Poems from the Jungle Boy by Harini Management Services Sdn Bhd

POEMS from the JUNGLE BOY MAYA GREEN

We all carry empty begging bowls, waiting to be filled up by the lights, till the joys will glow, And keep overflowing, like a mountain spring. - Maya Green

MAYA GREEN

PUBLISHED BY Harini Management Services Sdn. Bhd (609031) W9-12, Menara Melawangi Amcorp Trade Centre 18, Persiaran Barat 46050 Petaling Jaya Selangor Copyright® 2021 Maya Green All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior permission from the copyright holder. Perpustakaan Negara Malaysia

Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

Maya Green, 1958POEMS from the JUNGLE BOY / MAYA GREEN. ISBN 978-967-19969-1-1 1. English poetry. 2. Inspiration — Poetry 3. Poetry. I. Title. 821.92 PRINTED IN MALAYSIA United Mission Press Sdn. Bhd (9755329-X) No.15, Perindustrian BS 9 Jalan BS9/10, Taman Bukit Serdang 43300 Seri Kembangan Selangor Darul Ehsan

CONTENTS Preface 05 Acknowledgements 06

NATURE

07 - 31

(The poems here capture the writer’s empathy and respect for Nature, how he connects with the natural physical world, how it processes his thoughts and heals the soul)

ECLECTIC

32 - 44

(These poems offer the writer’s insights on a variety of topics including his spirituality, conventional wisdom and on life)

REMINISCE (The idyllic life in the heart of Borneo shapes much of the poems here, lending them backdrop, a certain depth, a starting point)

45 - 128

EPIGRAPH Little round planet In a big universe Sometimes it looks blessed Sometimes it looks cursed Depends on what you look at obviously But even more it depends on the way that you see - Bruce Cockburn

Preface These here are random poems, mainly in English, some in Malay and a few in Kelabit. I wrote them over time, as and when I found the inspiration to do so. They capture the sense of reflection, thoughts and ideas that waft through the recesses of my mind. One can try to decipher them or remain an observer, actively watching the goings in and out. But whatever one chooses to do with them, the intent behind writing and sharing these poems is to communicate certain ideas, perceptions or impressions which, it is hoped, will trigger some reflection and introspection in the reader. My tools are words, imageries, metaphors and similes, which are energy forces that captured me the moment I learned to read and write. My journey as a jungle boy from deep in the rainforests of Borneo to other parts of the world is a metaphor for the inner transformation of the spirit that inhibits this vessel called ‘Maya Green’. This journey, like a rite of passage, is something everyone must make, whether we like it or not. My friend Andrey Mikhalev once told me that we need to consume more “in lighting” and to “dive deeper into the waters which have no bottom” to get to what we are searching for. I hope these poems or musings will trigger some vital connection at the subconscious level that will give birth to some form of realisation of what it is we have been looking for. You will know when that connection is made just like when at times you feel that you have made the connection with someone you have just met. ‘Maya Green’ is the pen name for Dato Mohammad Medan Abdullah, the jungle boy with the deft blade but transformed.

4th July 2021 Shah Alam, Selangor Darul Ehsan Malaysia

Acknowledgements There are many people I want to thank for enabling this book to get off the ground. My message to all of you is a simple but heartfelt “Thank you” — one of the most important words and a most elegant one in the vocabulary of all languages. And I would also like to say, “I love you!”, the most powerful of words to be verbalised and lived in this and the next dimension. My father Maya UIun (lit., ‘Follower of Life’) and mother, Sinah Maya Ulun (lit., ‘Mother and Follower of Life’) were profound sources of encouragement and unconditional love. So this humble effort is dedicated to their memory. To the rest, I have listed your names in no particular order below. All of you have helped make this book see the light of day. For your inspiration and encouragement, I am forever grateful. Noor Hayati, Emir Syazwan, Noor Diyana, Datin Azura, Andrey Mikhalev, Mora Lio, Datin Nikki Lugun, Sofiyan Yahya, Tinggang Trang, Ryan Tidan, Willian Chan, Julian Jolly, Rijeng Jahet, Dr Jeniri, Freddie Chiew, Maslihah Tioh, Halfi, Taranjit, Reuben D Jacob, Rajah Murugiah, Nazir Shah, Christina Chin, Sardon Zainal, J Loh, Dominic Damian, Felix Tse, Osart Jallong, Capt Peter Jahne and also to all my fellow prose and poetry enthusiasts in our Poetry Corner group. To all the teachers who have cultivated in me the love for literature and poetry in my growing up years, your voices still resonate within. Last but not least, I would like to express my thanks and appreciation to Yayasan Kebajikan Aras for showing interest and being supportive in making this happen.

N A T U R E

Luang Naruh (Spawning fish)

Like the salmon returning to spawn and to die where it was first born, ain’t life the same? Are we not on a journey outwards first and then returning to where we came from? But the question is: Did we come back home a good salmon? A salmon at peace with itself, not one which is full of anger and aggression — begrudging the journey and the destination! Lord, Master of the Universe, let us be like good salmons. Faithful and accepting of our fate with humility and hope! And dying a good death. A salmon’s metaphoric death. Photo: Rotterdam, Holland, 2019.

The Green Walk A day in the forest Is worth a thousand in the city So come and join me On this walk of colour And partake of this — Nature’s green sacrament For ‘tis the portion To quicken the tired soul As you labour the journey Of life in the city And seek repose in nature Salving the nerves in serenity A day in the forest It’s worth a thousand in the city So come Come and join me Photo: Forging a fast-flowing stream in Imbak Canyon, the interior of Sabah.

The Story of the Frog and the Stone Mountain called Apad Runan A mountain found deep in the interior Hidden in thick jungles and misty clouds It’s a stone mountain with a green exterior A dark secret enveloped in mysterious shrouds In search of a merriment that went too far And losing for a moment the sense of awe Dressing up a frog in loin clothes for a star Causing such laughter from the resultant show The winds picked up and the skies turned dark A massive storm arose from the hidden depths The fury that day was well on the mark The longhouse was strickened in hail stone drapes Just a humble frog from the river nearby Of its humility and innocence so badly mocked A cautionary tale to remind us by Of destiny by our own hands securely locked Note: Inspired by a native Kelabit folklore about an unfortunate tribe and their longhouse being turned into a stone mountain called Apad Runan, after they dressed up a frog for fun.

