Are You Enjoy?

Entah-entah, Dato' Siti Nuhaliza tu sebenarnya pandai. Pandai gila.

Betul, memang semua orang dah tau dia tak pandai cakap orang putih. Siapa boleh lupa lawak Siti's Nipples. Semua orang yang aku kenal, bila lepas dengar cerita tu, terus tarik muka. Terus gelak besar. Terus tergolek dari sofa ke atas lantai sambil tepuk-tepuk lantai dengan tangan macam referee gusti WWF. Ayat standard semua orang, "OH MY GOD." Senang cerita, semua gelakkan dia.

Lepas tu pula, pendidikan dia setakat SPM saja. Itu pun Gred 3. Nanti dulu! Aku tahu, engkau mesti nak cakap dalam dunia ini banyak orang yang tak ada pendidikan, atau tak berpendidikan tinggi, mampu berjaya dalam hidup. Engkau mesti akan gunakan orang-orang dalam senarai orang-orang contoh ini - Bill Gates, Thomas Edison, Nabi Muhammad S.A.W, Sudirman, abang kawan sekolah menengah engkau, makcik sebelah bapa kau dan lain-lain lagi. Tapi, dalam zaman SPM 38 A1 sekarang nih, kalau engkau dapat aggregat 6 sekalipun, belum tentu engkau akan dipuja-puji, apatah lagi kalau engkau dapat setakat Gred 3 saja.

Sini mesti kamu semua ingat aku nak memperlekehkan Siti. Ataupun saja nak buka topik pasal Siti ini supaya orang lain boleh sambung dan seterusnya menjadikan Siti sebagai topik perbualan mingguan mereka sehingga mereka boleh buat Top Ten Embarassing Moments Of Siti Nurhaliza ala-ala David Letterman.

Sebenarnya, tak.

Memang betul, aku termasuk dalam orang-orang yang tarik muka itu. Orang-orang yang terus gelak besar sampai tergolek dari sofa mengilai-ngilai sebut "OH MY GOD!" Sebenarnya, sampai sekarang aku tak boleh percaya cerita itu. Bukan tak percaya, tapi tak boleh percaya.

Dan memang betul, aku pun tengah memikirkan pasal ke-bengap-an Siti dalam saat-saat fikiran aku merawak. Tapi sebab aku selalu sangat memikirkan Siti dalam ke-bengap-an dia lah tiba-tiba aku tersentak dan terfikir - dengan betul-betul serious dan bukan sambil gelak terbahak-bahak dengan orang lain - "Betul ke Siti ni?"

Cuba kamu semua tanya diri masing-masing soalan yang sama. Betul ke dia macam itu? kadang-kadang kalau difikirkan balik, memang tak masuk akal benda-benda bodoh yang dia pernah - atau allegedly - cakap.

Entah-entah, sebenarnya dia ini memang dah tahu kebanyakan penduduk Malaysiahopeless dan bodoh sebenarnya dan sebab dia ini sangat sinis orangnya (kadang-kadang orang-orang yang pandai ini sinis pendiriannya) - dan juga sebab dia macam dah bosan sangat - dia buat satu eksperimen sosial 10 tahun dimana dia mengorbakan dirinya, imejnya, privasi hidupnya dan juga maruah keluarganya (sedikit sebanyak) untuk mengkaji dan mengiyakan sendiri teorinya sendiri iaitu Penduduk Malaysia Ini Memang Tak Cultured Dan Shallow Serta Terlalu Materialistik Dan Tiada Jati Diri Yang Kukuh Dan Tegar Dalam Menghadapi Era Globalisasi.

Entah-entah, sekarang ini, dia tengah baca buku Leo Tolstoy War and Peace kedelapan kalinya sambil melayan album live Norah Jones sementara memuat turun lagu album-album lama Bob Dylan dalam iTunes melalui laptop Mac barunya manakala peminat-peminatnya serta pemberita-pemberita picisan yang dah tiada apa nak ditulis pasal Siti sedang asyik bergaduh pasal Siti dalam forum lowyat.net melalui PC-PC lembap yang penuh virus di ofis mereka.

Siapa gelakkan siapa sekarang?

MAP Poetry Cup (Sept/Oct) - 2nd Oct@Blackbox, Solaris Dutamas

The best MAP Cup yet, and I'm honoured to be a finalist. Despite being a runner up to The Mighty Jah-J a.k.a George Wielgus, it was for me a high point in my young spoken word career coz the finals lined up with both of us joined by George's flame, Mooza. Both who've just returned from the UK just recently after a long stint of slamming there. And George is the reigning Glastonbury Slam Champ. So there's no shame in losing to him, although the pain couldn't be any more stinging knowing I lost by 1 point. After 0.5 points were deducted. OUCH.

Below is the triplet I used, with the finale poem being a late selection after some strategising, swapped with the second poem. FYI, this is my most rushed slam yet, the rough version of the 1st piece finished at 6:30pm the same day, and the second piece finished at around 8:45pm the same day, right after the first two slammers went up. Talk about leaving it late. Oh well, inspiration comes from desperation, they say.

So without further a due, enjoy. The first & the second pieces were slightly edited prior to posting.

