Social Awkwardness

It’s tough to explain this situation
To all those that are around with me
It’s like a blockade, an inhibition
I want to say hi, but I can’t set the words free
When I meet so many souls all at once
I can’t help but to break out in cold sweat
No matter how many prompts, or how many times
I will shudder, and I will fret.
Deep down inside I want to be friends
But the butterflies in me can’t stop partying
I worry if I say anything bad, then all things will end
Like an abrupt halt in a middle of a masterpiece.
I admire all those who shine with confidence
Their charisma is like the refreshing midsummer breeze.
They convey with clarity, they speak and they empower
Their smiles are radiant, and they handle things with ease
As compared to scaling Mt. Everest, socializing is tougher
Faces unseen, voices unheard and stories undiscovered.
I feel queasy, like I’m about to take the test of my life
That determines if I get slaughtered or I get to survive.
I hold out my hand, the other doesn’t shake it
I pull it back, and I die of embarrassment inside.
My cheeks feel like they’ve been smeared with red-hot lava
My whole face ripped apart, someone rubbing salt to the scar.
That searing, sizzling and excruciating pain and torture
To reach to the girl beside, and simply smile at her
And say ‘Hi, let’s be friends’
Such chicken-feet tasks appear to be all that daunting
This very madness, why can’t I have some openness?
It zeroes in, tackles me down and I drown
From my inner Social Awkwardness

A World I Dream

I dream of a plant, where
Candy apples dangle on low branches
So all kids can have a taste
Of the bliss of sweetness there

I dream of a tree
Where its leaves are peppermint cream
Why yes, it’s free
And it’d fulfil every kiddie’s dream

I dream of a girl
Who perches atop a cream mare
Jade eyes and red curls
And tackles the world

I dream of a class
Where no one is an outcast
Where equality stands
On concrete new found land

I dream of a library
Where there is a book without words
But on the contrary
It will teach us the pen is the mightiest sword

I dream of a place
A secret maze
Hear the twinkling of silver bells?
Giggles of joyful child.

I dream of a meadow
Of crisp, clear emerald grass
Come, hop on my saddle
I’ll take you to see the stars through the looking glass.

I dream of a prairie
Of dancing daisies and poppies
In the sunset of ruby
They embrace the last rays of day

I dream of a world
With no war, no fights
Look up and see doves soar
Look up and see dazzling lights

I dream of a word
The peaceful one
The vibrant one
The one that knows no boundaries to learning
The one that’s crazily amazing
The one that’s absolutely astounding

Being The Older Kid

The second that I was born,
It’s already set, and I was sworn
In, as the goody-two-shoes
For the rest of this lifetime,
Even in the most infuriating, irritating, annoying moments,
I have to keep my cool, not be shy
Be calm, and keep mum about any laments.
They hate it when I complain and groan
And frown upon me when I say it’s not just.
‘Look how big you’ve grown,
And yet, you’re making a fuss’
When I change channels,
The little one just wails like an ambulance siren.
When I don on my favourite flannel
‘Mom, don’t you love me anymore? ‘ cries the tyrant
Looking at my favourite boy band, and was called a flirt,
Cooked my favourite dish, not hers, and it was like Mt. Merapi mid eruption.
And I was drenched in that red, flaming lava, charred beyond recognition.
The raging inferno of flames within, melting everything in its way
Whatever I say,
Is Trash,
Garbage, unknown gibberish,
Insane nonsense
Just as I was about to explode
There’s more to add salt to the haemorrhage
When I see that devilish gleam in her eye
Just as I was about to sigh
Of how I never get the upper hand, probably forever,
Comes the biggest joke
‘So I heard you have been bullying your little sibling,
How brazen and daring of you, young lady
And now, you poor little sweetie, darling
I’ll make sure the bad guy gets her due scolding.’
That’s when I internally combust, and searing flames
Burn holes, right through the dirty flannel I retrieved from the drain.
Then again I wonder, who was the child who threw my loved shirt,
Into this decomposing pile of smelly dirt.

