Çarşamba, Ağustos 30, 2006

Human Rights and Animal Rights

1]

In Pondicherry, it seems animals
do not need a university education
in order to bellow or gloat
or parade like scholarly turkeys
in a Mardi Grass like festival
to brocade their intellectual capabilities
before the sun sets
in the Male Straits ...

they are not required in Pondicherry
to sit for SATS
and stand on ceremony
whenever a Bollywood actress passes by,
and then bend low and with much introspection
examine the high heels and boots
that need to be licked every time
the horse drawn carriages
float past with grand ladies
in Victorian costumes
trying to replicate the past
with the new found wealth of the present ...

Animals it seems in Pondicherry
do not rehearse their speeches
in dull lit auditoriums
where brays and cackles and gobbles
of dissent are common,
or where the air is filled
with fundamental truths that need to be aired
in the fundamental straight streets of Pondicherry ...

In Pondicherry, a donkey remains a donkey
and cannot transform himself into an astronaut
just because his yard is filled with meteorite lights
that are actually bare bulbs masquerading
as the constellations of the Milky Way
on a braying ground filled with the ugly squalor
of death and destitution
and the corrupt leaves of an eternal summer
northeast of the Suez Canal ...

In Pondicherry, it is apt to speak your mind
even if it is to the elves of the forest,
and the fair fairies who died in tragedy
after exposing dowry murders
and the callous hand of lazy husbands
who whipped them into shape
even if they were clad
in humongous saress
made of bright dazzling purples ,,,

If fat lugubrious Pondicherry widows
can tolerate the swine and herds of cattle
toiling in the sun
to labour for their wealth
then why cant the simple peasants from Mandalay
give leash to their own kin and kith :
the dictatorial horses who ride up to Pagan
only to seal their gallops
with fundamental untruths
masquerading as divine intervention
from the midnight sky,
which actually is the only harmonious valley
up north
which allows dissent
without crucifying
the Pondicherry mules with impunity
or the starving the lonely good souls
in Trincomalee into destitution
for allowing the roar of the lion
in the padi fields up north
or the growl of a hungry tiger
with all its black stripes
amidst the gold of a golden valley
and considering it perfectly normal
since both Mortal Man and animals
have for long accepted
the majesty of mighty roars
and the elocution of their subordinates
as necessary to keep the realm of innocence
fundamentally right
in a fundamentally good earth
which has suddenly gone fundamentally wrong
because a dozen carrots
were gilded in gold
and mistaken for the Royal Truth
and their fundamental message is Greed
and not love for mankind or the animal kingdom
and if this fundamental untruth
becomes de rigeur in Pondicherry next fall,
the whole of Mandalay
will be filled with Napolen and his pigs
grunting and gnawing their way
into the august halls of a fundamentally unsound parliament ...


Canto 1


Humans have rights of course
to speak, to pursue happiness, and to gawk,
but they also have the right to shoot
and as Dick Cheney has proven
they seem to exercise these silly rights
more than the nobler rights of mankind
which is to overhaul corruption
by speaking fearlessly about it
and to bring down oppressive regimes
instead of invading them all for the sake
of golden oil, which unlike golden syrup
is a very mischievous way
of pretending to be a liberal democratic country
[especially if you've got a history of slavery
and genocide and racism in Uncle Tom's Cabin]


2]

A blur i once met in Kalimantan said
that when there's a haze in the sky
it's difficult to understand
the difference between
a human being and an animal
when i asked her to clarify herself :
she poured me some ghee in a test tube
and put a bunsen burner under it
then fell asleep at the stroke of midnight
when skunks and scalawags and gangsters
roamed the dark, dark alleys of old Pontianak
when hungry ghosts crawl up into the belukar
to wreak vengeance on Mortal Man,
who often behaves worst than
the skunks of old Kalimantan ...

