Baronhawk's Nest

It irks me
when your gentle chiming
vocabulary of words
and speech's timing

seeks often to perjure
injuriously deconstructing
what to me is noblest
in a human being

it is not trivial
not even unbecoming
but the highest expression
of two souls meeting

it is not the rut
that you are accusing
nor is it an excuse
for casual copulating

it is sweet nectar
two lives touching
shared moments
two halves linking

it is also pain
tender hearts hurting
both hope and loss
a lifelong learning

it is a journey
quite worth experiencing
when you find the one
that complicates everything.

Among cloud bursts
clear blue skies

brimming currents
fresh cool sighs

tender pockets
soft warm shy

angel's gift
pockets full of sun.

You might laugh
at what I speak
or look at
what I write
suspiciously

I know well
that in you lies
that common streak
tell tale signs
tid-bits

you always ask
for cili sos
or extra chillies
even at a five star
Italian place

your stomach grumbles
your palate cries
for a plate
of hot steaming
Maggi goreng

your throat thirst
for Milo Ais
Ais Kacang,
Cendol
and Teh Tarik

your eyes water
missing the haze
your ears yearns
to hear
the "lahs"

you rush around
to foreign clocks
sorely missing
laid back
Malaysian timing

they say O God!
New York traffic
haiya its nothing
like the jams
of Tun Razak Street

No notes
No nothing
to balm the worst
your passing

No tears
no mourning
dry eyes
heart numbing

cold hands
pit sinking
boy stands
head spinning

empty vacuum
shrink wrapping
raw emotions
words congealing

body lies
still unmoving
silent reminder
a father's passing

final kiss
brows freezing
unanswered grief
lips unmoving

hands beat
constant tattooing
uneasy shoulders
fragile scaffolding

sudden weight
unready unwilling
bearing duties
body coffin

final moments
grave yawning
deep dark
scary daunting

chasm empty
life's ending
burying comfort
certainty's entombing

coffin closed
slow descending
a boy's end
a man's becoming.

"We need more guns!" thunders Captain George's hoary voice as his hands move about in their usual, wild manner punctuating his point. His unlit pipe resting precariously in his gesticulating right hand. In his left, a faded red soft velvet apothecary's cap threatens to fly off in all directions. Both remnants from his Shakepearan Theatre days.

"Not to mention ammo!" he adds, his tone and gestures settling down, taking a more sombre hue as if to reflect his resignation with their present conundrum, he silently looks at each member of the crew in the eye, one by one.

"Hmmmm...." Hazlan the security Chief scratches the stubble that marks his tree day old growth of beard and looks at First Mate Mooza. "I thought I ordered more ammo and guns in our last supply stop at Port Seksans?"

First mate Mooza wiggled her generous nose and sighed. "Look! I forwarded those requests to the quartermaster, its not my fault that she decided that a consignment of sea monkeys is more important than guns and ammo."

All eyes turns to scrutinize Quartermaster Kathleen as she begins to uncomfortably shuffle her feet upon the floorboards of the wardroom and wiggle her bottom in the suddenly hot seat that she is in.

Ship's Physician, Doc Reza folds his massive arms across his barrel chest and fixed a fierce stare upon Kathleen's lowered forehead. "Hmmpppppp....seamonkey?" he enquires.

"Yes! Sea monkeys!" Chimed in Sheena their normally soft spoken and usually imperturbable Chief Engineer. Throwing her hands in the air and shaking her head emphatically.

"What now?" asks Evanna, their sexy and voluptous Ship's Navigator as she turns he body slightly to one side and throws both the question and her head to another.

Thee was silence as each member of the crew withdraws into their personal selves trying to find a way out of their present conundrum.

"What are your instructions...Captain..."