Welcome To Tekong

The signs say Welcome to Tekong

As I enter through the harbor for the long week ahead.

I always thought the “L” on the sign was unnecessary.

The sign always read We Come To Tekong.

Role call early up as we march for breakfast,

Then we get into lines as the day ahead is scheduled.

We run, we jump and we pushed up and down

As tirades of names were berated on to us.

The usual was maggots

Maggots, you are nothing but maggots.

Hurry the fuck up you maggots.

We were the maggots of Gryphon Company.

Certainly felt like it as we scrubbed toilets for all the

Months that we were there.

It was their way to hope that we grew into flies and

Fly away.

In the months of We Come to Tekong,

We carried the weight of our world,

Marching aimlessly up and down hills

Waiting for that unknown enemy.

As the day goes by, the maggots dig

Into the soil, make shift cocoons (shallow graves)

The dirt our comfort for the night

We hugged the cold steel from our rifles

And we watched the stars like we never could

Molesting hands come to touch the cold steel

and take my rifle away.

The sound of thunder always means

A form of danger, the earth shakes from

The magnitude of the grenades that we throw

we earned our tanned skins, blood and tears

and lines as we toiled through sun and rain

these words fueling us maggots, no pain, no gain.

It still rings true when I see those signs as I enter the harbor.

It will always be We come to Tekong

For when the posters ring to us maggot grunts “Welcome To War”

That welcome is a lie.

When the war horns blow and we arm ourselves

We come to war.  

It's been too long

Dear god it's been too long since I've posted in this blog. And up till last night, I've yet to add in more of my creatives and I do apologize to myself for not tapping in to you more oft than I should have.

To get back on track, I spoke the first time in poetry and I've written a piece and rest assured, I'm going to be coming back more often now to read from you and also to dress you up even more with more posts.

Here it is,

This Poem.
By Elma Mitchell

This Poem is dangerous: it should not be left
within the reach of children, or even of adults
who might swallow it whole, with possibly
undesirable side-effects. If you come across
An unattended, unidentified poem
In a public place, do not attempt to take it
Yourself. Send it (preferably, in a sealed container)
To the nearest center of learning, where it will be rendered
Harmless, by experts. Even the simplest poem
May destroy your immunity to human emotions.
All poems must carry a Government warning. Words
Can seriously affect your heart.

Please do not worry. I am not from the Government.

The pen is mightier than the sword
and such is the power of a written word
Even more so in a word that's said
how can something be so powerful
if its neither alive nor dead

What gives it power? Is it it's source?
From its inception no matter how smooth or coarse
Is it the beginning of that word that blesses it's immortality?
These might just be the words of insanity.

The definition of Insanity: Doing something repeated over and over at the same time and expecting different results.

But if not the source then perhaps it what comes
That makes it so.
With words comes an idea (which might be its source)
and that is the worst infection of them all
An idea... A perspective... A different point of view...
That is where the power of words either bond or shatter
the foundations of man...
Indeed.. Perhaps... words that from the following poems
could indeed be very dangerous

But do not take these words for granted friends
for they are mine, and I take full custody
and responsibility for what I say. Words will
hold their honor when used responsibly and when used right
It could move hearts and minds, shift mountains, dig for oil or save an entire new species.

Choose your words carefully and do know
That you always hold the right to speak
The right to say what you need to say
and when the time arises
weild your words like the fire in your
heart and speak
Speak

And liberate us with your
Beauty
Your hopes
and your
Dreams.

Dig A Hole, Fill It Back

Frustrations.

People ignore you because of the way you behave, because of the what you believe in.
And you give yourself reasons to justify in what you believe in and on the way you behave.

You know at this rate, somebody won't budge. So you keep your ground for now and don't slip.

There's so much more you have in your hands. Don't slip and you know you'll still have what you want to have.

So dig a hole, fill it back in and you'll make it at the end of the day.

The crop you yield hasn't been ideal, so don't grow anymore when you know the crop you have is crap and better off as the fertilizers that help grow a better crop.

Madonna?

I saw you at the counter today. You looked the same, as always.

The same shoes, the same bracelet, the same way your hair is done.

Only that you didn't wear the ring I got you before.

I took a second glance and I thought, perhaps, that wasn't you. That could have been someone else that might have looked like you. It's possible. It's a fact that there's 7 people who look exactly like you in the world, who knows, another one of you could be there, just like you.

There's a 1 out of 7 chance it could be. Right?

No, it is you.

You pack in the same things that we used to before. The same milk, the same juice. The same brand of jam we like on our toast.

The portions are meant for two and I wonder who it is you're seeing right now.

I should have said Hi as I pushed my cart towards the cashier. I should have.

But I didn't.

Red Light Angel

I stood upon the junction between the alleys, red light glaring at my face as I watched the men and women pass me by.

Standing there, memories crawl back upon my head, like a reel that you don't want to look back at but you can't because the forward button is spoilt.