3]

Another misfit in Oklahoma City
bred on marijuana and drugs of all kinds
having slept with both man and dog and woman
in a natural way because of Margaret Mead
and her so-called liberal ways
of making love on the side alleys in Papua NG
smoked some cocaine
[they dont hang them dead in cowboy country,
you donno?]
said : between a skunk and a politician,
he would rather be courteous to a skunk
because it's born dirty
and doesnt become dirty because of Family
and Absolute Power and the Greed for Gold ...
then he died a poor leper
and was saved by a widow in Pondicherry
who was so black even the blacks despised her ...
but she fed him for seven days
on pulut itam and putu mayam
some yellow rice, and some cheap coconut arrack
... giving him the only comfort a despised man
can have ... having been on bloody drugs
and blooming goodness, the milk of cow,
the milk of human mad cow goodness-badness ...

so when you see a man who's dressed to kill,
kissing babies in Connecticut next to Dick Cheney's farm
and there's no shooting going around
and no bloody war in Iraq
and no attempt at democratising the unruly Middle East,
you might want to consider
what the lepers of the world think
of Mankind and its civilization
and whether we got it all wrong
from Mesopotamia to the great Indus and Greece ...
for if you need to wear a kilt
to deserve a killer called Bloody Democracy,
perhaps it's better to wear a sarong
and use a blooming changkul to bury
a hatchet of hate and hypocriscy
in a padi field in Alor Star
where the stars are so bright,
nobody even remembers Dick Cheney
and his shooting expertise
from the Nutcracker's Waltzing Lanes
in Siberia to Bugs Bunny's carrots
and tobacco leaf chewing dreams
in the gay fields of merry old
1609 America when black and white minstrels
were often mistaken
for dark shadows of white lightning
[that's how they discovered lightning conductors]
in an orange landscape with so much
tilling of the ground
and neighing of neighbourly lovingkindness
you would often mistake the misery of the bison
for the misery of man
picking up cotton fields on his back
to glorify Great Democracy
the yankeedoodle way ...

4]

Animals are not trained to lie
so if they go to court
they will not be able
to enunciate their vowels
in a twisted tortuous way
to befuddle a bewigged judge
in Puducheary-by-the-River
into believing their deceit
they do not lisp in court
nor do they undertake
extraordinary means to
silence a mad fool
who's bent on proving
that murder can work
when all else fails
in a litigation suit
in the Spratley Islands
where the public gallery
is filled with
Kelantan turtles taking a siesta
before laying eggs on
the fine, fine sands
of the East Coast ...

5]

Animals seem to have
an extraordinary way
of living, despite having
less intellectual skills
than humans
they strut when they're peacocks
oblivious to the fury
of jealous lovers or
disdainful old cocks
out of sync with the times
they hoot in derision
yet forget what they're hooting at
because they do not harbour
grudges or plan to persecute
a disagreeable old cock
who sits in an armchair
dishing out conducive
theories on the evolution of man
whilst being like a donkey
braying till midnight
and offering propositions
that drives one to the
brink of insanity ...

6]

In terms of liberality,
turkeys seem to have the most
liberal tendencies
besides frogs in mangrove swamps
[whom nobody regards
as intellectuals anyway]
turkeys carry themselves
in a majestic way
gobbling for all the world
to hear their strange philosophies
about laying eggs in Istanbul
before winter is nigh
about foolish hens
that pluck their feathers
when they're asleep
and about the hogs of Germany
[whom they despise for
their lack of honour]
Despite being seen
as ludicrous birds,
turkeys seem incredibly
filled with a higher self esteem
than the ordinary human
in Animal Farm
when Mr Pilkington
is gunned down in a harlot's den
pleading for an end
to feminism ...


7]

Some say the world will end
with a bloody bang,
others say when Gog and Magog
raise themselves up
and men stop acting like pigs
the world will reorientate
itself and Mortal Man
will be saved from
both the wrath of God
and the belligerent attitude
of tadpoles in Timbuktoo
which seem to display
an unusual sense of integrity
ever since the invasion of Iraq
sitting in mudpools and devising
ways of preventing a cacophony
of gibberish emanating from
human quarters not quartered up
by war, famine, disease or sin ...

