memory, Poetry, Politics

99 red ballons go by

We fixate over fixtures, Curtains and trimmings, We measure lighting Too bright, though brimming. Lying on rugs: gazing At the sofa - genuine faux leather Hiding behind aircon double glazing Sweating, no matter the weather. Does it matter whether We own bubbles in the sky? Till we find a home We are all just renting,… Continue reading 99 red ballons go by

memory, Politics, Prose

heritage is?

Heritage. It’s the crack they dole out to cover up the cracks in the foundations, as the damp creeps up the walls and soils shift because they’ve dug too deep, siphoned too much, layered too many underpasses, tunnels and sewers one over the other like catacombs of the living dead. Heritage only really matters here… Continue reading heritage is?

Poetry, Politics

A freed slave

On every channel on every TV, tonight, (unless you have cable), you’re bound to see our aged PM, crying as he watches on his TV, his father proud, shouting loud to an expectant, roaring, rowdy crowd, some fifty-nine years ago, a simple word, full of gusto, Merdeka! Meaning “slaves now freed”. A middle finger to… Continue reading A freed slave