Poet's Corner

An Ode To The Recession

So,
We're only in a
Technical
Recession.
Which should be of
Some comfort
To those who've been
Technically
Retrenched.

An Ode to Project Eyeball's Demise

So.
Farewell then,
Project Eyeball.
Your project
Failed
To attract
Enough
Eyeballs.

An Ode to Redrawn Electoral Boundaries

Here we are
A nation of neighbours
Why, just a few years ago
I was in another town
A world away
But thanks to the government
And its marker pen
We will now share so much more
But mostly,
An MP.
The world may be small
But our island,
It seems,
Is smaller still.

An Ode to Tuition Teachers

Thank you, teachers of tuition!
You really are the best
You bring about our kids' fruition
When you drill them for their tests
For the joy of actual learning
Doesn't count in Singapore
What sets all our hearts a-burning
Is getting good test scores.

An Ode to Big Payouts For Local Bankers

Congratulations, oh tua kee bankers!
You deserve every cent
Of your enormous performance bonuses!
For in closing down so many branches
You have shown that you know how to cut costs.
And now we also know
Where those saved costs have gone.
Perhaps you could install
An ATM for us
In your pockets?

An Ode To "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?"

Who wants to be a millionaire?
What a silly question that is!
'Tis every Singaporean's prayer
To win that silly quiz!
But Singaporeans who can get the dough
I think are very few
For if you've seen the show, you'll know
We haven't got a clue!

An Ode To "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?"

An Ode To Standard English

Verily, verily I say unto thee
The government hath decreed
That thou should speak'st like an ang-mor kwee
'Tis a message that thou must heed

When Brits today no longer speak
The English of their Queen
Doesn't our country's campaign reek
Of preserving the Colonial scene?

So speak Singlish as and when you please!
Speak it loud and proud!
And never ever let it cease
Though they say it's not allowed.

For Singlish is something all our own
And if this they should deny,
Then please feel free to them intone:
Kan ni na bu chao chee bye!

A Limerick in Honour of a Telecom Chief

There was once a Singtel CEO
Who wanted his company to grow
So he found a good buy
But alas, bid too high
Now his shares have plunged out of control

An Ode to A Second Son

Oh heroic Second Son
What a battle you have won
You have outbid bidders
For the prized and pricey Optus

Oh brilliant Second Son
This deal you have done
Has finally proven to your father
You are as capable as your brother

Oh revered Second Son
You have shown everyone
That despite numerous failures before
We should keep coming back for more

Oh dearest Second Son
A new era has begun
Now we have one more Lee
Whose balls we have to carry

- thanks to Ian

An Ode To Sim Wong Hoo By Some Overoptimistic Retrenched Staff

Boo hoo hoo
Sim Wong Hoo
You've given us the boot
But we don't mind
For you've been kind
To share some of your loot
You said it's 'cos
You're the kind of boss
Who rewards loyalties
If that is so
Why not bestow
Some of your royalties?
In asking thus
Don't think of us
As unappreciative
We're just annoyed
To be unemployed
And have to get Creative.

An Ode To Our 1st Woman Mayor

Yahoo,
Mrs Yu-Foo!
A new job for you:
Bukit Timah's brand new
Lao bu!

An Ode to the SDU and SDS

In a different world,
You would have been lovers
From the start
But the heart is complicated
For despite your similarities
You play up your differences
And refuse to merge.
"How can I marry down?"
Wails the SDU.
"Won't she look down on me?"
Cries the SDS.
And so, with duplicity in your hearts
You duplicate your functions.
With matchmakers like you,
It's no wonder
People in Singapore
Aren't
Getting
Married.

An Ode to Gifted Students

You are so smart, the papers say
Endowed with talents all the way
Brains that are the gift of god
But thinking now, isn't it odd
That most of you have wealthy folks
Who know the right lobangs to coax?
Whose wealth they seek to justify
Through some weird pseudo sci-fi?
You may very well be smart
Just don't forget you'd a head start
And don't go making a big fuss
When you wind up just like us.

An Ode to Illegal VCD Sellers

Where do you roam now,
My fine friends?
You with your makeshift tables
And those dear little black plastic bags?
My heart yearns
For your swift return
So that I can purchase
The latest
Blockbusters
But alas,
You have been chased away
By the big dogs
Who I'm sure
Have enough money
To watch only originals.
I wish I had
Your pager number.

An Ode to Yusheng

A multicoloured meal
That we call a salad
In a pretence
To ease our guilt
At preferring to eat the crackers
Than the carrot shreds
But 'tis not about the taste
Or even logic
(For there is less raw fish
In the average yusheng platter
Than in the average Sashimi Set A)
But rather, we eat it
For the symbolism
Clearly, a meal
For tossers.

