How many more times must we meet...

When I took you aside and told you we have met a thousand years ago, it was not meant to be a pick up line. It was meant to be a reunion of two old souls.

Eventually, it was only I who recognised you, while you have no inkling of who I am.

The day we met for the third time, you stopped and looked at me. I wanted to say, as I did so many years ago:  It is you.

You've come to me before, in different time zones and different countries. Within the span of six years, you've come in different names, shapes and sizes. In different bodies and nationalities.

Yet, no matter in who you manifest your soul, I never fail to recognise you.

We always seem to be caught in a similar scene - like an old movie replaying itself - international conference, chance encounter at the coffee machine, asking for hot water or cream.

 In Dhaka, you were young, playful, eager to love. In Kathmandu, you were restless, bold and hungry for sex. In Georgetown, you were beautiful, like an arch angle. A little aging, perhaps.

You seem to appear at different stages of your life, to affect me in different stages of my own.

Do you come to challenge me or to give me strength? Why do you come in my darkest, loneliest hour?

When I am on the brink of sadness or contemplating suicide? When I am drowning in my own sorrows as if there is no tomorrow?

In Dhaka, you swept me off my feet and I fell in love; in Nepal, I felt the urgency to flee; in Georgetown, the pain of parting with you was achingly real, torturous, leaving me with a shattered heart.

It tells me that we may never meet again. That this is our last moment, after countless encounters and chance meetings, after loving madly then bruising each other, lifetime after lifetime.

A part of me died when you walk away from me that day.

In Dhaka, it had felt that we were crossing the rubicon, that we would be eternal soul mates; and in Kathmandu, you had turned quite violently away from me.

In Georgetown, I felt we had a history. A history of passion and pain. A history that left me with unhealable scars, unforgetful memories, sad reflections that have marred my skins.

Is this why you have failed to recognise me now? Is this why you remain oblivious to my existence although you continue to trail me?

Perhaps, in my haste to enter this world, in my rush to fulfill my destiny, I have forgotten to drink from the water of forgetfulness.

How many more times must we meet before your memory returns? Let me not wait another thousand years...

Because.

Because I love you, I am willing to suffer/ You are unattainable although you are mine/ Distance is the only space we know/ and time, our pathways that never merge/ Your country, my culture, eons apart/ But I am your soulmate/ Your refuge in times of ruin/ End my sufferings, led me lead you/ Let's leave the comforts of our own race/ Let's brave the war raging between our histories/ Let's meet somewhere in time where no one can find us/ Where our tears can mingle, and our sighs, linger/ Where our laughter can start a revolution/ Where I can touch you. Freely. Devour you. Passionately/ Where we could implode our hearts out to block out the darkness/ Where I can love you/ Where you can love me/ Where nobody cares/

You tried to take the Malaysian out of me.

YOU tried to seize the Malaysian out of me
When you ripped open my heart, with your racist fangs
YOU sucked my rainbow colored blood, chewed on my patience
And my tolerance
YOU told my neighbours, I am the enemy living next door
That I have sticks and stones and swords and guns
YOU whispered that I am a Communist out to maim them
That I am a terrorist out to bomb them
A fanatic Christian out to proselytise?
Would they ever be safe?
My neighbours believed YOU
They chanted along with your incantations
And while YOU invoked the memory of deaths, bloods and tears
They build a wall to reach the sky around me
They held on to their weapons, build barricades with their languages
Raised boulders with their cultures
While religion and race became their shield against my good intentions
They were prepared to go to war
To shoot, to slice, to kill
Believing that violence and hatred, are their only safe habour…

It made no difference that this too is the land
Upon which I was born; these skies were the first to hear my infant’s cry;
The red angsana trees and swaying palms
Rejoiced with the wind when I was given a name
This is where my blood would spill willingly
Where I would be buried at the ends of my days.

But the Malaysian in me fought back
My Merdeka spirit rammed into the walls of fear
My tears rained on the cobwebs of lies and suspicion
My neighbours must see my face, hear my voice, and feel my touch
To know we are not different; that I love them as my own
Though our colors vary, we struggled through the same history,
We suffered beneath the sword of that one oppressor
That to fight each other would strengthen the dictator

I must tell my neighbours that I would lay down my life for them;
That I would fight their battles, but they must be courageous too and
Stand by my side
That I would fight injustice, corruption, collusion
To see their generation prosper
But I need them to trust me, as I trust them
To tell them have faith
When a new dawn breaks over our dark skies
We would clasp our hands as Malaysians
No longer the enemy that we always thought
Were hiding behind the battle lines.

