The Muse

Have you got the feeling that you have gone through this before?

photo by Jake Charles at Unsplash


The Muse


How many days already? The Muse is still missing! I woke up and the pencil is on the floor, and the sheets of paper lurking in the waste basket. Shall I go and file a missing persons report? But the cops will probably ask some awkward questions like where did you lose it, what time was it, and worst of all, describe the lost item.

You don't understand Sir, it is a person. Sort of.
A person, eh, and what does he do?
She helps me write poetry, sir.
She, eh? and they give me a knowing wink. Ah, the literary type, and I can imagine them picturing her, in thick glasses and toting a couple of thick books.
Have you checked the library, probably she's there, and what's her name please?
I think it's Clio, or Erato, or Polyhymnia, she's very vague about that too, and I can see them eyebrows rising just a bit.

And then i think I dropped the bomb by saying that she is not a real person. Not in a physical sense, but very real to me. First they roll their eyes, one poke a finger at me and threaten to lock me up if I don't exit the station by xx seconds.

So what choice do I have but to do my own legwork, poke in at the pub I brought her there a couple of times, that cafe by the beach. Or I can just sit tight and break some pencils and crush some papers. During the World Cup, she thought England was her beloved Greece. Poor thing! She was there at the coffee shop, watching the games on TV, cheering the wrong team. And me like a fool followed her and made some wrong choices at the betting shop.

She will come back to me, I am sure. One fine day when I am threatening the keyboard, she will be back, without a greeting. Sulking, sultry, laughing, murmuring. Always like that. As I am running out of poems, I will welcome her back. No hard feelings.


From an old journal,undated.
Revised somewhat, Sept 2020.
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Stereopony - Stand By Me

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2020

I is for Insects

Written for NaPoWriMo long ago. Few eyeballs at my other site. We know the drill.

photo by nockewell1 at pixabay



I is for Bugs


I is for bugs
In that
They are
Icky
Irksome
Irrelevant

But Impossible to Ignore.

They bite you, suck you
Fly before your eyes
And make you
Itch
Irritated
Ill-tempered.

Worse, they Insult your Intelligence.

You find it
Incredible
Incredulous
Implausible

That they were here
Hundreds of millions of years
Before you, Ignoramus!

I is for Insects.


08/04/2012
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There are, at present, some 4,600 species of cockroaches, 3,500 species of mosquitos, and 120,000 species of flies. I am only talking about the 'pests'. There are still beetles (oh yes, a big group), grasshoppers, butterflies, moths, ants, and bees. And a lot more. They are gonna outlast us anytime. 🦋 🐞

Hey guys, feel free to add any more "I"s in the comments. 😁

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2020

autobiography of a minor hood

Sometimes you look at a picture, and it screams "prompt!".

photo from morguefile.com



autobiography of a minor hood




well, you look like you were constipating.
you think i stole and ate your fried chicken wings?
today is a saturday, you hate calendars, remember?
we don't mess around with tequila on saturdays.
moreover the blackbirds have flown the pie.
yeah it looks bad on you, klutzy and all
but really you should saw off that shotgun
makes it easier to conceal you know.
however you still look like a mafioso with a bad eye.

now let's go get a drink.


07/05/2016
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"One thing is for sure though. Trouble is trouble, no matter where you are."

--Felix, Felix the Cat: The Movie

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2019

why the boss never ask why i was late

It's just how we look at things. And then we won't worry about small things like being late for work.

cartoon by dsnake1
click on the image for a larger size.



why the boss never ask why i was late



01. The bus was late.
02. The bus was late, as usual
03. The bus was later than usual.
04. The bus was not late, blame the gridlock
05. Two guys stared and then fought in the bus.
06. There was a suspicious package in the bus.
07. It was raining, the roads can get slippery.
08. Taxi fares have gone up again.
09. I can't afford taxi fares.
10. The boss was late.


written with a cola : 20/04/2013
revised with a beer : 07/06/2019

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Not many eyeballs at the sister site. Inspired by McSweeney's

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2019

7 days (what i saw in the neighbourhood)

How to start a New Year post? Oh, about a week of shenanigans in the neighbourhood, and some colloquialism thrown in. 😎

What! New Year was last week?

digital collage by dsnake1





7 days (what i saw in the neighbourhood)


1)

Friday Nov 27

only this empty greasy table
noodles i must have today
bak chor mee will do nicely
no cake, never mind.
mother said so


2)

Monday Nov 30

girl in the bus frowns
thought i was staring at her.
great legs though.


