Getting On In the 80’s

Getting On In the 80’s

Before you reach your 80th birthday,

You would have lost your teeth and your hair,

And further south, your pecker won’t even response to any fantasy

 From “Fifty Shades of Grey”!

You begin to lose your marbles when millions of faithless neurons desert you.

You search for your spectacles when they are on your forehead.

You forget to flush after.

You can’t remember where you put the house key.

You forget to switch off the porch light.

You forget to feed the cat because it did not bark at you.

The worse is when you call your dear old wife of 75 years, “Darling”,

Because you suddenly cannot remember her first name.

All the lovely young girls you meet call you, “Grand Uncle”.

Then you know that you have arrived at the ripe old age of 80.

And if it helps you to walk with a walking stick, that completes the picture.

You have joined the ranks of the wise, take what comes, keep your thoughts,

Much to yourself, if you can still think,

And just smile no matter what happens around you.

Maintain your well earned 80 year old aura until

The Almighty decides to call on you to help Him with others who had gone before you.

-         Khoo Soo Hay

-       17.11.2012

There Is No Death Without Life

There Is No Death Without Life

In the order of nature,

The gazelle gives birth to its young

In the hot summer bush

Amidst predators of the flesh –

Whether lions, cheetahs or hyenas,

In the face of death, a life is born.

Life is in the hand of the woman

Who knows with life, there is death.

Unlike the gazelle which has no choice

Of denying life and death.

A woman now can decide

To provide death with a life,

Or deny death its beginning

For there is no death without life.

The gazelle gives life for death,

So that others can have life and death –

The beginning and the ending

In the order of nature.

Must man and woman deny

Life to avoid death,

And thereby ends the human species?

                                                                                    - Khoo Soo Hay

                                              12.06.2009

The Fragility of Life

The Fragility of Life

Life is fragile like a spider’s web,

But strong when the threads are

Strung together against wind and rain,

Like water cascading into a pool,

Splashing, spreading, shapeless

Among rocks and leaves floating,

Swept into the foaming froth

Of bubbling liquid spring, sucked

By the sloping stretch of earth’s terrain.

Forever flowing merrily

Until stopped by Man, building obstacle

To Life. Is Life the Man,

Or Man the Life?

Or is he pretending to be God,

The creator and destroyer?

-  Khoo Soo Hay

-     11.10.2007

(In response to the tragic demise of a friend’s wife’s accidental death at an untimely age.)

Politics, Truth & God

Politics, Truth & God

The Pope has recently canonized Sir Thomas More

As the patron saint of politicians.

More was the prelate who lost his head

At the command of his king, Henry the Eighth,

Rather than betray his religious principles

And above all the loyalty he owed

To his spiritual superior in Rome.

Nowadays, Sir Thomas More’s elevation

Has come a little too late.

The calibre of his politicians – and there are

Too many to count, is not something

To shout about or proclaim.

Only a handful do qualify to graduate with esteem

And honour from politicians to statesmen –

Those who care for country and plebeians.

-       who espouse not whether a Ferrari

Gives a better image than a Kancil mini;

-       who must be seen in a branded Gucci

From the most expensive boutique in the KLCC;

-       Who must dine at the Restaurant Lafite,

Be recognized by the Maitre d’

Rather than the nasi kanda stall by the alley,

Amidst those who foreswear the politico elite.

There are those who indulge in sports equine;

Drop balls in eighteen holes to win.

-       Who asked their developer friends to build

Luxurious condominiums for the rich,

And neglect the dispossessed and impoverished;

Leaving a trail of landslides, floods and misery

To inherit and remember them till the next election.

Can we then expect More’s flock to keep their principles

And sacrificed their heads for the sake of country and nation?

Politics and truth are strange bed-fellows.

Politicians through their spin masters espouse Truth

As they see it their way.

They control the media and the hack writers write

What the politicians want them to write.

Let the people hear what the politicians want them to hear,

Accept and act as only the politicians want them to accept and act.

There is no other way but to believe the Truth

Portrayed by the media and the political spin masters.

Must the Truth be the monopoly of politicians and hack writers?

Why cannot it be the other way round,

For the media to control the politicians?

But who then control the media?

The rich or the poor?

Or God Ultimately?

(IPolitics, Truth & God) – Continued.                                       2.

There are those who say that God’s Truth

Is now owned by the politicians.

There are others who say

God has nothing to do with politicians,

For his own spin masters had been elevated

To prophets ages ago.

The way Truth has been used and abused,

One wonders whether Satan has an equitable interest

In God’s portfolio – the Truth as politicians see it –

Their own inequitable way – all for themselves.

Is there no way out for the real Truth to come out?

For some unseen power once again to rescue Truth

From those who had painted it from a palette

Of a single colour – black, black and only black,

Until you cannot even see the grain of the canvas?

But hiding the image of you know whom –

The devil incarnate himself!

Beware Politics and Truth are strange bed-fellows.

                  -  Khoo Soo Hay

                   - 11.01.2001

Sodomy II

Sodomy II

These days the mouth has rested.

While its lower end is in the news.

The upper aperture has surrendered

To its cousin below, so named, Anus,

Quibbling as whose semen was it

That penetrated the sewerage channel

Looking for the DNA for a right fit

That must not, the court befuddle.

For all the words that come out from the top

Cannot drown what apparently went in.

Some said it was possibly a lollipop.

But what cannot be disputed, was something went in.

Could it be self inflicted for effect?

For one’s own pleasure, or for a third party

With oodles of goodies, never ending to collect,

From the likes of Warren Buffet or J.P. Getty?