8]

Humans claim that they have
more liberal views on the environment
than ducks and pigs and horses
but even the donkeys in Bremen
claim that they have a broader view
of murder, rape and gluttony
and robbery in the world
and hence are in a better position
to prevent anarchy in a world
run by intelligent men
But being donkeys it's of course
a Herculean task to convince
the United Nations about the
appropriate ways to avoid
corruption in the world
whether it be in secret arms deals
[during an embargo]
or the surreptitious sale of oil
[during a war]
and until the world accepts the fact
that animals are more human
than humanity itself
and filled with a greater warmth
and understanding of Nature
and their place in the world
Mortal Man will club himself
into a Devil's Pit,
with pride and lust
forcing him into a
cabbined, cribbed cage
of despair and foolishness
whilst earning million dollar salaries
in the august chambers of Auschwitz ...


9]

Some humans believe it's
beneath their dignity
to stoop down to stroke
a dog's fur, even if it looks
as pleasant as an Alsatian in a tophat
[without a black bow to call its own]
Some humans believe it's no point
talking about the inferior nature
of animals because animals are
dumb and inconsequential and illiterate
and cannot afford to offer solutions
to a world that seems to have
gone crazy with hatred and bigotry
and so dumb animals must wait
at the slaughterhouse
to have their heads cut before
enunciating what is in their hearts
and what goes on in their minds
and what would be the best way
to solve the economic problems
of the world which inadvertently
leads to both conventional
and unconventional wars
if unsolved by the so-called
intelligent men who rule the world ...

10]

Some humans believe that
because they're democratic
they have the right to judge,
condemn, malign and mock
animals in the sunny streets of Chittagong
and force them into all sorts of
unimaginable tasks
to make them pay and pay
for the loss of reason
in a land of treason
where birds of a feather
are forced to act like spiders
and the fish of the sea
are made to behave like penguins
walking bewildered up a pathway
that leads to a gambling den
to prove the fact
that fiduciary relationships
are more important
than the fishing rights of imbeciles ...

Canto 1 [2007]

Animals seem more jolly
than most humans it seems
dogs often grin in the backseat
of their master's Cadillac
sticking out their tongues in glee
as their masters punch their horns
in frustration, cursing and swearing
at the weather,the financial order,
the Federal Reserve System
and idiots shooting turkeys in Rose Bushes
mistaking them for humans ...

Pigs roll in the hay with or without the haze
delighting in the warmth and security
it gives them, away from Animal Farm ...
donkeys bray liberally from dusk to dawn
engaged in all kinds of loud small talk
and even if nobody bothers to fathom
what they might be saying,
they are free to exercise their liberal tendencies
from the stroke to midnight on and evermore
without getting a seat in parliament
or a Republican ticket or a place in Congress
to debate on the war in Iraq
and the budget for the new year
and the morality of pimps
or the beauty of the First Amendment
or the corruption of Democrats
or the sleaze and scandals of Whitehall
or the sluice gates of the communists
and their refusal to give in to
Vatican requests for the appointment
of their own bishops ...

Seagulls fly in their white snowy feathers
and kingfishers in their blue
and beneath the azure majestic sky of heaven
there is nothing a Mortal Man cannot dream of,
so why does he often seem so grumpy and sour tempered
if animals like snowgeese can skydive from
the awesome snows in Siberia [away from the Gulag]
and have a sunny bask in the lallang fields
pecking about and twittering on all kinds of diet
with or without the approval of the Diet of Worms?

Why are humans so very coffined and cabbined
in a void deck of racial and religious bigotry
and why are their kings so corrupt
despite the death of King Henry 6
and Mad George and Idi Amin
and now the great but bad Saddam Hussein?

Is there no power on earth
that can make a man kind and compassionate
and generous and noble
and happier than the animals
they put on leashes and whip into subservience
to drive their carts of carrots and cabbages
to make their christmases bright and beautiful
even if they are saddled in a desert
of corruption, deceit and greed
as the humble messiah lingers in a barnyard
attended only by sheep and goats
with their bits of hay and jolly smiles ?


