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

Remembering Altantuyaa Shaariibuu

I am the Golden Beam*, from
The land of steppes, come to
The South Seas to Malaysia
called the Mountains of Asia

‘Twas no Shambula as promised
But of evil Gehanna, sent there
By C-4, 1.34 times more powerful
Than C6H2(NO2)3CH3, or TNT

In that shattering blast, in a tick
Golden Beam* I was no more
But thousands shattered shards
Of tears, blood, and deep regrets

Never to see my children again
Where I am I have met Erlig Qan
But I am not yet ready to submit
To his reign until I taste justice

Oh, if only I can quench my thirst
To drink sweet requital, my due
Against unimaginable evil cruelty
Just a wee sip from across the Styx

Will the Heavens sense my sorrow
My wail of uncompromising pain
At the loss of not just my young life
But treasured sight of loved ones

O, Sulde Tngri, Dayicin Tngri and
Gesar Khan, I offer thee, Holy Triad
Votive arca or juniper branches &
Berries, & kuji the sweetest incense

I pray, let they who judge be brave
Resolute and just, and not render
My tormented soul to wander in
Perpetual odyssey, sans retribution

I yearn to return home soon to rest
Among the elm-trees and willows
To hear the larks trill their sweet
Songs over the endless steppes

Please, let me gaze once more at the
White snow cap of Nayramadlin Orgil
Then I'll know I'm home once again
To close my tired eyes as Golden Beam*


* Altantuyaa = Golden Beam

Surrender

Out of the ether came a voice
No, no, not god – who’s he?
But a gentle sound, chiming
Softly like silvery moonbeams

I paused to catch its cheery notes
Too late, realising what I’ve done
Allowing myself to fall prey as
A net of sweetness fell over me

Trapped like a fly in a spider’s web
I struggled valiantly but in vain
Praying for my soul to be set free
But waiting for it to be consumed

By strange passion unexplained
& born in the ether, inexplicably
Wonderful yet inevitably doomed
I surrender to the Tao of its power

A Rotten Day

‘Twas really a rotten day
When all things went wrong
And you needed lots of hugs
A comforting word of love

Rank, name, serial number
The guard barked at me

So I trotted down to the bar
For some chilled chardonney
Something to warm you by
Till your blues were gone

Bartender said, we’re closed

Please come back tomorrow

Then you searched for a friend
To speak to a familiar face
Enjoy an amicable word or two
Perhaps a whiskey or beer

Sorry mate, not in right now
Am on a hot, really hot date

When you couldn't get someone
To share your day’s burden with
You turned to old faithful, your dog
Always waiting for you at home

But it’s full moon, he’s on the prowl
He has his own life too, grrrrowl

The Witch of Ijok

Burn her burn her, kill
The evil witch of ijok
Drown her in the pond
Of the village in Ijok
She’s evil, evil, evil
Responsible for all
Bad happenings, yes
The damn witch of Ijok

Sun rises in east, sets
In west, thro’ her spells
Tides and tidal waves
Are just her evil deeds
Bad news in Utusan?
Or the NST & The Star
Even in malaysiakini
May be attributed to her

Earth rotates anticlockwise
Is just work of her sorcery
But the Chilean says I see
Earth spinning clockwise
Precisely, she has placed
A hex on thee, all her fault
But her greatest sin was
To do the blasphemous

To question, blame, sneer
At the one & most holy Grail,
The one with the pious wail
Four face Almighty Brahma
Hi to my dear buddy Paul
Assalaimu Alaikum yaa akhi
wo men dou shi yi jia ren
demi bangsa, bangsa & bangsa

Magic of her laughter

Hahahahaha

Just laughter
Of happiness
Or at humour
Perhaps sheer relief?
Maybe even to
Disguise, yes,
Embarrassment
Even all of these

That’s what
Laughter is about
But somehow
Coming from her
It’s different
With added
Sapid spices
Intoxicatingly exotic

Crystal clear ripples
Enchanting peals
Of pentatonic
Wind chimes
Whispering
Seductively
Soothing storms
Into tranquillity

They bring
Penang Hill
Alive with music
(sorry Julie Andrews)
A rhapsody
More enticing than
Nepenthes-lined
Murmuring brooks

Resonations
Sweeter than
Gula melaka
As gentle as
Moonbeams
More charming
Than Penang
Nyonyas giggling

Just two letters
In plain 2-D
She unconsciously
Synergises and
Amplifies its magic
To the n-th power
Divine ambrosial
Tintinnabulation

I lay my head down
On the soft dreamy H
And pull up a cool
Silken blanket of A’s
Wrapped up totally
In their warmth
I dream of her
Cascading sweet laughter

Hahahahaha

Ijok - where bloggers were at sea?

