Sir Basil's Website

An Alsatian in a Lallang Field

2007-04-03T19:04:00.000-07:00

i saw an alsatian in a lallang field
but it did not bark nor yelp in pain
as it meandered past flaky green blade
and moist dew and as the run rose
over the verdant field of green and gold,
i realised it had a sunken look
and did not become aggressive
in fact moved backwards when I approached it
as if in fear or in mild introspection
more ladylike and wimpish
than aggressive and bold

the filipino maid then laughed and said :
sar, this not alsation but alaskan husky
and went away giggling
as if on sleigh ride she had come
from Alaska itself
with Pollyana smiles and naive afterthought ...

then its master came and shouted Husky,
and tamely did the husky enter through
the iron wrought gate that led into
a brick layered house filled with the smells
of spices of the Orient
and the perfumes of old Arabia :
but not a single bark did I hear of it
and not a whimper nor a yelp too -
even as strangers came and peered into
the vast horizons of its pasture,
there was no confrontasi
nor a dissenting bark
nor a triumph of tail over incredulous stare
it was as if Silence ruled
in both the Alaskan oilfields
as well as on the periphery of the Gulag
where we lived
more like mice than men,
licking out bits of blue cheese
and dining on white elegant wine
with shrapnels of caviar and truffles
at the Ritz
as orphans wailed in the safari
and the corrupt bison of the Ohio
charged into Dick Cheney
who with gun and barrel and fat lugubrious look
drove them all the way back
into the cowsheds of old Mesopotamia
where he preferred them to be
as he drank his bourbon
and suffocated on a Cuban cigar
from the Bay of Pigs ...

Silence of the Lion Roar

2007-03-20T23:32:00.000-07:00

the bitumen track is empty now
and so is the tartan
where hotorange lions once raged
over soft green loins
in ecstasy to prove their brawn
over the creeping black striped tigers
from over the rainbow
the mauling caterwauling naked beasts
who for water would give up their claws
to satiate their lusts
in the Babylonian dens
of sloth and greed and pride ...

Where are my lions now,
are they in the dens
castrated like fools
or chained to the eunuchs of old
in Pondicherry and in Jerusalem too
with soft kittens their playmates
and vegetables their diet
not blood and deer and zebra
in the footstools of the Himalayas ...

the stadium is like Bidadari
entombed in a moneyed culture
that prostitutes the golden calf
above sacrifice and nobility
and love for country and people ...

the lex loci is abstract
and filled with so many mundane amendments
the Euphrates becomes bedevilled
with weeds meant for muttonheads
not men of courage or integrity ...

So the lions mew like kittens
after a year of celery and milk
their soft purrs are not of dissent
but of meek submission
to the eunuchs who control the Red Sea
up near the Suez Canal
where Pharoah once kissed Big Brother
for both had their slaveships filled
with dissenting ducks from mandalay
who when aggrieved made emotional outbursts
that threatened the fenghshui of the Outer Hebrides

now the Scotmen are being nailed
and their kilts shredded like sarongs
for the turtlenecked women of Pagan
as they are whipped into submission
to the warlords of warwick on Kent
and Picadilly and Kingfisher
in the old red river town
where a growl is often mistaken
for a happy laugh
and a dissenting remark
the greatest crime on earth
greater than murder and often interpreted
as Treason :

oh, on our fair shores in Pondicherry
I saw leopards run into the rivers
only they were the naked labourers
of a naked city that has clothed
itself with diamonds
and forgotten Truth
and the spirit of courage
which once drove the whiter tigers
into the cold frosts adjoining the
berlin wall
where donkeys once acted like kings
in an Auschwitz
that is reminiscent of
big brother and 1984
when hotorange lions were lured
from born free safari parks
into cages where they were blinded
and forced to lay
beneath lewd donkeys
braying in the dark
to satisfy their lust
for power and vanity
[despite being the ugliest creatures
in Auschwitz ]

So my lions are burnt, bruised
and beaten into submission,
cowed by whips and stengahs of glory
to become subdued meek lambs
with their gory golden locks
sheared for hollywood bald headed eagles
serving dick cheney on Thanksgiving Day ...

i am a caged canary

2007-03-13T01:09:00.000-07:00

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 ...

I saw the sun stirring like a red ball of fire

2007-01-11T18:39:00.000-08:00

i saw the sun stirring like a red ball of fire
as the earth moved slowly on its pedestal
and an angry mob
stormed a white building filled with ugly statues
which seemed to move as if they were alive

i saw the clouds gloat softly
as a masquerade of princes died mysteriously
and noble savages roared past
beneath the sun
in all its hot fire of fury
as a new earth descended
where old goats once lived
up on a gold mountain ...

Ruins of Baghdad

2007-01-03T22:20:00.000-08:00

Canto 1

In nebuchadnezzar's palace.
i saw men with painted faces
and women with painted ears
moving about in concentric circles
dancing in a dizzying fashion
with masks
masquerading as princes and queens
as cannons fired in the distance ...

it was new year's eve
and a kingdom was falling
but it was not
the fall of Saigon
though Vietnam was recalled
and opium dens remained full
with the musk of smoke
and dirt drainpipe jeans
as the hovels were intruded
by secret red guards
hidden beneath the
beret of deceit ...

Saddam lay hung
as the hoots of derision reigned
and the streets were filled
not with the blood of martyrs
but with the blood of hate
and as a foolish 'king'
shot turkeys on Thanksgiving
another kingdom was invaded
by locusts from the desert kingdom
and men despaired
because they thought God was dead ...

but off bangkok
another kingdom was falling
as a hobgoblin squandered billions
of gold earrings in a royal barge
filled with drug peddlers and merchants of vice
all headed to Verona
to see a royal match
between a bitch and a dragon's son ...

Ho - the Great Dragon rides south from Babylon
and smokes its fiery tail into Armageddon

I lay in a trench
as bullets shot past me
and the baht dropped a bombshell
on the ides of march

Caesar was not dead yet
and Nero was riding on a winged horse called 666
the Beast was riding south for the winter
but the world was clinging onto
the coat tails of a New Year Eve's party
resplendent with purple gowns and ivory towers
gilded with gold leaf and satin curtains
as champagne was floated down
an artificial waterfall
to cover up the brilliant statistics
promising inhuman growth
during a spectacularly dull season
filled with the lies of the thief of Baghdad ...

Oh, a mountain of gold has collapsed yet again
north of the Shwe Dagon
and all the jade is gone
but the emperor still gets drunk on VSOP
and refuses to yield
his throne to the rightful heir
as sons and daughters in law
await the midnight hour
when Nebuchadnezzar is about to rise
forgetting that one must not mock the divine
as Mortal Man is apt to do
on New Year's Eve
in a drunken stupor
when all sins are revealed
to the eunuchs who connive
with their whispers
to force foolish vain kings
into making a myriad mistakes ...

Vanity they say is the death of kings
and greed the fall of foolish princes
who rise to the throne
not because of their own genius or charisma
but because of the coat tails
of penguins
in a parade square filled with drunken gods
saluting
an emperor who struts the Jade Square
without any clothes
as children gather to scream in truth
what Mortal Man do not
because of Fear ...

