I

You are a fish. You live in a pond. You know only water. One day you jump out of the water. You see a different world. You see trees. Humans. Dogs. You do not know what they are. Then you drop back into the water. You want to see more. But you cannot live in that world. It will kill you.

pencil sketch by dsnake1



I


I
a man
homo sapiens
now sits and belches
does not believe that I have
as my ancestors a fish! A fish, Ha!
homo pisces i scream, I on the apex of
the pyramid of living things could not have
begun my reign as a fish, or an amoeba for that
matter, until then till wars raze the world and armies
and trebuchets and arrows fly and black choppers
scatter metal rain, war drones unleash hellfire
and black sticky rain fall thickly every day
and then the words of life are rewritten
from chance and carbon and flames
salt & water homo sapiens will
remain a fish, and on a dark
desolate scarred hillock
in a second coming
in the rubble
will stand
another
man.
I



undated, quite old

revised : 08/11/2021
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A Perfect Circle - So Long, And Thanks For All The Fish

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2022

dark side of the moon #10

and the moon comes crashing down...

Clipart by OpenClipart-Vectors at pixabay



dark side of the moon #10


i am thinking about the noise that lifted up
all the buildings like thrown lego bricks
still, like faraway dreams, i faintly
see strangers, walking, tripping,
calling names but i woke up on
what was once a street, dim
in the grey fog. faintly
i see a paramedic, the
man walking away
hey you can't
leave me like
fucking this!
he turns his face
he appears to be crying
perhaps there is too much
death and misery for one day
far too many awkward questions
a fine rain of grey ash is falling
just ash, flaky, dry, stinging lungs
to my right a dirty, naked mannequin
missing most of his hair and a
                                  mouth


25/06/2021
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The prompt at Poets And Storytellers United was "to burn". I think this comes close.

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A Perfect Circle - So Long And Thanks For All The Fish

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2022

homecoming

There is no spare...

photo by darksouls1 at pixabay



homecoming



We sit by the side of the lake, taking in the cool breeze, the chirps of the birds, and the sight of the single sun high up in the blue sky. It is a fresh change to hold the meeting outdoors.

The Chairman holds up his hand to start the discussion. The issue here today, he says, is to look for another site, to stay here and make here our home ourselves, or to stay and propagate with the natives. The natives are another issue again. They talk in a language we cannot understand yet, but our translators can decode later. They cannot write, which until now, we are sure of. They have clubs as weapons, which our guns can handle easily. But they are fairly intelligent, they have tools and utensils and dwellings. And clothing.

The issues are to be put to a vote, and the Chairman wants a firm consensus. There is no going back to where we came from. Even with plasma ion propulsion, our spaceship will take some time to reach our home planet, dying from the excesses we have made on her. Thus the expeditions in the first place, to preserve our species, to look for a new home planet. And this blue planet is a lot like home.

The Chairman raises a finger. "Any hands to look for another site?"


07/07/2019
**********

226 words. Can't believe I wrote this in one afternoon.

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“It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.”

- Rainer Maria Rilke

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2019

apocalypse

inflated egos and nuclear codes...

photo by MabelAmber at pixabay




apocalypse


in the time when the stars fell on us
and two suns shone in the morning
and after that perpectual dusk followed
and black rain fell, sticky, smelling of metal

in the time that locusts ruled the skies
in clouds larger than bomber squadrons
and the rats and snakes fled in fear
from their burrows
and the crows flapped tired wings
resigned to surrender

in the time that boils and sores
and skin peeled off like wet parchment
and scorched lungs hungered for air
and hair dropped off like dried weeds

i look for you
in the fallen ruins
screaming your name
crawling over rubble
on bleeding limbs
as smoke & flames rise

like burning offerings to the dead


29/01/2007
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Do we still remember this song then? - Pink Floyd, Two Suns in the Sunset

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2018

dragon

Imagine one dark night in a medieval English village, a strange, unidentified object hovers in the sky...

photo by kellepics at pixabay


dragon



                   We draw our longbows waiting
                 for the beast to come. But the
               dragon just hangs there in the
             air, above the poplars, exhaling
           fire. Its scales of metal glisten in the last of
         dusk's light, its two fiery eyes
       glowing red with anger and alarm.
     Our horses are nervous, stamping
   their hoofs, the village hounds
   run around in circles, barking.
     The braver of the villagers stand
       watching the rings of smoke and dust
         through the trees, some with swords
           and staffs. The beast seems to be wounded, swaying
             in the air, but soon it steadies
               itself, flies around the village in
                 a wide circle, and climbs back into
                   the clouds. Fear grip our hearts.