Consolation There I stood Transfixed, speechless In the cold of a January day The scene before me Unfolds calm, beauty and warmth So winter’s bite in the wind is bearable The pond in the garden is providing and, giving Unselfishly Sometimes nature speaks Loudly or silently Messaging to console Rather than seeking to be consoled Be stunned, on the realisation Should we not take the lead From nature’s guiding hand? Or to humble our hearts In the light of the wisdom gracefully unfolding? Yes, be and remain transfixed And in awe Even if it’s just for a moment Be at one with the scene And be too, gratefully alive Photo: Japanese Garden, Kyoto, Japan. 13

The Hunter Have you heard of the skilful hunter, of how clever he is? How he can fashion weapons and tools of all kinds How he can set traps and clever camouflage, that are so effective That animals and birds are easily ensnared and caught? The Hunter understands all manners of animals and birds His knowledge exceeds everyone from all around He could even imitate their sounds Knows the behaviour of every animal and bird in the forest Knows where they like to hide Where they sleep or go Or what kinds of food they like to eat One can say that the Hunter knows what it is there to know All about the animals and birds But he does all these for nothing else but just one purpose His aim is to trap and kill the animals and the birds He could outwit and fool them That is his main objective Even though he knows them so well The Hunter doesn’t possess their essence He is not of the animals or the birds On the contrary, he is their mortal enemy His only motivation is to trap and kill them Everything he knows or does is an anathema and their opposite

A negation of the essence of being an animal or bird For the Hunter does not know them at all He is only pretending to know them So that he could fool them Such is the nature of the Hunter But the unwary animals and birds are easily fooled Much to their own misgivings To their own loss Due to their misplaced trust Their ignorance of the true nature of the Hunter Have you heard of the skilful Hunter? Who stalks by day and night Who knows no rest nor take any respite? Until he gets what he is after? Namely, for the animals and birds to be surely caught So to all the unwary and oblivious Beware the fate of the animals and the birds Learn the lessons of this simile Photo: The morning sun filters through the blinds.

Trees If trees could speak What would they say? If trees could speak How would they pray? If trees could cry Will they be shy? Yes, trees do cry And that’s not a lie And trees do speak Through winds they squeak We have to try With them to cry But trees are shy To cry out in pain When we in sly Cut them with chain So hear you the pain In silence proclaim And put away the chain For trees, we acclaim. Photo: Happy to be at the foot of this huge tree at FRIM, Kepong (near KL).

The Moment Seeds The Day The moments make up the episodes, and the episodes fill up the day That’s how we seed each day as it comes, moment by moment For the moments make up the day, and the day is the accumulation of the moments The empty seeds fly in the wind, Whereas the wholesome ones carry their treasures within, loaded with goodness, steady and strong And true to their purpose and destiny So pay attention to each moment as it seeds up your day Seize each moment as if it were a precious stone, the last one there Making each and every moment count, Yes, each one must count String a necklace made up of many beads of blessings Pearls of rich moments and episodic reliefs Perchance, you will reap a good harvest, a treasure trove of keepsakes When the day’s end comes You’d wear a crown of glory One made up of the day’s positive tales And studded with the glowing star Of a faith restored, refreshed Shah Alam, Selangor DE 22nd April 2021 Photo: The daily commute makes the episodic moments of a day.

The Game is On This game of hide and seek, The put-on disguises, to camouflage, Sometimes it’s ambitious, a total metamorphosis; From form to form, or from form to no-form. Like dust in the wind, surrendered and carefree, It’s the gold specks floating in the rainbow, after the morning rain. Bubbles cruising the tides, riding nature’s roller coaster, It’s all playfulness, just sheer fun; All joy and laughter, as in a child’s play. But through it all, you can’t hide your face; Nor fade the wink, and the twinkle, Of a true lover’s eyes. Yes, try hard as we may, this game we play, It’s just hide and seek; Where the clarity never fades, Like the dew on the blade of grass, It catches the sun’s ray, momentarily but surely, The certainty of laughter, echoing in all the firmaments, In whatever dimension we choose; Whether through time and beyond, The sparkle will stay. For the game is on, The game that we lovers play. Photo: Looks Arabic, the clouds.

We have not really progressed...

Where We Started We probe the expanse of space, We mount the sledge of exploration; Bringing our powerful contraptions, The big and the minute, to the realms of discovery. We fight micobes, pushing diseases to the brink of oblivion, yet kill the largest species that share this earthship with us. We extend life expectancies, Yet we microwave the sky above us, Irradiate the living oceans, Soaking the good earth in blood baths, now and then. We decimate the grasslands and Eliminate the forest cover, Hoarding untold wealth, while letting hordes of the poor and needy die or have a zombie’s existence We are together in this neighbourhood, where the meaning of neighbours is worthless, And civility is absent We think we have progressed, that we are civilised; Yet we were never far away, nay very close in fact, backwardation to where we started. Photo: First the egg. 19

THE CALL OF THE WILD I like the call of the wild, Especially of the whispers of the trees; As the breeze softly caresses, And ruffles their hair of leaves of green, A smile and happy grin, Like clockwork colours my face, It’s the hope, the calm, And the wonderment of it all: Allen, Ali and Ah Hong Well, my name ain’t matter at all I am all in all Answering this call of the wild.

‘On my rooftop, hangs the annual Super Moon’ My son posted this picture of a Super moon above his house in London, with a matching caption. I replied, he replied, and I commented and so on it went. We ended up with a short run of rhyming words!

Note: A poetic exchange between a son and his dad. The son was in London and the dad in Kuala Lumpur.

A poem in Kelabit

Tidthak Nuk Tidthan [In Your Footsteps] Lem tidthak dalan mudih tama’ [In your foorsteps, father] Amae mapit adthah nuk dita’ [For a high ground destination] Temuked puun suk lupung [To climb the floating high mountain] Nuk pinudut ngi luun parung [Set firmly in a high echelon] Luun inan badan rudap lem medtho [Where the civet cats like to nap at high noon] La’ ngebpho e’rur nah tabudtho [To rest tired limbs for the whole day] Adthah tugul lem banget bata’ [A tall tree in a sea of green (forest)] Kadiq mulaq kayuh nuk sia’ bata’ [Full of vibrant trees in shades of green] Doo’ bako’ siren lem pulung kura [The beauty of the primary rainforests] Pulung maun nuk mula’ derama [Where the ‘derama’palms abound] Penu’ ngan berahnuwan nuk la’ ninget [Full of the ‘berahnuwan’ bees, with their sharp stings] Mula’ uwe nuk takapen kuh pah ngabet [Where the rotans are aplenty, ropes for tying things with] Tu’en naru’ duah bekang baben [Or rotans to make two carrying baskets for us] Bekang nuk iten, nuk binen [For us to carry, to use all the time]