I saw a dragon

2006-12-28T17:55:00.000-08:00

i saw a dragon
foaming at the mouth
with redfire and sulphur
a scaly creature of hate
about to slaughter mankind
with a will to kill
with impunity

i saw a man
on a solitary island
waving a white flag of peace
weeping at the loss of a billion souls
as the dragon flew west
its tail dropping a thousand fires
that raged through the forests of mankind
fire, hell, haze, followed by floods
that sank entire nations
in an ocean of wrath

i saw foolish virgins
creeping up roofs to plead for mercy
and wicked men defying both God and Mortal Man
with their lies and their tough talk
denying their corrupt ways
even as their nations became bankcrupt
and as the evening wore on
the dragon finally fell in defeat
before the gate of heaven
as st john announced :
I saw the Rapture well before
you decided to kill mankind ...

Go Gently into the Night

2006-10-22T21:49:00.000-07:00

Go gently into the night
and do not rage against
the blinding light of day
let not thy thunder roar
for in heaven, all is silence
Go gently into the Milky Way
and let eternity be your companion now ...

On earth we rage against
the living daylights of a living hell
in heaven you need not rage against
the sourplums of a wretched existence
who seek to destroy your saintliness
and pervert your truth for lies
they masquerade for virtue
in the sunny streets ...

Let not the squabbles of earth
disturb you anymore
You have found eternal rest now
it is your right now to rest
and enjoy the splendour of a divine garden
with the angels and saints you prayed for
when sourplum logic and sourplum fools
dictate where to go when they're themselves lost
in a bedevilled graveyard
of sin and corrupt values
that make the silent night of the heavens
seem so appealing ...

So go now into the blessed night
and do not weep anymore nor worry
for thou art in Eternity now and forever more ...

Human Rights and Animal Rights

2006-08-30T19:15:00.000-07:00

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 ....

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

The Liberal Tendencies of Fowls

2006-08-15T19:57:00.000-07:00

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 ...

Dick Cheney shoots Partridges in Pear Trees

2006-08-14T04:13:00.000-07:00

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?

Where the Bougainvillae No longer bloom

2006-08-02T18:14:00.000-07:00

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 ...

The Old Man and his Kaya and Toast

2006-08-01T20:51:00.000-07:00

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 ...

Jacques Chirac smokes Cuban cigars in the Bay of Pigs

2006-07-17T19:13:00.000-07:00

Oi, good ole Jacques Chirac
he went to Agincourt, then to Avignon,
before the fall of Rome to the Visigoths
ruminated on the Olympic Games
and decided to see a whore of virtue
sent a Scud missile, then decided to call it back,
from the Suez Canal, where the French once fell,
on horseback to Pharaoh's mighty armies,
red-head, frog prince, Kermit and Harry crabs
sinking into a sea of devilry some say
reminds them of the Bay of Pigs
and fiascos and fights for Olympic glory...

So Jacques Chirac says to Sebastian Coe :
We French, we eat zee snails
whilst you have those bangers and mash,
measly fish and chips ... wot kind of cuisine, is it?
So Sebastian says with a wry smile :
Well, Agincourt you lost and so did Waterloo
Where is Napoleon now, if not in a zoo
astride Animal Farm where we battled for glory
the Queen of Spain was there, so you cannot
retreat into the Garden of Eden
and raise an army with the Jack of Spades
who is now with Gordon McQueen
and the Queen of Scots
waiting to wage battle against the Red Dragon.

Oi, Sebastian, wot iz thou talking about?
I am just making a wry statement on black rye and blue cheese
Forgive me my wryness, I was born with a wooden spoon,
not a golden goblet with French curtains
and the blood of Marie Antoinette
lingering in the shadows of Death
The French had their revolution,
we had ours too,
you lost your kings and your queens
We have the Jack of Spades
back in Buckingham Palace
disguised to tease the tinpot dictator
who now rules Animal Farm ...

So Mr Pilkington returns home
and Jacques Chirac grumbles at the back of a Cadillac
driven by vincent van patten
who invites him to a casino up on a bloody hill
to play poker with the Queen of Tarts ...

Jacques declines,
I am no tart, he retaliates,
and vincent wonders who's the Fool of Burgundy
and the sinner of Avignon
who's the Beast and who's the Red Dragon
and who should go for a bloody liposuction
just who has Authority to raid and reign
a bloody republic that masquerades as the Middle Kingdom ...

In 1819, St John appeared to Polycarp
who had a colony of puffin penguins
in a brazen sea of ale
nothing to show besides works of mercy
no grand theory to promote or justify one's glory
just a happy spirit and a generous soul
that could be quite bold
if forced to defend
a Realm of Innocence ...

Jacques Chirac now flies to the Bay of Pigs,
after the tsunami hits the west of Java
we must float our diamonds
and wear all our baubles
lest terrorists massacred our fine Bastille
and though German shepherds remain dumb
in this glorious fight for truth
the French must not refuse a chance
to regain some proof of sanity
from the waters of the Red Nile
in 1865
when the Gates of Hell
became entwined with pride and prejudice
and made empires bend with grief
over a bloody canal
carrying black gold to Tiananmen Square
where there's so much liberty
they hang liberty flags in the Imperial Palace
to signify a warming of ties
with the yankee doodles of the Gulag Archipelago ...

Now Jacques retreats to Rome
and begs for indulgences
whilst smoking a Cuban cigar
in St Peter's Square,
fearing an unholy Inquisition
beyond the reach of the Spanish Armada
where Turkish wrestlers wage battle with Red Guards
from Tianamen Square
quarrelling over Sinkiang's slavery
for a barrel of opium ...

Polycarp goes to Hollywood to meet Mr Magoo

2006-07-15T21:18:00.000-07:00

Polycarp went to Hollywood one fine summer
to meet Mr Magoo in Beverly Hills
they arranged to meet at the Hall of Fame
but poor old rolypoly Polycarp
landed up in a limousine in Las Vegas
mistaking a casino for a castle on the hill
and a poker for an umbrella
a dime for a bouquet of flowers
a waddling duck for a steaming bowl of bakut teh...

Oh, dear me, sighed Polycarp,
where on earth have I landed,
as Mr Magoo drove all the way to Saigon,
mistaking it for Beverly Hills
in his grand old Studebaker called the Pink Cat.

Then a grasshopper hopped into Mr Magoo's car
and nudged him back
all the way to Istanbul,
where he met a funny green frog called Hermit
had a blueberry rice pudding near the Blue Mosque
and then floated all the way to California
where he met a befuddled man with plumpy cheeks
that almost reached the floor!

Ah, Mr Magoo, you're quite late you know,
said an irate Polycarp
Do you know that I spent seven months
waiting for you in a casino
Oh, dear me, said Magoo, apologizing profusely
I never gamble, old chap,
I made a fortune making butter cookies
for the Queen of Spain
you loved them so much
she gave me a diamond to last me till eternity ...
The Queen of Spain gave you a diamond
for making silly butter cookies for her?

Oh, yes, dear chap.
Her husband was Prince Philip
and he had died sometime ago
and they used to have but one happy moment
eating butter cookies whenever they danced
cheek to cheek in the Royal Palace ...

What a strange people the Spanish are!
O yes, that's why they had the Inquisition
and called it the Mad Hatter's Tea Party!

Oh, now I see, exclaimed Polycarp so loudly
that a fat nenek in her kebaya fainted
as both Polycarp and Mr Magoo
went for a round of golf
with tennis racquets
to the amazement of Lucille Ball and Mr Mooney
who happened to be passing by on an ostrich
pulled by the Green Goblin!

