One

the hindus and moslems of india
the protestants and catholics of ireland
the jews and palestinians of israel
the christians and muslims of indonesia
the blacks and whites of america
the muslims and buddhists of thailand
the sunnis and shites of middle east
the chinese and japanese of asia
all in One
One in all

in and out

in and out
they go
of the pubs and karaoke bars
in tanjong pagar
a man with a twisted leg, ambling awkwardly
swaying packets of snacks in hands,
a small girl, fingers saying words in air,
“please help me, i am deaf and dumb,
buy my soft toys”

it's like a merry go round
of the pubs
one by one
over and over again
invisible, unseen

by the pubbers
happy on their stools
karaoking at mikes
laughing, talking
drinking, drinking

the forgottens
living at the fringes
in and out
they continue

the maid

many months ago
on a Sunday evening
eating roti prata
somewhere in sembawang

a few tables away
sat a sri lankan maid
alone
sobbing away

some shop workers
stood around her
listening to her tale of woe
consoling her

she came many months ago
from her home in sri lanka
to work here
friends told her
she could make money here
as a maid

money she needed
for her poor family
a husband who drank day long
and hardly worked
and two young ones yet to school

but her life here
was no bliss
from dawn to night she worked
with nary a pause
sweeping, washing, cleaning, cooking
endlessly
with no minute of rest
and no day of rest
scolded, beaten for mistakes she made
no one told her that a maid here
was really a home slave

uprooted homesick helpless
yearning for her family
she ran away
looking for help
she sobbed

her owners came
hunting for her
took her back
to their home

the maid
a lesser being?

in orchard, an old lady

on a sidewalk along orchard road
sits an old lady, bent over
selling her pocket tissues
amidst hundreds of scurrying feet
of the well-heeled
walking around her
not looking
not buying

one cruel, insensitive cad
calls her
a nuisance
a blight on orchard road

“i need to live
i sell to live
to feed me
what can I do”

“what’s a dollar for my tissues
when you spend hundreds
on your shoes and dresses”

“don’t forget
while you walk shop eat in orchard
while you freely spend dollars
we, poor
still need to live
and eat
and earn cents”

beneath the sodden glitter of the city
the forgotten poor lives
and struggles
to live

Yellow Ribbon in Tatters

some time ago
one authority started
a yellow ribbon project
to help ex-prisoners
get a decent job
money in pockets
for a roof over their heads
and to feed their families

many years ago
once you were a prisoner
meant the end of your life
meant you were branded bad for ever
meant it was tough when you came out
as your id proclaim to all
you were an offender

a week ago
the papers
told the tale of this ex-offender
who went to prison for a small crime
came out
and in no time another authority took away his taxi driver license
saying he was no longer fit to drive one
saying he was no longer safe to society

in one swipe
in one mindless civil servant decision
they took away
his livelihood
without a care

what’s happening?
why are not
our authorities talking to each other
to success the yellow ribbon project

yellow ribbon lay in tatters
for now

A Right

A Right to live
A Right to have food on the table
A Right to have a roof over the head
A Right to learn and be schooled
A Right to hold a job
A Right to be treated when sick
A Right to love whomever one likes
A Right to worship freely
A Right to walk without fear
A Right to live in peace

Regardless of
Who one is
What one is
Where one is

A Right Dwindling
Divisive nations, religions
Barriers, boundaries
Pseudo reigns
Falseness preaches

A Right
Left
Owned
By the many few

Blasting & Cheating

The militants hold their religion at ransom
Distorting holy words
To suit their killings

The young swallow it all
Words, distorted and misleading
Leading them astray
With mindless killing

The young carry bombs onto trains
Thinking they were going to be ok
But blasting themselves
And other innocents to bits

Alas, the young, full of life
were cheated
The young
Should have asked
“Why don’t you get your own sons to carry these?

The London Blasts

where in my books did I say
u could kill the innocents
u could injure your fellows
where in my books did I say
that coming to Me
meant spilling blood first

once again, u created blasts
using my Name
killing your friends
smearing my Name
red

once I came and taught u
how to love, how to live
in peace
but u misuse my Words
for your own dastardly fights

those who love, will be with Me in peace
those who kill, may they perish elsewhere

aching love

in the subway cafeteria in suntec city
he sat at a table, his girl opposite him
he sat dabbing his red eyes, his girl wants to leave him
he wonders why, but she has met someone else
he does not want to let go, but she has decided dry-eyed
tears wells in his eyes
if only the most aching love was not love

Mystifying Rules

Over the last one week, there were two reports in the local dailies that highlighted some really strange rules created and propagated by some quite creative civil servants.

