Life & Friendship

Life is kinda farnee
Bright one day like
A veli veli shiny
Polished mirror
Tho’ tomollow may c
Greasy thumbprints
Onli to be wiped away
As useless graffiti

Life is only what
We make of it
Yar lor, seeing
Thro’, haiyo,
New challenges
New dee-lek-siun
Some lousy lows
But best with pals

Life can be veli cruel
Inexplicable moody
As a quirky tempest
Smashing to bits
Painstakingly erected
Foundations & truss
Of friendship, alas
No further use liao

Life is best when
You feel so sian one
A pengyu is by thee
Like a mountain
Unmoved by tsunami
Of vogue-ish whims
Then no nid 4 soli lor
Just nighty nite nite

Cancerous burning questions

Kong Fuzi, our great teacher, taught us to work through examples from the general to the specific, to promote enlightened learning.

Outside
The Garden
Of Eden, Abel the
Shepherd was loved by
God, who frowned upon
Poor Cain, tiller of the soil, just
An unwanted farmer, grower of veg
Was God a meat lover to treat
Those brothers differently
One as a favourite
And the other
Becoming a
Killer?

Oh, burning questions of
God’s unfairness gnaw
At my impious thoughts
I must kill the source of
My need to know why why
I turn to the Mahabharata

In
Gaza
Palestine,
Children of the
Holocaust turned Nazis
Subjected Arab women and
Kids to severest group punishment,
Ghetto-risation and humiliation
As their forefathers were in
Europe. The victims now
The killers, as if
YVWH himself
ordained

Oh, burning questions of
How such evil irony could be
Permitted by the Christian
World baffle me; angrily I tell
Myself to stop asking why why
So I turn to secular socialism

Here
In Malaysia
Land of lepak &
Lemak, a great evil
Perpetrated against a
Woman from a foreign land
May yet be unrequited, oh shame
To our country’s reputation
I cringe and pray that
Justice may yet
Prevail to set
Her soul
Free

Oh, burning questions of
Who the murderous killer
Could be; so callous, evil
Eat into my troubled heart
I know I mustn’t ask why why
I turn hopefully to due process

In
Fraser
Hill, I agonise
Over thousands
Of burning questions
That metamorphosed into
A cancerous tumour eating away
Relentlessly at my poor sanity
I have become an insomniac
Fiend with unbridled rage
Over inconsequential,
Mountains out of
Molehills

Oh, burning questions of
Frightening potential rivals
Of imagined origin and hue
Fighting for prohibited territory
I have to stop with why why
I turn hopefully to asceticism

Lao Tze, our great teacher, taught us to work through samples from the specific to the general, to promote lessons of experience.

The ultimate betrayal

The bulldozer smashed through
The lush verdant tropical forest
For a new highway straight thro’
Like an arrow unaffected by drift
And the victims, jungle denizens
Fell before the fierce onslaught

‘Twas the ultimate betrayal of nature

The driver saw one baby gibbon
Having survived a fallen tree
He raised his gun to mercy kill it
The towkay shouted, ‘waste not
A good bullet. It’ll die anyway.’
Shockingly callous, ruthless, yes

‘Twas the ultimate betrayal of compassion

They surrounded him, no chance
Stabbed a dozen times by daggers
Wielded by colleagues of the senate
He fell, but in his last few moments
Saw the one he loved, standing over
His bloodstained body, Et Tu Brutus

‘Twas the ultimate betrayal of friendship

She, the one from the Valley of Sorek
Loved by him with rich long black hair
Delilah enticed him into Dagon’s Temple
Loving her, Shimshon naively entered
To met her well-laid biblical bobby trap
She cackled proudly at her clever evil

‘Twas the ultimate betrayal of love

Clouds & Dreams

The brook tumbles down the hill
Along its rough bubbling course
Giving birth to seeds of a cloud
Wisps that rise to the heavens

One flows down, one floats up
Of identical stuff, but strangely
Never the twain shall meet, sad
But they are imitating, yes, life

Light first turns the clouds golden
But soon night casts a dark cloak
The cloud is still there, unseen
Till tomorrow comes, if it comes

Promises of things that could be
May be like a cloud, wispy stuff
Disappearing in night’s mantle
But can one wait till tomorrow?

I had put my hands on the cloud
Touching yet not able to hold it
Elusive like a soft dream slipping
Away with break of early dawn

I touch the brook’s cool water
And know it’s real, not a cloud
Yes, not a dream but cold reality
But alas, I love a sweet dream