I sail into a storm
Where the Ijok sea
In anger waxes
Tempestuously
Roiling
Raging
Roaring
A vortex of avarice

‘Tis a sea swarming
With predators in
Chauffeured Mercedes
Baring beguiling
Smiling
Sinister
Sharp
Baleful razor teeth

Another ship appears
On the evening horizon
And soon draws near
There on the deck
She
Smiles
Sweetly
I imagine to me

While the predators
Lull, lure and lie
Without conscience
To the prey, ikan bilis
Brown
Black
Buff
All victims of deceit

I shout out to her
Watch out for the
Pelagic candirú
Lampreys of votes
She
Signals
Silently
All lies have been posted

Soon one predator remains
Having vanquished the other
Leaving whitebaits to swim
Around 200 Janome's, so
Eighty-%
Equivocating
Employment-deficient
Sweethearts exit Ijok

And our two ships pass
Each other as night casts
A dark curtain over us
I realise sadly she’s
Gone
Godspeed
Goodbye
Will it be forever?

What's in a name?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet."

- William Shakespeare - Romeo and Juliet (II, ii, 1-2)

What’s in a name?

A rose is still … but alas,
I’m not one, but a thorn
Prickly or some'd say
Just a damn prick ;-)

A prickly thorn?

Protect the fragile rose
Or, just to prick
Bubbles of euphoria
POP! Who’s that prick?

Who art thou?

Maybe a loose cannon
Or a silly Don Quixote
Tilting at spinning icons
Or icon who spins

Out, damn'd KTemoc! out, I say!

I cringe, it’s an angry world
In Ijok, and like a Dalmatian
Left, no longer barking
At dark shadows, meow!

Ijok - Of, For, & By The Fairest

I was Darth Vader yesterday
But now I am Luke Skywalker
Tho’ tomorrow, you’ll see me
As I ought to be, the Emperor

Activist in a forgotten history
Then Minister of Parachuting
Yes, I can metamaphose easily
From black, white to anything

Catch me if you can, I am the
Entertainer of the salacious,
Then like a flash of lightning
Becoming Mufti of all pious

My syrupy honey tongue, ten
Metres long – all the better
To catch you common lalat’s
With words sweet and tender

Of many hue, size and shape
Yes, I am indeed a chameleon
Breaking bread with an Islamist
Or bosom buddy of a neocon

Once I wallowed in a cesspool
'ere I was driven out by a tiger
Now I am your white Paladin
Not many can detect my odour

Like a mischievous Eris I flung
Into the anagrammatic KOJI
A Mongolian apple of discord
Which says Altan .. Kallisti

A word meaning ‘to the fairest’
Why, that’s me, aku, I, wah
Sweet words, all ye lemmings,
For your Most Majesty, Moi

Note: lalat = Malay for houseflies

Magic of the 100th name of God

Once
I had a hundred names
with only 99 known.
Trust Isis and her wiles,
yes, a woman
and a lovely one too,
to pry the 100th out of me.
Devious!

Amazed!
I now have a new one but
minus an 'L' as if that
would mean someone else,
like Odin, Manitou, Zeus,
rather than ole me, you
know who, don't you?
Moi

Hey
I call out to them, they
in the red and blue corners.
The names' the same, it's all mine
of course, whose did you think?
Butt out, sneered one;
Yes, the other concurred;
Scat!

Huh?
But they're all mine, those
names you're fighting over.
So what, did you patent them
like mapped gerome of langsat
and petai for exclusive use?
No? Then, buzz off!
Goodbye

But
Why fight over my names
when I am the same Bloke
for all of you guys and gals?
Hellooooo, didn't we say
to butt out of our turf wars,
on exclusive use of THE name.
Understand?

Isis!
Only she knew my 100th name
that bestows the most powerful
magic on those who know.
She was privy to my secret (100th)
name called Compassion, sometimes
known as, would you believe,
Love!

