i am a caged canary

i am a caged canary
i see the sky so blue
yet cannot touch it
but shiver more
because i fear its hot fingers
sneaking up on mine fine feathers
crouching tiger, sinister spy
asking devilish questions
and saying
i am from the sun
are you the moon?
what could i answer ?
i am?
if so, will the sun set me free?
is it immortal or divine ?
Does Pharoah run this round round world?

i do not know what hale and hearty means
but i saw a sea of ale
in a barrel in which a mynah drowned
only to laughed at by a drunken angmoh sailor
from bugis street [when it existed so forlorn]
aiyah, black arumugam sparrows in barrels
so everlastingly disgusting ...
i sighed :
we caged canaries hear all this useless talk
all this ghostly swine talk by drunkards
who are obsessed with white
white flag, white skin, white glory
the glory of a white species :
yet the sky is blue - the grass green -
the bougainvillae purple and pink and orange -
when in full bloom -
would the Japanese like it
if cherry blossoms in spring
were a pale dull white, my poker faced friend?

oh, but i am a caged canary
in a tropical paradise
just whiling my time
thankfully i will not like a golden pig
be slaughtered for its meat
and my flesh skewered over hot barbecue pits
for the new year or the old autumn falls
where golden geese laid golden eggs
up on a Yellow Mountain
which was worshipped in the same way
Pharoah was in the days of old ...