Dungeon di Dungun

After a filling dinner at nine,
I took an infrequent route home,
in the darkness near where Jalan Kenanga
and Jalan Melati intersect near the padang
not far from the graveyard facing the sea,
I spotted a remembered big bungalow
used to be filled with people
who scurried in the background
while only mama or papa talked with me;
the papa has been long gone
the mama carrying dem rich men's burden
her will to live bending under
no matter her adult children spending filial cash
paying RM180 for a 500 gm tin of colostrum
RM20 for a capsule of powdered egg yolk
with a bio-enhancing name such as ProforLife
or somethin' - but tonight,
the mansion-like house where
the late Cikgu Mang used to live
is in darkness with only the street lights
giving its silhouette a Gothic cast;
Where are the people gone?
I drove past with the songs
coming off the car stereo tugging me
from mundane matters
into an endorphin-stirred state;
I rounded a bend to head to the open sea
but my progress was halted by an unusual
congestion of cars parked both sides with
more cars and people in the middle of the road;
I almost instantly understood the urgency of the night -
someone had died earlier in the day
and must be buried without delay;
I turned off the loud stereo,
wound down the window
and asked a passerby: "Sapa?"
"Bini Wang Peng!"
I didn't know either from Chin Peng
but must be someone of clout
judging from the huge turnout;
I drove on without further ado
turning into the long and straight Jalan Pantai
with the moonlit sea on my immediate left;
I switched on the stereo again -
Timberlake, Akorn, Green-eyed Peas
took turns to put my mind at peace;
I went past the junction to my place
and drove on to the end of Jalan Pantai
near the UITM Dungun campus
where a nice spot to relax is and I did
for two or three more songs before
starting back to my almost finished new house -
Dungeon di Dungun.

The Thing Pops Into My Head

The thing that pops into my head,
Often I dismiss it almost at once,
Often with the recital of a handsmedown prayer,
Sometimes I let it linger a while,
Savoring its evil,
But NAW ... it gnaws ... and gnaws ...
Am I sick that it pops into my head,
Am I weak that I let it linger
And ever briefly identifies with it?
What if it is a recurring thing?
What if it is a lifetime thing?
Am I sick to the pits, alone,
Or shares the sickness with the rest of humanity?
With the difference between I and
Those who end up in the news,
Only a thin line over which I didn't cross?
Has it got something to do with brain chemistry,
Or is it a spiritual challenge,
To fashion your forming soul,
An adversary to pit your character against,
An exercise to build your identity,
A resistance to carve your destiny?
Yes, gentle reader, you guessed
The thing that pops into my head -
Negative thoughts.