My wild and truant mind repels discipline
And ranges far and wide in unsought streams
With boldness and curious disposition
To bask with joy in fresh and novel dreams
I revel in intrepid transgressions
And march through life with serene procession.
#614 On This Torrential Inundation
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The planet’s payback cannot be repealed!
#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.
#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.
#603 On Coded Speech
Your whole life, you promised that you would
Be different. You would not be like your own mother,
And you would love all of your own children, each
Of them equally loved. In the end, you smothered
Each of your children with the same poison: rude
Doses of insult and disgust, beneath coded speech.
#602 On This Box of Broken Hearts
I've trapped a lifetime's worth of memories -
Letters, photos, broken hearts - they are
Piled on top of each other; shattered fragments
Of lives unrescued, abandoned to Life's vagaries,
Their screams locked away in this box, far
Away from my attention, my daily distracted moments.
#599 On Death’s Dark Machete
Fate's marionette, you ambled blind
Through Life's dark byways - lost, unmoored.
With every hurt, you hurt in kind,
Unthinking, Life has left you floored.
Your eyes alit with Terror's blaze,
Death's dark machete counts the days.
(inspired by Paul Auster's father, and all the other traumatised, useless fathers out there)
#598 On The Maggot’s Rot
Through all the years, your hard travails,
You bid your conscience mute, untasked.
And in the ripeness, power reveals,
Now on your throne you stand, unmasked.
We barely knew you, did we not?
Behind that smile, the maggot's rot.
#595 Tentang Gelora Manja Puffin
Gelora manja yang melompat girang
Memburu cinta dengan guruh harapan
Gemuruh hitam putih menuntut riang
Hati melayang menerjah gelung sopan
Sayang, memang layaknya namamu Puffin
Mekar kasih kami marak dan tulen.