I dare you.
That's alway the start.
Leaning against the stained concrete
Scratched by clawing, clawing, clawing
For food. They dream, for waiting, waiting
Hurts as much plunging into the pan
Headfirst
Far in front of the line, there he is
Rubbing salt into the wound
Grinning, gesturing, saying:
"Dominoes."
Idiot. But they still stand, sot-
"I dare you."
They give in.
Their plan.
You see it
You feel it
A pressure on your side
And then falling
Falling
Falling
Being just another accomplice in a line
Being just another perpetrator to the crime
And a roar.
The stove simmers hotter
As one stands up straight and flat
A plate waiting to fall
Push.
Push back.
Be the dam to the flood
Be the clot to the blood-
And a roar.
Into the naughty line, for fighting
Fighting against the falling
Fighting against the her expectations
To taste of spices. Do not thaw
Do not thaw, do not hunger for true justice
Do not dream of a world of sweets
Do not dream of a fair playground
Where judging the judges is obsolete
There is no excuse for fighting.
When it is on salt and pepper built
There is no excuse for alibis
They just confirm your guilt.
I dare you.
That's always the start
Of the end.
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A/N: Lots of food imagery. Argh.
Thankfully Hari Raya is just around the corner.
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Anarchy
PoetryAnarchy. A swirl of topics: emotions, allusions to history, social issues... And somewhere in the maelstrom comes forth rhymes and prose. Note: If you can't be bothered to read all the poems (quite understandably), I've starred the better ones.