A Kingfisher sat on a Beanpole

2006-07-15T18:38:00.000-07:00

a kingfisher sat upon a beanpole one fine day
observing the weather, sniffing the wind
as it whistled softly past
watching the dewdrops dry up
beneath the thin razor lallang blades
as the purple bougainvillae bloomed
in an empty field far upon the botak hill
with a barking dog
that yelled like a man
every time an officious bystander
decided to walk up the hill
and chew gum and spit it out
as if the world were mad with grief
grief from the killing fields of Babylon
where mother child and soldier boy
are killed every day
to satiate a nation's lust for power
a nation's desire to prove its superiority
white, black, coloured, yellow
birds of prey, animals gone wild,
men gone grey with age and dying of aloneness
in a many wintered land
where the free strings of a glassy eyed kite
once brought an old Jew from Babylon
to show the way to Truth

the kingfisher in his blue ribboned glory
did not cut red ribbons for a white lady
neither did he sing out of tune periodically
he sat alone and observed the world
without parroting a lie
or kissing a baby to show his compassion
no, it sat alone and when the heat became too hot
it flew away like a dart
into the bamboo bushes
without hurting a fly
without glorifying a lie
without killing a man and leaving his wife to die
in a field away from Golgotha
but quite near to hell
and then calling it
Democracy in a Field of Locusts
to justify their sin
and erase their guilt
before the statue of Liberty
in Alcatraz ...

Shackles and men, men of shackles
enslaved to their white irons
in the valley of Death
O, Death : how thou deceives
the mighty warriors of the world
throwing them into hell
and making them believe
it is just a long route
to paradise ...

Polycarp and Mr Boozie the otter

2006-07-15T02:51:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a plump penguin called Polycarp. He lived alone in a small whitehouse by the sea. Every morning, when the sun came up, he would waddle along the coast with an otter called Mr Boozie, and go and fish for his morning breakfast. Since Polycarp was very blur and sometimes forgot to throw in his fishing line, poor old Mr Boozie would then put on some worms and tapioca bits and throw in the fishing line. Then they would sit with dark glasses and whistle and wait for the fish to be caught. Polycarp would often burst into song. His favourite was Burong Kaka Tua, which he sang with much gusto, but often out of tune, flapping his wings, and dancing the foxtrot in a silly manner, turning round and round, making poor old Mr Boozie feel quite dizzy actually. Many people - both man and squid alike - would then walk by, making funny or rude comments.

Oh, how strange these creatures are? A silly old penguin with dark glasses and a baseball cap, singing out of tune some strange Malay song, [sometimes with a black and white sarong], and just lazing by the sea.

Polycarp was oblivious to all this, preferring to dance and sing as happily as he could, because whether he sat alone glumly or stayed in his little hut the whole day, people would still talk and make rude comments on him or his lifestyle.

Oh, they would say, Polycarp has no friends except Mr Boozie. He is a loner, he is a failure, he is not very smart and not handsome enough. Better not get close to him or he will infect you with a virus - and then you will become just like him.

Mr Boozie - they would not dare comment on, because he had a fierce temper, and had a habit of chasing everyone who said anything about him all the way down the river and forcing them to do a bungee leap down the cliffs into Siberia! And if he was with his dearest friend Polycarp, they would stand a mile away and peep at them through binoculars, trying to figure out what an otter had in common with a penguin who couldn't swim [Polycarp feared the water you see].

Sometimes, even when it was not raining, the two friends would drink a blue drink called the Blue Lagoon, and imagine themselves to be in paradise, because despite all they tried to do to be perfect, people and animals always thought that there was something wrong with them.

One fine day, a whale appeared near the coast, and poor old Polycarp jumped up and down in glee so much that fell off the pier and landed onto the back of the whale, who then took him for a ride in the seven seas.

Mr Boozie the otter went quite berserk the next day, hunting for his penguin friend up and down the Valley of Fish and Carp, because he knew that Polycarp could not be alone for too long since he didn't know how to cook or take care of himself or fight against his enemies [there were many he had].

One fine day, seven months later, when Mr Boozie the otter was asleep, he had a dream in which Polycarp appeared to him and said : Mr Boozie, a kind whale has taken me on a ride all over the seven seas. I think he is bringing me to paradise, but if not, i will see you later ...

The following day however, as Mr Boozie was sitting alone fishing for his breakfast, Polycarp appeared from the waters, grinning with a few crabs and lobsters and prawns. Hey, Mr Boozie, look what I've got from the seven seas. Prawns, crabs, and lobsters, enough to feed us for a month - he said, pulling a net out of the water.

Mr Boozie stared and stared at his fat friend. Oh, dear, what trouble have you gotten into this time, Polycarp?

Nothing lah, you silly fellow. You worry too much about me. Life is too short for worry.

Is it? asked Mr Boozie, amazed at Polycarp's new found strength.

Yes. The Whale told me everything about life. He has to dive and avoid being killed by men everyday, ships nearly wrecked his life. So every day he has to be on high alert. He is thankful for every day he lives, because in the deep seas - the corals are so beautiful that he doesn't need anything to cheer him up. Orange and red and blue stones. Funny clownfish giggle endlessly near the emerald waters off the Sea of Japan. There is a performance every full moon when the night is filled with sparkling stars. You must go there one fine day.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps - sighed Mr Boozie. Just when he thought he understood his silly penguin friend, he found him to have become a bit different.

I suppose we all can never know ourselves fully ... and that is why the sea and all its creatures are always a bit more delightful than the land with all its stony buildings. In the sea, even a penguin like Polycarp can feel at home.

Tell me Polycarp, how did you learn to swim?
Oh, Mr Wally Bucket did a fast turn, and I slipped from his fins, my fat cheeks got got in his tail, and as I struggled, I fell into the waters, and just floated upwards till Mr Wally Bucket put me gently on his top fins.

Oh, dear, what a strange way of learning to swim, said the otter to the penguin, and both of them then put on a great barbecue of butter lobsters, drunken prawns and hairy crabs, and invited all the animals around to feast upon the food - for few of the animals had ever eaten a butter lobster or a hairy crab before. None had even tasted a drunken prawn!

Harriet Ponampulam and her English poodle

2006-07-12T21:38:00.000-07:00

Harriet Ponampulam had an English poodle
which she kept in a little kennel
at the back of her garden
just beneath her jackfruit tree
every evening her maid and her would take
the english poodle for its walks
along the narrow streets of Seletar
streets where the flame trees
dropped their orange petals onto the gravel
making a swishing sound
as if dancing on tight ends
and tiptoing to a final graceful end
Her maid Melly Muthu
used to hold the English poodle
with a very thin narrow leash
ticking it with an ugly stick
each time it did not walk too straight
You English dog, you know English,
you walk straight,
you understand, dont show me
your evil crooked ways,
dont bark back to me in German,
with your silly barks of dissent
against caterwauling cats on
hot red roofs ...

one dark day, when the clouds were black
harriet had a fever and told the maid
to take the dog on a spin on her own
then she lay back on her bed and rested

Melly Muthu, for once the mistress.
dragged, pushed, barked orders
at the English poodle
more strict and stentorian
than Harriet herself ...

