English

Darman he left his barren villageand suffered the city’s crueltybut he was a brave manthe city was hardbut his heart was like rockhe sweated night and dayDarman this brave young manrobbed of his youthfaithful Tukini already his wifefive lives now dependent on himbrave Darmanthe city’s cunning would not defeat himbut he couldn’t deafen his earsto […]

I demand change one hundred latrinesmean more to methan your big mouthit’s not importantwho’s going to winwe’re fed upwith a life like this:a hassle going to the toileta roof that leaks when it rains.we don’t need chantsmagic spellsor promises;a sack of ricefrom the masters’ food storeswon’t wipe out poverty;sympathy and second-hand clothing donationsare of no

Just One Day Comrade  One comrade brings three comradesEach one brings five comradesHow many comrades do we have?One comrade brings three comradesEach one brings five comradesIf we are one factory, imagine comrade!If we are one heart comradeOne demand united in voiceOne factory one forceWe are not dreaming, comrade!If one factory united in heartStrike with one

An odd puzzle that night we got together and talkedfrom our mouths no grand issues emerged;we talked about our hopes,things simple and understandable one person had been hoping for a long timeto add on a kitchen to the place he rentswhich reminded othersthey didn’t own a saucepan, kerosene stove,drinking glasses, or frying pan,which made them

I am Still Whole and the Words have not yet been Destroyed I am not an artist that makes newsbut for certain I am always bad news forthose in power my poetry is not poetrybut dark sweaty wordscrowding each othersearching for a way outthey refuse to dieeven though my eyeballs are gouged and replacedthey refuse

The Ballad of the Bullet where is the muzzle of that gun? I’d like to explode and at the same time turn into a bulletseek your forehead, aim towards your deathsee Your soul take flightand I will chase it with my own soulso I will know where Your house isI am ready to kill myselfCertainly,

What is the Worth of my Poetry? What is the worth of my poetryIf my younger sibling did not leave for schoolbecause the school fees could not be paid?What is the worth of my poetryIf my father’s pedicab suddenly breaks downIf rice had to be bought with moneyIf we have to eatAnd when there is

Kampoong/Village as morning breaksthe rubbish piles upchildren scolded by mothershusband and wife shouting  as morning breaks the rubbish piles upleft and right argumentschildren cryinghusband wife fightingin turn with the radiopeople push and shoveto get to the public well then teenage girlsleave the kampung for the factoriesreturning in the aftternooneyes wrinkled with exhaustionliving lives of no choices and

My neighbour next door my neighbour next doorcan make very good flutes from bambooand can play many tunes  my neighbour next dooroften borrows the guitarto sing with his children one of his ears is ruinedstruck with a rifle butt my neighbour next doorlives as if behind fortress wallsalways watchingchecking for danger my neighbour next doorwas terrorised before  Kalangan-solo,

Say your words if you are not willing to ask you will be drowned in decisions  if you withhold your words your mouth cannot pronounce your desires robbed   you will be treated like a stone thrown away, discarded or plucked out like grass   or open mouthed can be filled with whatever taking no