Who is speaking the truth, the bare truth?

The one who did the penetration,

Or the one who before the Book took an oath?

Or was it just political fixation

To have a young political naivete

Succumb to a power conspiracy

From one with a high elitist resume

That must eventually end with the fall of a dynasty,

One way or the other.

-       Khoo Soo Hay

-       28.08.2011

,

The Man With No Shadow

The Man With No Shadow

The man with no shadow

Is the man who walks in the dark,

Works in the stillness of the night,

Is not seen during the day,

But works in mysterious way

To thwart all God’s designs,

Making humans a blight in God’s eyes.

And he, Satan, the fallen angel

Laughing in sadistic revenge,

For what God did to him.

This spiritual tit for tat

 Has been with humans ever since.

Therefore even God Almighty

Should think before acting.

We now pay for His act in perpetuity,

Fighting against Satan’s daily devilry

On humans all –

From the man with no shadow.

-       Khoo Soo Hay                 

                    30.05.2009

The Patong Lolita

The Patong Lolita

The sight of a pot bellied middle aged white male,

Holding hand with a Thai lolita

Hardly younger than his granddaughter,

Is paradise for his declining sexual libido.

For the young girl, an economic opportunist,

With never ending demand for the good things in life,

Trading sex for romance is an everyday affair.

She has to eat, pray and provide

For her impoverished parents and siblings

In her poor village in a country known

As the Land of Smiles -

A sexual paradise for the white men,

To escape from the control of their women,

Emasculators of their gender.

To hold her lithe body,

Smell the fresh shampoo

In her silken black hair,

Look into those limpid black star sapphire eyes,

Are moments he can only experience

In an exotic different world,

Under eastern sky, and mango nights,

Filled by brown skin fillies, parading their charms,

With welcoming arms to hold them,

And warm their hearts and empty

 Their pockets of Euro’s and Greenbacks.

The very objective of their nights’ focus,

To fill to the full her ever empty hand bags.

           

                                                                                                Khoo Soo Hay

                                                                                                Patong, Phuket, 04.07.2012

The Seductive Rita Sanchez – Waitress

The Seductive Rita Sanchez – Waitress

An aura of Philippine charm and mystique,

Trying to catch the bull, like a torero,

With his red cape and sword.

A red rose in her black resplendent

Hair against an inviting alluring smile

And a pair of sexy swinging hips

That send a sign saying,

“Follow me and ye shall have

Your desire fulfilled”.

But above it all was also

A wholesome Venus figure

Hidden by a hugging red T-shirt

Embolden with the words,

“You Are Welcome” supported by

A pair of low hugging jeans,

With appropriate bullet holes

At appropriate places.

And her toes were painted in brazen red

Exposed between thongs of her slippers.

She only serves breakfast and lunch.

Evenings were for those who

Succumb to her T-shirt logo,

“You Are Welcome”.

And of course by Queen E 2 along the mariner,

Under the moonlit sky by Weld Quay,

There her admirers serenade her.

Her reflection hiding fishes

Swimming below the water surface.

Yachts with furled sails and lonely masts,

Gently floating in the bay,

Waiting to feel the warm sea air

Flowing through her black silky hair,

Glimmering in the moonlight,

Impossible under such sultry evening

Not to succumb to romance……

And a kiss, and more.

But there is tomorrow morning

To serve and work.

And another day to meet more admirers.

One last kiss, and one last embrace.

Good night, good night

Till the sun rises again,

And another tryst by Queen E 2 tomorrow night.

                                                                                          -           Khoo Soo Hay,

                                                                                                              13.09.12 – 05.04.13

The Travails of a Chief Minister

The Travails of a Chief Minister

They told me to be in politics

Is to serve the poor and marginalized.

As a fresh graduate my chances are automatic,

To be elected and state assemblyman realized.

But these allowances are not enough

For those in long houses.

Not even to buy a parang or plough

What more shorts and blouses.

Prayers to God Almighty daily

Get no response immediately.

What to do, resign and sit under the forest tree,

Meditate and hope from heaven drop the money?

Patience in politics paid off in time.

Soon I became the Chief Minister with lots of power.

Now I could do more for those without a dime.

I recall the time I spent in the forest bower.

Contemplating how to uplift the masses

In the long houses in jungle serene,

Where toilets are not needed for faeces

Where abound rivers and stream.

Soon the trees in the forest gave me a solution.

Gazette forest to agricultural land.

Tender it out for oil palm plantation,

Cut the trees for timber and sell them.

Ten percent will go to the forest dwellers

Who now have no land or long houses.

Seventy percent will go to the buyers,

And twenty percent to me who sold the state’s resources.

Everyone is happy, the long house owners

Are now living in concrete dwellings

With electricity and piped water, not like villagers.

Their fish are never caught in riverines.

But I forgot that they have to have money

To survive life among us,

So that they can buy food daily

And travel from home by bus.

Wonder where have I failed them?

My dream to help the poor and under-privileged

Have gone awry, and am I to be condemned

For my greed for power and riches?

(The Travails of a Chief Minister)

2

Just because I am Chief Minister.

Have ruled for a quarter of a century.

A widower, married a young girl who could be my daughter.

And she is my companion and lady,

One, who apart from my children

Expect to inherit my ill-gotten gains,

Invested in foreign bonds and fixed deposits hidden

In banks from Singapore to Bahrain.

Well, my dream for the original dwellers

Have back-fired to sustain me and my family

For a hundred years to come, and damn the anti-corrupters

Who sit in air-conditioned rooms and seeth with envy.

-  Khoo Soo Hay, 31.03.2013