Happy Merdeka, yes! But first, merdeka from our own selfish selves!
* Merdeka = Independence in Malay.

Still.

Bury me, lock me away
stash me underground
put iron bars and prison walls
around me
fasten the bolts
shut the windows
throw away the keys.
Still I shall breathe
Still I shall live
Still I shall speak of justice
Still I shall pray for freedom
Still I shall sing of peace.

Death.

Why do they cry for the dead?
Why so much sadness for one who's left
and refuses to return?
Tears should shed only for the living
who must suffer still on this damn cold earth.

Gladly.

Comforting arms
kind heart
adoration and praise
a promise to be true
I would gladly forsake
for the rough seas
uncertain tides
stormy skies
and uneven plains
of your love...

Offer.

I hope it satisfies you at least to call me old fashion, an old maid, and frigid
Just because I refuse to share my body with you for the mere sake of sex.
Sex you say is simply like food, a basic need, a glutton's galore
borne out of instinct, curiosity, desire.
Its activity, the sheer mashing of limbs and organs to satisfy a need.
We can still remain friends thereafter, you hint.
Instinct, desire, need...they are all pretty words BUT!
I'm sorry, I feel none for you. Creases gather over your forehead.
You asked : what then does it take to qualify for your body?
As if I am some silly competition you have to participate in and win
I say this isn't a game, and my bed, cold as it is,
is not a bloody playground
to slip under the sheets with me and share my pillow
is to melt under my skin, become a part of me, share my good and bad karma
it could be a fantasy bordering on nightmare,
But for all these, you need to skillfully touch my mind, you need to lovingly
speak to my heart, my dear heart
you have to meet me on a level playing field, at the soul level.
You must transcend the barriers of distance time and space
to meet me in a world that has no walls
and even if you could do all that, you still need to inspire in me the most
dashing element of all, which is love.
A love so bizzare and provocative
that the entire human race would catch its breath when we kiss
So...what is love, is all you could ask. You were bored already.
It's just a silly, childish notion, you say.
And this is where you are wrong.
Love is...
See, what an undescribable feeling it is!
It would only manifest itself in the realm of Magic, I say
Until you could draw me into your orbit
pull me in ways that are physical, mental, emotional and sexual
all at once, in a heartbeat
i'm afraid, your offer, to give me great pleasure, and a thousand orgasms,
is simply not tempting at all !

Heartbreak.

When those who least inspire me, shower me with love, and affection I don't need, my heart breaks. I feel a vein burst, every pulse exploding like a bomb. To feel the absurdity of such meaningless acts, is to feel like dying a thousand deaths, only to fail at dying itself. When those the least I value tell me they miss me, or need me, they make me want to puke, as if to spit out years of servitude and slavery; In moments like these, I pray the ground would open up, and swallow me. Because their admiration, is not desired, nor wanted. Or even asked for. Their adoration, a mere sandiwara of pretence, trickery and lies. I cannot bear this heartache, which is worse than a lover's last goodbye. Its texture rough and razor sharp, cutting at my chest. Squeezing at my throat. Tearing at my brains. It leaves deep, open scars, wounds that bleed unstoppable. Memories broken and divided. I wish to tell them all to leave; forget me, please. These unwanted actors masquerading as my suitors. Stop the charade, bring down the curtains, vacate the stage! For I cannot be borrowed nor bought; I cannot be persuaded, lulled, seduced or threatened to succumb. Even if all the stars in the sky were offered to me on a golden platter, I must go to that one soul my heart has chosen to die for.

Note: Artwork by Susan Loone.

Exist.

I permit YOU entry
into my WORLD
without even knowing
who YOU are
I envisioned YOU
and all you STAND for
before even knowing
your NAME
I adored you
from a DISTANCE
not knowing
which COUNTRY you came from
AND when you appeared
BEFORE me
how STUNNING you were!

You are not a DREAM
a FANTASY,
I conjured out of THIN air
every NIGHT you are the LIPS
I kissed
before I FELL asleep
so to have MET you
so SUDDENLY
out of TIMING, startled me
for I have LOVED you
DEEPLY
without even knowing
YOU exist.

Diary of a suicide.