Iten kitah amae ngi Apad Dari [We’ll bring the baskets to the ‘Apad Dari’ mountains] Mae ngera’ad lem bawang nuk ali ali [On a hunting expedition to this quiet, hardly visited place] Nuk inan mula’ kuyad, mula’ kelabet [Land of the monkeys and the gibbons] Madthing ngi elung arur suk pelaba mapet [We’ll go to the estuary of the stream which is filled with plant life] Kinih Tama’ naam tah iko ngi pemaun dalan [Father, you are no longer in the front showing me the way, you are gone] Mupud ayu’ tah lem lawe tidthak muh nuk tidthan [I have no choice but to try and follow in your footsteps] Maya’ dalan nuk inan tabe’ ngadan [Through various paths which had names to them, but I cannot recall now] Dalan kuan tauh abi ale’ e’kan [Nonetheless the paths that are lovingly laid out for us] Ngadan dalan suk uih pangeh kelupan [Alas, I cannot recall the names of the paths, father] Photo: Ilustration of the far away mountain in Bario.

Snowing It’s a snowy day, a perfect excuse to just lounge around, And just do nothing — but sample mere idleness. That’s what bears do, and we humans tend to follow too Neither to be blamed, All because of the snow. If snowflakes are your thing, Then white must be your colour And dourness your demeanour. When schools are closed, the kids are celebrating — the respite from classes, But not from the cold, nor the sniffles They come with the snow, And the gloom. Portland, Oregon 10th January 2017 Photo: Outside the University Place Hotel, Portland, OR.

In Nature I See On either side of the river lie, Emerald trees in verdant green. With boughs o’er the river fly, Down below, a sparkling flow is seen. Such beauty only makes my cry, For long there, have I not been. So with my inner eye, I’ll hasten to the scene. A reunion of which I ain’t shy, To admit without a screen. For under the country sky, Nature and I, are lovers keen. And in all of this — I do not lie, For mine mirror — I’ve kept it clean. In nature I see, nature and I, In our submission, we are seen. On flight SQ802 Singapore-Beijing 24th May 2014 1:25 pm (turbulent episode in the flight). Photo: Long Peluan, Baram, Sarawak.

The Sunset Is Alive I sit here watching O such bounteous sunset For your glorious display I cry But in joy! Gently the waves call Caressing Washing the shore The shores of my soul And I feel afresh I am alive! The heart awakens, becomes truly aware, Purified! It’s the tablet within Reciting the sacred phrase But in silence proclaim Just surrender, O sweet surrender Photo: Two chairs watching the sunset from my balcony, in Bintulu.

A poem in Kelabit dialect talking about the excitement of harvesting and carrying a log filled with ‘kelatang’ mint worms

Ngatang Batang Ngatang batang penu’ kelatang Lam adthah adtho ngi lekadthang Doo tah kail narih lam tulang Kadi’ nah doo naam rapang Plaba gelatae ngan adthah nuk iten Nuk napen ngi iring buluq puren Kineh ayu’ tah remak nuk tuen Maya’ pinian tak nuk tekapen Madthing ngi ruma’kesu mekiyu’ Ngalap kap’ak pah nepak kayuh Iyan nait dadan kadi’ besibuh Ngesu ngalap kelatang tuen nunuh Kinah ayu’ tah adat lun tauh Nuk mulun ngilam tanaq tetapuh Doo tah ribed anak dathur beruh Kinah tah tegap anak laih beruh Photo: Ngatang Batang (Carrying the Log).

Imagined Place It’s a really really big place Constructed piece by piece Hoisted by giant machines Manned by artificial machinists But that is it It’s all artificial Unalive Unfeeling A usurper A transplant A displacer Poisonous Irradiated The natural world has been destroyed The lilies in the fields a distant memory The fresh air of the soft morning gone It’s a really really big place A sacrilegious monstrosity A monument to a heart gone dry Devoid of living blood An ugly manifestation Of the ugliness within An abomination imagined And created in minds gone mad A false utopia in the end days Photo: A dramatic evening sky taken from my balcony in Bintulu, Sarawak. A contradiction to the image depicted in the poem, a sad painting of the world we have created.

The Water’s Pool My child: Have you ever wondered, why the rivulet is in such a hurry; Or the stream gains momentum, as it quickens its way downstream? Have you ever wondered, where all the energy comes from; in the eddies, currents and tumultuous torrents? And the river gets bigger and more powerful, the closer it gets to the sea? My child, know this secret: It’s because every droplet of rain, and every molecule of water, can’t wait to be with the sea, And the ocean. To be re-united in that endless pool of water, To lose its separate and false identity, To be one and whole again. To be, ‘being true to being water’, In the Water’s Pool called the ocean. Photo: A beautiful picture of an estuary in a stream at a golf course in Kota Kinabalu, Sabah.

The Cove A place eminently salubrious Where odours, colours and sounds agree An orchestra that only Mother nature can muster And all the five senses robustly agree I lay my head on your inviting lap My mind lost in a daytime reverie My heart is joyous at this moment’s trap When all is as wholesome as the sea Photo: Tg Lobang, Miri.

TWO PATHS Two paths diverging in the woods, Take neither, for both have been trodden; Be the pioneering explorer, Charting a third one, going to where no man has gone before; It’s only in true pathfinding, that will make all the difference; Discovery awaits the brave, and the adventurous of hearts. Photo: The Kelabit version of the famous poem by Robert Frost.

The Cryptic Message The morning is still fresh at this moment, still young ever since its birth How apt I thought, as I slowly sipped my breakfast tea, under a tree in the garden Still deep in reflection, as the mind tries to decipher the flickering message on the screen A fundamental challenge so early in the day, an excitement to the mind Soon the morning will be gone, as the heat of the day exerts its presence The sun will rise on its path, looking for the zenith point, before descending Even the zenith moment is fleeting, but that didn’t stop the daily ascend of the sun It’s not the duration, but the intensity of the moment that counts, so I reasoned It’s the living fully in the moment, That’s the standard for the sages “For life is short, but we can make its meaning everlasting” that was the message, from Andrey It was staring me in the face, challenging me to understand and get down to its esoteric meaning Challenging me on the level of understanding that I have got The morning itself gave the answer, When I was almost giving up As always, the answer lies hidden, and unseen except for those who can see For it takes the heart to see that which is not apparent Just as how the essence of a flower is not in its beauty but the feeling that blooms inside The cryptic message is loud and clear — Though a fleeting moment it may seem, Each moment in time is precious And can have an everlasting effect As we make it to be Photo: Maya Green and Andrey in Lofoten, Norway. 32

There can never be one tree too many. But surely there will be one felled too many. Help save the rainforests. Photo: A sweeping view of the lush rainforest in Bario.