A Singaporean Childhood

This is a story of growing up in beige HDB flats
High-rise homes that dot the lavender sunset
Of void-deck soccer, of sizzling kachang putehs
And of the kids in khaki shorts and white, loose singlets
As their jubilant laughter fill the air around
Of the napping tabby cat hiding in the drain, waiting to be found
This is a tale of gazing at the fluffy, cotton-candy pink clouds
Sauntering across the sky, smiling back at me in the crowd
Of the turquoise-tinted waves that gently lick my feet
And the salty refreshing breeze at Sentosa, feeling so free
Like I am a mermaid perched atop a sun-kissed boulder
Sending off every batch of snow-capped surging breakers
It’s also a tale of the mosaic tiled playground below the block
About the mama shop to where the neighbourhood kids flock
To buy the latest duelling gadgets, well, essentially country flag erasers
I almost had a full collection too when I was younger
And beam as my little pals admire the world in my hands
There’s also patterns made by deft fingers with rubber bands
Simplistic games like “Zha”, “Ji Go Pak” and “Pepsi Cola”
This is also a memory weaved by the fragrance of Kopi O
Caramel hued Teh Tarik, crunchy sweet Kaya Toast
And the minutes and seconds that make up this legacy
Of my Singaporean childhood, of an everlasting story

Stuff I Love

Here are some things that make me smile
My lip corners upturn when these come into mind
Amazing as the rainbow stained glass tiles
And also simple as a little bird’s first flight

Try to think of a refreshing, blazing autumn forest
Like the earth’s been studded with candid rubies
A riot of warm colours, a blazing, dazzling mess
Like Picasso spilled his palette and well, maybe
Crimsons, oranges and yellows were meant to be friends
Like how their souls passionately release bright flares
Into the pale blue sky, as if fire did mix with water

Try to picture yourself being in the middle of a tea plantation
The ocean of youthful, jade leaves embraces the cooling breeze
Golden sunshine bouncing joyfully on the leaves amidst gentle mist
The fresh fragrance of the new leaves, a huge temptation
To savour a home-brewed cup of light, bittersweet tea
Or drown in these peaceful, verdant seas.

Here are some things that make me smile
I can’t help but grin come into sight
Amazing as the rainbow that dances in the clouds
Like seeing the face you love standing in the crowd.

The Big Social Malaise

Walking on the streets
I see no child at ease
Worn out faces, exhausted eyes
Drained out souls, and heavy sighs
Tonnes of books weigh down fragile shoulders
Pressure that pins them down like gigantic boulders.
Kids run around in circles, attend all sorts of classes
But, parents, think, is it really a must?
For your child to memorise the whole encyclopedia,
Clinch all the gold medals at Science Olympiads
Be the Prima Donna in every ballet concert,
Serve as the Soloist at every concerto
The fastest to cross the finish line in every race
Run like the wind, at a cheetah’s pace
Solve Ph.D Math like programmed machines
Skilled in all the little things
Like sewing, cooking, writing, friend-making
But I’m afraid, I’m sorry to say
Such perfect children are non-existent today
Forcing knowledge down their throats
Is like too many people on a flimsy boat
No sooner, it is going to sink,
Faster than anyone can blink and think.
They are kids, not robots, take it easy
Packed schedules, no time, so darned busy
How can you expect a child to learn so much
Syllabus so hard and tough as such
Think of yourself back then,
Were you taught all these so young, my friend?
If no, then why are you doing this to your child
To master all these, he’s going to go wild
Children are meant to go out and play
To draw, and laugh, and relish today
Pet kittens, go skipping and attend sleep-overs
Cycle, play baseball, and compare the newest transformers.
There’s a time for everything, there’s no need to rush
One step at a time, don’t make a big fuss.
It’s okay if they don’t get things at first
That’s learning, and slowly their colours will burst
Get them to enjoy the nature they see
Listen to music, and set their hearts free
Explore their surroundings, cultivate curiosity
Help others in need, exercise generosity.
That is how a child is meant to grow
Train up a child in the way he should go
Extra classes rob childhood fun
Children become dull in the long run
Instead of being ahead of the rest
They end up as the last of the pack
We need to solve this Big Social Malaise
If not, our children will never realise
They’ll gradually sink in this whole big lie.