This way, you stupid dog!
Not so long to ease yourself, you black thing!
Then she giggled and became hysterical with delightt
as Harriet Ponampulam back home
had a hazy dream about a dog becoming a man
and taking over the whole world
like Hitler did in 1942 ...
making Mortal Man bow down like sheep
and run up hills and graze on meadows
silently, like dumb animals,
bred purely for their meat and wool ...

Oh, dear, said Harriet, waking up in a fit,
where is that silly maid of mine, she wondered,
gazing out as slowly the rains began to fall ...

Meanwhile, the maid had tied the English poodle
to a tall rain tree, and as the rain fell,
she went to a nearby minimart
to have some mango juice, and read a paper,
and call her friend in Trincomalee,
laughing in merry gaiety,
oblivious to the enslaved dog
beneath the old rain tree ...

Then she put on some knuckle dusters,
came back with her leash,
and with fiery rebuke dragged her English poodle home,
mocking it with rhetoric and brittle dialogue :
oh, how fine it is to be a human
in a very inhuman world
where i am always a bloody slave, she said ...

Oh, where have you been, Melly,
gasped Harriet Ponampulam
as she saw her at the gate with her English poodle,
which barked and growled so fiercely
that it seemed almost like a tiger ...

What is wrong with my English poodle,
why is it barking so ferociously, she asked ...
Did somebody knock into it or throw stones at it?
asked poor old Harriet Ponampulam,
seeing it slink into the garden,
more like a thief.

No, Madam, your English dog is okay,
it just thinks it is an English man,
so i had to make it understand
it was not a man
but just a silly, stupid dog, said Melly Muthu,
before releasing the dog into the garden
and running into the house
to prepare dinner for her mistress ...

And as the kwali was struck
and hot coconut oil thrown in,
the red raw sun suddenly appeared
as the dark ugly drizzle was silently exorcised
and slowly puffy whitish clouds began to fill
the blue sky where once
aliens used whips and guns
to deride and denounce native fowls
into an unholy silence
on No Clucking Day ...

Dorian Gray and Eternal Youth

2006-07-07T04:18:00.000-07:00

Dorian Gray sat in the drawing room
watching the wrath of the oceans
the marquis of Queensberry
was feasting on roast beef
denouncing Beauty
as an evil to the youth

Socrates questioned this fact :
if Beauty is blasphemy
then what of life should we be proud of?
Deceit, hypocrisy, worship of stars, cowardice?

So Dorian Gray stood up for once
and walked down the cul-de-sac
from Dublin to London to Paris
in search of his elixir :
to be or not to be
forever young
in a field of hay
which burns as the fire of 1666
as Gothic cathedrals become black
with a fiery rebuke from Nature

Nero fiddles as Rome burns
laughing hysterically
as pious men with a purpose
try to moderate Beauty
with a divine purpose
only to be burnt at the stake

As Socrates refuses to budge
and admit Beauty is a curse
Dorian Gray returns to Athens
to seek the solace
of the oracle of Delphi
only to learn that she too is dead
withered in a flimsy cotton gown
because the emperor in Rome
couldn't fathom her prophecies
and assumed she was mad
for speaking the truth
and warning him against
gluttony and corruption
and enslaving virile men
in chains and whipping them
into submission to a treachery
they rebelled against
on account of their love for beauty ...

the fat woman on the MRT

2006-07-06T20:36:00.000-07:00

i once saw a fat woman on the MRT
headed for bukit batok
who insisted that it went to Lorong Chuan
and refused to budge, this way or that.

the driver moved the train with grim precision
in an orderly strict fashion
refusing to budge a single inch off the tracks
wait for lorong chuan to be opened,
wait for it to be opened,
he said on and on and on ...

The fat woman insisted on her way nevertheless
and rolled her fat watermelons down the aisle
imagining herself the bowling champion of the world
slim, attractive, svelte, with all the right moves
with bright lights shining upon her eloquence
or lack of it without the bright lights

then a skinny man with a curved moustache
entered the train with a newspaper
and observed the fat woman running up and down
waving to everybody, bowing several times
smiling broadly to stranger, tourist
child and adult, disabled, athletic,
orange, green, pink and yellow, brown
post and human and smiling advertisement

finally in a show of contempt,
he put out his skinny leg and tripped the fat woman
who went sprawling down
she knocked her head, her hair was crumpled
yet she got up finally
grabbed her watermelon, sliced it in two,
and as the skinny man looked on with glee
she prepared her coup d'gras
and skimmed watermelon wedges
over his haughty head
and a couple round his thin neck
as the passengers laughed nervously
and eventually broke out in applause
as the train finally came to a halt
in jurong east
and all was fine for that day at least ...

Autumn Leaves

2006-07-06T20:00:00.000-07:00

I walked in a field of autumn leaves
and saw orangeflame petals
dropping on the ground
yet it was not autumn

I saw a red squirrel climb onto
an old tembusu tree
and hunt for nuts in an area of darkness
and yet it was not autumn

I saw a starless sky dripped with midnight blue
and a streak of white across the sky
as a fighter pilot searched for his lost love
and yet it was not quite autumn

I saw an old lady with a basket of eggs
limping down the stairs with eyes of red
and yet it was not autumn

I saw a boisterous festive midnight crowd
run amok with glittering gifts
and plastic flowers and plastic smiles
with painted faces and painted masks
and yet it was not autumn

I heard a man scream obscenities
from a tower he'd erected himself
as the madding crowd ran away in fear
not wanting to know the naked truth
and yet it was not autumn

When I last saw autumn
she was fair and beautiful
there was no winter of discontent
nor summer of disguised content
no ugly sumatran squall
could spoil the grandeur of her orange splendour
No hailstone could wreck her fine, fine locks of ginger
rising freely against the wild wind
No summer heat could dry her up
into a desert of waste

No, autumn was once beautiful
and soft and silky and alluring
She once had the charm to captivate me
now she lies desolate and abandoned
in a wasteland of ugly leaves and thorns
twisted beyong recognition

Nobody remembers her
now that she has lost her orange splendour
- not even summer, her eternal companion

She dies alone, withering with every passing cloud
oblivious to the sound and fury
of the naked landscape.

Prince Edward and the Silencing of a Mob

2006-07-05T20:50:00.000-07:00

the mobs were mad and unruly
screaming end to corruption and hypocrisy
awaiting a prince of some sorts
to sail into the dark waters of deceit
and save the wasted land
from the whore of babylon
prince edward, he rode a pink dolphin
from Westminster Abbey
strumming on a volin
singing Figaro, Figaro, Figaro
he landed on Patmos
saw St John with beard and blood in his eyes
So whither shalt I go, he asked :
strange that an english prince
should speak to a Jew
after england got kicked out by portugal
in Auschwitz ...

Oh, we're confusing football with war
and politics with religion
and war with peace and blood with stew

i shall sail to the most corrupt land in the world
said prince edward, stroking his pink dolphin,
uttering little choice words of encouragement,
riding up and down the foamy waters
of a blackening sea
as men of all colours rioted in the streets of Mandalay
and the crowds grew restive

prince edward, his pink dolphin decked
near the shwe dagon's golden spires
he stood up in his royal garb
and hoping to stem the flow of dissent
tried to make peace with the belligerent crowds
but the mass of demonstrators drove him
screaming at his royal leanings
till he sat sunken in an old sampan
and reached the spratley islands
observing the sea turtles ride out into the storm
leather backed with fearless eyes
as he sat alone and bewildered
at the loss of empire and the desire of dissent
the lockjaw oppression of a colonial outpost
which despite its poverty and shackled posts
still refused to pay homage
to royalty on a barge
a prince of the sea
desiring liberty for George Orwell's Burma
sunk in a desperate wail of simmering discontent
reading beads of 666
evoking the stars to show the way
unable to shake off the manacles of slavery
by military men bent on
killing the rising tide of an encroaching ocean
desiring liberal white sands on a pure beach
where once men swam
with sturdy strokes towards a divine destiny ...