3)

Saturday Dec 5

glossy brochure, 2 storey house in JB 1180 sq feet
my malaysian friend pointed out, very cheap
RM330K only

where the fuck do i get RM330K?
how much you paid for your singapore pigeonhole then?
hahahas


4)

Sunday Dec 13

hey auntie, your dog shits anyhow anywhere
ought to clean after, i wanted to tell her
but her face like her pug's.


5)

Wednesday Dec 16

does anyone still dial 1711, friend asks
check time lah
crossing carpark, saw car with plate 1711
a sign! a hint!
buy the number on 4D, same day, zilch.



6)

thursday Dec 24

a pair of sloopy looking papier mache reindeer
at mall entrance.
small kid looks at it and walks away.

only a drenched plastic santa
in the rain.
diners chatting at coffee shop


7)

Tuesday Dec 29

on way to lunch same JB friend observes, before elections your gahmen give you one chicken drumstick to shiok shiok. after elections, they take back whole chicken. hahaha!
dammit, he may have a point.
shall we have chicken rice, Ken?




various days, 2016
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For you folks out there who are lost with some of the language :

bak chor mee - minced pork noodles, a staple in Singapore's hawker centres.
JB - Johor Bahru, the Malaysian city nearest to Singapore
RM - Malaysian Ringgit, the currency of Malaysia
4D - Our local numbers lottery, of 4 digits
lah - a slang word, an interjection commonly used in here and Malaysia to complement almost any sentence in a social conversation.
gahmen - Our Singlish way of saying "government", usually as a cynical or sarcastic usage. popular in internet chat.
shiok - Usually used as an expression to convey pleasure or excitement.

still not sure, just google them lah.

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boy : Dino!
cat : meow!!
nice to know that the community cat has a name.

(this makes it the 8th day?)

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2017

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 morguefile.com




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.



09/04/2011
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I think it kind of singes...

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Road sign on a county road :
DRIVE SLOW AND SEE OUR CITY.
DRIVE FAST AND SEE OUR JAIL.


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

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

not off to a good start

Playing with strikethroughs. I think it's quite fun.

photo by krosseel
image from morguefile.com



not off to a good start




when mother came to send me off on my first day of the ns army enlistment, she was almost crying. i said, "don't worry, i promise to write dun worry lah, i will call back, okay?". i heard you have to wait ages maybe an hour or so for your turn at the only payphone in the camp, and then to utter a few words like "the food sucks" or "you won't recognize your son, me." that might worry her a bit majorly but it was the truth.

"take that fucking pendant off your neck, yelled the sergeant on the first day. "but sir, my mother gave it to me as a good luck charm". "take that fucking pendant off before i wring your neck" yelled that fucking sarge again, obviously not charmed. and i had to take that fucking pendant off. it wasn't going off to a good start.



16/08/2015
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Army storeman : Did the uniform fit you ?
Soldier : The shirt is ok, but the pants are a bit loose around the armpits.

-- Totally Useless Stuff


Shared on Poetry Pantry #265 at Poets United.

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ), 2015

toilet talk

Rats! What an awful week. Things don't work right at work. It had not rained for weeks (okay, it rained yesterday and today). The haze is back, thick and troublesome. Think I will post a little joke here. Jokes can't go wrong, I suppose?

image by dsnake1, done with pencilmadness




toilet talk


I was at a men's restroom in a bowling alley, doing my you-know-what business, when i heard the guy in the next cubicle said, "Hello, how are you?"

Thinking that the man was just trying to be friendly, I replied, slightly embarrassed, "Okay, i'm fine."

Then he continued : "So, what are you doing now?"

I tell you, I'm not used to carrying on a conversation while shitting. But just not to offend him, I said "Ahh, I'm into software" (which was quite correct at that moment).

It was really getting a bit uncomfortable for me at this point. Then he tossed another question., "Can I come over?"

This one was really sudden and kinky, I mean I am really lost. I was really nervous now, but quickly replied, "NO. I'm eh, sort of busy now.."

There was a short pause, a nervous cough, and the guy saying, a bit agitated..
"Look, I'll call you back later. There's an idiot in the other cubicle who keeps answering all my questions!"




P.S. I made this up , of course I wasn't there. I read of this joke somewhere, maybe some of you guys had already come across it.

I promise to be back with a poem the next time.

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And a haiku to end the day...


cellphone



crisis day in the office.
my cellphone rings -

wrong number.

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2014

geography lessons

I have posted this before, but I think it is a fun poem and should be shared again.
When I was in secondary school (and that was a loong time ago), geography was one of my favourite subjects, though I was in the so-called Science classes, where the priority was on Physics and Mathematics. I guessed I was a mixed-up student.