Rule 1:
Some buskers were complaining of the need to go for an audition before they could actually busk in our streets. Huh? I never knew that one had to audition for such busking. Life is already tough for the disabled ones who busk for some extra cash. They not only have to audition first but also need to be a member of some arts group! There are actually even more preconditons for busking listed in the busking authority webpage. Reading them is enough to put one off from busking.

Rule 2:
This rule surfaced when a foreigner working here refused to participate in the General Household Survey 2005 as it required him to divulge personal information and he considered it as an intrusion of his privacy. Guess what - he was threaten with a fine! There is actually a rule that allows the authority to impose a fine of $1000 on those who provide wrong information or simply refuse to participate.

Anyway, getting back to the story, the authority refused to budge and insisted he participate in the survey, saying that they could not simply select another participant as their samples were carefully selected. Hmm...does one do a survey without a backup list as there is bound to be someone who could not participate for whatever reason.

Do we need these stiffling rules to get the work done? Perhaps, it is simply a reflection of the authority officer penchant for creating rules rather than the state of our society. Sigh!

the real, the pretense

On a Saturday morn
Those
Calling, thinking themselves elitist
Pour into botanic gardens
With their dogs and kids
And maids in tow
Chirping, barking empty they trundle

On a Saturday morn
Those
Not calling themselves anything
Stroll into hdb parks
Walking, talking, mixing they go

The real, the pretense

the marginals part two

Somewhere in st george’s area
Are the one room hovels
Where the marginals live
The old, the poor, the desolate

Daily they toil
Sweeping the streets, clearing the rubbish
Cleaning tables in food courts
Collecting paper and cans
Cleaning and tidying our city

Daily they return
Adding up their cents
To their one rooms
Some with no water
Some with no electricity

Living marginally
Eating marginally
Sleeping marginally

The forgotten ones
Amidst us

Invisible Segregation

In a cafeteria
Malays eating with Malays
Chinese eating with Chinese
Indians eating with Indians

At orchard road
Malays out with Malays
Chinese out with Chinese
Indians out with Indians

An invisible segregation
Birthing in the elitist schools
Breeding then on

The Discontinuation of Memory

Friends, come and go
Joy, come and go
Grief, come and go
In a pause of time

Meeting and letting go
The discontinuation of memory

the losing poor

The poor, they cannot afford to pay
So we subsidise them
But need to wait in line
But need to wait a long time
Before they can see the doctor

The rich, they can pay
They wait a shorter time
They see the doctor faster

Should not medical care
Be given
Based on how ill you are
Than who you are
Than whether you can afford to

Monsoon Showers

Monsoon showers
Bolting down from the sky
Clanking against the window panes
Wetting the verandah
Washing the foliage

Monsoon showers
Streaming at my face
Running down my chest
Cooling slowing my heart
Washing away my stress

mixedup

Everyday we live
Day to day
Work to work
Home to home
Birth to death
In mixedup world

Everynight we dream
Where people gone come alive
Where times gone come alive
Where fun gone come alive
In another world

World, dreams
Illusion, reality
We continue on mixedup

the marginal

Once late at night
Eating in food centre
Saw
A woman
Aged and old
Wearing a beaten look

From bin to bin
She went
Groping for thrown drink cans
Collecting
Them in a plastic bag

From table to table
She went
Picking finished drink cans
Collecting
Them in a plastic bag

Selling them for a few cents

The Tissue Seller

In the orchard underpass
On a hot Saturday afternoon
Crowds streaming through
Walking hurriedly
To shopping jaunts

An old lady, sitting in a wheel chair
Face unmoving, looking nowhere
Hand thrust out clutching tissue packets
At the crowd

The unmoving crowd
Walking pass fast
Seeing but not stopping
at
hand thrust out
with tissues
to catch them

The Study Mamas

behind keong saik street
lies a narrow alley
with a meandering path lined with benches
with trees hanging their green leaves wide over
and some people taking a walk down the path

ladies, sultry
stand poised along the path
chatting up old men that happen by
selling themselves

ladies, sultry
calmness outside, sadness inside
but with no choice
trading this way
earning this way
so their child can go to school

old men on bench
continue gawking