Zephyr Cantos

Some say animals seem to have more jolly fun
whilst humans sulk and grumble
and put on sweetsour faces
to meet the sour pineapple slices
they see at the marketplace,
forgetting a pineapple cannot choose
when it is plucked off the garden,
whilst a human can choose to be cheerful
amidst the corrupt leaves of summer
especially if he has chosen not to be
part of the corrupting effects of
the sun in Scandinavia
when it finally emerges
from the fjordlands of old Norway ...


Cantos Bizarre

Some animals dream of smoking
on sawdust as they see cows moo
and men behave as deranged fools
scrounging on virtue
and collecting jars of vice
worshipping statues of gold
that make even the humble hamsters
bitter with rage
at the waste of brilliant minds
over a boston tea party
so far away from the red, red sea ...


Animals do not like to eat carrots
with a pair of chopsticks
and save up on gold nuggets
in an empty barnyard filled
with napoleanic figures
that resemble the pigs of old
preferring to go swiftly to the abattoir
with more dignity than Idi Amin
in his snoring sleep in Uganda ...

Animals do not enjoy calculating
the time they get to the muddy rivers
preferring wicked men to calculate
both the hour of reckoning
and the amount of money they will make
from sending poor harmless beasts
to their undignified deaths
as they roll in the riches
all for the sake of food
for the ugly rich and the sodden poor ...

Animals prefer to keep their conscience clean
preferring to take the remains of man's day
for their simple meals
instead of going on strike
for more golden carrots and chops
boiled in a brew of suspicious spirits ...

Animals hence do not really have
a quarrel with God
since they speak in brays and oinks
and do not harbour grudges against the Creator
but against the mercurial spirits
of idiots who run the world
and slaughter them or their kind
without even a warning letter
used during outsourcing exercises
to clean the claypots of excess fat
and send the poor to sudden ruin ...


Canto 11

Animals have splendid rites in Pondicherry
and far more rice in Tibet
to feed upon, but very little rights in Templeton, USA :
because to the Druids of old, god is dead
and was ever since blacks were brought in
from the beloved Ivory Coast
to become the peasants of a great white experiment
on Great Grand Liberty :
liberty for WASPS and not for the red black hornets
from the Horn of Africa
where white rhino horns and elephant ivory
and safari holidays in the savannah
and Born Free movies with Gary Collins
were splendidly more liberating
than Kunta Kinte and his poor oppressed brothers
who build up America from the wasteland of wild west
slaving in the cotton and tobacco fields of old
when the pallid monsters from Disneyland
smoked their Cuban cigars in plantations
and danced the night away
after a year of fornication
before the Eucharist :
but only animals those days
questioned the validity of the Magna Carta
or the ambiguity of equality of all races
before Heaven and the angels and the saints -
especially since protestant virtue
regarded Catholic rights and rites
as pagan rituals before the goddess of Kali ...

So animals indeed did have more rights
than niggers in the old plantations of Arizona..
they frolicked in the mud with glee,
especially those pink faced pigs
who rolled in the mud before the white bungalows
of Gone with the Wind :
as Clark Gable and Vivienne Leigh
serenaded and made love
as the civil war was in stern ordination :

Canto 11

Animals had more rights in Arkansas and Little Rock
whilst niggers like Rodney King were shot in the head
and made to crawl like hairy crabs
in a hair infested mangrove swamp east of the Suez
cringing in a climate of fear in Mandalay
as mountains of jade and gold
were quarried like sand to an area of darkness
up in the northern peninsula
as the Yellow Mountain was glorified
over the lex loci and the interests of the peasantry ...

