Anarchy

Doodle of My Home *

Rainy nights, gift from the skies.

Smoky days, gift from our neighbours.

We should learn, like the roses in my garden,

To only open when the sun caresses our faces

Which would be nearly always.

So I set the air conditioning to 23 degrees

And sit in my westernised chair, bedroom, house

You know, all the things we received with two hands like good people should

While they snatched tin from below our belts.

Or else slurp cold cincau in the mamak shop

And eat char kway teow under the tireless ceiling fan.

I used to aspire to command my own wok

But that dream is scattered like the leaves on the streets

Of my gated community lined with canine howls.

My window speaks of water towers, red roofs and barbed wire

Nothing special for a traveller like you.

So walk further out and you might smell a durian stall

Or pass the red scribbles of troll faces on unfinished apartments

Or throw a stone from my private school and see it land in

Narrow houses, caged pigeons, damp bersih 4.0 t-shirts

And the people inside whose 9 to 5 goes to the PM's pocket.

Sometimes it gets too depressing and you need to run

Run three hundred and fifty kilometres to the southern border

And between your shuddering gasps and thudding heart

Hear and smell the sea.

I, clad in baju kebaya embroidered with the colours of our land,

Will see my mother in her cheongsam

Across the border where both

Our best friends and worst rivals reside.

But South is tame compared to North:

Tiger at twelve o'clock and we are the kijang

That dart between the words of our folk tales

We cannot afford to use our tricks between ourselves

We've made secrecy our lover and a cup of milo our best friend

At eight p.m. in the kopitiam because we are, above all, nocturnal beasts

And we like to think that we are the glowing feline eyes in oblivion

And we like to think that we are the kings of the thick blackness of the jungle

And really we want a pink and purple and orange and red sky

But nothing will happen if we block out the sunlight we starve for—

I was always afraid of the dark.

But the night skyline is my polaris

And the twin towers are a nocturnal sun

So it will be fine.

Everything will be fine.

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A/N: Haven't been updating for a while because I've been doing the NaPoWriMo challenge over on my tumblr account (www.mjao7.tumblr.com).