Round 1: MOTORCYLE DIARIES

You know he's one of them when his hair is dyed and Brylcreeam-ed to spike

And the only thing he dreams about is balik sekolah and his own motorbike

Don't bother with the fact that he's not old enough for a license and still wants to ride

Fact is he's been riding since 13 and is running errands for his dad on the side

youth on the slide

fallen by the wayside long ago in a black night

where he didn't want to run but couldn't hide

but had to do so coz buying those cigarettes is his only way for a joyride

while his father makes a woman out of his sister

and makes a martyr out of his mother

while he writes another chapter

in his motorcycle diaries

a chapter full of adventure and colour

yellow lights red lights traffic lights

all of them are another shade green to his eyesight

a shade that says you can make it - right - if you just don't stop

a shade that says if you go faster faster you will be on top

and that life is a never ending race

and your ride is your only saving grace

and if he can run that red then he can run for the state

or fly to the states come back an engineering graduate

but the only office he has is the 24 hour mamak

the only time he flew was when he did the Superman

and the only certificate he has is his Grade 3 SPM

but all that didn’t matter

coz he’s already got what he needs

he’s got his brothers

he doesn’t need to run for the state coz he runs its streets

in the dead of the night when the wakil rakyats are fast asleep

and the city is at its darkest heat

him in his green Kawasaki KRR 150 and black leather jacket

no ties, not shirts, no bush jackets

no need for nonsense titles and deeds

no PHD, no doctorate, no IR, no degree, no need

he’s won all of them with his preng-ing speed

scourge of the roads, the boogeyman of late night drivers

king of the streets

king the day he left school and embraced the cold city night beat

the day he felt he belonged

when his brothers gave him a sticker with his helmet

and put the keys to his freedom in his hands

so much more than the state and the society and the government

and the schools and the ustaz and his father ever can

beer cans, one night stands

coz they don’t understand

what its like to live in 2-room flats

where his belief of the institution called family

fades away in the smoke

as his old man sits at home all day long puffing & watching TV

and yells at the wife from the living room for more money

then blames her for not taking care of their 4 kids and not working hard enough to earn a living

while she's hurting

her back straddling

number 4 doing

the laundry and cooking

and he's thinking

“I will never be king

but I will be no tyrant capitalist

there’s got to be something better this

no way I’ll suffer only to

be a statistic of the dasar ekonomi baru

ape yang dasar?

ape yang baru?

Kita berlapar, diorang pakai baju baru

Kita beristighfar, diorang nyanyi lagu

Kita baca suratkhabar, diorang baca buku

Kita kena ikhtiar, diorang beli sekutu

Kita bersabar, diorang buat tak tahu

Kita terbiar, diorang tak amik tahu

Cuma mahu rumah tinggi-tinggi

Dalam hutan batu

Berjuta-juta beribu-ribu

setiap satu

Ini bukan Negara engkau sorang, beb

Ini pun Negara aku!

Ini pun Negara aku!

Ini Negaraku!

Tanah Tumpahnya Darahku

Rakyat hidup, bersatu dan maju…”

You know he's one of them when his hair is dyed and Brylcreeam-ed to spike

And the only thing he ever thinks about is beer cans and bohsias and his own motorbike

But you never knew him, or his family, the pain he could never udnerstand in his story

All you know is that you see him everywhere

And you never look him in the eye coz he’ll stare

At traffic lights, at junctions, at the roads in late night

Speeding and chasing the break lights

Into the twilight

Out of sight

Chuckling in delight as another pair of 17 year old tits

hugs him tight - Another young knight headed for life’s exits

As he helms on, revs up and remps it.

Round 2: Untitled #2

Recently, this country has been rocked by the controversy

of an unimaginable travesty that has attacked our society

directed unquestionably at the core of our future and humanity

The dumping of newborn babies.

This unwanted headline of inexplicable hate crime heads a long line

of social declines that outlines the dark signs that appears over a timeline

as a result of the relentless greed and grandest designs of those are inclined

to not keep in mind the effects of modernization that affects future generations

and attacks through psychological incisions that slices through the core of family institutions

and breaks the traditions of a human civilization that has survived through dozens and dozens

of genocidal conflicts like The Holocaust and the Apartheid by sheer will and the ethics

of being a human.

So who then, changed the tune and made it seem that you can wrap the rag then

cold-heartedly dump your baby?

Who?

Wait.

Before you answer the question, ponder this

Were you shocked when heard about this?

Did you cry or scream or puke and lose your self-worth and esteem

In the theme of typical societal reactions?

Were you really surprised?

Were we really surprised?

This silence is deafening

And is the least bit comforting

To know that our attention span

has become a by-product of consumerism, miseducation and

spiky teeny bopper music from Korea and Japan

and that human lives are just a number

that some fat specky analysts crunched up over supper

So brothers, are we brothers?

So sisters, are we sisters?

Are we parents, fathers, mothers?

Are we?

Or are we just called brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers?

All these babies are the victims of an education that elaborates of the definitions

And the understanding of the action for the sake of examination and graduation

But not the emotion that drives the vision of love, marriage and the beauty of procreation

The problems lies in the complexity of understanding our sexuality exacerbated by the inability

Of expressing directly as a legacy of our Asian hereditary coz you see we

Don’t need to learn sex but instead sexuality

We don’t need to learn about push and pull that comes to us naturally

We need to understand how we grow and mature sexually not grow up a mature sexily

Because the problem isn’t about rubber and foreplay but about sexuality and moral decay

And added with the dysfunctionality of the new economic policy

that’s renewed every five years ever since the early seventies

hocus pocus hoaxes pokes us deep in our pockets through the wallets they sold us

“let’s do it sayang, let’s do it cannot bang kita takda duit…”

“just do it jalang just do it aku kasi engkau duit!”

This imbalance of weakth and economy between the kampung and the city

is a blatantly unspoken tragedy of the cluelessly complacent civil service

who failed to serve us civilly when we all know what that is

and when coupled with the business

driven by lust and sexists

our kids who couldn’t get this

put on their sister’s lipsticks and hipsters

for boyfriends, ministers

and blooms

into a woman in the gloom

of a cheap hotel room

carrying time bombs in their wombs

of naïve sixteen year olds

clad in tubes too old for them

and perfumes

too bold for them

too young to love

but young enough to give birth

to the one thing that mother earth

did not mean for her babies to be

The butcher of their own babies.

Final Round: SHE SAID “I CAN LIVE WITH A BROKEN HEART”

She said "I can live with a broken heart

Let me live with a broken heart

because I have been living with a broken heart"

And I didn't know what to say.

