Together; Changing Times

there’s something special
about hearing a familiar tune
on another’s speaker; there’s
something cool in those bars
of rhyme and reason. do tell,
why did you not say before?

there’s something calming: seeing
a typeface you use to write
poems each day for a month or
“the quick brown fox jumps
over the lazy dog.” you’re
another with which I have similar.

~

would it not be better for us
to grow old together; friends
lazing at a hawker center, with
kopi o and whatever the future
can bring us. newer magazines
of chili crab coastlines, a new
design, a sense of rhyme, a
new aesthetic, and a tune of mine

loops 101

def am_i_fed_up(learning, language):
if language == "python":
print("No more.")
elif language == "japanese":
if learning <=4:
print("But when?")
else:
print("Not any time soon… But when?")
else:
print("Yes.")

am_i_fed_up("this is too", "hard")

>> “Yes.”

golden logic are etched upon neo-green walls of microcities.
towering plastic structures are home to more than one instruction
binary state, upwards battle, uphill climb, electric saddle
it’s time to learn, one more language, one too many, magic puzzle

one one zero zero one one one zero zero one zero one
this fancy rhythm; it means fun; three thousand, three hundred, one.
algorithm, one more done, one more error, no more fun.

Wax-Based Ailerons

They say that the riverbed is the birthplace
of civilisation; (oh, how far we’ve come).
Unchanging the sun bids farewell as our pupils dilate further,
we look upwards stuck in shoeboxes
and other temporal shelters in the bosom of the desert.

Knowledge of Aquila and Heracles herald of obsession; oh
indeed, so far we’ve come; Flowers destroyed in casual action,
(but there’s nothing wrong with that!)
and wax havens become catacombs, tortuous recessions
of purest, white abodes. Oh, how far they’ve gone.

These are the times we take flight.

To Balance Against a Feather

(This is our philosophy reimagined.)

Life has the lion’s share of pleasures,
these agitations tied non-linear (logarithmic?)
portrayed crudely through mismanaged flux,
That of disposition, and callous idiosyncrasies,
Chemical enigmatic (current flow: automatic)

Natural progression (count: 1, 2, 3)
Fulfil the blessings of a meta-familiar mind.
Restriction falls like a snake on a garden;
And with it falls the burden of life. (rest upon your shoulders)
(count: 35) and eyes reveal seven geometric
confinements, restriction falls as a threat
(now follow) flow stunted at best.

(The rest is unknown.)

 

 

A Note Regarding The Circumstances Of Reality

I still dream of you every night,
a fantasy shining ever-bright, full
of color and feel and depth and matter,
unscratched edges rough with pallor

Beside me you lie before my eyes;
I am unable to reject
the price of the past. I look
at the future, still hopeful.

It’s terrifying, but you still sleep
by my side. What I feel is real but
to you, unnatural. You never leave me
but you’re never there.

I touch your face calmly every night.
I utter, “this is perfect; you and me”
I kiss your forehead in respite
“I believe this is our destiny.”

In Their Absence

In their absence, the waves swell up at the outer rim and crash upon the shores with sounds unheard of, never heard by anyone. In their absence, flora illuminated itself as it branches upwards towards the sky as if the earth was reaching for the heavens, weeds untouched.

In their absence, the great fallacy of the beauty in isolation crumbles with the turbulence of an impending storm upon our consciousness, and the mystery of the canopy evades any and all forms of perception, in their absence.

Early Losses

I would be lying if I ever said it feels just like yesterday.
Those uniform days of uniform and shoes
Black shoes, white to black, no laces, only straps.

I would be lying if I said I missed those days
Of climbing up late on the yellow-tiled case
Of stairs, waiting outside, waiting to be scolded.
I run back home without worry in the world.

I would be happy if I could go back to then.
The end of those days, the beginning of the end.

 

 

Helpless, Less No Help

Reverberating in a cave of sheer, blank nothingness of a
rock, smoothened by the confounded waves of the persistent sea,
gently rising, blasting trepidation and honing claws of wretched fury,
reflecting and believing in nothing to be believed as the distance grows weary.
Kinaesthetically comprehensive experiences shape the seraphic journey of the
lost person whose mind lies unattached and unbroken, wandering freely.

For this is the time where one forgets
What one has done and the other regrets

(Rationality beckons)
Lustrous orbs forming utter beacons in a catatonic cave
of sheer, blank nothingness.

Drizzle Downwards | An Introduction

Hello, this is Rohan, currently a full-time National Serviceman from Singapore, and welcome to Drizzle Downwards, my online literary portfolio. I have been dabbling in the literary arts since I was in Secondary 3, but only now do I take my hobby seriously enough to make a dedicated blog for it. Now, let’s just imagine someone decides to interview me regarding this new creation:


What do you write?

Mostly poetry, and occasionally other forms of literature.

No, as in, what do you write about?

Anything that inspires me. Ever since I started being serious about writing, I have been looking at my daily experiences for the ideas I need to put pen to paper. Generally, I would say that my poetry is abstract, emotionally focused and introspective, but on the other hand, I guess that’s not for me to decide.

Why did you make this?

My main blog does have a bit of my works, but it also has my ramblings relating to my life and my taste in music. For me, that blog is a reflection of me as a person, but I feel that a blog dedicated specifically to my works would help me tremendously in focusing all my efforts. Also, if anyone asks to see my collection, I can at least point them to this site.

How frequently will you post?

I’m ambitious. Once a week.

Can I share your page or your poetry with my friends?

(I’d be flattered if someone ever asks me that question.) Yes, definitely. Please make sure to give credit though!


I guess, before moving on, I have to credit a few people. The few people who know I am a writer, the few people who have read and complimented my works, the few people who want more, who want me to be properly published. Honestly, I appreciate the support and trust you few people have in me. You know who you are. Also, a big thank you to the teacher who gave me important lessons in poetry which made me much, much better at what I do.