Musings At The West Coast

Traffic lights bleed onto rain-stained roads
A blurry yet colourful noisy solitude
Battered boats with dirty-cherry windows
Illuminate the waves with a golden-orange hue
Heavy lamps that dangle at the starboard deck
Slash througy swells much like crushed felt tip pens.
Where the world shall wait behind my back
Whilst I empty my thoughts from this darkened end.
For I still can’t grapple how to handle
This entire adulthood jingle
Of words like raindrops pelting on my mantle
Lips in motion, mind befuddled.
Because words can fail me and I can’t hear my voice
I just hope something will one day fill the void


An inflated blood-pressure
A racing heart
As a rage beyond measure,
Threatens to rip the lands apart

Knitted brows and a fiery glare
Her red-lips curl in ultimate hate
An inferno-encapsulated stare
Sears my innards and seals my fate

Sizzling with wrath like hot, scalding oil
Those eyes radiate icy lethality
Her face contorts like a crumpled foil
On the brink of a blast of insanity

Our gazes interlock and she disposed of the key
Sinking razor heels on her hot-pink carpet
Wrapping her imminent tentacles around me
Draining every molecule of oxygen I had

The rude shock that shattered her dream
Drowned by the unleashed wave of tears
A clear make-up dissolving stream
Exposing her to her deepest fears

She squeezed my hand hard and tight
Buried hopes and broken visions
Two stranger meteorites did collide
Much to her utmost disappointment

The Babysitter

A young couple walked into the maid agency
‘I’m looking for the perfect au pair! ‘ He exclaimed
One that will keep my princess entertained,
Someone to paint a radiant smile everyday.

Oh, and she would play with her
Take her to explore the forests and the seas
Enjoy the ride on a patridge’s wing
And sing with faeries of the sunkissed casherina tree

When they are tired, they can lie on the fields
And laugh, and be blessed by the showers of bliss
They can gallop home together on beige ponies
Their giggles sprinkled in the meadows of daffodils

I want her to teach my child life skills
Like how to make friends and basic respect
How to tackle difficulties and perserverance
Not forgetting how to view her stories in a different lens

She can also guide her through Mandarin
Shaping her cherry lips into the sound of home
Someone to teach her to embrace her traditions
For that is where all our hearts reside.

No fear, the boss said, I have the perfect maid!
He confidently brushed aside some crimson curtains
Unvealing the 42 inch beauty behind
Meet our best babysitter, he declared, the television!

Definition De La Beaux

Billions of billboards and floods of commercials
Bombard and pollute young minds and our values
Where social vices overwhelm visual material
So, what are standards of beauty and virtue?
Is beauty really only skin deep, let the young ones judge.
Lust and admiration, the thin line now smudged.
Confined to the short-lived artificial aesthetic lies
Limited to only the silver screen, but non-existent in real life
How can humans be so short-sighted and narrow minded
Looks are deceiving, what matters are one’s true colors inside
Bought into an illusion that exquisite features win everything
But sorry, those folks are wrong and reality is harsh.
Time flies and it’s forever gone, nothing’s ever built to last.
Superficial stuff fades, but authentic ones stay.
For the sake of money, people ruin themselves by scratch
Distorted ideals, warped principles and a hot-head
To be chic, to be a sexy lady, a perfect match
For some celebrity, refusing to be fed
Skeletally thin, malnourished and still upset
At her current weight, she says I’m too fat.
But she’ll never know that the magazine models,
Those slaves and puppets of fame and cash
Only appear as such because they are edited
Those special effects will be gone in a flash
Fake tans, ginormous silicone breasts and other procedures
To correct the human body to the impossible
Torture has a new name called Vanity.
Stereotypes root and corrode our vision
Why must a girl dress so scantily?
Killing her inside with 8-inch heels to feel confident
Why should she alter her face to look pretty?
Ripping her apart should there be an accident.
People, don’t laugh at her.
I guess that is the least you can do to aid her to improve.
She’s perfect in her own way. Why does she need to hide?
To mask her all-natural and wonderful side
Learn to respect, and tear down the nonsense.
Stand up for yourself, and be no one else.
You have a heart, soul and mind
Seek and you shall find
Go places, venture far, and don’t forsake your dreams
Burn the billboards, and delete those ads.
Television, ruins the nation
Unplug to media, and smile for one beautiful lifetime.