Should I just keep quiet or should I say

"Let me take you for dinner and make your day"

Or - "It could be Allah working in His mysterious ways..."

Or - Just be patient, give her time

she wouldn't understand it now yet anyway..."

Or - "Just let it be, it'll be fine..."

but try as I may

no matter what I wanted to say

it all sounded so

cliche.

And that made me hate myself.

At that exact moment I hated the very existence

that divinity has graced and blessed upon upon my soul

because I didn't know what to say.

I wish I could've said something

But there was no way I could've said something meaningful

something enlightening

something right, beautiful and comforting

because there is no way my young eyes and my young heart

would've seen more pain

more love, joy and blood-soaked rain

than her wedding necklace, grandmother's ring

and coarse hands have gained.

And I call myself a man.

Unashamedly.

In front of this woman who has fathered children

me, someone who has fathered only his manhood

unashamedly

calls himself a man.

And in the heat of the moment

where this beautiful woman has dropped her guard

and offered me a glimpse into her hard

yet vulnerable and fragile soul

and opened the window to her past of decades old

sharing her innermost feelings that moves her through the days

like tectonic plates

I celebrate

the opportunity and grabbed it whole

with my manly arms, like I found gold,

in celebration of the moment where I bring out the depth of manliness and masculinity

and paternal potentiality in it's promise and glory

confident like how a man should

thinking of the things he should

know, remember, understand, say

like how all those books and movies about man try to sell everyday

and I unashamedly say

"Okay."

A most manfull and masculine "Okay."

When instead, I could've said

Something else

Something that would take away the pain of having a heart broken

because women are creatures who were born to love

and before they learn to love themselves they learn how to love others first

and before we men learned how to love women and how to make love and make women love

ourselves and themselves they taught us love

and the reason why it is them, not us is because

they understand that the purpose of their beautiful existence is the most exalted cause

which is the gift of bringing life into this world

even though this beauty is marked by scars

and no matter how much these scars haunt them

hurt them, scare them devastate and disappoint them

they wil not falter

because even the heavens surrender bowing to pay heed

and lie beneath their feet

because they are women.

And in the milisecond

that all this flashed by I

Cry joy and victory in revelation and mockery

retaliating to the man that I was just moments before

And in my new found manliness I roared

"Please, please don't say that, isn't that a wish

A prayer that should not be

because Allah forbade us to wish for something that he

dislikes for He only likes peace, understanding, love and harmony?"

And she said,

"I can live with a broken heart

let me live with a broken heart

because I've been living with a broken heart

when I broke a piece of it in '72 for the man that I loved

and then another one in '73 to make up your sister's heart

after that in '76 for your brother's warmth

and then in '81 for your words and your charm

and then again in '85 for your sister's laugh.

So I can live with a broken heart

because I have been living with a broken heart

And I beg you, please let me live with a broken heart

just let this be, just let me be

because I know exactly

where the pieces are."

MAP Poetry Cup (Aug) - 28th Aug@Blackbox, Solaris Dutamas

Two of my most personal spoken word pieces ever. Hell, who am I kidding. What poem isn't personal? hehhe.

YOU JUST DON’T SEE

This poem

is about people who think of you but not think about you

it's about people who think for you but not think about you

it's about people who think about you but not think about you

And that's the problem.

You.

Not you me, but you you.

coz don't get me wrong, it's not about me it's about you.

coz i'm the one who is the issue to you.

I don't know how that came to coz I just tried to be true to myself and show you myself

else you take me to be some other person which is even worse

than being a loser coz you've already pigeonholed me first.

You see, you just don't see it.

Well I didn't intent that pun

because even if I did, you wouldn't have gotten that hon'

because you wouldn't have seen it coming

let alone see the point I'm making.

Coz your first problem is - you don't listen.

you understand the words that I say, you remember the words that I say,

but when it comes to your emotions, you didn't understand a single thing I said

coz you didn't listen.

coz you only like to listen to yourself because when you talk about yourself

it's what you want people to know about you, coz that's how you want you to know you

coz you know that's it's not real and you want it to be true

so you tell that to others when they don't really know you

so that when they accept that it's you then the past that you couldn't get past disappears

and what you wanted to believe about you because you just couldn't accept the truth

becomes the truth to them and hence comes true for you

now that's some pretty complicated psychology

for someone who couldn't even see

the puns behind the jokes about her buns

but who am I say all these coz I'm the one

who are causing problems to you. Thing is, I don't understand it, how can that be true

coz I totally detached myself from our friends and you

so I should be suffering, not you

which leads to problem number two

Who.

Yes - Who. Who are you?

You see, when I ask people about you they will always mention the things that you do

coz you do a lot of that shit yeah they were sweet and thoughtful and considerate but they're still shit

coz when you do the things that you do, you are doing it expecting a return for you

which is a real pity, because when you genuinely really do

some things for others who have stuck with you

they are not sure anymore if it was real for you

because they know that when you are lost you will do things just because.

and due to your horoscope, you are smart naturally

and that's problem number three - Denial.

You are in denial and you won't admit it.

Know what? since it's pointless explaining anything with you in your denial state,

I'm not even going to elaborate.

In fact I'm also not going to do anything about this

though initially I had them all in a list but finally I said let it end like this

let me be the scapegoat let the fault be mine

for somehow letting you letting me mess with your mind

when it was already messed up.

And I'm not going to bother you anymore

me detaching myself - that was before

now - I'm walking out the door.

And I'm not going to even ask for an apology

even though it wasn't me who had a crush on me

and felt that I owe you my personal history

just because you shared me yours to get me to share mine

doesn’t mean I have to think like you to be a great mind

just because you share personal stuff with everybody

doesn’t mean that the same psychology applies to me

because I don’t need people to feel sorry for my own actions so I can accept me

honestly? I think even though you will relent and make an apology

you are not actually sorry.