Animals dont receive a million dollar salary
for gambolling in Green Acres,
neither do they receive gold ingots for laying eggs
suckling pigs for instance are stuffed with golden oranges
to bring prosperity to the peasantry -
whilst kings and emperors up north of the Siberian Sea
throw diamonds into their spitoons of virtue
gagging the dissenting ducks of Quack Valley
and silencing the lambs
as they are paraded like marmaduke fools
in a tower of London landscape
where Picadilly and Regent Street
compete with the Berlin Wall and Auschwitz
for comparison with Dick Cheney's benevolence
and generosity to the fat turkeys of the Rose Garden
in Hale Berry's America -
where blacks are no longer whipped for dissent,
but encouraged to get into Hollywood
and sprint for Great America
to win glory for the human race,
with or without the approval
of Martin Luther King ...

Zephyr Cantos :

If an animal groans, often we do not notice it,
oblivious as we are even to human suffering :
but animals bear pain
more stoically than a blooming scholar
in Mandalay, with chains round
his delinquent dogs
who whelp at the slightest injustice,
even if it is only on Animal Farm ...

in George Orwell's Burma,
elephants are mentioned
and some have stampeded in rage
against the tyranny of men ...
if all elephants stampede against
both the tyranny of men
and the corruption of politicians,
the world might become quite bare,
filled only with snow up in the Alps,
and prairies overrun by bison,
and seladang in padi fields
for once toiling without an irate farmer
shouting obscenities
for 'slovenly behaviour.'

then no factories made by men
would foul the pristine air
nor would men be driven to fits of fury
when they lose their millions
on the stock exchange
because donkeys would close down the exchange
and be content to chew
on carrots in field
made fallow by foolish men
whose absence from the earth
might in fact purify the salubrious globe
and make it a better place,
with or without the barks in parliament
which reflect more the indecision of mankind
and his nascent corruption,
which compared to the lallang fields
appear repugnant
before cloud and water and raw red earth ....

------------------------

Salı, Ağustos 15, 2006

The Liberal Tendencies of Fowls

Fowls tend to have by nature
very liberal tendencies
they cluck, at times crow
at unearthly hours in the morning
in both fair and foul weather
be it noonday sun, midautumn festival
of course if they live in igloos
they sleep all through the lugubrious night
swooning like picanninies on the Alpines
unaccustomed to their more restricted neighbours
gobbling like turkeys throughout summer
in the Black Forest

The Moon Rabbit will sit on its haunches
and pretend that nothing is amiss
until the cock stops crowing
at the break of dawn
bursting instead into song
and dancing like Fred Estaire

Oh, what a wonderful world it would be indeed
if old grey gloomy cocks could sing
like Michael Jackson
and do the moondance
and a bit of MTV jiggling
giggling now and then
with bits of carrots stuck in their beaks
before going not gently into the night
but with a rage
doing a brilliant cockadoodle do
with a thundering crow
and a great scream of fury
against the placid foolish ducks
who seem to smile
all the time
even when their quacking
is undone by Elmer Fudd
in a burst of irreverence
on a Sunday morning
when No Quacking Rules
apply in the singsong sunny spots
of New Caledonia ...

Pazartesi, Ağustos 14, 2006

Dick Cheney shoots Partridges in Pear Trees

DICK CHENEY SHOOTS PARTRIDGES IN PEAR TREES
[IN ROSA PARKS' AMERICA]

CANTO 1

Dick Cheney, some say
he shot partridges in pear trees
mistaking them for green goblins
wearing oil drums instead of pumpkins
on thanksgiving day
when turkeys gobbled like princes
in a great white palace
with crystal chandeliers
hanging all the way down
from a ceiling filled by
the Colour Purple ...

Some say Dick was born squint,
and therefore he has a perpetual habit
of shooting in the opposite direction,
whether it is towards luckless lawyers
whom he really wants to kill,
or foolish turkeys which strut
to kill a quail
in a bird's nest
oblivious to oily feathers
and slick Godfathers
acting alongside Marlon Brando lookalikes
in some bawdy horse show
in Hale and Hearty button mushroom gardens,
shrieking without tenderness
in a barnyard
filled with pigs
sloppy ugly bushy-eyed pinkertons
mking a gigantic mess
of the treasury bills
in the house of bushes, roses
and autumn leaves ...