When I see the amazing beauty in Nature and on earth prayer swells within me — an unearthly passion and heavenly joy. Photo: Stunning Shot of Sunset in Bintulu.

E C L E C T I C

Come now and sleep, mine eyes, You can contain so much, no one believes it’s possible; Judging by the size of you: You are, a passage to the mysteries. Painting by K Gnanamoorthy.

Your World The truth is hidden and evident, in plain sight yet unseen; blindness exists side by side sightedness; faith alongside unbelief; submission alongside rebellion; Oneness alongside multiplicities.

The face which has the eyes sees not itself even when it sees a thousand others; That’s why mirrors exist. Painting by K Gnanamoorthy.

In a world of the insane, the sane man is seen as mad.

Give what is there to give, and keep only what is there to keep; The wisdom lies in knowing which is which.

Tend to that fragile flower inside through showers made of heartfelt tears.

FOLLOW THE VISION I walk these baby steps Driven by a vision that holds The path in front slowly unfolds I see what this vision beholds So my own heart is now my steps A vision beholden to its own maps The further I go the clearer it gets Tentative moves become surer steps All I needed was make the first steps So my heart’s hands now move in claps For when I move towards a vision The vision will move along with me It’s all rather simple, now I see The vision and me are a melody So to follow the heart makes the vision Composed on Saturday 17th August 2013 7.11am Shah Alam, Selangor DE.

Our Maculate Ego Not the immaculate whiteness of a perfect winter’s fall Our best deeds are a maculate haboob in the noon’s fall We inflict destruction in a trail of desolation Leaving broken lives and a scourge of pollution How misplaced and misguided can we be Not even a shadow of light hints of any purity From a humble sperm and egg beginning We have turned into a mad fighting being From where did we get this spirit of adversary Our life is dedicated to rebellion which we tarry And we call all the warnings and admonitions a lie Stubborn all the days of our lives till we die Not an immaculate flower in the meadows Blooming in a garden where a sweet river flows But a darkness and brooding ego has overtaken Casting the owners headlong into the cauldron for the stricken Painting by Hendricks Nicholas of a boy and his dad going on a hunt into the rainforest.

Day of Dismay Like the kids who drew on their friend’s face Defacing his beauty with such innocent impunity After being told by their teacher to draw their friend’s face The result is funny but filled with utter gravity So we have surrendered our ability to think critically Willing ourselves to accept things unquestioningly Like lambs being led to the hidden slaughterhouse Willingly following their assigned caretaker Wolves in sheep’s skin full of subtlety Dispensing largess filled with caring falsity So their motives are beyond screening Because the eyes have been blinded, unseeing Such is the ongoing utter abdication When the multitudes are being willingly led astray The stage is being set for the coming intervention Where the sheep will be led to their Day of Dismay Photo: A Lonely Road in Bario.

Of This Our Legacy The world’s going bust and, the cataclysm is us; We have altered the earth, Brought upon our own selves, wrath. Many species have already gone, Our mortal sins, yet to atone. It’s understating, to say “harrowing!” When it’s mass extinction, that we’re facing! In our reverie – and our madness, All we have produced, is utter sadness. Have we forgotten? Is the core that badly rotten? Our ego has exploded to the fore, Our humanity stretched, as never before. Is this our legacy? Is this our history? Love and compassion, forever lost? Greed and ego, the everlasting host? Search ye inside, Take that bold stride; Wade into the humanity within, To the wellspring, dive in to win! This poem was inspired by the book The Sixth Extinction by Elizabeth Kolbert. Photo: Codfish Drying in Lofoten, Norway.

When It Comes Now when we lay down our heads It means the day’s end has come The toils, the ups and downs have faded And awakeness has given way to slumber When it comes, it comes at you And you know not the exact moment But it is something that’s certain It overtakes and it overpowers As you slip into unconsciousness When it comes, it comes at the exact moment Not any sooner, not any later Just as thoughts passing through your head You are not in control of them Better to surrender than to fool yourself Thinking that you are in control The droplet thinks it controls the ocean How presumptuous and off the mark When it comes, it will come At its own choosing and its own timing This slumber and slide into the unconsciousness A daily reminder of the fundamentals of things Photo: An evening shot taken in Bintulu with a crescent moon in the sky.

SUN RAYS You are the morning sun That brings out the flowers to bloom You colour my being Lighting up the shadows Your smile is a thousand stars Pure radiance, pulsating in hope You are the taste of sweetness I am mere honeycomb O to be close to you Is to soak in your love essence I am happy to be the dew That evaporates in the morning sun To rise up to be with you For you are the destination And I am just a traveller Weary and long lost And longing to return Finally, that day will come When this world will be forgotten And I would have arrived And I am no more Reunited, like a droplet in the ocean Shah Alam Selangor DE Boxing Day 2015 Photo: A beautiful stream in Imbak Canyon, Sabah.

Resam Kehidupan Janganlah kamu cepat melenting Bila orang tua mu tak terdengar Pendengarannya dah menghilang Pasti pelakuannya tak disengaja Maka kamu haruslah bersabar Pabila mereka tanya dan tanya lagi Maklumlah resam orang dah tua Tak berpuashati jika tak diyakini berulang kali Ingatlah pada zaman kecil mu dulu Kau berpura-pura tak mendengar Bila bertanya pun seribu satu Namun ibu mu tetap bersabar Sekarang kamu matang dewasa tapi orang tua mu dah sebaliknya Dia remblai seperti kamu dahulu Begitulah resam hidup dunia ini Hidup berpautan salam ertinya Harus ingati pengajarannya Kasih sayang ada penilaiannya Bagai berlian tak ternilai harganya Painting by K Gnanamoorthy 01:41 26 Jun 2021 Shah Alam, DE.