Coz you won't allow yourself to feel that

so that you won't have to believe that

because that would mean that you would have to face your truth.

And I don't want the credit for putting you through that.

And I'm not even going to fight about it

no matter how much you tell or how many people you spin to about it

because I don't need their approval to accept me for who I am

they are not a big part of my life Hell I don't even know some of them

And also because I don't have to prove to you that I'm a man to prove to me that I'm a man

I don't need anyone to tell me where to stand unlike you

otherwise I wouldn't have been the man that caused so much problems for you.

See? It was never me. It was you.

And you just don't see it you refuse to see it

You just don't see you.

And despite all the crap you said about me behind my back I'm still going to be respectful and hold back

and instead remember the good times we had

and thank You.

Untitled #1

When someone asked me today what I’ve done in my father’s name

I didn’t know what to say.

I didn’t know if the Dunhill 20's I bought him as a surprise

which then gave him grief because he got scolded by my elder sister who despised

the smell of cancer sticks that brings tears to her eyes

and the phlegms to his lungs and he'll be coughing all along

like he's been 10 years sick that she hates and so she would go on and on and on

in such a way that would make you think

that he's not her father but just some old gardener

hired just to trim rose bushes on weekends and Raya

because she knows deep inside that even though she might not be his favourite daughter

she made him proud more than the others

and he would still listen to her because she was his first child.

And a dropout.

And I hated her.

I used to hate her for all that.

After she made me hate her for being the anal elder sister

snapping at me for not thinking of others and not helping out to clean the house

and water the flowers and messing up all the things she and my parents are trying to do

when I could do and be better if only I realized and wanted to...

just like all elder sisters do.

she didn't understand why father wanted to smoke

she didn't know that every single stick he lighted is an incense

to keep the ghosts of his past at bay

so he can go through that day wihtout wallowing away

but I didn’t realize then why ciggarettes made her cry

even though it’s tears of blood in the current point of her life

coz the smoke conjures up the words that she can no longer take back

the words that made me think that she never cut daddy any slack

that she didn't ask and didn't even try to respect his wishes

and instead just went on him again and again and again just like one of those bitches

just like all eldest daughters who love their fathers do.

But no, this ain't about her, this is about my father.

And I do not know if the Dunhill 20s I bought lasted long enough after

that episode so that he could remember...Me.

Me, who still doesn't know till today that when someone asks him

what has he achieved in his father's name

he does not know what to say.

And I had the bloody nerve to want to ask if my father remembered me.

How could I have honestly respectfully asked if he remembers me

the one who hated him as a teenager even though it was him, not me

that those stupid, dengki, asshole Malays didn't like to see

another honest & talented Malay like him succeed

because of their own insecurities, weaknesses and greed

and their own self-indulgent need

to be loved, popular, respected, acclaimed, to have people sujud at their feet

so that when another honest & talented Malay succeeds they ransack the graves

and summon evil spirits to take their heed

and do their bidding just to make these Malays, like my father suffer

just because these stupid, asshole, dengki Malays do not know how to make themselves better. On their own.

Just because he spoke English.

And he had Chinese friends. And Indian friends. And foreign friends.

And spoke German, until he was forced to forget that

just so he can be less of him and more like them

the stupid, dengki, asshole Malays that could not fathom

the possibilities and potential of the human brain

and the limitless power of the human will

that even when after a lifetime of trying to make up for their past

only served to shine their weaknesses and fails.

It's just funny coz somehow they didn't see

that they too love their roti canai mamak breakfast

and the chinaman ran one-way get-out-of-jail pass to wealth and prosperity

4D.

But it's not fair, coz I only learnt all these

after he left me

after he left this world and his family

after he left without telling my sister he never needed to forgive her

after he left with out telling me if he liked the Dunhill 20's

and if it lasted long enough for him to remember…Me.

because you see, I still don't know what to say

when someone made me ask myself today

what have I done in your name, what have I done for you

I could only remember the pack of cigarettes

that blasted pack of cigarettes that made Uni lash at you

that blasted pack of cigarettes that reminded me why I didn't smoke

because it made me think of what your “friends” did to you

that blasted pack of cigarettes that made me swore that I will never turn out like you

because I had realized that I have Chinese friends, Indian friends and foreign friends,

and I can speak a foreign language too

because I don’t know what to do Ayah, I'm don’t know what to do

because I am your son and I'm just like you

and I'm scared because someone made me ask myself today

what’ve I done in my father’s name and I didn’t know what to say

And I’m afraid Ayah, I’m afraid

because there are so many bad people out there

jealous and envious at people like you

And despite spending my teens trying to not be like you

I’ve realized that I love myself and I love being myself now more than ever

Just like you did, just like you.

MAP KL POETRY CUP - August

We've got a new slam champ - Thato! Brought some Africano flavour into the event, and was much appreciated by a receptive audience. Any 1Malaysia observer/police would've been happy as the August's edition of the cup had everything that they would've hoped for, and even more on top of that. Malays poets, Chinese poets, Indian poets, African poet, double acts slamming with an avant garde Malay artisan performing alongside an ex-US Military man who used to perform spoken word at the frontlines. Now if that wasn't enough, we had someone with possibly Arabian or Pakistani *or maybe even Sri Lankan* descent reciting haikus.

Now if that wasn't 1Malaysia enough, I don't know what is. Aren't we all proud of our rojakness & melting-pot-of-culture-ness? Truly Asia what? Got African & US some more. Truly Global lah actually. You know, like Mawi World? but less cheesy lah. At least this is what they want us to believe lah. Oklah, I buy it lah. Quite catchy & can be used wittily too. Haha. OK, Back to the slam.

