Category Archives: Drivel

Novemremember: I Remember November

To force a child to sit and writ
Is in itself no easy feat
What one would yield a manuscript,
Drives foolish youths to lie, to cheat

Speak cacophony of uncouth –
Cross the line and you’re in shit
A sweet word here would calm and sooth
Admission of defeat, acquit

To err is man, forgive divine,
Good artists forge, great artists steal
Yet striking keys of ivory fine
Hails hammer fall with no appeal

The artisan in cloak of pure
Inside a product borne of swill –
This mind, no reason sound could cure,
perceived only others’ ills

As catching wild thoughts in a gale
Which leafs through indexes unseen
My choice it seems has faded pale
A generation washed and clean

Thirty days hath November
But not one dedicate to thus
My choice I’m scant to remember
A rabble’s head, a fulsome fuss


I remember May when September comes

A decade and a half, a younger me,
One so naive and silly,
Thought hard of voting for my chairman
from a candidate pool of one
chosen by my instructor-in-charge –
I thought it was great fun.

A decade, a teenager me,
finding my place in JC
Told to vote for my chairman
by my deskmate, (a desk has two)
One year hence another asked (the air)
“why did I vote for you?”

Then half a decade hence, and I
remember May nights chocolate skies
Torn between the exams of the day
and sentiments of night.
Why did I have to decide
against something that was my right?

Now there lays just half a day
till, for Parliament, I’ll have a say
Taken to task for choosing fair
for jobs, for roads, for covered walkways new.
Do I have the answer now,
to my forebears, fellows – to my heirs?

I Remember July

fifty vehicles,
ten black ribbons, three red balls.
one red-and-white flag

I remember heat
I remember July, (June?)
I remember peace;
I remember thinking hard,
I remember haze

society tries out
nuclear option on a child,
and a discharged nurse.

I Remember January


Morning was the sweetest time that dulcet
gilded blanket washing over the still-cold earth – I remember the dew resting still-asleep on
beds of grass waving in the gentle wind, adorning the faces of the beauties that were
Morning Glory wound around a green chain-linked fence

Sometimes, mushrooms of some sort or other would (after politely inviting themselves in, in the previous, rainy, night)
drink (in moderation, of course) from the still, wet earth
or from the still-wet bark, in rings, rows, winding pathways of white- and wood-duochrome
sometimes red (but rarely! those were the radicals)

Of little notice did they have of my little disturbance, passing by in my little way in my little time –
they lived a life of peace and nature, a span equivalent to the briefest eternity
as measured by the passing of the sun,
its golden waves of comfort nurturing their little souls; and mine.


I Remember February

A Concrete Path Ran Through It

State Land

I remember the fields of superheated cow grass
screaming for rain while I stepped, myself dehydrating, over its browned brethren
soft drink in one hand, the other empty just like my mind while
crossing the great expanse of heat

in my trusty satchel lay the fruits of my boyish recreation
collectibles, cards, coins, crap that adults immediately labelled as
wastes of money
wastes of time
Satanic (I wasn’t even atheist then, not to mention Satanist)
but the land did not judge, just as the Sun does not judge – it shines on
burns all in its characteristic silence.

Now it burns nothing, instead shining its bright holy light
illuminating all that is good – that is, shops, supermarkets, capitalism
all that adults immediately label as
daily economic drivers
daily bread
a breath of fresh air
breathed into the land of waste
and reincarnated as the land of want.



Drivel #1

In the spirit of not so important things that people love to read about, and (of course), of graciousness, I have been mind-controlled would like to relay a very amiable reply to our dear Singa the Courtesy Lion.

You see, according to the news, Singa has resigned. In other words, it was kind of like a job-euthanasia job.

Point to note, the letter as it loads on my computer looks like this:

Singa Letter

Maybe if I didn’t have to turn my head to read this I wouldn’t @#!@%&!@$*!@_#!@%&!@%&#&%

(Luckily there exists the ctrl+alt+arrowkey method of rotating the screen)


This is the (encrypted) message. It appeared to have been originally written in a mixture of Singlish and Gibberish.


Dear Singa,

It’s been a long time indeed, and it is as good a time as any to retire, what with the rising stock prices and minimum CPF sum (I hope you have a pension).

I remember fondly the last time we met – you were yellowed out like the films of the 1970s, perhaps by the sunlight shining onto you, day in, day out. Evidently, being stuck to a wall does grave things to your complexion. Hopefully, your current abode is shady and cool, whilst hopefully having enough years left on its lease.

It would be somewhat easy to assume your job was easy even though it was not – being rotated through the Courtesy department then to the Kindness Mascot position must have been a harrowing experience. Now that we are tasked with finding real people to fill up indispensable positions, interviews are rapidly being held for the relevant interviewers for this job. You have to understand that it takes a sharp eye, and generous salary, to identify specimens of great capacity for leadership and courteousness. Don’t even bring up the matter of kindness. You’ll have to pay top dollar for that. (Remember, you didn’t. Ha.)

It’s probably apparent to most of us, but thanks for the reminder that everyone is responsible for their actions, be it not giving their seat or being online trolls. As fortune has it, there will always be such characters, for what is one without the other, as with one Singa without its evil (perhaps yet-to-retire?) counterpart that lurks in the shadow? Perhaps he, she or it inspires the most cheerful and golden-hearted people to fall asleep on the reserved seats, and say the most hideous things on a Youtube account when they find the public computer they are using is still signed in.

Rest assured, we’ll continue to be courteous or not, just as we choose. After all, locusts can choose to be grasshoppers when under swarming conditions, just as respiring humans can choose to be nice when running out of oxygen in an enclosed space. Till we meet again, maybe locally, maybe in the casinos when I win a lucky draw for free entry, maybe in Pulau Ubin Theme Park, or maybe in JB.

your dearest friend, Agnis

P.S. I’ll be hanging out on the internet, waiting to crush the hearts of the kindest souls. TTFN ❤