Alone But Not Alone I say, you can be alone but are not alone I say, do keep that thought alive It will take you far and beyond To where you can truly thrive I say, circumstances do not confine I say, know whom you are in reality Beyond physical form, which is your confine Understand the seeming duality I say, know that physical isolation alone Will not hold you down for long I say, you are bigger than the form shown The universe within is throbbingly strong I say, know that the universe within If released, will eclipse the physical one known That is what you are made of within An endless realm where you are not alone That’s why you can’t be confined for long You are not alone even when you feel alone You are made of something sublime and strong And for certain, you are not alone So cheer up and keep up the faith This enforced confinement is but a test To keep you strong, and in firm faith A gentle reminder to know your place That unshakeable ground where you are rooted Photo: A shot of one of the paintings in my collection. The artist is my nephew Hendricks Nicholas. 45

SEE THE HIDDEN IN THE APPARENT Why are you so shallow, and lazy? Laggards don’t climb peaks You are easily satisfied, taking the obvious for the truth! Don’t be contented with just the form, See the beauty in the hidden, the e-Ternal! Savour the taste beyond the honey comb. Take the first step away from the apparent, Step put towards aliveness: For aliveness is looking, Looking for you!

R E M I N I S C E

Ku Kan Selami Jangan kau sangkakan diriku ini berkebalan Kerana disebalik tirai besi berduri Kamar hati ku ini berkecai kehancuran Di belakang tabir nan riang bersemadi rasa nan sepi Jangan kau sangkakan aku tak bersakitan Pabila jurang perasingan ternganga jauh nan luas Tetitik air ku yang berasingan Menunggu bersama mu lautan tak terbatas Jangan kau sangkakan ku tak ingin perubatan Hati yang pilu ini mencari persahabatan Umpamanya Padang Pasir yang ketandusan Hanya kekasihku kau yang ku idamkan Untuk mengubati kerinduan mendalam Akan ku selami dalam di lautan Lautan kasih mu yang terkalam Komposisi Ramadan 6 Jun 2017.

The Moon and The Hummingbird With some desperation I called out Your Name and remembrance I looked for signs, a fire in the bush, There’s plenty on this side of the moon, Yea, on the light side of the moon, Which looked lush and promising But no smoke appeared, No tiny ember of hope is seen, Then a side distraction appeared, A hummingbird badly caught, In a cosmic and dastardly net, Painted all ‘cross the sky, A desperate cry it sent out, Towards the same blooming moon, And then the realisation came, That here’s two souls crying Two desperate voices calling, With eyes on the same moon, Hoping for a nod and wink of a sign, A salvation of some sort delivered But alas, none was forthcoming, Or so it seemed, Momentarily, a Cheshire cat came by, And the hummingbird was set free, But alas, I am still here, Staring now at the dark side, That modest and veiled face of the moon, With an anxious heart a beating, Suddenly captivated and waiting, For that which will soon un-fold, The magic and the signal, Of the smile of the Beloved.

Something I penned a few years ago as I sat in the garden at home watching a full moon in the sky. Something mysterious, allegorical and fictional...

NATURE

Too Much Talk Sometimes saying less or nothing at all Says a lot more than saying too much Less talk and more action is an ocean But talking too much And doing nothing at all is just an empty pond Even silence can say more than a thousand words Helping make a meaningful conversation Where words are superfluous Just as the rainbow silently paints the sky in bright colours After the dark clouds have created the havoc and thundering storms Less talk and more action is an ocean And silence is the golden waterfall from that ocean Too much talk makes for a empty can And a noisy gong without the harmonics Too much talk without the walk Is just wet chalks on a wet board

Sabar Menanti Indahnya kelembutan pagi ini Menunggu timbulnya sinar mentari Ku teliti kedalam dada ku ini Apakah kelembutan yang menyinari Yang menyedari ini siapa agaknya Yang dinantikan itu apakah sinarannya Yang pasti aku perlu penuh redha Sabar menanti di dunia yang fana Semoga penantian ini dipenuhi kebenaran Sehingga timbulnya mentari penyatuan Dan segalanya disinari keberkatan Cinta yang disemai pasti dimakbulkan Kembalinya pengembara ke pangkuan kekasih Bagai titisan air jatuh ke lautan kasih Walaupun habis ditelan bersih Namun kehancuran itu semanis tasbih Photo: Bakun Lake Jetty. Nukilan: Pantun Menunggu Fajar #311319.

Left Out in the Cold Hey you, sitting there alone out in the cold Your life seems such an irony and a cruel joke You’ll wish it will end soon, letting go its firm hold You don’t need any more time in an endless lock Come on, my friend keep hanging in there Feel my embrace, bearing all these pain with you Keep up the faith, in your heart have patience reign there For this life is a mere sojourn, just awaiting the certain cue We are on this journey for a reason Yes, far and away from home we have been left awhile But all for a good cause, and a loving reason So we’ll savour the sweetest of reunions, from whence we were erstwhile Hey you, sitting pretty there on your throne Life is such a comfort in a palatial home You’ll wish this good life will go on and on Do not forget here is just a respite, not the everlasting home This sojourn is just a test, and place for realising Have faith in the all embracing arms of The Most Merciful A place for you to make the reckoning For the return to The Most Loving Composed onboard MH2743 BTU/KUL on 31st December 2020.

Lika-Liku Perjalanan Cerah, gelap, cerah, gelap Begitulah rentak yang ditetap Dari alam cerah ke yang gelap Diikuti cerah dan lagi gelap Umpamanya sesuatu perangkap Pada putaran hidup yang lengkap Pada lika-liku kehidupan Di penuhi dugaan dan kesengsaraan Tapi ada obor pencerahan Bagi orang yang beriman Segala rencah rasa yang menekan Pahit manis jadi pengalaman Diakhiri dengan pertemuan Selepas liku-liku perjalanan Bagai bahtera lintasi lautan Yang dilanda ribut nan taufan Badai taufan menguji keikhlasan Kaedah penentuan keimanan insan Namun perjalanan itu bukan sendirian Setiap langkah itu berteman Bebanan ujian buat semua insan Perjalanan hidup adalah penentuan Dipenghujung nya pembebasan Bagaikan keriangan kepulangan Nota: Suatu ungkapan diwaktu perjalanan naiki pesawat MH2530 KUL/KCH pada tanggal 22 Oktober 2019. 53

Raining Gold It’s raining gold, when the light shines bright, In your soul! There’s an ocean might, where all the bold, Dive in with delight! We have been told, through all the ages, To own a heart of gold! From all the sages, were of the same mould, It’s Love — in all their messages! This the season to be bold, to sing our heart’s delight In celebration of love foretold! For it was a star so bright That brought the wise men of old To the manger in the night! Note: A old poem retold in the spirit of the season. Merry Christmas 2019.