Thato's first round piece was about a girl possibly, and how chasing one made him feel so alive. The second poem *my favourite* is him recollecting his adolescence through recounting the playpen behind his house in his home country where he spent his formative years. I envy this piece. It took you places, places where he wanted to be, where he was meant to be, and doing so in a way that painted his home country in a very familiar way, making it relatable for us who will probably won't find our ways there in our lifetime. There was something so naive, so childlike yet so promising about this piece. It like his at one of the points of his walkabout where he has an epiphany that revealed to him a bit more of who he was & who he is meant to be. His winning piece was a crafty concept poem, toying with the concept of how an incomplete poem is a poem that becomes new every single time he recites it. He freestyles it. Well, at least I hope he did. Neat way to cap it off.

Me? Well, time was short so I couldn't complete the Triplets below, but I still managed 3 poems - 1 sacrificial poem (His-Story) & 2 poems from the Triplets below (You Just Don't See & untitled) during the open mic.

Personally, I would've loved to compete in this slam instead of the previous one. Going up against Thato would've been awesome. Ah well, there is always next time.

And oh, before I forget. The ex-US Military man Matt Sion was sick. I wouldn't say he's the best foreign slam poet I've seen live, but he had probably the best spoken word piece that I've seen live - Silver Lining. His metaphors were just plain sick. One I remembered *wasn't the best, but was the only one I could remember coz this was when I started really paying attention to remember his lines for my brain to munch on* sounded like this - "I sprinkled the ashes of my dead relationships on my cornflakes...". Dayum.

September couldn't come any sooner.

Triplets

Three of the same.

Identical to each other but still unique in themselves at the same time.

What the hell am I talking about? It's just a fancy name I'm giving myself for my poem sets. You see a poetry slam must have 3 poems to last you till the end *if you last that long* that should ideally last 3 minutes long each, any longer and you'll get penalize for every minute you exceed.

So I've come up with sets of 3 poems that lasts 10 minutes in total, so that whenever/wherever I perform I'll be able to cram as much content as I can within a short period of time. Normally at performances you'll be getting 10 minutes max anyway, so this is me trying to instill some sort of discipline to my writing and performances.

So I call them Triplets. A set of 3 poems. At this moment, I'm making all of them fit into a specific theme, regardless whether this theme fits the theme of the event I'm using them for. The idea of having things in series is something I like, so there. I like the whole feeling of them being a set of something. It feels organized and structured and well-thought out. I might just be a freak anyway.

Think it sounds cute. Can call them 3piece, but I lose out on the cute factor.

So Triplets it is.

And I've got my Triplets for the coming 2nd MAP KL Poetry Cup ready. The theme is relationships and the pieces are You Just Don't See, She Said "I Can Live With A Broken Heart" and a third untitled piece at the moment.

And my mind was randomly catching thoughts one night and I got this gem:

"...When we realize that the perfections we know are the imperfections that helps us grow, and the imperfections that we hate are the perfections that we evade..."

I shall use that in a poem. Soon hopefully.

MAP Poetry Cup - 16th July 2010@Blackbox, Solaris Dutamas

I won my first ever poetry slam. It was a great experience. As scary as I thought it would be. I went in prepared, and a small part of me did go in wanting to win it. However it meant more than that to me because I've always been looking for my English voice, and I think I've found it.

I won with the three poems below:
Round 1: Words
Round 2: I Like That
Round 3: His-Story

John Berkavitch's tip rang in my head in the weeks leading up to that fateful Friday - Put up a serious poem first, then perform a totally opposite poem in the second round, a funny one, then lastly bring back your seriousness and speak about something that connects with everyone. Am glad it worked.

I just wanted to get to the final round because I would've been really disappointed if I wasn't able to perform all of my poems. At the end of the first round, that was the only thing in my head. Which made me happy, coz I know that that meant that I'm in it for the writing.

Hope you guys will enjoy them spoken word pieces below.

Round 1: WORDS
You say I'm not Melayu like you I am Melayu Baru
poyo elitist Malay like a certain Mahathir
I speak too much English, kononnya omputih perasan British
that I use too many adjectives and verbs
those you've never read before or even heard
and that I have a way with words.

You say I have a way with words.

What I think is that words
have their own way of making themselves heard
of telling people what they are, what they really mean
what their direction is
So if you want to come up to me and tell me
that I have a way with words
be prepared because I'm gonna say
"I heard you, but I'm not hurt with your words
because I'm not the one who doesn't know who I am, what I live for
and what I want to do with my life."

Coz you see I know who I am
I know what I live for
I know what I want to do with my life
and that is probably just too many words for you to understand
and you just couldn't comprehend
why a Melayu like me like you can seem so at hand
speaking with a tongue that he wasn't even born with
freely in a fluently expressive way he's not supposed to be seen with
or heard with
or think with
as if he has forgotten the national language that the national consitution
nationally imposed the nation on what is the national language that their nationals
should be nationally conversing with
Do I really have to kiss the and junjung the keris?

See, you seem smart and well educated
a beneficiary of the education that the nation has established and implemented
reading and remembering and following and memorizing
regugitating and vomitting
everything you read and remembered and followed and memorized
in the premier schools, boarding schools, cluster schools that they sterilized
and then in the universities colleges university-colleges college-universities
sponsored by the corporate and government scholarships over here and overseas
well, you may one day become a minister coz you've already memorized the official JPA song
but let me tell you this - You're wrong.

No, no don't worry I'm not blaming you
don't be so defensive I'm not accusing you
don't be so sarcastic I'm not patronizing you
I'm just saying this because I know it's not you
it's not your fault. No, it's not.