Related - Malaysiakini letters:
(1) Others using ‘Allah’ will confuse Muslims
(2) Allah, Tuhan, Lord and God

Ode to fallen but unwanted heroes

The Japanese had long since gone,
their bayonets are no longer drawn;
The long fought bitter war was won
but sadly not for those truly fallen

From the holes emerged ethnic heroes
who had stayed still while others died,
to shamelessly rob victory from others
whose real sacrifices are now denied

Eliminate any hero’s deeds and name,
erase their service from our memory;
don't remind the bigots of their shame,
their absence in defending our country

Smash to smithereens their memorial
New ‘heroes’ need the broken bricks
to build their ethnic wira credential,
complete with keris, hornets & tricks

Omar Khayyam & Kari Perut Ikan

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse - and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness -
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

- Omar Khayyam

Omar Khayyam I am not, but when
mum cooked delicious kari perut ikan,
I dashed to the village bakery to buy
a loaf of bread for jolly good makan

There were long beans, fresh pineapple,
daun limau purut, & purple aubergine,
pickled fish roe and stuff best not told;
that last part, it’s better to just imagine

Then mum added fresh shelled shrimps
to the curry for extra marvellous taste;
I dipped my crusty roti into the mélange
to scoop and eat all, there was no waste

I sat beneath the bough of a belimbing
tree, to tuck away a feast just wondrous,
but without a flask of wine or singing,
and I have no time for a book of verse

Mum chose jasmine rice, and sis bihun,
but all with helpings of kari perut ikan;
It’s Siamese style cuisine, hot and spicy
pepper-ish curry, healthily sans santan

And you may ask why I didn’t include
you, my sayang, the one called ‘Thou’;
I couldn’t 'cause Paradise’d be absent
when the curry for me was not enow

What is tom yum kai or shark fin soup,
soup kambing or even chicken wantan;
all these are but nothing when compared
to mum’s incomparable kari perut ikan

Oh, by the way, have you even guessed yet
that secret ingredient of my mother’s curry
If you still haven’t got it, hold tight to your
seat, cause it’s yummy pickled fish tummy

Memories of kampong sounds

The singing of the bullfrogs
throughout the humid night
told us it would not be long
before rain gave cool delight









The humming of the cicadas
pulsed in chirring monotone,
serenading an evening stroller,
suddenly silence, he's all alone

Long before dawn, I awoke
to a rooster's loud crowing;
once, twice, thrice, then the
sparrows started twittering

But now I hear those sounds
only vaguely in my memory,
while I am blasted daily with
noises, discordant, incessantly,

of car horns and roaring bikes,
harsh pounding and clanging
of piling hammers, & strato-
blasters of motorcars passing









Oh, of black-naped orioles,
what would I give to hear
their sweet warbling again,
‘ere they too soon disappear

No footprint in the sand

I was all alone on the beach
strolling towards the red sun
lying on the western horizon;
T’was when night had begun.

Every step I took on the wave
beaten beach, the silver sand
rose up between my wet toes,
and thus leaving on the land

my footprints of the evening,
till the murmuring waves swept
away the tracks I made, leaving
no memory of where I stepped.

Years later I went to that beach.
To hear the waves roar cheekily:
‘Ah, you’re back’, hinting again
I'd leave no footprint as memory.

Where are the dragonflies?

Eons ago, by the village pond
I saw wonderful flitting things,
& recall delightful memories of
miracles with gossamer wings

I saw one of deep turquoise blue
hovering over the leaf of a lotus,
while another of orangey colour
rested on the violet convolvulus

Darting there, then hovering here,
creating rainbows in the sunlight
wherever they flew, continuing so
till daylight gave way to the night

I wonder where are the dragonflies,
after they've turned the village pond
into a filthy junk pit, devoid of water,
blooms, blue morning glory or frond

49th Merdeka

What a day!
Enjoy, rejoice
Be safe out there

Look to the left
at your neighbours
Go, hold their hands

Look to the right
It's the forgotten
Help pick them up

Look right around
at those left behind
Do take them along

What a day!
Enjoy, rejoice,
Best if together

Children of Qana

Lying still in Qana's mud
of dust mixed with blood,
children broken in bodies,
mums wrecked in miseries

Death came from the sky
to maim, kill, & destroy,
from hearts full of hate,
minds of evil incarnate

Among bloodied debris,
pierced young bodies
by Death's burnished steel
of cruel sharp shrapnel

But streaks of blood mar
its blue six-pointed star;
Turn Death the other way
to see it say Made in USA

Tremble - Last Communist Cometh!

The Daily News screamed:
Ye all tremble for he is here!
Who, who? We all shivered;
Who should we truly fear?

He, the evil Last Communist,
a danger to society, our bane.
What? That trembling old man,
the one with the walking cane?