A Saxophone sat in Picadilly Square

2006-07-05T04:48:00.000-07:00

A saxophone once sat
stoic and stern
in olde Picadilly Square
before the sun was up
after a night when the midnight sky
dripped of redblood and squared triangles
oozing with a crystal light
that seemed to be from a void deck
cabbined and cribbed
in a lock of hair
not quite flowing or silky

in stilled and silenced corners
it attempted to jump
first onto the stern of a floating yacht
then onto the yacht club's wheel of fortune
onto anything remotedly moving
evoking a nostalgia of bright jazzy lights
full throated voices in pink lighted bars
with a free flow of absinthe and vodka
with dancers on high heels
and Greek sailors throwing wine goblets
[though not of hemlock]
onto a fireplace of white and black
a glazed artificial colour
on a glazed artificial site
where lions sat on the back of a serpent
roaring in disgruntled fury
their paws muzzled to the legs
of a stoic stony Sphinz
that was not of Giza ...

in a silent corner
i saw that old saxophone sit
and in a silenced corner
i saw it die one day
its gold drifting onto the mud and gravel
of a discordantly arranged piece of music
that was later discovered to be
a seismograph ...

in praise of liberty

2006-07-03T23:42:00.000-07:00

liberty offers you
a ride in the wild wind
a soft view through rose tinted glasses
in the fields where
no zebra crossings blacken your path

it offers you the right of passage
to wreck your life
or make another's life pristine
with beautiful gifts and little summer meals
whilst playing the saxophone
and dreaming of a winter holiday

liberty is not a magic wand
but makes magic out of a harlot's den
freeing you from the slavery
of butchery, fornication and repressed desires
offering you a grand avenue
where you can walk in peace, sing in the dark,
get yourselves wet in the middle of the night
yet dry up feeling
it's the beginning of a day in heaven

liberty is not a golden spoon
nor is it a golden calf which the world worships as god
it is a pure gift to a pure people
but without the silver wrapping and the red ribbob
it is the right to desist
it is the right to insist
on your right of passage
on the elevation of your status
from runaway slave
to upgraded rugby player
from a downtrodden dog
to an upgraded human
living in simple quarters
yet insisting on
the right to speak at the appointed time
in a casino of twinkling lights
especially when the deck of cards
are turned upside down
and poker becomes
a hooker's purse
promising a day in Alcatraz
and an iron curtain in your cell
at midnight,
without a friend or a book
or a meal of hainanese chicken rice ...

the squirrel and a tiger

2006-07-03T23:29:00.000-07:00

once there was a little squirrel
that lost its father in a hunting accident
his mother brought him up
well and good, teaching it right ways and all
giving him the best of nuts, the ripest of acorns
nice little bits of hay made from the fresh sun
plums and fruit from all over
to make up for the lack of a father
the squirrel had but one friend
a tiger despised by all
for its wild ways and inhuman touch
but the squirrel used to ride on the back of the tiger
humming happy tunes
mistaking him sometimes for its father
the tiger was bold, strong and fierce
nobody dared disturbed the squirrel
when it nestled in the fur of its friend
they camped, went hunting and fishing together
in winter, the squirrel saved up meat
in little neat bundles hidden in the trees
with bits of salt to keep it alive
one day, the tiger was hunted for its skin
and tied and taken to a river far away
as the hunters prepared to kill it
the other animals told the squirrel
ha, ha, ha - your cruel tiger is dead
he has died in the wild
he has abandoned you
and poor squirrel did a bungee jump
into the river next to its acorn tree
nearly drowning,
when suddenly the tiger broke himself loose
and came raging through the midnight forest
seeing squirrel, he jumped into the river
in a desperate attempt to save its little friend
as squirrel opened his eyes in fear
he saw his tiger and said :
tiger, the other animals said you had abandoned me,
that's why i jumped
because death was better than a life of loneliness and fear
as tiger held him and brought him to the banks of the river,
he made a vow never to abandon his friend again
but it was too late
squirrel died that very night
and the next day tiger rampaged through Animal Farm
killing, slaughtering all the other animals
before killing all the hunters as well
before roaming into a desert in the far north
never to be seen again
wild, restless, gloating, proud and merciless
for squirrel had tempered its ugliness into beauty
and made a jungle
into paradise ...

Repression Square

2006-07-03T23:15:00.000-07:00

In New York, just next to its
statue of liberty
i saw Repression Square
where rosa parks once sat
in a segregated seat in a segregated crossing
a little black dot in an otherwise very white place
with bugles and ceremonies and bright flags
all boasting about liberty and its grand theories

In Repression Square,
you do not see pink goblins bloating
with overexposure to the sun in summer
red sails do not sail in a summer of discontent
[slaves hold them back in case the heavens fall]
the cotton fields once plagued with pests
now are plagued with another pest
a self-righteous pest that rides
on the bovine back of a bison
with a white curved horn that is worshipped
as if it were some aphrodisiac from the old Orient
[which incidentally too was once just a piece of cake]

Oh, New York, New York
Liza Minelli's great town
it was so great once even kings worshipped it
kissed its pavements with tired red lips
for not sending them back to the ghettoes
of Berlin or Auschwitz or the black hole of Calcutta
Here history is taught so well
that kids dont even know their history well
the cradle of history is not Mesopotamia
but New Orleans
the first civilized cities were not Mohenjo Daro and Harappa
but Las Vegas and Los Angeles
not because of any lack of tools
but because they were just American cities
and which country has a better foreign policy
or a better way of going to war [and messing up]
but America, grand old America
and New York is its citadel, its temple,
with its gambling dens, its cheats, its mafias,
Wall Street is the most beautiful cathedral in America
it promotes charity on a Russian roulette table
meant for street urchins who pick their food
everytime gold nuggets fall down from heaven

Oh, New York, New York
Repression sure aint like the art of love here
in the grandest of all temples of doom
west of the Suez Canal ...

Martin Luther : False Prophet or Saint?

2006-07-02T16:16:00.000-07:00

Martin Luther was an Augustinian monk who by his defiance to the Catholic Church and its promotion of indulgences to enter the kingdom of God started what is known as the Protestant Reformation. He lived during a very turbulent period in Christian history - from 1483 to 1546 - a time when corruption was rife both in the secular and Christian world.

Many people today, both Catholic and Protestant, have very vague ideas about the origin of the Reformation and about Luther itself. The Catholic Church has had a very chequered history, filled with great stories of marytrdom and glory. It also unfortunately had popes who were great sinners and used the papacy to create wealth for themselves and their families. Nepotism. In the medieval ages, for instance, the popes had extraordinary power and put in cardinals who were related to them, many of whom had no theological training. It was a sad day for the church, it is admitted. Sin crept in and sometimes tradition overwhelmed the true spirit of the Church, which was to live the Gospel, and make its spirit come alive, in ordinary life.