I remember when I first stood upon this place, the greasy stench and the women standing along side the streets. Mannequins, all of them, with an inviting welcome that was insincere and the young men that hawk them like wares for rent. Like renting a bike, telling you its the smoothest ride you could ever get.

I see past their advertisements, their offers of a good night. I look past the portrayed beauty of the streets and I see these angels in their eyes. Why would I call them angels? Why not? Does a profession distinct upon the character of a person, thus implementing that I should judge them by that. What absolute bullshit.

There's something about these angels that intrigue me. Who are you? Why are you here? Is there any reason or cause that you should be here right now?

Or are you just an illusion? A temporary image for the carnal desires of men with no such distinction over their desires. A fallen angel perhaps, redeeming yourselves and yet finding no gratification over the work that you do.

I took one by the hand that night and led her away from the red lights. We were in a room dim and empty, heavy with something I don't understand she begins to take her clothes off.

I told her to stop and I told her don't. She doesn't understand and grew afraid over the mysterious circumstances and I asked her, where was she before she found herself in this forsaken streets and alleys of illusion.

She told me of sandy beaches and palm trees. She told me of wooden boats and village men, pulling nets and fighting against the waves of the sea. She told me of an escape and a risk she took.

She broke into tears. She then told me she'd never look back because all that is left is an emptiness that no one could fill. I held her as she cried and she asked me why I had to know where she's from and why I brought back something that she never wanted to look back at.

It wasn't because I wanted to save her. I knew I couldn't. I just wanted to know.

I left her, telling her that the chapter she left behind is a memory embedded within her and that she should be proud of that. Mistakes done, mistakes come and gone. What's left is forward and perhaps, there is that place she left so many years ago in a new chapter where there shall be no shame, no illusion.

She smiled and I walked away, knowing that for these women, their dark chapters behind them could be as bright as their chapters ahead of them.

Fallen angels, clamoring back towards redemption.

I came to the Red Lights and I stood by their alleys. Angels turn their backs on me, over mistakes come and gone. The only thing ahead is the light that I always should continue to press on about.

Hey Joe 3

Joe
Hey...

Voice
Where have you been all this time?

Joe
I've been around. It's been a roller coaster of an emotional ride for me. I guess I know how women go through their emotional times during the time of the month.

Voice
What justifies that this is how women feel?

Joe
I feel crappy, the feel crappy, we all feel crappy, what difference would that make except a bunch of crapped up people feeling crappy?

Voice
I don't get your point.

Joe
Its okay, I don't get me either.

Voice
Heh. No one gets each other, so don't worry about it.

Joe
How have you been?

Voice
I've been fine, you?

Joe
I've been lonely in my own home. No one's talking to me except when they think they could use my laptop. I don't let them because I'm tired of people thinking they can take advantage of me by me letting them use my stuff.

Voice
What's all this about?

Joe
It's about me.

Voice
That's fair. You have to have you.

Joe
Wow, its scary being rebellious but I just know its right for me.

Voice
You know what's right for you. I mean, look at your aunt. She's going back on her word on every single thing that's she's said.

Storm

I lay asleep on a slumber after a moment of wrath and anger.

The sky brew gray even in the starlit sky and I laid there, feeling a gush of angry wind rattling my window as I awoken by a scream of thunder.

My heart shuddered as I laid there, awake.

Afraid. Alone.

I knew I could escape in my sleep from the frightful rage that is the storm outside my window but the lightning flashes catches my eye before I drift away in my escape.

One flash and the face of my father appears before my eyes and his images fades away, a sullen look from his face drifts away like sand from the palm of my hand.

Another flash and the face of my sister appears before my eyes and she doesn't recognize me anymore, a puzzling look of familiarity and she fades away thinking that its just another stranger on the crossroads of her life.

Flash after flash as I try to escape, the different faces drift away with a certain look and they all do not recognize for who I am.

I am me. I am who I am and I grasp what is mine in my hands.

Flash after flash, a part of me drifts away as well. Parts of me call out to the faces, and I give myself up to them to let them know I am here. And every call is ignored as I lose a bit of myself, inch by inch, measure by measure.

I curl up like a ball, within myself, searching for something that is still left in me and all I find is nothing but an emptiness that gave me this realization that I am alone.

One by one, they all leave me and the angry storm churns and screams and howls like a lost banshee with an empty song crying out and cursing something that leads to nothing at all.

I lie awake, conscious and I scramble within myself to feel something. I touch myself, feeling the sensations creeping up my nervous system and I search for the one thing that tells me that I'm not alone but everything seem to drift away.

There's a voice, I hear it and she tells me everything is going to be okay. That an emptiness is meant to be filled with something, anything. I hold on to that and I let go of myself.

I breathe.

There is something. I felt something and I breathed.

And I laid there just filled with so much doubt and questions.

I felt angry, confused. I possessed a deep sense of hatred towards something but I don't know what and flash after flash, I strike at anything hoping to come to some justice to what I feel.

I only end up to nothing at all and the void fills me up again.

I cannot run, I cannot escape from everything that weathers against me.

Flash.

Crash.

The fluorescent hurt my eyes.