Kau bertarung, melawan garang
Deru taufan kau sanggah tegas
Namun serang bertubi datang
Denting wahyu meragut deras
Usah sedan mengenang nasib
Engkau jaguh tiada termaghrib.
#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.
#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.
#583 On This Portapotty Existence
Glassy-eyed, we walk past these corridors,
Chasing numbers across our yawning days.
A hamster’s hunt through the glass doors
Of swanky corporate offices, scurrying past
Our portapotty cubicles, our diurnal homes,
Like defeated castle gnomes, downcast,
Eking out one final groan, one final chase.
What kind of life is this? Who made this so?
How did we submit to this existence?
We who are made in His image, we who know
Better - we who are mirrors reflecting His Magnificence?
#581 On The Game That Was Lost
What was the meaning
Of all that strife? We were bound
To lose from the start.
#503 On The Unsheathed Sword
You shirk the task with nonchalant reply
This menial duty far beneath your grace
And so I take it on myself to try
The task dispatched away with heedful haste
No pointing blame, but this I shall remark
My sword, unsheathed, awaits the next lit spark.
#466 On Playing the Part
“I am just way too old for this,” he thought
Reflecting sourly on the duties thrust
Upon his head, (their value close to naught),
And yet he knows to undertake he must
With every crown comes need for player’s art
To bear with empty pomp and play the part.
#441 On Lemminghood
Like lemmings we march
Off the cliff of obeisance
Into oblivion.
#426 On Curses
I curse you.
I curse you for the smearing of our good names.
For your insinuations.
For your callous determination, to destroy our good works.
For your cowardice, in hiding behind the veil of power
to push us off the precipice.
I curse you, in this blessed month of Ramadan.
May your aims all go awry.
May your works crumble into ash.
May your evil doings find their way back to you,
transmuted into evils committed unto you.
May the miseries you inflict on others,
be heaped unto you in series a millionfold.
I curse you, and may God curse you too.