We could have caught a dragon today.



written : 02/07/2014
revised : 05/09/2018
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Uriah Heep - Tales

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2018

the trenches, somewhere in the future

Science fiction is one genre of literature that I like, and read widely. So it is only natural that I do a science fiction poem. This was written originally for a prompt at dVerse, a poetry community, the theme being "Where in the World?" and it asked the reader to "write a poem that creates or evokes another world". Then it squatted in my hard drive, like an Alien egg waiting to hatch. I wonder how many more "sci-fi poems" are still lurking there. :)




photo by chelle

image from morguefile.com

the trenches, somewhere in the future


we watch
the deadly arcs
of the ICBMs
curving over
the clouds
like a scimitar
on their way
to pulverise
a city

then get back
to the grisly task
at hand
tossing
the enemy wounded
into the ditches

no crosses
for the fallen
we sweep
a flamethrower
over them
for good measure

the black oily clouds
from their plastic
and metals
cling to the trenches
like a dark shroud.

and then

we sit in our
assault vehicles
check our weapons
send out
the spy drones
and wait
patiently
for the next wave
of enemy androids.

war was never the same again
since the humans sent us out

robots

     against

robots.




written 25/08/08
revised 09/06/12
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“I think the development of full artificial intelligence could spell the end of the human race. Once humans develop artificial intelligence, it will take off on its own and redesign itself at an ever-increasing rate. Humans, who are limited by slow biological evolution, couldn’t compete and would be superseded.”

-- Stephen Hawking, in an interview with the BBC


Shared on Poetry Pantry #417 at Poets United.

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©cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2018

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

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

maybe.


24/07/2014
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The four great classical novels of Chinese literature : Water Margin, Romance of the Three kingdoms, Journey to the West, Dream of the Red Chamber.

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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.

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

starship

A re-post from my 2012 NaPoWriMo attempts. Too much sci-fi perhaps? :)

Didn't post anything the past two weeks. Was following my country's General Elections. Sigh..

photo by rosevita, image from morguefile.com





starship




light
   years
   away

      from a past
      that was a murky
      distant memory was
      the dust of stars and
      generations have lived
      propagated warred killed
      loved and died on this ship
      carrying rain forests and
      oceans and an armour of
      air and treasures and
      myths and species
      hurtling through
      its destiny
      this ship

   we
   called
Terra




06/04/2012
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"It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.”

― Neil Armstrong


Shared on Poetry Pantry #269 at Poets United.

P.S. Do you like the new blog header image, which I designed myself?

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2015

micro-fiction - home

Trying out a little micro-fiction. This baby has been sitting in my computer for a couple of years. Time to dust it out. Doesn't look too micro, isn't it?

photo by click

image from morguefile.com



home



It was Christmas again, how he wished he was at home with his family, and his dog, by the fireplace. Just his luck, the ballot for the limited seats on the flight home was unkind. A video conference with his family later will do. Still, it was not so bad. His fellow miners had even managed to whip up a rare Christmas meal, with a roast turkey thrown in. He smiled and looked out of the dormitory window. It was dark outside, as usual. And hanging in the black sky, like a piece of cut blue jewel, his home. Earth.



25.12.2010
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100 words exactly

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Shared on Poetry Pantry #181 at Poets United.

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2013

birds of prey

Science Fiction and Poetry do not usually cohabit amicably. I am trying to prove that wrong with this poem.

I wrote this for this year's edition of NaPoWriMo. Is it working?




photo by Schick
image from morguefile


birds of prey



we wait
for the dusk
to scatter
the last of the
light

on cliff edges
that was once
the bastions
of mighty
citadels

and as the
last shards
of light splinter
and fall like
broken glass

we stretch
our wings the leather
taut with muscles
leap off
the precipice

soar over
the smoke and ruins
of a world
torched by
atomic fire.


29/04/2013
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"This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.” 

― T.S. Eliot


Shared on Poetry Pantry #149 at Poets United.

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2013