To School, son! At six I walked down to the village school, excitement in my young breast “Why are you here?” asked the village teacher “I want to go to school” said I. “Can I?” I implored “Well, you are still young. Come back next year” said the teacher. I turned back, crestfallen and dejected I cried rains that day! The next year I got to school But not in my old longhouse: Indonesia’s Confrontation had commenced And things were in a flux The commonwealth soldiers came to our aid We were evacuated to another village Away from perceived danger, the Indonesians! So my early start was pretty eventful Like when I cut my left toe with an axe While in the forest to collect firewood I had seven stiches without local anaesthetic I thought I’d have a good holiday to recover But my dad said ‘no way son!’ He carried me to school every day — till my foot healed Photo: 1960s Pa Mein, Bario School: Children sharing textbooks.

The Given Ride Of monies, gold, silver and property There may be little or none in store But of many children and being surrounded by friends The abundance comes in a different form, shade and tune Talking of both treasures and children Some have little or none at all But of health and zest of life These in abundance come Like a spring on the hill And an active lifestyle Is the worthy treasure trove And of the seemingly bereft Having nothing at all Only a begging bowl is all he has He wanders here and there But the sparkle in his eyes And the smile on the face Says it all There is want of nothing at all How strange and ironic This stage we live in Where to each is given In fair measure, apportionment and all Sometimes it comes, and sometimes it goes But there is always rhyme and fairness in it all So begrudge not each other’s fate Nor go against the universal tide Just be present and be ever thankful And enjoy the given ride Living life always to the fullest 56

Here is a poem written by a friend when he was just 16, after spending some time in the Amazon rainforest in 1980. He was ‘left’ in the forest for a while by his father. He shared this with me some years ago, and I find it amazing that a teen could produce such a deep reflection on Nature. It was, in fact, what set me on the road to writing my own nature-based poems, reawakening a latent love for Nature and especially for the rainforest. Unfortunately, due to the pressures of modern day living, Capt Peter Jahne (Saif) here suffered a heart attack in February 2021, and he now feels an even stronger need to engage with Nature. He told me recently that the poem he wrote at 16 beckoned him to the reality that he should live in Nature. It’s a good reminder for me too. Enjoy his poem below.

I am He was alone, and felt complete Not even knowing, what he would meet His senses open, his heart engaged driven by patience, not a sign of rage Yes, fear existed! Yes, it was new! Yes, to all the sounds even under his shoe! He knew nobody didn’t understand a thing was never, never lonely and smiled within I may be young, surely naive, not good in school, but know to achieve I feel those values, that most promote amazing works, crafted by thought My father told me “My son, Peter don’t think too much, when nothing is there. These terminologies, written with words are nothing compared to the sounds of the birds! Responsibility and trust; focus, discipline & more even curiousity is a must, but most don’t know how to adore! The jungle has made you grow beyond the scars beyond your sunburn, beyond your hunger, beyond your thirst, I can see maturity burst!” By Capt Peter Jahne (Saif). 57

Silence and Music Dread not the silence For there is music in between the notes If only you’d pay for it With close attention But if you are with those making music Go ahead, immerse yourself in it Dance if your heart says so Bath in the cooling waters For where happiness exists There dwells linkages to the beautiful There starts the eternal Photo: Ningbo Niteout.

Within Reach Sometimes we don’t feel all is going well Sometimes we don’t get what we want Sometimes we feel quite helpless Sometimes we feel doors are closing on us Sometimes we feel people are being unjust But just remember this — you are not alone Just remember that what we want may not be good for us Just remember that when we feel helpless there is always a way out Just remember that when one door closes another will open, sooner or later Just remember that we are never alone Reach down deep into yourself The answers are all there Within reach... all the time! Photo: Golf course, Australia.

Stumble Seven Times Along life’s narrow and roughly hewn road You may stumble and fall at times Your feet gets hurt, though properly shod To your name nothing much but just a few dimes And your back is badly bruised from all the load Don’t give up, rise you must after every fall Even if it takes you seven times Keep on going, though you may have to crawl Rise, rise and keep on rising at all times Yes, stumble seven times but keep your head tall Life’s roughly hewn road IS the test The walk and the falls making up the path Those that will triumph are only the best The most patient and humble at heart So take heed and rise up, go for the crest Learn to trust the path Though uncertain be the journey’s end For in accepting the given path Each step taken is faith lived till the end To the intended target be, like a straight dart Photo: A rocky beach at Damai, Santubong, Sarawak.

The Last Laugh O what beauty I see, but the flowers are withering I thought — ‘what has happened to spring?’ It was only yesterday that everything — well almost everything, was fresh and new How I wished I knew, but where is the clue? I looked into the nearby pool And thought — ‘well, I no longer look that cool!’ What happened to the youth, with energy so full? How I wished I knew, but where is the clue? A yellow bird alighted on a branch, And began singing her heart’s out! I was amazed, but asking ‘was she old, perchance?’ But did it matter if she is young or on the way out? Why can’t I just sing my own heart’s out? There’s no gain in fretting that time is running out Just give it all to each remaining moment Let age take her course, but I will have the last laugh! Photo: Through the trees, Kyoto, Japan.

The True Leader Have you ever wondered, what makes a great leader? If all leaders were to be gathered, who will be the decider? Who are the greats? Some say Mao, Hitler, Churchill or Mussolini, Or maybe, Lennon, Rasputin or Gandhi But all of them are now dead! We are not really decided. Maybe, we’ll pick a nameless kid from some unnamed valley? Whose job is nothing much but tending only to his flocks! Ya, nothing really but just humble serving Serving each and every animal under his care And in his humility he expects nothing Nothing from his wards Nothing at all! But as for their welfare and safety he’ll guard it with his life! Putting himself in the line of danger From the wolves and jackals Or the occasional lion! For such is a true leader, the humble and simple shepherd boy! He’ll beat all of the great leaders that history’s narrative seeks to portray. A distorted view hoisted Upon a sleeping public, Over and over again, across the ages A sad song, Like a broken vinyl record Taken from some dusty attic!