However, Pope John Paul 11 did recognise the sins of the Church and asked the world to forgive the Church for its errors. Nepotism, greed, doctrinal abuse - and cruelty to the pagans, refusal to acknowledge the discoveries of Copernicus and Galileo, the sins of the Spanish Inquisition, etc. He also made "theological mileage" by signing a concord with the Lutheran Church - reaffirming the often forgotten Council of Trent of 1545.

Now who was Martin Luther? He was a brilliant scholar, who one day during a lightning storm, prayed to St Anne [yes, he believed in prayers to the saints and Mary] and asked her to deliver him from the storm, promising to become a monk and serve God if she did. He was saved and then entered a monastery and served God as an Augustinian monk. A trip to Rome however disturbed him greatly as he saw the priests and cardinals living in riches whilst the poor peasants suffered. The pope at that time [the sadly misguided Pope Leo X] was also selling indulgences which he "claimed" would be enough to give one passage to paradise - but was mainly to raise funds for the renovation of St Peter's Basilica. Of course, it was absurd. Buying holy pictures or crosses is mere merchandising. Any fool can see that! But the people of that time were largely peasants, illiterate. Only the clergy and nobility had any education worth speaking of. Luther, being a brilliant scholar, rejected this idea, and posted his 95 thesis objecting to the practice on the doors of Wittenburg Cathedral in Germany, starting off a round of quarrels with the papacy which led to the eventual break of Rome. He argued against what he considered the greed and worldliness of the Church at that time and rejected the use of indulgences as a gateway to paradise.

Protestants should note too that Luther never hated the Virgin Mary. In fact, Luther in his Wittenburg thesis also rejected any blasphemy against the Virgin Mary and said that one should ask for pardon for any evil said and thought about her. In his 1531 Christmas sermon, after leaving the Catholic Church and its authority, he said that Mary was the "highest woman and noblest gem in Christianity after Christ. She is nobility, wisdom and holiness personified. We can never honour her enough. Still honour and praise must be given to her in such a way as to injure neither Christ nor the Scripture."

In another sermon after his Wittenburg thesis, he said : "The veneration of Mary is inscribed in the very depths of the human heart."

So Luther had no problems honouring the Virgin Mary or endorsing her veneration. He did however emphasise the teachings of Christ and was against putting Mary on a pedestal to either compete with or dominate the Christian faith. In that, he was right. The problem that seems to confuse Protestants today is their belief that Catholics worship Mary. It would be absurd for Catholics to do so. In any way, what does worship constitute? The Catholic mass on Sundays proclaim the word of God - with two readings, one each from the Old and New Testament. The sermon centres round the Gospel. Catholics don't say the rosary during the Sunday service. The rosary recitation is a purely private matter for those who have a devotion to Mary. If the focus of Sunday mass and the weekday masses are on Christ and his messages - of truth, and unconditional love for God and our neighbour, on forgiveness and the need to avoid hypocrisy of all sorts - if Catholics bow down in reverence to the Cross which is a symbol of Christ's death and resurrection - where is the worship directed to? God and Christ of course. Protestants should be open minded and observe a Catholic service on Sunday to better understand who Catholics worship.

Who did Luther worship? Are his tirades against Jews and the pope of his time Christian in the purest context? Is it not filled with hatred? Christ refrained from condemning even the worst sinner of his time. Zaccheus the tax collector, a sinner till he met Christ, was forgiven and repented without a single condemnatory word. That is the essence of love - not to condemn or love or preach a man-made philosophy that promotes the philosophy of one man's dubious interpretation of the Bible or a book of the Bible or a philosophy based on one single line, that can be quoted out of context.

The phrase "justification of faith alone" means if one has faith, that alone can save one. It is ludicrous to the ordinary Catholic who has been brought up to perform works of charity and compassion and kindness, acts of love based on his faith in God - as a form of gratitude, and to bring others to sense God. In any case, faith has to be activated in deeds and actions which demonstrate the message of Christ - "unconditional love". A person can be conversant with all the books of the Bible, and be able to memorise and quote large tracts of it, but if his actions are filled with self-righteousness, hatred, and condemnatory statements about every other person or denomination or religion or race, only a fool would associate him with goodness or virtue, or as a disciple of Christ. They would avoid him at all cost!

But Luther was a complex man, often misunderstood, even by the Germans of his time. Was he perfectly Luther right in all he said and wrote?

Luther was right insofar as objecting to the sale of indulgences to gain entry to the kingdom of God. Pope Leo X was clearly wrong. There was corruption and greed amongst the clergy too. Luther had every right to question this. Many clergymen were living lives of luxury, pomp and pageantry as the peasants suffered. It was time for a renaissance in spiritual matters, to make the kingdom of God more real - on earth. The Church had grown too far apart from the sufferings of the common man, who feared God, without actually knowing what the Bible taught. Hence, whatever Rome dictated became obligatory. This was and cannot be the way to convert sinners, or to retain saints or even to live within the confines of society - always perpetually indoctrinated with strange man-made philosophies which do not interpret the Bible with coherence.

Unfortunately, it happened. So Luther had to speak out forcefully, and he did. He was fortunate too. Guttenburg had just invented the printing press - thus making it easier to disseminate his works in a much broader way than in the past.

But what many people do not understand is plainly this. Luther also believed the pope was the Anti-Christ and wrote a tract called 'The Babylonian captivity of the Church.' He interpreted Great Babylon in the book of Revelations as the Catholic Church! Rome was built on seven hills. Well, so is Moscow, and so was the original capital of Babylon, Iraq today! So who is to judge? And Great Babylon today is in ashes, completely ruined. Not Rome. So Luther was wrong historically and factually.

Only Christ is divine and has the authority to judge who is to go to Heaven, and who is to go to hell. And even Christ did not claim to know when Judgement Day was. He said only his Father in Heaven knew! So what is the basis of Luther's prophecy that the pope was the Anti-Christ of the Revelations and the Jesus would come to judge the world in his day, in the 16th century. His prophecy turned out to be false. Jesus Christ did not come to judge the world in the 16th century and cast the Pope into hell. The papacy which he so hated still survives today in fact!

Even if Catholic doctrines appear strange to the Protestants of today, Protestants must understand that their doctrines also appear strange to Catholics today - who find Protestant hatred for the Pope and all things Catholic completely unbiblical. Christ preached a religion that promoted love of God and our neighbour surely, not this form of virulent hatred, which seeks to demean. Moreover, to the ordinary Catholic, it inconceivable that a church can be divided into so many denominations within itself and yet claim to believe in one God! To the Catholics, the true Church should be united, not divided. The Pope may sin or commit crimes or be corrupt, but it is for God to judge, not a mortal man, like Luther. Luther himself will have to face God on Judgement Day. Neither the Pope nor Luther can claim to be infallible or without sin. Luther himself was obsessed with his own sinfulness and wanted very much to be sinless. But he failed. So who was he to say Pope Leo was the anti-Christ.

Luther's hatred for the papacy is also very disturbing. Once, when he blessed a group of believers, he said : "May the Lord fill you with His blessings and with hatred for the Pope."

Was Luther mad? He was asking God to fill the people with hatred for the pope whilst simultaneously asking for his blessings!

It is this strange contradictions in Luther's actions and writings that have confounded Catholics for the past 500 years. His hatred for the papacy has also been responsible for the hatred Protestants have for ALL Catholic Popes, believing ALL of them are the anti-Christ.