If you ever see dear Dick
gazing fondly at a statue of Rosa Parks
and muttering bloody hell -
it aint for her bus seat
that he is pining for -
for his pocket is full enough today -
he had immunity during the war
that Daffy Duck had with a sad sombre tiger,
and how madly they ran into
the great wall of China -
loaning great hunks of gold,
and losing it all at once,
and blaming it on subterranean forces
beneath the blue-black sea
of Iceland ...

If ice can become fire in a day
and quails can become turkeys in two,
perhaps bushes can become the cedars of Lebanon
in seven years in Tibet
and Brad Pitt can give a lecture
on human rights to those goddam communists
and force them to free Tibet
in seven seconds flat ...

So who's listening to a bushy eyed kangaroo these days?
Not me for sure, Mr Pinkerton.
Madam Butterfly aint my cup of tea
perhaps butterflies are free today
in Dick Cheney's quail farm
in some obscure part of Arizona
or Texas or ...
some grand oil well
stuck in the quagmires of Baghdad
where the oil smells and tastes better
than the perfumes of Arabia,
which cannot bring you
30 million gold nuggets and sapphires
'cos they are stuck
in another oil field
where the security risks are not
as bad
as the barrel coming out of an oval office
shaped like a den of foxes
to swindle a fairy godmother
in Snow White
into giving her secrets
to the infamous clowns
who run round like rabbits in a crazy race
only to leave the entire world
in a blooming daze ...

So, Mr Dick Cheney is so loved in Kansas City
and soon he will be given Cadillacs
by all the quails in South Africa
who will fly across the Atlantic
to perform ritualistic turkey dances
to celebrate his birthday
with a ring in his nose,
Dick will have to dance like a turkey then
to entertain the masses
all over the world
to impress them that he is actually clean
and free from debt and the butchery of slaves
in the Ivory Coast and the sunken ports
all the way
from Basra to the Tigris and Euphrates,
or else the red parrots of Kenya
will be very disappointed
and the mynahs of Indonesia equally so:
to see such a thin man as he
refuse to dance
to celebrate the culling of Red Indians
on a salubrious September summer day
when Nat King Cole will appear in a dream
alongside Martin Luther King
and Rosa Parks too,
all serenading him
with a lullaby from Broadway -
only in heaven it will be called -
the lull before the storm,
or Judgement Day ...







Canto 2

in the august chambers of Auschwitz
i saw a fat sad befuddled turkey
groaning in pain as arthritie crippled him
and Sad Mary slithered over his knees
pleading for him
to return gold dust
to the holy grail
to return all golden quail eggs
to their rightful owner -
the Czar of Russia :
from whom he stole them
in 1617 :
when slavery and St Petersburg
were in their infancy :
a return of gifts and golden eggs
in the solemn somber feast of Easter
or on Ash Wednesday,
when repentance is required
would be ideal ...

But turkeys often mistake Easter eggs
for quail eggs in a bowl of laksa
and Charles Dickens for Dick Cheney,
a very intelligent man
a man of honour,
who actually sailed to Venezuela
in the summer of 1942
to kiss the foot of Chavez
an oil baron whom he loved
more than money or gold or nose rings ...

But Venezuela spurned the fat turkey
and sent him to the Bay of Pigs
and the Russians mistook him for a pig
they had seen in Siberia
fat, loathsome and always hunting
for food
in an abbatoir in Turkey
which hated pigs more than rice pudding ...