And then along the way I ended up liking poetry. :)

image by dsnake1




geography lessons


I loved geography lessons
not most of my class.
Our teacher Mr. Newton from Texas
drawled in an accent that's hypnotic
and lured some of the guys to sleep,
not me.
And poor Mr. Newton won't know
what to do with them,
he couldn't throw a chalk at the deadbeats
not like Mr Tan of Physics class.
So I paid attention
and was quite good,
knew that Bikini was a nuked island
and oxbows were not weapons,
while most of them
fidgeted in their chairs, chewed gum
and hoped that Miss Pang
the sexy literature teacher
would walk past,
just some slight distraction.
And we had a guy
we called Chairman Mao
who would debate fervently
with Mr. Newton
the virtues of communism
over the capitalist pigs,
the proletarian will triumph
over the bourgeoisie
and the whole damn class
would groan
and wish for recess.



27/07/06
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"How do you find America?"
"Turn left at Greenland.”
-- Media question to The Beatles during their first U.S. tour, 1964


Shared on Poetry Pantry No. #192 at Poets United.

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2014

pebcak

Okay, I am trying to be funny. After a week or two of near inactivity, and also trying to write a haiku a day this month (not much chance with the "a day" thing), I am posting something old again.

In the early days of the personal computer, people with money to burn will try to get their hands on one. Then the trouble starts. They delete essential files. They invite malicious characters into the machines. Basically, it was a plaything then, but now we can't live without one.

I kid you not. In the early days, there are lots of clueless people around...

pebcak





What do you mean you don't get the picture?

You have a square with a X in the corner?

What type of crap image program you have?

No, no Windows XP is not....don't be daft.

I sent in dot j p g, that's j-peg.

You don't know what the hell's that?

No, no it's not some japanese porno,

It's some format, stuff it, you won't know.

Tell me what's on your desktop.

pen, cigarette, ashtray, scotch?

No, tell me what's on your screen.

What do you mean there's nothing?

All right, don't touch anything, go chill some beer for me.

Be at your place half hour, and did I say you're a dummy?



15.09.06
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pebcak = problem exist between chair and keyboard, sometimes also known as :
picnic = problem in chair, not in computer.

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ASCII stupid question, get a stupid ANSI!

ERROR : Keyboard not attached. Press F1 to continue.

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Hope to be back with some serious stuff soon...

Shared on Poetry Pantry #188 at Poets United.


© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2014

pussyfoot

Something old. Memories and blog post and me. Sorry, no poem (maybe a haiku).

photo by imelenchon
image from morguefile.com



pussyfoot




Pussyfoot

The word just popped into my mind while I was having my tea at the coffeeshop today. Maybe it was the cat padding around under the tables. Maybe I have turned soft and nostalgic. Whatever the trigger, the word brought back a flood of memories.

I was young then, just out of the army and looking for a way to survive. I took on this job at a nightclub in Geylang, waiting on tables and serving drinks. It was a real sleazy place; triads, loan sharks, con-men. And a floor show that even the hardened mamasans blushed at. The management had advised, keep your eyes open, and your mouth shut and you should be fine. So the first day at work, someone ordered "pussyfoot", and I sort of went "huh?", what the heck was that?

I went to the counter, repeated the word as I remembered (which wasn't too difficult), and the bartender nonchalantly poured out something as if that was the most ordinary thing in the world. In my vocabulary at that time, drinks meant beer, brandy, whisky and rum, you know, the hard stuff.

Turned out a pussyfoot is a non-alcoholic concoction of a few fruit juices served chilled. I also found out that it was indeed the most ordinary thing in the club, a favourite with the ladies. Nice to sip with, and nowhere near potent enough to be knocked out, so the men couldn't take advantage of them. Of course the men wouldn't be seen dead with that drink, heavens! They want stuff that is a bit stiff.

The tips were good, those people there threw money around like water. I came to work with a few coins in my pockets, and went home with a fistful of notes. The management had warned, do not pocket tips yourself, but I was young and brash then, and everybody else was doing it, to hell with the rules. It was good money. The tobacco smoke was another matter.

It's amazing, what a word, buried in the deep recesses of the memory, can somehow surfaced and brings back a train of images...



18/02/2006
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neon

neon
splashing on my face

with the rain


09/11/2013
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I promise to be back with a poem next time, not this, uh, stuff.



Shared on Poetry Pantry #175 at Poets United.

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2013