Jul 29, 2011

I'm breaking down
Like a spaceship would when it's sucked
into a dark hole
It is time like this when I wish
To leave on a one way ticket
To nowhere

Can I take leave from my physical body?
Can I walk out of my mind?
Can I abandon my soul and desert my heart?
Can I run far far away from life?

This is the year of total sadness
Where every attainment leads
To feelings of loss
Of being cruelly abandoned
Like a child in a forest
My soul has no place to rest
My spirit has been evicted
From its rightful abode

God, help me!
That I may not throw myself
over the cliff.


Jul 9, 2011.

I know this year hasn't ended yet. And yet I feel it has reached it's end.
This year is full of regrets, disappointment, sadness and hurt.
It feels as if a monster has reached deep into my ribs and pulled out my heart.
And in pulling it out, left it torn and bleeding.

This must be the year of the broken heart.

This is also the year that I feel old.
I do not usually feel this way.
I used to be a cheery gal. It takes very little to make me happy.
A teh tarik, a good book, a nice movie.
Maybe some paints and a canvas.

Most of the time, I just need some response and respect from the people that I love
especially friends, who profess to love me

This year, this does not happen.
For the first time, I feel such emptiness and regret.
I feel old, and useless and irrelevant.
I feel tired, exhausted, and even on a good day
I feel like a wreck.

Am I heading for a suicide?
Perhaps, I am already there.

Bogeymen.

I don't believe in your bogeymen
Jews, Christians, Communists, Wahabis
You've been invoking their names
Whispering in my ears
But all I see in my nightmares are you
I have my own faith
I believe in myself
The more you threaten me
The more I cling to my faith
You say these bogeymen are out to colonise my country
that they would threaten my life, my security
My dreams, my livelihood
Then you throw my friends into jail
You detain even minors without trial
Your policemen beat up innocent people
Take their breath away with tear gas

Oh, don't get me started on all those who died
supposedly in your custody
Teohbenghock, Ahmadsarbaini, Aminulrasyid, Akugan,Baharudin
Do their lives mean nothing
Just a speck of dirt on your carpet?

You do nothing when prices of essential goods rise
You laugh when others are injured
You go on a shopping spree
gleefully
when your citizens struggle
from hand to mouth

So when you say these bogeymen are out to get me
I just lie back and have a hearty laugh
You have become your own bogeymen
And you don't even know the difference.

Spirit.

Let me breathe you
into my lungs
with a passion
so powerful
I'm filled with tears

as if to guide you
into my soul
to become
my blood
race now to my heart
when you arrive
wait at the chambers
a door will open...

Enter my brains,
leave a dent in my thoughts
each footstep
piercing, conniving

you have colonised my mind
to believe only you
each waking moment
an adoration
of your name

how shall i describe you?
God, man or angel?

YOU are the most beautiful spirit
that ever walked this earth.

Penang, 4.26am, Jul 19.

Pen.

THEY had come for our shirts
our ties, our banners and flags
they will now come for our pens
writers and poets like us
should fear
but we do not

THE pen is mightier than the sword!

THICKER than blood, our ink
words sharper than knives
opinions carry rays that could sting
clear the thickest fog

SWORDS may slit our throats
slice our hearts outs
and leave scars open

BUT ink that flows
from the tips of our pens
could start a revolution

FOR the message
of freedom, justice
are etched in our hearts
for generations.

CAN you stop the flow of tide?
Or the earth from spinning?

NOTHING can stop
the flow of words
Planets of ideas
spiraling around the sun
like stars, though dead, would shine
a million light years away.

SO...bring on thy swords.

SWORDS may silent
dissenting voices
fears may grow
in hearts of men
Still our pens will never run dry.
Still our words will flow
until the last blood.

Penang, 5am, Jul 18.

EO - is this law or is it politics?.

I am baffled, confused, bewildered, lost
how could anyone wage war against the king
by using t-shirts?
don’t they need guns, bullets and even bombs?
don’t they need to have an army, soldiers at least?

They were caught while travelling in a bus
They did not come in an army tank
They wore sandals, not thick black boots
They didn’t wear uniforms like your Light Strike Force!
All they had in their hands
were bottles of water
Not a riffle!
Not a hand grenade!
Not even a whistle!

Tell me, how can t-shirts and leaflets
mere textile and paper
topple the government?

Have our leaders gone crazy, psychotic, neurotic?
Are they paranoid?
Do they need psychiatric treatment?

Is the need to grip power, to rule this country
With iron bars and iron fists
For the next 50 years
Made all and sundry in Putrajaya
Go mad?

