Baronhawk's Nest

The person:
My late Dad... Haji Zakaria Hj. Man (Right in picture, yours truly left. During the family Umrah trip prior to his passing.)

The words:
"Terkenang daku, masa yang lalu
tika kau disisi... ku endah tak tahu
...kini tinggal sia-sia, sayang ku rasa
tak dapat ku kata... kau sudah tiada."

The trigger:
The song 'Biar' by the effervescent Fynn Jamal

Dive for dreams
or a slogan may topple you
(trees are their roots
and wind is wind)
trust your heart
if the seas catch fire
(and live by love
though the stars walk backward)
honour the past
but welcome the future
(and dance your death
away at the wedding)
never mind a world
with its villains or heroes
(for good likes girls
and tomorrow and the earth)
in spite of everything
which breathes and moves, since Doom
(with white longest hands
neating each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds
-before leaving my room
i turn, and (stooping
through the morning) kiss
this pillow, dear
where our heads lived and were.

* Diving for dreams... or at least trying to.

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.

Still, unmoving
in silence standing
saddened by tidings
from ancestral 'steadings

a fire burns
the red in the ears
as vengeance calls
boiling blood stirs

the honour of race
lifeblood of culture
the sacredness of faith
caveat lingua franca

questioned and raised
discarded of value
dissected displaced
stripped of virtue

answer the call
these days of thunder
ride the squall
and come hither

seize the bugle
the pen and paper
join the struggle
with words and valour

be ye the vanguard
the edge and coda
the rising tide
of Melayu Muda.

* Malay version here