It is this kind of severe judgementalism that can prove dangerous and stir up religious animosities, that can cause strife and unhappiness in our Christian communities today, which instead of quarrelling amongst themselves, should be the first to promote peace and unconditional love today, in a very wicked age.

The Muslims and Arabs had a great respect for Pope John Paul 11 - who said nothing bad or inflammatory against their religion, and strove to seek a better understanding of their religion, whilst attempting to build bridges with their leaders in the Middle East, and making peace with the Jews and their leaders in Israel. Did any Protestant leader of the twentieth century even attempt to do that?

I leave the reader to answer that question himself. When Pope John Paul 11 went to forgive his assassin in his prison cell in 1981, the world saw how an act of forgiveness for one's enemy should be done - for Christ himself has asked us to forgive our enemy. This is what I mean when I say Luther's philosophy 'justification by faith alone' becomes meaningless when it is not followed by acts of love or forgiveness. We can all memorise the entire Bible, and even work miracles in the name of Christ - but without love - it is meaningless. It is hypocritical. Faith must be the prelude of acts of love - and love includes charity and compassion and forgiveness and kindness, the fruits of the Holy Spirit. Love is not self-righteous, judgemental, nor proud. Love is eternal. St Paul makes it clear that love is more important than the working of miracles. St Paul also warns us as Christians not to criticise one another, to be united. In fact, Christ himself wanted us to be one Church - and not divided amongst ourselves. It was one of his last prayers to his tiny flock two thousand years ago. How many of us remember his humble prayer for unity?

Instead of memorising Scripture and then professing to be "perfect believers and interpreters" of God's holy words, we should more importantly be forgiving to one another, regardless of race, language and religion -instead of perpetually stirring hatred against one another because of doctrinal beliefs which may for all we know be completely erroneous. The doctrines and philosophies of man, even if they claim to be from the Bible, can be wrongly interpreted. Any fool can make statements and claim to know God!

We should all look at the historical facts during Martin Luther's time. Hatred of the papacy and hatred of the Jews was also Luther's gravest sins - and despite his love of God - it contradicts him in many ways. Luther hated the Jews because they did not convert to Christianity in his time, because they did not believe in Jesus as their Messiah. His hatred was unbiblical. It is for God to judge the Jews, not for Luther or the Catholic Church for that matter.

Luther's hatred for the pope of his time is understandable, for Pope Leo was a corrupt and foolishly misguided man. He made the issue of papal infallibility a non-issue. Thankfully however, his belief in indulgences was later repudiated by the Catholic Church in 1545 at the Council of Trent. But how many Protestants know of this? Do they really care about this historical fact? Many still think Catholics sell indulgences today apparently!

It should be noted too that Pope John Paul 11 signed a concordance with the Lutheran Church in Germany before he died, both sides agreeing that faith has to be supported by acts - hence ending 500 years of bitter denominational differences in part at least. It is now for us as fellow Christians to try to concentrate on being less hypocritical and judgmental, and more forgiving to one another. Only God has the authority to judge who goes to heaven and who does not - and which Church follows the Bible more truthfully. It's as simple as that.

Protestants may argue about the origins of the Catholic Church, but it was St Peter himself who chose Linus as his successor in AD 66 before he died. St Peter, the "rock" upon which Jesus founded the Church. Without hallowed halls or grand basilicas. From Linus, the next popes were chosen, all in a continuous line, right up to Pope John Paul 11 - 2,000 years of unbroken history! Many were saintly men of God who did their best to preach the word of God. It was due to their efforts largely that the whole of Europe became Christian. If the popes were anti-Christ, what was the logic of converting the pagan tribes of old Europe, and defending the Catholic Church against the idol worship of the early pagans like the Visigoths? What was the purpose in building cathedrals in Europe? It doesn't make sense historically, theologically or even logically! The early Catholic saints, when persecuted by the Roman Emperors before the Roman Empire fell all died for Jesus Christ, and for the glory of his kingdom. None died for the Virgin Mary, and none died for their popes! So when Protestants insist that Catholics worship the Pope or the Virgin Mary as idols, they may wish to remember this - and perhaps look at the history of the early Catholic Church. St Augustine gave us a life of debauchery for God - and he promoted the philosophy of Jesus Christ in his writings - not the philosophy of the pope of his time.

Martin Luther was not againt the veneration of Mary - what he was against was putting Mary above Jesus - and he warned against giving too high a place to the Virgin Mary. He believed Mary should be honoured, because it was from her womb that Christ was born. Protestants today seem to despise the Virgin Mary. Is this theologically correct?

What is the difference between veneration and worship? The Chinese have an ancient custom. They venerate their ancestors. They honour them. They believe that they should not despise their parents. They believe in filial piety.

It is when we bow down and worship a statue of gold or wood or marble or clay - an idol that has no power - that real idolatry comes into the picture. It is when we dabble with the occult and promise to serve an idol and abandon God or his teachings - and serve the Devil - and ask for his favours - that true idolatry - which is actually demon possession at its worst - can be said to have intruded into our life. Not veneration of the Virgin Mary surely.

The life of subsequent popes who promoted God after Luther brought the Church back to its original focus, to preach the Word of God. The life of the great Pope John Paul 11 itself clearly shows that Luther was wrong insofar as he believed that the pope was the Anti-Christ, insofar as he believed that Rome was Great Babylon. Rome is not Great Babylon. Maybe in some ways Moscow and communism was anti-Christ. Moscow is after all, like Rome, built on seven hills. But Russia is no longer communist, and cannot be perenially considered 'Babylonian.' With the fall of Iraq, we may in fact be witnessing the fall of the true Great Babylon. Iraq is historically Babylonia. And the Babylon of old did persecute the Jews and destroy the temple of Solomon. Is this the vengeance of God we are witnesssing today?

Protestants often speak of the greatness of Luther and the idolatry of Catholics. But they have to be open minded and consider the weaknesses of Martin Luther itself - and what idolatry is all about.

Luther hated the Jews. It's a simple historical fact, based on his own writings.

In his pamphlet, "The Jews and their Lies" - published in 1543, three years before his death, he wrote that Jewish synagogues should be set on fire, prayerbooks destroyed, rabbis forbidden to preach, homes "smashed and destroyed", property seized, money confiscated, and the Jews forced into slave labour or expelled for "all time." He despised them, and was the first theologian to be also anti-Semitic in the extreme. It is dangerous when a man who claims to receive visions from God, who claims there is corruption in the Church, to be so filled with dubious beliefs himself. How can he enlighten the Church, which he also hates? How can be bring the Church to a greater theological renaissance, if he is so possessed of hatred for both the Church he lives in, for the chosen race of the Bible, the Jews? What was the message of Jesus Christ? Hatred for Jews? Or "unconditional love" for all? Judgementalism and bigotry - or faith and acts of love and charity, across all boundaries?

In fact, Hitler and the Nazis used this anti-Semitic belief of Luther to justify the Holocaust in World War 2. Hitler called Luther a 'great protaganist' and goaded the Germans into obliterating the Jews, conditioning them to believe that their great religious leader Luther "sanctified" Jewish obliteration. The Germans, blinded by the perverse genius and oratorical skills of Hitler, believed him. The Holocaust took place. All because of one man's blind hatred of the Jews, and another megalomaniac's ability to captivate his people into believing in this diabolical deceit.