Are our leaders so weak, so demented, so frail
So insecured, so childish, such cowards?
That t-shirts and leaflets
Give them nightmares, illusions
Made them wet their pants and wet their beds?

Or are they so blind, color phobic
that yellow, the symbol for free polls
the colors of the royal garment and all its wonderful shades
blind them?

You may be blind, Sirs, you may be myopic
but tear gas and chemical laced water
unleashed on the people on Jul 9
meant to blur, to cause hurt, and paralyse their vision
have opened up their eyes!

Release the EO6! Let them go!
You have nothing on them!

Your charge is meaningless, illogical,insane
The law is devoid of all natural justice
There is no justice
In detention without trial.

Guilty before even proven!
Is this law or is this politics?

If t-shirts, leaflets alone can make you shiver
I have news for you, my dear Ministers
Wait till you hear the voice of a million bomb blast
Come the next GE…
It would be too late, too late!
Penang, 3.39pm, Jul 13, 2011, Susan Loone.

Note:
E06 is term used to describe the six Parti Sosialis Malaysia activists who are detained under the Emergency Ordinance, like the Internal Security Act, it allows for detention without trial. An archaic and draconian law left behind by the British colonialists.

The crime of EO6: public disorder, but they were merely on their way to Penang to attend a forum. They carried T-shirts (with Che Guevera's image, fashionable among youths, really) & leaflets, related to Bersih 2.0. This movement planned a big rally in KL on Jul 9, to demand for electoral reforms.

EO6 were nabbed at the Sungai Dua Toll complex and were accused of waging war against the king. But the king later gave Bersih 2.0 an audience, offering them the stadium. Prime Minister Najib Razak however did not even allow that, a clear demonstration of insulting the king.

Since the king has somehow endorsed Bersh 2.0, does the accusation of waging war against His Majesty still stick? If it doesn't, please release the EO6.

Jul 9.

Dedicated to the late Baharuddin Ahmad, a protester who died of a heart attack after being chased by police at the Kuala Lumpur City Centre. He was chased because he was part of the Bersih 2.0 rally on Jul 9. My heartfelt sympathies to his family, especially his wife, Rusni Melan from Setiawangsa. Though I may never know him, may his soul rest in peace.

I sacrificed my weekend
for the mere fantasy
of tasting
democracy
Instead of meeting
justice
I encountered mayhem

I wish I had the gift
of disappearing
when you rained tear-gas
on me
Instead of gifts
for my bravery
You fired me with cannisters
and whipped me
when I ran
Thank God
the sky open-up
and poured its mercy
on me
I took shelter in a hospital
I thought you would retreat
And still you came for me.

You chased me like a dog
You dragged me across the streets
as if I was a criminal
You kicked me
pulled my shirt
You could have asked me:
Why I'm here
I would have told you.
I would have cried
I am one of you
Wounded
Sick
to see my country .
in such
a sorry shape.

But you were too intent
on hurting me
You could have moved away
when I was coming
You could have been my guide
to a refuge
safe and free from tears

But like an unbridled
force
Angry and insane
I was pulled
into a never ending journey
in which you stood.

Bold and arrogant
flanked by trucks and water cannons
every creature
that walked the street
that day
had to shy or run away.

You should have looked away
You being human
Would one day come to need
This freedom, too.

Or did you think
that it is I
who should have fled at once?

If you had left
You could have halted
a major warfare
and gave this country
a fragrant name

But orders came
from one above
So you stayed.
You lingered.
stalled
And waited with bated breath.

You let me come quite hopefully
Infront of you

And then, you unleashed your terror.

Susan Loone, Penang, Jul 10, 2011, 2.43pm.

Cruel.

"I sacrificed my soul
for the sheer ecstasy
of laying my sights on you
But now...
I wish I never knew
Of your existence

I wish I did not have
the gift of sight
and hearing
to have found you
so endearing.

You could have moved away
when I was coming
Or...was it I
who stumbled upon your path?
As if drawn
by an unstoppable force
as if blindfolded
into a never ending road
in which you stood.

Bright and brilliant.
Bold and beautiful
That even the golden rays
of the burning sun
had to shy away from you.

You should have turned away
averted your eyes
took flight
exited the nearest door

Or should I be the one
to flee at once?

You could have thwarted
a major pandemonium
of my battered heart.

But you did not.
You gleefully stayed.
lingered.
stalled
with bated breath.