Always aim higher With a heart in the ocean of humility Aspire to be that real human That beauty of a soul We were meant to be

Fill My Cup Fill my cup with sweetnesss So when it overflows What spills over is gratefulness Touching all full of joys Fill my cup with kindness So when someone rattles me I only have in return forgiveness Not anger and envy Fill my cup with peace So when anger rules the day Bitterness is not my piece Only gentleness has a say Fill my cup with humility So when pride is the yardstick I wouldn’t join the many Even if I am alone in my pick Fill my cup with love So that when all seems lost Nothing will shake true love I’ll be faithful at all cost Fill my cup to overflows Fill it up with plain goodness And I’ll bathe in its afterglows If life shakes me with meaness Fill me up Fill me up So I fear no damage From any and all spillage Photo: The famous kopi arang, where a piece of burning charcoal is placed in your cup of coffee! Yogyakarta, August 2019. 64

The Deep Within A wet Sunday morning’s respite, Reflecting for a moment, our strict parents; Parents who didn’t give us all that we wanted! But now it has dawned on us, that they knew; Yes, they always knew: That all that we wanted as kids Were not all that good for us! Now as parents ourselves, Of that special insight, we doth appreciate; We now have that understanding, And thankfully accept That all their actions were always meant, For our very own best interests! For they had the wisdom, of good parenting And it was nothing but true love in action! For the loving parent knows, What’s in the our best interest. The parent understands the child’s needs, Yes, always better than the child can; For they see with the eye of love and care, Not of selfishness, and unmitigated desires! So thank you dad, and mum You gave me exactly what I needed! Not what, in my immaturity and ignorance, mistakenly desired Thanks for the good gifts, lasting a life time - albeit some took years to unfold, But they did come, wrapped in love Safely delivered — to the deep within! Photo: Sketch by Diyana Maya. 65

Baby Truths We once were suckled on love And were teething on the truth Yet when we grew up, we forgot Or choose to ignore, the obvious Our clarity of mind is clouded By the stupor of vagueness And our ambition is driven by greed of all sorts Power becomes a bewitching brew The hoarding of worldly things, a source of pride Where has that innocent child gone to? Has humility and sincerity been eclipsed forever? Is darkness the chosen arena over the glory of light? Wake up child, there are signs everywhere Calling you home The cradle beckons, rocked by a loving hand Return to love, Return to the truth, Be at peace, with yourself! Photo: Cloud, the angel wings.

Bruised Knees Remember as kids we used to fall down As our little running feet traversed the garden And our excited screams echoed in the field? Chasing after a butterfly or some imagined fairy Our wobbly knees would give way On each fall we’d bruise our knees And ruffle our young and emerging ego Yes, each one without exception had bruises All because we dared to take the fall The fall that comes with the run in the garden The fall that came with bruises The run that we enjoyed so much But now all those bruises are long gone, With hardly any a scar Because we chose not to stay down Whenever we fell We came up each and every time We kept on running our hearts out We stayed up, and kept on moving forward On bruised knees Those knees that have given us our perfect and unique gait Photo: Kids no more, or is that so?.

I Spy I spy him by the curtains fly My master this morn wishes to be alone So here I sit forlorn and alone Watching him from afar this Saturday morn The curtains and the glass keep us apart But only in just one, but a physical sense I know he is thinking of me Even when he seeks to be alone So here I sit and I’ll wait Soon he’ll come in when he is done And we will be together again Me Tora, and my master in green #06032021 Shah Alam, Selangor DE Poem composed by Tora, the Cat.

The Dreaded Hour For it will come to pass When ‘the hills will become heaps of running sand’ Then there’s no more place to run There’s no cave to hide in For the hour is cometh And the warning is being fulfilled Each man is a pledge unto his own deeds Some will have nothing to fear But some by terror’s hands will be held by the throat, stricken For the day of reckoning is nigh The time of accounting and recompense The dreaded hour when the proud will be made low Their faces grounded, abased in the sand Better then to be a dead butterfly A Monach or a Rajah Brooke in a child’s bottle Photo: Sketch of suspects covering their faces in shame.

Ego to Zero There you go Ego wants an ‘M’ before So ‘ME’ then becomes the problem How misplaced can you be? You’re not even a droplet in the endless ocean So let it go Hold on not to your Ego Instead of ‘ME’ why not start with ‘WE’ And that would be the way to go On this journey to zero When oblivion is reunion And Ego is no more Bliss is in the reunion Your true lasting station #09032021 - 00:03 Shah Alam DE Photo: Apps Art rendition.

Destiny’s Choice Along life’s path we will always face it, It’s the making of a choice. Every moment, every day it beckons; There’s always this fork in the road, And the option is either to turn left or right, or to be or not to be. It is a simple, clearly outlined choice And yet it’s tough to make. But a volition we have to make; There is no escaping, no turning back. For it will determine our final destination, It’s about making the turn that is right, It’s about siding with either right or wrong. It’s about making a choice, on destiny. Only the bravest will succeed, only the purest left unscathed. They show the way. They are, destiny’s own choice. Reflection on the last Sunday in October 2017 @ 6:29 pm. Photo: Silhouetted in Gladstone.

If We Were Trees If we were trees, we would have more sense, And proper heart strings; For trees need other trees to flourish, And a tree standing alone won’t last long; The winds and the elements, will see to that. ‘No man is an island’ so goes the folk saying, A pearl of wisdom, that shines through the ages. So take heed the lesson, of the trees; Acclaim their message, And nurture the trees in your hearts of hearts! Composed at the Kris Flyer lounge at Changi Airport. 21st October 2017 at 7:36 pm Photo: An abstract rendition of a lush forest.

Homeless Homily Fellow traveller a Nomad you’ll always be. You are a River on the move — searching for the Eternal Sea. The Sea of Destiny, the search of many. The road is your Home, And where your feet take you, call that home — but for only some. Actually, you are here Homeless, Yet in the starlit sky, there’s your roof nonetheless. For this world is just a passing through, A short sojourn, it should be for you. So cosmic traveller enjoy the journey, But forget not the celestial home, where you are meant to be. Photo: Above the Malaya clouds, many roads leading to the same landing.

Some Days For All Days aka as The Faithful Signaller Some days we like just the music Some days it’s the lyrics that inspire Some days it’s both the music and the lyrics Some days we are contented just in the silence Some days it’s the amazing sunset or sunrise Some days it’s the aroma of the bloom Some days it’s the sound of the waterfall Some days it’s the wiggle of a tail Some days It’s the sparkle in an eye But whatever form it takes, savour the inspiration Look for the inspirer, behind the inspiration Feel the love in all things, Look for the lover Who sends all the signals The Faithful Signaller 74

Pages in The Wind There is nothing to show here Not in the current frame So try a different filter Show us where to look for the music When the pages of the song book Are flipping in the wind We can hardly see the notes So playing a tune, let alone a harmonious one, Is out of the question Like trying to sing in pouring rain Or flying a kite in the eye of a hurricane The elegance and tempo is gone Soon the song sheets will tear apart Mere pages flying in the wind Taking the music with them Leaving a discordant or silent note Of pages Gone with the Wind All right, we’ll await the respite Holding on to the promise — Where it is said that for every trouble There will come accompanying relief Even when the pages are already gone Flying in the wind Photo: Personal sketch comprising coloured lines each with its own message and combined, giving a different note. 75

There’s Room at the Durian Table Come around, have a seat, There’s room at the durian table, No matter how many come a calling; The sweet aroma and pungent smell, always draws attention — and is very difficult to ignore The durian tree, she has a powerful voice, An irresistible draw Fascination, delight, surprise, revulsion and even shock; Are mere shades of feelings From across a spectrum of sensation; Then comes the evocation: A smile for some, a frown or two for others, Maybe, a befuddlement for many That’s the fascinating gift, One wrapped in a thorny package, A tropical delight of a present; Just one of the myriads of tables, that Mother Nature has unfolded from her tunic; Presents a plenty from her rich treasure trove, hidden in a green tropical attic.