So Luther was not a great lover of the Jews. His belief in their necessary extermination must be held partly responsible for Hitler's justification of the Jewish extermination. Rightly or wrongly,
Luther justified it. One only has to look at a misguided Pope Leo X, and a very racist anti-Semitic Adolft Hitler to see who is the "preferable anti-Christ." Pope Leo X, despite his intellectual languour, never called for the extermination of God's chosen race. Luther did. And his views of the Jews, resurrected from obscurity during the last century by Hitler, nearly obliterated the entire Jewish population of Europe.

Thankfully, some good came out of it. The Jews clamoured for a return to their original homeland - and in 1948 - Israel became theirs. Without Hitler's persecution, it might not have happened.

Hatred of any race is anti-Christ, and anybody who is consumed by hatred, eithr of a race or a denomination, cannot claim to be speaking for God or for the Messiah. It is a ludicrous way of justifying one's sins. And it is a sin to hate. It's as simple as that. You don't need a theological degree to understand the incongruity of it all.

Jesus Christ promoted two basic beliefs : unconditional love - firstly to God, and then to our neighbour, which means practically everybody we meet. He never promoted racism or chauvinism. He never promoted anti-Semitism. How could he? He was a Jew himself. He was against the self-righteousness of the Pharisees and the Saducees. He hated judgementalism. The story of Mary Magdalene, the adulterer who was nearly stoned to death by self-righteous Jews for her sins illustrates this clearly. 'Let the one who has not sinned cast the first stone.' Anybody who takes pride in casting judgement on others, [even if they sin], is not of God, and cannot speak of God. It is for God to judge, not sinful men. And no man, not even Luther, not even the saintliest pope of his time, can claim to judge on God's behalf. It's as simple as that.

So was Luther acting like a little Pharisee in judging the Pope, calling him the Anti-Christ - and condemning the Jews, as if he were God himself?

I leave the reader to look at Luther's original writings in a more balanced and open way. Martin Luther, despite his genius, was no saint either. He was full of flaws and bigotry. But his words have all been translated from the original German and can be historically proven to be true. The dates can also be verified. So there's no dispute on what he said at all. The dispute is only whether all he said was perfectly true, or inspired by God.

It is not as far as I am concerned.
Much of what Luther said was in fact contradictory and against the spirit of love and forgiveness that the Bible teaches. The hatred Luther had for the pope and the Jews has come down the centuries. Surely, Jesus Christ would not want us to hate the Jews. Surely he wouldn't want the Protestants to hate the Catholics.

It is againt his philosophy of unconditional love for our neighbour!

What many people also do not realise is that Martin Luther himself sinned in many ways. He took out the epistle of St James, calling it 'an epistle of straw' - for a simple reason. It went against his central philosophy - 'justification by faith alone.' Luther believed that faith alone could save. He was wrong. St James makes it abundantly clear that faith without works [or action] is dead. One's faith must be validated by one's actions - be it love, acts of mercy, prayer and a life of kindness and goodness, not one of debauchery or deceit. Hence, St James was a threat. Well, I leave the reader to decide between St James, who died a martyr incidentally, and Luther, who died naturally, who loved God more, and whose words reflect the genuine spirit of the Bible.

The book of Revelations makes it clear that anybody who takes out books or chapters or even a verse from the Bible will bring on himself the wrath of God. Luther took out an entire book! So when Protestants go around condemning the Catholic Church for idolatry and all kinds of historical sins - they may want to first look at the beam in the eye of their beloved patron - Martin Luther. Hatred against Jews, throwing out a canonical book of the Bible, proclaimaing the pope as anti-Christ - and eventually breaking his vow of celibacy to marry a nun - Cathyrina von Bovra - were these "acts of God" - or the sins of a great man - who despite himself could not remain completely sinless himself. Can such a man then judge an entire Church, and hope history will not find out the flaws of his so-called theological beliefs one day. The fruits of the Holy Spirit are love, not hate and its roots, division, bigotry, war.

Perhap Mother Teresa best embodied the true spirit of the Catholic Church. A good but simple understanding of the Bible, and living out its true meaning in action. Serving the poor, seeing the image of Christ in the lowliest of God's people, the lepers of society, and forgiving everybody who wronged her.

So was Martin Luther a false prophet or a saint?

I will leave the reader to judge for himself.

I will not condemn Luther completely. Whatever sins he had, he was still a man who desired to know God fully and serve him as much as he could. His thorn of the flesh was lust, which he himself acknowledged several times. But Luther need not have worried. God has not called us to be sinless completely. It is impossible for the majority of mankind.

God only calls us to do one thing : to love one another "unconditionally" as Jesus did. To love "unconditionally" is to love without conditions - to give of oneself not just to one's race or dialect group exclusively - but to love all those who come our way - not to convert to Christianity. Conversion is a complex and long process. To cultivate a friendship with the sole desire to convert a person and then abandon him, is a deceptive way of conversion. To convert by fear, ie. to say that one will go to hell if one is not a Christian is also not quite right. Who has gone to hell and seen what hell is? This kind of conversion is a primitive one. To convert by condemning another sect or denomination and accusing it of false doctrine is also wrong. All denominations have strange and ambiguous beliefs created by man, sometimes dating back centuries. We have to evolve and remain close to the spirit of the Bible, if we are to remain relevant in the modern age. Tradition cannot supplant Biblical truths, and if found wanting, should be dispensed with eventually. One man's vision cannot and should not deviate from the context of the Bible and focus narrowly on a single word to embody a new theology of bigotry or hatred towards another denomination. It is perverse.

We can only convert the world by love - by acts of kindnes, and especially by acts of forgiveness, by gentleness, and kindness. Pope John Paul 11 did it during his long papacy, making peace with the former enemies of the Church - the Lutherans, the Muslims, the communists. And he did it not by judgementalism. He asked for forgiveness for the past sins of the Catholic Church.

We should all learn from his magnificient example. It was his moral and spiritual strength that gave the Polish people the courage to shake off the yoke of communist Russia. Communism fell in Poland largely because the Poles knew that with a Polish pope, Russia could not invade Poland without international outrage.

So was Luther right? He was in many ways - but mainly in his desire to see the end of the sale of indulgences. What many Protestants do not understand is this : the sale of indulgences was discontinued after the pope and his cardinals met at the Council of Trent in 1545 subsequently.

Today, Catholics do not buy indulgences to enter paradise. Protestants will have to understand why Luther took out the book of St James to justify his theory of 'justification by faith alone' theory. Interestingly, the Catholic Bible says 'justification by faith' by St Paul. The German bible as translated by Luther puts it as 'justification by faith alone.' Luther cleverly inserted the word 'alone' so that the necessity of action to substantiate faith was unnecessary. Luther was wrong to do that. But I leave the Protestants to look at Luther with an open mind today. Too much hatred has been spawned by religious bigotry - and we should all put an end to this name-calling and concentrate on just one thing : "unconditional love" and also look at the history of how the Protestant church had its roots.

Neither the Protestant churches nor the Catholic Church of today can claim to be superior. We both have our strengths and in these darks days of terrorism, should in fact be working and praying together as brothers in Christ, instead of taunting one another, without any idea of what happened in 16th century Europe. Ignorance may be bliss, but not in this case I'm afraid.