And so to Istanbul, my dears I must go,
to find out what the dickens is Thin Dick
doing in Istanbul worshipping at the Blue Mosque
when he is actually registered as a spy from heaven
meant to save sinners from hell,
meant to be a good shepherd to lost sheep,
meant to play poker with Vincent van Patten and win
meant to play the Godfather with Marlon Brando -
in heaven perhaps - if he gets there -
he will definitely do
provided the Good Lord
allows him through its gates,
along with his golden eggs
hatched from Nowhere I know,
but filled with the yolk of Haliburton,
gold and glistening
and ever so bewildering in its
mercurial beauty,
so captivating that even the Cheshire Cat
envies little Dick Whitington
in his pure white socks
acting as Puss in Boots
and playfully toying with
the idea of becoming
the Marquis of Carabas
in a bus load filled with oil merchants
going on a safari to Johanessburg
to shoot tigers at dusk
at the dawn of creation
at the dusk of civilization
silently
when God is not watching
to steal ivory from the poor Africans
and sell them to those bloody communists
who took Tibet with the stealth of thieves
and then shut them up for good,
forcing the Dalai Lama to flee
over the mountains of his beloved country
into the wilderness
as Fat Dick skulked like a muffled penguin
in a hot bath filled with rubber dickies
and ducks swimming in a yellow oil bath
screaming Fat Dick come and lick our oil
Lick it with your fat tongue
and cleanse our beaks
from the bittermint of sorrow
from the filth of those goddam communists
Be our saviour, wail the thin ducks of Siberia,
the white egrets who perform a dance
before the great leader in Pyongyang
before flying across the Pacific
to lay by the side
of a barrack filled with guns and canons
used by Thin Dick
in his callow youth ...


Canto 3

In the summer of 42
when Troye Donahue was walking down Sunset Boulevarde,
Dick Cheney accosted him
and accused him of jay-walking,
or so says the carbuncular man
of the Wasteland,
whom I met in Hiroshima
after Dr Robert Oppenheimer had died.
He told me an airy-fairy tale
of Dick Cheney feeding the puffin penguins of Chile,
which he mistook for hot chicks in Soho
and whom he thought he could offer
oil in a barrel
for twice the price.

But poor old Dick forgot,
puffin penguins cant oount as well as he,
they did not become scholars
nor did they study trigonometry
or the enigmatic equations of Pythagaros,
and neither penguins or polar bears
whom they are rather fond of
can waddle like ducks like Dick can
whenever he goes to a masquerade party
with the Red Guards of the Guangdong province
to shoot pandas - purely for fun -
since he loves seeing them dance the tango
'cos that's when the price of oil escalates sharply
and he can make enormous deals
just tiptoeing through the tulips
smoking a Cuban cigar or two
and putting on a Halloween mask
whilst pretending to be tbe green goblin of Harlem ...



Canto 4

Oh, Dick, thin tall Dick :
what the Dickens art thou doing now?
Cant you go to Vietnam
and exhume all those coffins
and pour some inflated oil onto
those troops you danced with
when Nixon fell at Watergate?

Or was it your brother Richard Chamberlain
who you deserted to go to war in Iraq
with Soupy Sales and Mr Magoo,
after his Studebaker came to a sudden halt
in the virgin forests of Brazil ...


Canto 5

We hear Mr Cheney that besides being brilliant
with shooting turkeys in Istanbul
and puffin penguins in Grandma Walton's backyard
that you're also a sportsman
and once won an Olympic gold medal
in the Berlin Olympics
for the marathon ...

Now that is indeed an ideal achievement,
considering you're so plump and tubby,
with a stomach that droops down before you,
so much that you have to hop over it
like a kangaroo -
and pick it up at supper
after breakfast at Tiffany
with Audrey Hepburn ...

Oh, what will Charles Dickens say
when he meets you some time
in the crazy lazy days of summer
when he descends in a rapturous cloud
and appears to you in a dream ?

What the dickens, Dick,
have you done to America?

America the Great was when you came in?
America the Betrayed, is when you left it,
with a thousand oil drums in your backyard,
and without a single penny to pay for it.

Dick, I think you'd better go to Alcatraz
and sleep till the sun sets on Hollywood Boulevarde
or else they'll ask Brad Pitt to play you
in a sprawling movie called
Good Times without Dick
or Farewell to Arms : Shootout in Babylon
and your fat cherubic grinning face
will be seen in bright dazzling lights
all over the goddam world
though how many would line up to see a movie about you
only the quails of Malaysia
and the turkeys of old Istanbul will know.