It's the education system's.
It's the system that educated you, not yourself
it's the system that did not educate you to educate yourself
so you wouldn't have known
coz you wouldn't have known how

And now, you are part of that system
And you are the people who reads Kosmo and URTV and Pancaindera
And you are the people who can't even commentate a sports match decently in Bahasa
And you are the people who translates "Duck!" to "Itik!" in movie cinemas
And more recently, in the The A-Team movie
instead of tank to "kereta kebal" it was tank to "tangki"
And you are the people that translated "Melody" to "melodi" when there is the word "irama"
or "Lyrics" to "lirik" when there is the word "senikata"
And you are the very people that coined "Bahasa Jiwa Bangsa"
And you want to tell me that I'm a traitor to be standing here
speaking in English when you allowed your very souls to be diluted
with direct translations and borrowed syllables that wasn't reflected on and regulated
losing context of what they were supposed to translate and convey
losing the message and meaning somewhere along the way
And still you managed to find some time to come up to me and say
that I have a way with words.

You see there's only one way with words
and that's how they tell us what they are, what they really mean
what their direction is
So me? I know who I am, what I live for and where I want to be
A Melayu who can think in English and yet express himself in Malay

A Melayu who can think in Malay and yet express himself in English
A Melayu who doesn't use moderation as an excuse
and instead puts Malay & his Malayness to better use
because he realizes that his soul is his to lose
if otherwise.

So now the question is -

What about you? Bagaimana dengan kamu?


Round 2: I Like That
Everyone, I've got this secret to share, but please don't stare
you see there this person that I like, and there are so many things about her that strikes
me, and it lights me like a matchstick on fire burning all over
and when I get a chance if ever this is how I'm gonna tell her

I like that.

I like that you can go from soulmate to syren to seductive super secretary to sexy sweet talking soccer mom to sultry heart surgeon to sensual smooth talking woman.

I like that woman.
I like that, woman.

I like that you are my Paula Patton-Tyra Banks-Maggie Q-Famke Janssen-Suheir Hammad-Alicia Keys-Lisa Cuddy amalgamation
the amalgamation of womanhood-fashion-elegance-poetry-classy-perfect pitch-down to earthly sexy humility within a female body.

I don't need any heavenly body coz I've got heaven right there.

And I like that.

I like that little lump of fat too.

Oh no, don't go blushing now. I see that.
I see that little lump of fat
girlishly cute hiding between that short, cute sexy gap
between your ribs and your hips,
going all around it
making sure that every single side of you is wholesome - voluptous -
hiding that lovely steep sharp curve on either side of your slihoutte
that steep breathtaking drop of line my eyes can't forget
a line that is as steep and deep and heavy and breathy
and raw and naked as my breath.

Ooooh I like that.

I saw that little lump of fat and I like it. I like it for what it is.
Womanhood. Realness. Raw natural down to earth beauty. The Femininist.

And I like it because I saw what it's covering, what it's trying to hide
what it's trying to make others to not think when their eyes slide down you side

Your strengths and the secrets of your life.

And I like it because I'm the only one who saw it, who sees it, who can see it.

I like that.

Makes me feel all manly and macho and sexy and confident and self-assured
buzzing and flying and hairy and toned and matured
that I don't have to go all socio-political and judgemental and feisty and profound
just to feel worthy of my existence and win some poetry slam crown

just like how every self-respecting man in this world wants to feel.
Like a man. Like a wanted man.

I like that.

And I like that I feel that when I saw that little lump of fat.

And I like that fact that you're a WMD
a weapon of my destruction
a weapon of my deconstruction
a weapon of my definition and determination
if John Mayer called Jessica Simpson a sexual napalm
then you are my sexual cyanide
coz you are that deadly
you are that subtle
because the way you infiltrate my principles and infect my insides
is such a way that the moment that I realized that I have been intoxicated by you
and all of your poison cursing through
I realized that the sight of you is the last enlightening vision
that I behold before I die a martyr's death and you send me to heaven.

I like that.

Oh, but that's not all I like.

Your voice. I like that too.

I like your wardrobe, your strut,
your sense of understated adulterated slightly Gwen Stefani twisted kind of style
the kind of style that makes me want to smile
inside, outside four ears wide
everytime I saw you for the first time on the weekend walking up to my ride
when I drop by to pick you up for a date.

I like your hair. I like that.
I like how I calm down around you. In your presense.
My Zen, my constant Nirvana
My everyday day of the week guilty pleasure favourite ice-cream flava

Honey Brown.

A mixture of bitter real healthy cocoa and warm fuzzy berries
and melting soothing vanilla cream on a hot sunny day
and glistening honey so enticing and shiny
that you just want to stick your tongue out
and -

You know what everyone? Forget everything I said and don't bother looking coz it's not out
So if you want to get a taste of it well then tough coz it's just for me to know
and for you to never find out.


Round 3: His-Story
There are two sides to a coin, two versions to a story,
so one day when I learnt that what we've been reading on our history might not actually be
I got so frustrated that I went to the toilet looking for an outlet
and I got this story - inspired by pee - on our history

You see I’ve never understood why our history books never had chapters on our sportsmen's lives
I figured that’d be a good way to try and learn about our heroes and how they're supposed to affect our lives

Everybody goes around saying that we’re not patriotic enough and that we don’t love our country enough
Well I just think we’re a bunch of generally unmotivated people coz we’re spoon fed and our living ain’t tough

Well nothing against the bums and the homeless and the poor and the jobless
With all due respect sirs this ain't about you so if you have nothing to do you can join me too
coz there is something that I've been dying to say and though I'm generalizing I know who I'm sniping today

Honestly, I wonder what would’ve happened had we swapped fate with our next door neighbor across the Malaccan straits
I wouldn’t be surprised at all if we can't even put McDs on our plates and instead find ourselves even worse than their current state

It’s interesting to note that though free since '49 they're still persistent and fighting for their right to be free and independent
- freedom of artistic expression, liberation from strife and the right to have a better and racially equal life
Whilst here we are fighting over the use of a name and defending some people's sovereign right to be dependent

