Sunday, May 01, 2016

on waiting to be enlisted

It was a time of brick walls and bloodshot eyes...

photo by dsnake1

on waiting to be enlisted
early freaking 70's

so this is it
this is the mousetrap
i have been listening
to Uriah Heep's 'The Park'
speaking of loss
and needless wars
looping looping
till the track is
scratched thin on the vinyl.

outside just a floor below
the noon traffic lumbers by
horns angry, tyres screeching,
men swearing in dialects
strange that i did not
noticed it before
those noises
or the stand-fan
in the corner of the room
blades turning
stirring stale air
dust motes settling
on the linoleum

i am slouched on the
battered sofa
my mother yells at me
to move my ass
nothing interest me now
maybe just the music
or the static
in the head
i am not even
angry anymore
and that's dangerous.

in a couple of days
the army will come for me.


guys, i wrote this for SingPoWriMo 2016.

"..the sun rose each morning to stare into my face with the blank but touching gaze of a lovely retarded child.”

James Crumley, The Last Good Kiss

Shared on Poetry Pantry #300 at Poets United.

The Park by Uriah Heep.

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

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Sunday, April 24, 2016


Have you every worked late, and alone, in a large office? Late like, 3 a.m.?

photo by dsnake1


the fear
razor on skin

the mouth dry
about to

beware the whine
in the
air ducts

it is
ancient stories

the glare
of monitor screens
a vicious leer

you keep thinking
of pale
pallid faces

is that a strand
of hair brushing
your face?

if you just
turn your head
and you would not


the dark shadows
in your heart


a blur a shape in the corner

the room

the eye
the eyes
their EYEs!


more so

in the coldness.


"One need not be a chamber to be haunted.”

-- Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems

Shared on Poetry Pantry #299 at Poets United.

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

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Sunday, April 17, 2016

journey to the west

Mixing science fiction and Chinese classical novels can result in strange ramblings...

photo by dsnake1

journey to the west

maybe they misread a few parsecs
and the craft landed at roswell
and the natives
were really not too friendly

maybe they have been here
too many times already.
may have taken things too lightly
accidents do happen

think of tunguska

he was wearing a gas mask
and held a gatling gun
and we in our
and fright
he was
the pig headed general
the stars
to the west
oh yes
he had a beer belly too.



The four great classical novels of Chinese literature : Water Margin, Romance of the Three kingdoms, Journey to the West, Dream of the Red Chamber.

Don’t forget that a king may well have the head of a pig.


from “Mythology, A Rough Guide” by Mike Ladd

I was inspired by the lines from the above poem (and a rather slow day). This is a prompt from the Bibliomancy Oracle. It can work in mythical ways.

Shared on Poetry Pantry #298 at Poets United.

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

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Sunday, April 03, 2016

when she was reduced to ashes

I was at the grave of my late wife during the period of Qing Ming, to clean her grave and give offerings. I touched her portrait on the marble. She is lovely. She is.

I wrote this for SingPoWriMo 2016 (they have a facebook page to post for submissions, but I did not post it there as I did not join the event officially. I think I will not be able to write a poem a day, thanks to my horrible workload). SingPoWriMo is like a local version of NaPoWriMo.

photo by wintersixfour
image from

when she was reduced to ashes

to see her reduced to ashes
in a furnace
i am powerless
and nothing i can do
but to give a
weak wave
and every fervent talk of
life and death
is meaningless
for the night before
she was just a slab
of meat
in a casket
and to think
we used to talk
and laugh
about our small universe
and to
caress and care
every night
before we sleep.


"How I wish, how I wish you were here..."

-- Pink Floyd, Wish You Were Here.

Shared on Poetry Pantry #296 at Poets United.

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

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Sunday, March 20, 2016

and all we cared about was the shopping

It has been a while since i visited the Orchard Road malls...

photo by dsnake1, taken around xmas 2015

and all we cared about was the shopping

A child was riding the train with his father. I was sitting opposite them and could not help listening to their conversation. "Daddy," asked the boy, "when the train reaches the last station, how does it turn around? It got to come back right?"
The dad was not too sure either, for he started to hem and haw.
"The train is sooo long, but it got to somehow turn around, right?", the kid persisted.
The father seemed to have an epiphany. "The driver walks back to the other end", he said.
"Huh?". The boy was not sure what his father was saying.
"There are two driver's cabins on the train, one at each end", the father explained.
"When the train ends at one station, the driver walks to the other end and starts the next journey from there."
The boy was quiet for a while, contemplating his father's answer. "I want to see the other cabin", the boy said.
Sighing, the father took his child's hand, got up from their seats and started to walk towards the rear of the train.
I smiled. Poor daddy, it would be quite a long walk...

in the train
only the children look out of the windows
at the world.


“Nothing you do for children is ever wasted.”

Garrison Keillor, Leaving Home

Shared on Poetry Pantry #294 at Poet's United.

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

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Sunday, March 13, 2016

a modern nursery rhyme

I wrote this nonsense for NaPoWriMo 2011. It was getting zilch eyeballs. Hope it will do better this time.

The work in the office is boring...

photo by DarrenHester
image from

a modern nursery rhyme

Jack was a geek with a passion for speed.
He tweaked his PC to run it faster.
It purred like a cat but that's about that.
It spluttered and coughed and died soon after.


I think it kind of singes...

Road sign on a county road :

Shared on Poetry Pantry #293 at Poets United. Promise to be back with something better at next post.

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

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Sunday, March 06, 2016

i heard water rationing is around the corner

Is there such a thing as a tongue twister poem? No?

photo by dsnake1

i heard water rationing is around the corner


     coke can


     the kerb

     churning up



     a cigarette




     on ashphalt

     pleads pleads       please

itching to start a bush war

all the while the sun unflinchingly


at one time we had our tongues hanging out, and there was also the small matter of the haze from indonesia to contend with...

“I'm afraid I can't explain myself, sir. Because I am not myself, you see?”

Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland.

Shared on Poetry Pantry #292 at Poets United.

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

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