When the Sluice Gate Goes on Strike

The evening went well with lots of wine, beer and liquor galore.

It was as if a thunder storm brought down the rain

To fill the reservoir to the brim.

It has to find a way to release the pressure,

That the earlier evening’s pleasure

Brought on the irrepressible flood

To flow down to fill the bladder full.

The feeling was a like a fire burning,

Ready to breakout, but not quite;

Fire engines standing by to quench the fire,

And yet the reservoir sluice gate

Could not be opened and more golden liquid

Flowed in to find a bloated bladder

With no way to reduce the pressure.

It was hell pushing to open the blocked passage

Standing above the pot, or sitting on it,

No amount of exertion, mental or physical

Could ever get the gate to open

Until the good doctor arrived to pierce the gate,

Through the narrow passage –

A genital conduit for generating lineage.

What relief! What sense of release!

A balloon deflated, punctured,

A jug-ful of golden urine beer.

Cheers! And life goes on merrily again

Till the next storm.

                                                                                                Khoo Soo Hay

                                                                                                  22nd May 2012