An Ode to Chinatown During Chinese New Year

Tanjong Pagar springs to life
By the light of the Lunar New Year
And its streets are filled
With Lunar-tics
Buying waxed ducks
And waxed pigs' legs
And I wonder
About the wax
And whether it would not have been simpler
To just make the ducks and pigs go
For electrolysis
And I am filled with joy
When I espy
My favourite traditional goodies
Piled high on tabletops:
Illegal VCDs
It will be a good new year
After all
Gongxi, gongxi, gongxi ni (Ya)
Gongxi, gongxi, gongxi ni!

An Ode to the Set Lunch

A soft bun, with a chilled knob of butter
In the shape of a seashell
Homemade soup, straight from
Its homemade can
A tiny salad, from shredded lettuce
And a rotating cast of entrees:
Pork chop
Ox-tail stew
Grilled Chicken
Ham steak (with a pineapple ring)
And of course
A steak
That bounces
Like my credit card
Which is why I always
Siam
Before they serve the dessert.

An Ode to Countdown 2001

O fair shores of Sentosa
When will you see again
As glorious a sight
As Andrea De Cruz's breasts
Flapping in her tank top
Or hear as glorious a sound
As Robin Leong's chao ang mor
Accent
Blending with the has-been harmonies
Of Sister Sledge.
"We Are Family", indeed!
One who apparently
Couldn't even score a gig
In Las Vegas
On New Year's.
When will Sentosa see such wonders again?
Hopefully never
Feed them all to the sharks
In Underwater World,
I say
Next year, we shall all resolve
To change the channel.

An Ode to The New Fullerton Hotel

Gleaming, you rise
Over the Singapore River
And your ballroom is booked
Solid
By people who want
A view of
Filthy bumboats
And I nod a trifle sadly,
For I recall
The General Post Office
That you once were
But now
Your bellboys
Will not sell me
Stamps.
Bastards.

An Ode to The Auntie-Auntie Who Runs the Pay Toilet at Bukit Gorblok Hawker Centre

I stand before ye
Needing to pee
For the kum chia chwee
Has gone right through me
And I place ten cents in
Your old Milo tin
And you gaze at me
Rheumily
And say, "Wan' paper?"
And I think, "It's safer
To get some
For my bum
As I just might
Need to take a shite."

An Ode to The Shoeless Singapore International Marathon Runners

As your bare feet
Pound the hot asphalt,
What runs through your minds
As you run through the town?
Perhaps:
Ouch, ouch, ouchie-ouch?

An Ode to the Sin Yong Hua Heng Teochew Opera Troupe

Farewell, then
Sin Yong Hua Heng Teochew Opera Troupe.
After over a century,
You will no longer
Paint your faces
And flap your sleeves
And be accompanied
By tok-tok-tok cheng!
Cheng!
Cheng-cheng-cheng-cheng-cheng!
And we would have lost
A vital part of our heritage.
An irreplaceable loss:
Teochew nangs
Whose kachngs
Were not the only things
That were ang-ang.

An Ode to the Orchard Road Light Up

A sky of blue and silver lights
Spreads across Orchard Road
For this year's theme is
An "Icy Galaxy"
Certainly an appropriate choice
For a tropical people
Who secretly wish they lived in Europe
Or better yet,
Somehow 'became' ang-mor
And let's not even get into
The subject of how
The organisers know whether
Galaxies are indeed "icy"
Or not
But I know what is icy
It is cold
Bloody cold!
As cold
As my frigid wife
Which is why I have to visit Geylang
To 'hot-hot' a bit
And that is where
I shall be spending Christmas.

An Ode to Fann

Fann, Fann, Fann
How thy name on my tongue does runn
With thy extra 'n'
Like that, how can?

An Ode to Zoe

Zowie, it's Zoe
Who once did pronounce her name
To rhyme with the first name
of that DJ Augustin
Who used to be with the Flying Dutchman
But who has been replaced by Gurmit
Who is a bhai
A word
Whose 'i'
Is pronounced 'ee'
To rhyme with 'Zoe'

An Ode To 8 Days on Their 10th Birthday

"8 Days every week"
Or so your catchphrase went
And how you went from strength to strength
Even though your catchphrase showed
You clearly
Couldn't count
But you brought us plenty of
Gossip
About bimbos
And himbos
About whom we never cared before
But have no choice now
If we want to find out what's on TV.