You let me fall quite hopelessly.
Into you.

And then you laughed".

Susan Loone, Penang, 2.00am, Jul 10, 2011.

Note:
Why do you have to meet someone who impacts you so much. Only to be left behind as if the episode of your acquaintance had never happened?

Mayhem.

Bring on the tears gas,
Water cannons
Riffles, batons,
And handcuffs.
Bring on your shackles
Drag us through
The streets of KL
See us bleed
See us scream
But you’ll never see us cry

Bring on your evil threats
Coward’s smile
You can do anything,
Bastards
But you cannot
Quell our voices
Kill our courage
Suppress our spirit
Clip
These wings of justice.

For we are free!
Free People!
Brave hearts!
Truth is our master!
Not you!

So!
Bring on your might
Your terror,
Your laws
Bring on your spite.
Nothing can quell the right!

Note:
Susan Loone, Penang, 2.50pm, Jul 9, 2011.

Read the story behind this poem here: http://sloone.wordpress.com/2011/07/09/mayhem-in-kl/

Clean.

May the universe
be kind
merciful
pour forth thy tears
cool those heartless
hearts
May raindrops
fall on parched lips
drench those empty souls
Wind,
blow mighty, swift
wrap those angry bodies
make them warm
Sun, shine brilliant
bright
blot out those cruel
minds
fill their thoughts
with love
for freedom
Shine! glitter! blaze!
Blur their vision
Until they see
nothing
but a sea of change
sweeping the whole city
CLEAN.

Susan Loone. Penang, Jul 9, 1.24am.

Note: Only a few hours away to the mighty rally. Jul 9 would be a wonderful day to remember, whatever the outcome. The world sits and watches. There would be 24 rallies in solidarity with Bersih 2.0 worldwide.

Instead of joining in the fun, PM Najib Razak has left the country in the hands of the IGP (police). To maintain order or to create chaos? One shall have to wait and see.

I just wish and pray that the police personnel, those who have families, friends, and those whose hearts are yet to be corrupted - may see the light. Perhaps, their hearts too are longing for change. I pray with all my heart and soul that someday our men and women in blue would stand on the side of the people.

I pray they would be merciful to the Bersih 2.0 protestors tomorrow.

This poem is a prayer that the Universe may pour forth the water of kindness and truthfulness into their hearts and soul. To open their minds and eyes, and to realise that they too are a part of the rakyat, and we are with them.

ps. We do pay for their salaries with our hard earned money!

Goodnight for now, and see you later :-)

Refugee.

Am I a refugee
In my own country
Hounded, searched, trailed
and probed?
Handcuffed
Shackled
Questioned, jailed
punished, tortured
Spat upon, sneered at
Forced to strip,
left naked,
Hungry and thirsty?

Tell me:
What is my crime?
Spell it out!
Charge me in court!
Don't hide me here
In your smelly dungeons
Then call me cowards!
Bastards!

Should I flee
like a refugee?
From my own country?
Should I leave behind this
Godforsaken land?
The grass is greener
The sun shines brighter
On the other side.

My heart holds me back
My future needs me
The cries of my people
say "don't go".

I'm not a refugee
In my own country
I am the sons
and daughters of the soil
The sands and hills
On which my parents toiled
for generations
with their bare bloody hands.

Susan Loone, Penang, 12.56am, Jul 8, 2011.

Note: Please read the story behind this poem here.

Dedication.

Go! Go! To the mighty river
I go
Drink from the water of life
I shall
Embrace the colors of dawn
I must
The journey is long
I know
The enemy is nigh
I see
Courage, come now
My guiding light be
I'll follow the signposts of justice
Arrive in peace
I will.
So fear me not.

Note: The Bersih 2.0 rally on Saturday (Jul 9) for electoral reforms is only hours away. Many of my friends and acquaintances would brave police threat and government abuse to join the event. All they want to do is express solidarity and fight for clean and fair elections. Is that so wrong?

PM Najib, like the Monarch, could have handled the matter gracefully. But Najib chose to use brute force. Worst still, he is leaving everything in the hands of the police and going overseas tomorrow. Is that responsible? Anyway, Malaysia is now officially a police state, going by all the arrests and crackdown over the past two weeks.

This simple poem is dedicated to all those who would brave the storm and join the rally on Saturday. May the force be with you. May courage be your guiding light. And if the monsters put bars around you, remember, truth, only truth will set you free.

March on fellas!