Ever had an epiphany of something you’ve known all along suddenly creeping out of your subconscious to tap on the conscious to remind you of itself? Mine most recent was in the form of a re-realisation how reading has allowed us to think, imagine, and get past our immediate surroundings. Even if we have constant connections to the outer world through electronic devices, we’d still be dealing with a mindset that’s formed and shaped by our immediate vicinity. Unless we expand our minds to what is available beyond. And best to me is with books. It brings about internal dialogue within me and I absorb their contents better that way. Hence, I felt compelled to write this out.

I love it that we developed writing

And with it came the skill of reading

A habit that serves me well

To read from folks with things to tell

To take me out of my concerns

From trivialities in my presence

To see beyond such situations

To all the different permutations

Unlike audio to electronic screens

Reading speaks to me within

It cues and triggers mental images

I set the scenes I build the stages

Double back on certain pages

Dwell long and winding passages

From cover to cover it comes in stages

The whole message within the pages

21:21, 21.01.2021

I actually scheduled for this to be published 21:21hrs on the 21st January 2021. [Hence the title. Doink!] But nothing! I’m actually looking at the side panel that says it’d publish then. That’s almost a week ago. Oh well, WordPress.


Leave me alone before the fireworks burst

Before the hugs and the kisses, and all the best wishes

Just leave me the one glass and a half-filled carafe

And take yourself away to join all the rest

There’s probably numbers I can call

There’s people I can face

But I feel just so appalled

Every effort doomed to waste

I feel unfettered. But my mind’s all cluttered

I’m standing still. But feel unsettled

So many choices of how to be

So many options for just being me

I have no fitting character

For these circumstances

Nothing in the nether

Nothing in past tenses

Perhaps it’s time to invent a new person

Who’ll give form to this dysfunction

A shape from my imagination

And reboot myself as a work of fiction

MH370 and COVID-19

What do MH370 and COVID-19 have in common? No prayers answered.

[Okay. Pardon the click-baiting title. I just couldn’t resist. From now on, it won’t be much on the airliner. More on the frontliners.]

We prayed for the recovery of each of them respectively. Hoping from something more potent and benevolent beyond the limitations of us puny humans. But I’m not writing this to belittle the power of prayer. The video was made during early lockdowns in my despair towards those who believe in a caring god but refusing to take care themselves from getting or preventing infections. They insisted on congregating and going about their communal religious rituals as per normal somehow believing that with their show of faith they will overcome. Even a governmental minister refused to acknowledge the potency of the virus citing that his community has prayer!

My earlier thoughts on COVID-19 in video.

Now. Almost a year later. The Song Remains The Same.

In the year of perfect vision

Chiroptera bred a new contagion

Regal with a deadly crown

Reign with rising body count

Who amongst us have less infection

Recovering with rapid succession

None I see. None I hear.

None I read. None I fear

Surely we prayed in fearful fervour

Sought Protection. Grace. And Favour


None I see. None I hear

None I read. None I fear

Prayers prove to be defective

No answers came. No relief

Anecdotes fraught deceptive

All our gods ineffective

  • – – – – – – PostScript- – – – – – – – –

But now I read there comes a vaccine

That doesn’t work like penicillin

It doesn’t need to use the virus

Like it doesn’t need your fervent prayers

I don’t believe prayers were answered

It’s been too long. Too many hurt

Lasting solutions that always work

Are consequences of human effort


Just because you don’t want it to happen, never meant that it won’t. And when it happens, there’s the heart wrenching pain of realising why you never wanted it to happen. That’s as much as I can say about losing a parent.

My mother tugs me through the snow

Her strides are long and I’m just slow

Her hurried pace she’s hard to hold

But her words are warm despite the cold

Once indoors she gets the heater glowing

And sits by the window to see my father coming

On the carpet I’ll run my toy truck

But soon I’ll have to wake up

From seeing myself by her feet

To be weeping in my sleep