Dependent on support,
Dependent on second chances,
Dependent on quota,
Dependent on policies,
Dependent on favours,
Dependent on seniority,
Dependent on politics and slogans,
Dependent on bribery,
Dependent on word of mouth,
Dependent on shamans,
Dependent on water purchase from the people down south,
Dependent on status,
Dependent on brands,
Dependent on concerts of foreign artists where you pay just to stand
(and watch from far, not even singing along and waving your hands
because we are Asian and we reserved and we are not loud like the Americans
and we don't like Asians who grew up overseas and come back talking like Rick Dees)
Dependent on Hollywood,
Dependent on piracy,
Dependent on CSI, Heroes, American Idol and MTV
Dependent on tuition,
Dependent on straight As,
Dependent on shopping malls, foreign coaches, Mercedes
Dependent on what others would think
Dependent on what other would say
Dependent on what others would let you do which depends on what they can't do so that they won't be too far behind you so because of that there's only so much you can do coz the options are limited for you and in the end after 10 years you slowly become like them too belivieng that your happy coz you should be happy coz there are worse things that can happen to you when you compare yourself to the citizens other poorer nations and so you thank god that it didn't happen
to you.

And now we're making sweeping statements and bold claims like we own the game
indoctrining others through a not-so national press that things are no longer the same
that the country have come so far and we have made ourselves a name
a country with great food and culture plus world class buildings and structures
Malaysia Truly Asia
though they were built by foreign blood and toil but since it is on our soil it is all the same
in the claim to fame coz everything on this piece of land where we all stand
Di situ bumi kupijak di situ langit ku junjung
a beautiful yet ironic Malay idiom
coz when it comes to distribution of wealth and the use of a name
they could no longer take the piss and so brandishes the keris
saying that this land is ours and we have the sovereign power
coz we got here first so cower to your master
and remember from where you came coz we were never
the same.

Well I'm not a good teacher for History, but History is a good teacher for me
Coz what it taught me is what our ancestors died against so we could be free
they died against status
they died against policies
they died against politics and slogans
they died against colonial trickery
they died against cultural indoctrination
they died against racial segragation
they died against theft of natural resources, double standards and the denial of liberty
and all these are our own Malays, Chinese, Indians even mat sallehs, Gurkhas & Punjabis!
but strangely, the things that they died against are apparently
the exact things that some of us are still desperately
dependent on. so if this merdeka then sadly
the Jalur Gemilang will no longer hold sway
coz by this definition there is no way we can call ourselves independent today
coz all the dictionaries and encyclopedias will say
that the meaning of independence is the exact opposite of in dependence.

So, ladies and gentlemen, that's it for me you've heard my story
I guess now we should all be wondering how it's going to be with His-story.

alone not lonely

It's odd when you think that you right there in the moment, putting the "K" into the now and thinking that maybe, just maybe that the past or the present that it spawned was finally coming up along right next to you.

That you've caught up.

That it didn't really matter if you mattered to everybody, as long as everybody that matters knows that they matter.

In fact, this wasn't the most important thing. It's that finally, you're slowly seeing signs that you're finally ridding yourself of that annoyingly haunting ghost at the back the mind tag of being someone misunderstood.

That despite not understanding how different or unfamiliar you may be, they were willing to go beyond that inherent weakness in themselves and even without recognizing how you become that different or unfamiliar, they still allowed themselves to accept you for who you are.

Allowing you to accept who you've grown to become.

And that's when they strike.

That's when you get I-know-you comments and remarks from people who are just that - someone who knows/knew you. Said in the manner of a casual yet familiar tease, as if you've been cradle babies or pillow partners or dorm roommates.

And that's when you know that what you've finally caught up to.

That realization that what you've been fearing and avoiding all along is true.

That you're alone.

To Blog on or not to Blog on

Blog.

Sounds like a cross between blob and grog. Say it in an American accent with a splatter sound effect on cue at the background makes the word sound like something gooey.

Blog.

No wonder I can't bring myself up to do it consistently.

Why can't they give it a better sounding name? Rather than something that sounds cool in geekdom but doesn't really translate that quirky geekcool into normal cool? And I'm a self-professed geek.

Ah well.

Must.Blog.

*sigh*

Blog it.

Blog you.

You motherblogger.

You son of a blog.

Blog.

Words (working title)

You say I have a way with words

What I think is that words

have their own way of making themselves heard

of telling people what they are, what they really mean

what their direction is

So if you want to come up to me and tell me

that I have a way with words

be prepared because I'm gonna say

"I heard you, but I'm not hurt with your words

because I'm not the one who doesn't know who I am, what I live for

and what I want to do with my life."

Coz you see I know who I am

I know what I live for

I know what I want to do with my life

and that is probably just too many words for you to understand

and you just couldn't comprehend

why a Melayu like me like you can seem so at hand

speaking with a tongue that he wasn't even born with

freely in a fluently expressive way he's not supposed to be seen with

or heard with

or think with

as if he has forgotten the national language that the national consitution

nationally imposed the nation on what is the national language that their nationals

should be nationally conversing with

Do I really have to kiss the and junjung the keris?

well, you may be smart and well educated

a beneficiary of the education that the nation has established and implemented

reading and remembering and following and memorizing

regugitating and vomitting

everything you read and remembered and followed and memorized

in the premier schools, boarding schools, cluster schools that they sterilized

and then in the universities colleges university-colleges college-universities

sponsored by the corporate and government scholarships over here and overseas

well, you may one day become a minister coz you've already memorized the official JPA song

but let me tell you this - You're wrong.

No, no don't worry I'm not blaming you

don't be so defensive I'm not accusing you

don't be so sarcastic I'm not patronizing you

I'm just saying this because I know it's not you

it's not your fault. No, it's not.

It's the education system's.

