekend, I was invited on behalf of /stop@BadEndRhymes (“/s@ber”) to go and attend the first ever ‘Literary Arts Community Townhall’, held at The Arts House. It was an engaging and interesting experience and I just wanted to pen some thoughts about it. The concept behind the Townhall would be for these representatives of the

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  • SPREAD

    After ‘Mud man’ by Chikako Yamashiro  the word spread across the town like rain. we lie, waiting to be exposed to wisdom from the heavens. we let the word blot us out, cake us in dirt; your hands, blooming from the earth like mangroves. we are tethered here, grasping at raindrop, leak, and tear. somewhere

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  • I start off every poem by changing the font to Hoefler. Makes me feel a bit more … dignified … as though I have earned my right to say dear world I am a confessional poet when I never really do fess up and do I really write any poetry and this too is another

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  • Photo by JOSHUA COLEMAN on Unsplash awardless basical cancellatory doublesided egonomic futureproof gmale harmonal indiependent jocastian kinderheart

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  • In this dream, you shed your skin and cast away your leather wings; from your pockets, spill these things – antiplatelet medicines, Clopidogrel, Aspirin. Warfarin, for battles within. In another, I hold your chin and nothing else. Come, unspin this long dream of safety pins and other stories, wherein the might of the might-have-been becomes

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  • The Conjuror’s Closet

    “Tomorrow wears yesterday’s face.” – Flavour text from ‘Conjurer’s Closet’, Magic The Gathering Warily the doors creak as I am reaching into the ether again my hands are billowing in the current of adrenaline and shivering like kites caught in trees I am reaching in to bring out magic trickery (n.) the practice of deception

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  • 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

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  • triptych #6

    where was the world…

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  • Three False Hearts

    “It’s a saying they have, that a man has a false heart in his mouth for the world to see, another in his breast to show to his special friends and his family, and the real one, the true one, the secret one, which is never known to anyone except to himself alone, hidden only

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