Baronhawk's Nest

Discordant voices rose in concert,
to critique Saudagar Najib's mimpi to construct,
a tower 100-storeys in magnitude,
in a KL a-glut with slow-trafficked malls,
unoccupied offices.

But they are blind to his genius,
cheap luxury goods famously branded,
will turn Malaysia into a haven,
a shopping paradise of for 'first ladies',
of all shapes and sizes.

Harken the conference recently held,
the monies spent and pomp ceremonious,
the self-gratification richly laid,
to a 'first lady' not,
who wants to becometh.

Hence the logic neatly compiled,
a new 100 storeys for a mall to fill,
cheap lingerie, perfumes, worked leather and frills,
the thrills that rose Najib to the occasion

Hence another phallic structure rose to fulfill
trusting above KL to rise and instill,
this pride self-evident in the rush to show,
hey Mahathir, my tower beats yours.

A five billion price tag stood,
as one man's one-upmanship brood,
more money than can be mortgaged
from petroleum dwindling, natural wealth drained.

The GLCs are being squeezed
to fork up the billions Najib wants to see
to fund his feel good fashion filled 'discounts'
what 'first lady' wants and fancies.

Political fangs already in their necks,
the GLCs are drained if not strapped,
with more holes poking collapsing jugular,
they will soon go bonkers at the bankers,
more rakyat's wealth poured down the goners.

But maybe this is the last of gasps,
the ruling coalition's final spree,
their bid to strip this country of cash,
clear our coffers before they run free.

Knowing their loss awaiting the ballot,
they deem this chance to turn the maggot
to eat us inside out and thence to flee
departing very rich once they are voted out.

But sadly still if we were to buy this wholesale
accept their goodies at face not value
to say 'we forgive you' and close our eyes
blinded by the gains of cheap thrills and spills.

Are we that shallow? the truth has been told,
as we often return the ballot to their choice,
voting our rights for mere Ringgits in the wallet,
as they get away with billions wrongly pocketed.

They say that we are stranded upon the earth
betwixt mortal grounds and eaves of heaven
...the skies the door to His Grace, the vestibule of His Faith
If such is the case, then birds and avians are His Messengers
who flit and float upon the currents, dancing the windy eddies
those who share that eternal secret, the gateway to paradise and back.

They rise with the sun and dive with the moon, skirting the in-between
delivering His Message to four corners and his boon to yon borders
chirps and happy chuckles singing of His Power, His Praise
the lilt of wings a breezy graceful counterpart to their traipse
But some deign to descend and spend their lives upon the ground
forgoing the free far skies for the company and love of Man(and woman).

Like all angels tenanting, the ranks of heaven-sent messengers,
their time are tied to reason, their praise endears them His Pardon
as all must make the final climb, that flight into the heavens
to break this mortal bond and face of His Benevolence
as we grieve, his time ended, as we breathe, celestial winds churned
let him go, to the crux of destinations, time and place as marked by Providence.

As he was borrowed, so must he now be returned.
Celebrate the memories, ignite the moments
for his time was not to make ye grieve
but to join him in His Praise.

* A poem written to commemorate the final journey of Conrad the Parrot, friend, family member and loyal companion to a dear friend, Janet Steele.