It's the system that educated you, not yourself

it's the system that did not educate you to educate yourself

so you wouldn't have known

coz you wouldn't have known how

And now, you are part of that system

And you are the people who reads Kosmo and URTV and Pancaindera

And you are the people who can't even commentate a sports match decently in Bahasa

And you are the people that approves blllboards that say

And you are the people who translates "Duck!" to "Itik!" in movie cinemas

And you are the people that translated "Melody" to "melodi" when there is the word "irama"

or "Lyrics" to "lirik" when there is the word "senikata"

And you are the very people that coined "Bahasa Jiwa Bangsa"

And you want to tell me that I'm a traitor to be standing here

speaking in English when you allowed your very souls to be diluted

with direct translations and borrowed syllables that wasn't reflected on and regulated

losing context of what they were supposed to translate and convey

losing the message and meaning somewhere along the way

And still you managed to find some time to tell me that I have a way

with words.

You see there's only one way with words

and that's how they tell us what they are, what they really mean

what their direction is

So me? I know who I am, what I live for and where I want to be

A Melayu who can think in English and yet express himself in Malay

A Melayu who doesn't use moderation as an excuse

and instead puts Malay & his Malayness to better use

because he realizes that his soul is his to lose

if otherwise.

So what about you?

What about you?

Rant

She said she doesn’t believe in love anymore. That one half of her doesn’t even know what love is. She’s depressed. She feels let down by herself. She feels that she can never be that person she thought she could be, that person that she thought she wanted to be, and most importantly, that person that she was. That person that she was was a person in her eyes good enough, a person that had everything in control. A person who knew her limitations and aspirations, her regulations and ambitions, her physical and mental extremities. That was a person in clear and confident understanding of who she was.

And he brought it down. He brought it down by being the typical ignorant, clueless, unrelenting and unwilling Malay guy that he was. It’s okay being Malay, but when you exhibit a quality – a negative quality – that matches & fits all the previous tired descriptions of the typical Malay man, you can’t say that you’re right. Or justified.

How can you justify making love with your wife when she’s crying? How can you justify making love to her while she covers her head so that she won’t see what’s happening to her, as if she feels nothing because that’s the only way she can get away from the monstrosity that you were putting her through? How can you justify getting mad and her and giving her the cold shoulder after telling her that she always cries when you are having your fix, knowing fully well that she’s hurting – physically and emotionally? How can you justify all the above without even having any semblance of foreplay? No stroking, no kissing, no rubbing, no massaging, no fondling, no nibbling. Just a plain straight up take-your-clothes-off-let-me-touch-that-breast-like-how-the-Japanese-chap-was-touching-Maria-Ozawa before spreading her legs, taking aim and forcing your way in.

And you say she didn’t understand you. Nobody understands sadists, you moron.

And you tried to kiss her but she didn’t let you? That means something’s wrong, you clueless git. And that something can’t be solved, cured, resolved by bloody sticking your dick into her dry pussy because her brain isn’t there, you lame excuse of an SPM Biology A1 student. You brain might hanging just under your testicles but her brain isn’t situated anywhere near her torso, if you know where that is.

Oh sorry, you don’t. How unfair of me.

She didn’t love you anymore. You didn’t listen. She doesn’t want you anymore. You didn’t listen. So you used the binding rule that the wife is the property of the husband to the point that disgraces all pious & abiding Muslims – not that it’s a first because we seem to be settled to living with that nowadays, everywhere in the world especially in the somewhat backward-like community in the Middle East – to their very core, contributing to the contradictory and unflattering view that Muslims are barbaric, violent and uncompromising.

Wives or females can’t do that? Ask yourself this question – who the fuck started the whole pre-marital sex thing? Oh, she relented? Please go look for the fucking dictionary and check for the meaning of the word relent. It means she gave in, it doesn’t mean that she wanted it. This is not some fucking Japanese Lolita porn where the girl acts – key operative word, since it’s a bloody porn movie clip – like she didn’t want it at first but at last succumbs to your fucking sexual prowess. Sexual prowess my arse, any bloody sex expert will tell you foreplay is important, next to lubricants & the bloody vagina getting wet. If she had wanted it like how you bloody fantasized for your entire high school life you pervert, you would’ve cum 5 times over in your pants before you even had the slightest idea what the hell was she doing flinging her bra while flashing her boobs in her panties in front of you like that. And if you were any good, you’d have been in the porn movie you downloaded you asshole.

Oh, and she didn’t say anything during other times after that? Well, check you fucking RAM of a memory you idiot. She did, but you didn’t listen.

Fuck off.

Do you treat your fucking PC that you download porn with such barbaric expression? Do you – in you fit of rage when your PC is slower than usual because you’ve left it on for 2 and a half days downloading porn, movies, porn, games, porn, TV series, porn and oh yeah! The Desperate Housewives that you thought you saw her watching at her in-laws when she was bored just because she’s just a bloody trophy of a wife just so that you’ve downloaded something for her too (cukup syarat) – violently shake, emotionlessly literally fuck your PC even though your university degree granted knowledge tells you that the PC’s just bloody worn out?

Do you treat your PC like that?

No you don’t you SOB. Your PC is important because it keeps plenty of the great memories of you demented, lacking, narrow-minded, twisted teenage years that you enjoyed.

I’m not here to judge – I’ve done that already. I’m here to ask you just one simple question: If and when you know, a jerk out there is treating or have treated your sisters, female cousins, close female friends, daughter, granddaughters, best friend’s daughter like that, how would you feel?

You’d feel angry, wouldn’t you? You’d feel like smashing their heads to the wall, pry their ears off and yell will a loudhailer at the top of your voice into that cavity which previously had their ears at the top of your lungs and more and ask them this question – “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Right?

Right.

Now go to your room, go in front of the mirror and do the above.

And don’t you fucking dare weep you worthless SOB.

And before I forget, just remind yourself.

Don’t forget to fuck yourself after that.

P.S: If you don’t the above, don’t worry. You’re still fine. Just remember, when one day what goes around finally comes around and you hear it happening to someone close to you, just don’t forget to fucking reflect and realize that you might have gotten the ball rolling yourself. And don’t feel remorse or regretful, your life ain’t worth a fucking novel, let alone a *porn* movie.