Goodbye Dick - farewell
Adieu - may Haliburton be yours forever more
till Sir Thomas More tells you
about martyrdom
and what it really means
to die for your country
and explains in simple language
what gluttony and greed are
and why audits are necessary
what Truth is
and what Heaven is :
and why he had to defy a king
to save his soul from hell
once when the world was much younger
than you or I will ever be ...





a quail ilike prima donnas so convincingly
their goblets look like wine glasses

others say he's such a great liberal
that he would be the first to approve
of laws to free slaves from captivity
be they glum faced goblins
or dour democrats
fighting for liberty
in Auschwitz ...

Others say gun rules are
a breach of democratic principle
others say Michael Fay
should have the last say
before deciding on
what exactly is law,
what precisely is a low down trick
and what metaphorically
is none of the above
but a hocuc-pocus way
of giving some leeway
to republican dogs
pursuing caterwauling cats
all the way to Great Babylon
only to witness the rape of Mesopotamia
and the bombing of grand citadels
which once housed
the greatest exhibits
of the cradle of civilization ...

Did anybody witness Dick
and was Harry around
when Dick was busy loading his rifle?
Can a lawyer be as fat and lugubrious
as a blundering turkey
walking right into the path of attack?

Who was hiding behind the bush -
George, Bill, Dwight or Jim Carey?
Who did the autopsy on the partridge?
Was an autopsy done in any way -
or do certain democratic countries
do autopsies only on dead persons,
and not dead pheasants, geese and turkeys
which sometimes have a funny habit
of masquerading as men
especially when they're trying to hide something
from the eyes of the law,
from the prying investigative eyes
of All the President's Men
in the Sandwich Islands?

Çarşamba, Ağustos 02, 2006

Where the Bougainvillae No longer bloom

there was a garden in the city
with a flushing meadow
of golden green and sparkling bits
of purple orchids and blue carnations
sunk in a low spot
as nightingales darted in cages
cribbed and coffined within
an area of darkness
away from that sole garden
with a solitary light
that came out
when the bougainvaillae failed to bloom
when the waterfalls faile to rush down
into a valley of mirth and revelry
astride a garden of green
plastic, organic, real, throbbing
with green goblins dancing
more happily than Mortal Man
who despite being alive
look morose, glum, dreary-eyed,
pushing carts of luggage
alongside a bold boulevarde
bills to pay, education to save for,
boisterous cunning children
unappreciative of filial piety
and the traditions of old,
old buildings torn down to make way
for a bright and sparkling
casino on the hill
where bougainvillae even if they bloom
would rather die
for the truth of their purple bloom
cannot flower on a poker table
made for a galley of gamblers
with no humanity other
than their greed for gold ...

Salı, Ağustos 01, 2006

The Old Man and his Kaya and Toast

i knew an old man
he made kaya and toast
in little squared toast burners
for hungry massive crowds
every morning for twenty years
quickly despite his age
cutting up singapore bread
without its gardenia tracks
slicing it up in square bits
layering on square bits of butter
and a spread of local green kaya jam
running then to take orders
for local black coffee
in a thin chinese singlet
and black old world pants
a thin silver belt his only possession
or so it seemed ...
he worked happily
day in and day out
one day they told him
they were broadening the street
to make traffic flow more easily
they had to tear down the old shophouse
where he had worked so happily
bringing a bright morning breakfast
to tinker, tailor, timorous soul
all working at useless slavish jobs
kaya and toast their only morning respite ..

for three sad months,
the maker of the most marvellous kaya toast
east of the suez canal
drifted into a melancholia
one day by the kallang river
he drank himself to death
and hurled himself into the river
beer bottles and a small bowl of kway chap
his last meal
to a turbulent rushing world
that does no longer stop
to smell the whiff of roses
or see the hot fumes rise up
from sizzling old world burners
in some forgotten alley
where once he believed
he was a foot next to
paradise ...