Torrential inundation: wrath of God?
Or merely climate change in rampant form?
If we are to be spared His righteous rod
Could we assuage this mighty, raging storm?
Or maybe Mankind’s fate is truly sealed
The planet’s payback cannot be repealed!
#613 On The Apex Predator
Apex predator?
Mere minutes of chasing a
Toy and she’s half dead!
#612 Tentang Jiwa Yang Terpelanting
Dalam keheningan ini
Aku hanya ingin
Meraung selaungnya.
Biar laut, biar langit,
Biar seluruh langit keliling
Menjadi saksi
Suatu jiwa yang terpelanting.
#611 On That Box of Chocolates
Life is like a box of
Chocolates.
Most times, you get something
Nice and sweet.
Occasionally, what you get is
Just about okay.
And every now and then,
Every piece in the box
That you thought would be nice
Turns out to be
Curdled poop.
#610 On My Blasted Eyes
Did you ever suspect that we would find each
Other? Through the thickets of false friendships
and brambles of failed encounters, He was leading
Me to you: I was down on my knees, bleeding. Teach
Me to love you wholly, I said. My hands and hips
And blasted eyes are yours, yours for the healing.
#609 On Marching Ahead Through the Brambles
In resignation, we march onwards through
The brambles of uncertain fortunes. Ahead,
The knives are sharpened for the slaughter.
Around us, the terrifying din of mirthful laughter.
But we hold our heads up high, without dread.
The grim truth is that Death prunes life anew.
#608 On Your Turgid Vessel, Now Cleft Asunder
Here you are, abandoned, stranded
Your hopes now fallen to the ground
Barely breathing: drowned, defeated
Your ardent dreams, once skyward bound
Have all defected: sad, bereft
Buried under tortured ground
Your turgid vessel jilted, cleft:
There is nothing, nothing left.
#607 On Being a Good Boy
All I wanted was to be a good boy;
A good boy who would not disappoint you, and make
You proud. My being would wipe away your tears.
I would tiptoe around the eggshells of my toys
And your feelings: mercurial, volatile. I would rake
Away your hurts, and transmute them into my own fears.
#606 On Your Flag at Half-Mast
In the end, the only thing left of you
Were your ashes, neatly wrapped up in urn;
The pictures, sepia-toned, scattered on tables
As your ex-colleagues and friends took turns
To give bad speeches and recount feeble
Recollections, probably not all of them true.
I never really knew you, and could only recall
One conversation that we ever had; something
About the economy or global affairs. Mostly
I think of your final years of hard suffering;
The years that cancer took from you; all
That time when Time was ebbing away, swiftly.
I hope you've found your peace, at last,
Our hearts now fly your flag, half-mast.
#605 On A Disappointing Life
How does it feel to
Know that your life has been a
Deep disappointment?