photo credits here

By Teo Tze Yang

by the window sill,
nothing meaningful to do,
mental agony.

wifi on one bar,
disconnects incessantly,
wish i were at home.

here writing haikus,
team working on their report.
what am i doing.

four foreign students,
working hard on math problems,
at least they have work.

getting saltier now,
feeling aimless and tired,
so this is boredom.

going to get judged,
do i actually mind at all?
i do not really.

only beginning,
how long can i keep this up?
my patience wears thin.

the math lab upstairs,
three bars wifi and air con,
so tantalizing.

whirling blades and noise,
driving my poor brain insane,
cannot get better.

why all these haikus?
because my options are scarce,
this would have to last.

this disconnection,
when i attempt connecting,
fix this wifi please.

running out of ideas,
what else do i write about?
questioning my life.

come to think of it,
a haiku book might just work.
time to write one now.

the preface to this book,
would be a haiku as well.
would be as follows;

the descent into madness:
haiku collection.”

nine in the morning,
three more hours to endure.
test of willpower.

Megan has wifi,
would like that wifi as well.
i will crash later.

my plan has been foiled,
a warning was just sent out;
no exchanging rooms.

cancerous wifi,
forgot to download movies.
I messed up big time.

wifi flickering,
like flames in a campfire.
sacrifice required.

each bout of wifi,
lasts fifteen seconds a time.
small windows of time.

by the time i’m done,
i would have a complete book,
of crappy haikus.

what can be inferred?
there is way too much spare time,
so *this* is torture.

do not know what’s worse;
the cancer of school wifi,
or lack of air con.

there is salvation,
food and more food in both hands,
Jason is the best.

too rested to fall asleep,
yet too bored to stay awake.
extremely conflicted.

biggest takeaway?
appreciate home wifi.

read articles on Medium,
passed a little time so far.
time check: ten o’ clock.

two more hours to go,
hunger games here on standby.
my only option.

haikus are easy,
not much knowledge required.
offers some respite.

lines can be not linked,
ducks have corkscrew penises,
cryptic messages.

not having to rhyme,
a huge plus to write haikus,
haikus shall suffice.

air conditioning.
replenished, headache dispelled.
time check: twelve o’ clock.

two opposite worlds,
only two storeys in between,
all the difference.

hunger stirs within,
asks to be satisfied soon.
my stomach beckons.

work exceeds hunger;
gut rejects ideology,
demands to be fed.

food on the way up,
all there is to do is wait,
round two begins soon.

hunger satisfied,
just one more hour to go,
the final countdown.

half and hour left,
rushing report completion,
tension is rising.

offline submission,
stored on a single thumb-drive,
their fate has been sealed.

why so dramatic?
my brain is drifting away,
i cannot think straight.

are poems like this?
my doubt in my poems grow.
what are haikus like?

only rule of thumb:
the five and seven then five,
is it not just that?

gist of words captured,
is that not the rationale?
maybe i am wrong. no?

i question my work,
this turned philosophical.
need it be cryptic?

reverse psychology?
trying to value my work,
or undermine it.

my mind drifts away,
slowly but surely it is.
brainstorming in vain.

this seems right, all this.
writing series of poems,
or few paragraphs?

quite ambiguous.
this has become a story.
was that not the plan?

increasing questions,
overthinking does not help.
i need to relax.

fatigue setting in,
some sleep appreciated,
sooner or later.

the final hour,
submission’s been completed.
time check: three o’ clock.

round two begins now,
the battle is not over,
three hours to go.

tired, exhausted,
students in a deep slumber,
the next trial awaits.

sixteen verses left,
progressively dreary lines,
reflects my feelings.

ideas running dry,
i am really exhausted.
so are my students.

the previous verses,
preserve the original ones,
or revisit them?

bad lines been written,
perfectionism compels me.
i shall not concede.

evening draws close,
energy levels are low.
five in fifteen more.

how’s SIMC?
mixed emotions within,
both good and bad ones.

new company met,
all new experiences,
have seen shorter days.

break from normal life,
a temporary respite,
from monotony.

dinner comes at six,
an hour more to endure,
that is the bad part.

lying by my side,
pages unturned, good as new,
book sits in silence.

poem progression,
a bell-curve throughout the day.
five verses remain.

ending premature,
lethargy taking it’s toll,
seventy verses.

first commentary,
poetry is tiring,
at least i tried it.

back to no wifi,
earpieces plugged in, relaxed.
dinner within reach.

sixty ninth stanza,
i’ll end with a legit verse.
that’s appropriate.

weary soul trudges,
new advances have been made,
a new day beckons.

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