Hey, Dude Hey, dude — don’t be crude Don’t just abide, have a ride Take a stride, towards what’s good Do what’s right, live with pride Hey, dude — don’t feel bad Just sing, whatever you’ve got Take a sad song, and make it glad Remember, you are what you’ve got Hey, dude — don’t be a prude Just be cool, just be yourself You are made of sterner wood In testing winds, bend not yourself Hey, dude — don’t be afraid Have faith, in what is inside Know that after all that is said It’s all up to you, and what is inside Photo: Fern Frond at Singapore Botanical Gardens.

Basikal Tua and ITS Lesson The first major barter trade I did was when I was in lower Primary School. Idris (ya, that Dato Sri Idris Jala) then had a tricycle which his dad had bought for him and which we used to share riding on after school, taking turns to race it down the hill near his home. I had a new pair of shoes, probably my second pair in my entire early life which, as you can imagine, was mainly a idyllic shoeless existence. Walking around bare-footed like Adam and Eve was a norm. One day, we decided to exchange what we had! I guess it was Idris who fancied my new shoes, so I thought I’d just give it away to him since we were best friends! So that’s how Idris got my new pair of shoes and I got his tricycle in return. Both were happy! After the trade, we still continued playing with the tricycle on the slope near his house-taking turns and holding on firmly to the principle of sharing for the common good. I can still recall my fast and exhilarating descent down the slope before ending at the bottom of the hill with half of my head buried in the drain! Idris would come running down the hill to pull me out, and we then would have a good laugh. And then get back up the hill and do it all over. Again. We were in it for the fun, quite oblivious to the risks involved. Two village kids making do with whatever little they had. We could have broken our necks or a bone or two. But somehow the thought never crossed our minds. Maybe, that was how we both learned to take big, calculated risks! And also came to realise that behind all things there is something much more powerful and pervasive. Years later, towards the tail end of my career, I was given the responsibility, amongst others, to supervise and manage Petronas’ investments in motorsports, covering branding through F1 race cars and superbikes! That early immersion in the exhilarating sports of fast wheels, gave me the bandwidth for the decades that followed. And those budding years prepared me mentally to put my neck on the line to champion some dangerous missions into some geographies. This time out of pure necessity and the greater good. But that’s a tale for another time. A far cry from the days of innocence as a jungle boy deep in the interior of Borneo. Photo: My quick sketch of a basikal tua comprising of some quick lines, two circles, one half circle and one quarter circle. 78

Still Sometimes, no many times, actually We have been blind But it was mainly me, actually Who was blind, Unable to see That which was so obvious Yes, I was actually Unable to see Your love that was shining Right in front of me But, as in the words the song, I do love you, Still So I am coming home Actually coming To rest these tired bones In your ocean of love For I am still in love Yes, still madly so in love with you

A Child’s Dreams Let me tell you of greatness — of dreams of greatness, of dreams of glory; and of dreams of ambition. It was at a time of magic and mystery, a time when we skinned our knees, but not our hearts. A time when we chased butterflies in the garden; a time when the same butterflies transformed into hordes of fierce pirates — fleeing for their lives, before our triumphant onslaught. A time when we laughed our hearts out, and cried our hearts out, too. A time when we could see the twinkle in someone’s eyes; when we understood the meaning of a mother’s knowing smile. Let me tell you about the dreams we had, dreams of swashbuckling courage, of flying amongst the stars; Dreams where nothing was impossible, yes, nothing at all — to our childhood minds. A time of feeble limbs and gentler souls; A time made of tenderness, but of true invincibility. A time when we were closest to our truest potential; A time we have since moved from. A true divide we have since made from those innocent days, a wide gap constructed; Only fading dreams we do now keep, of those gentle days when we were truly alive.

The ILLUSION of Time Each moment passes by leaving the time past and promising the future time: But the unwary chases an illusion — Pining for the time bygone Anxious for the time to come Lost in the dark cloud of distraction Blinded in a reverie of confusion All his efforts will come to naught As he misses the present moment Putting his focus on an illusion And failing his duty in the present So as the moment passes swiftly by He forgets to do what the moment needs And neglects the demands of the truth Failing to show patience and perseverance For he has sadly lost the moment Thus, the multitudes are misled Suffering and assuming irreplaceable loss Along the passage of time Themselves to be blamed Themselves to bear the burden For they have missed the moment, The only precious thing there is Photo: The moment is Now.

Why Me, Lord? From the blissful oblivion Of all that was heavenly Nothing to worry about Being in the bosom of care No mirror needed for reflection When all about is just the pool Of the ocean with no shores For the moon need not look down When it is a piece of the earth And the shadows don’t dance Where the light is everywhere But this darkness just amplifies This pressing pain in my chest “Why me, Lord?” Yes, why? This casting down from Eden Away from the garden This stoking of the fire of yearning Like a raging volcano waiting to go This desperation of a teardrop Seeking its way to the ocean This gaping separation Between lovers in the throes of ecstasy Yes, it’s just that really This feeling beyond all depths That which only the heart understands This gazing into your face Even if it’s just for a moment From this side This side of longing Photo: Long Lellang River, Sarawak. 82

And I Them My Team would be Happy to Meet You, he said And I them, I replied It takes Two Hands to clap, so it is said It takes Two Hearts to become One, — that would be amazing How about Many Hearts becoming One, — that will be a Miracle so stunning And Not Impossible, one may guess These delineations of I and you And Us and Them Are just just Relative Expressions, a limited expression, A figure of speech, a mere by the way Of something much deeper, Just one perspective of a much bigger Reality A Reality where All Hearts Are One It’s just that We Do Not Know Or we have Not Awaken our consciousness ‘And I them’ is a good start Acceptance of your ignorant state is also a good start But with Acknowlegement and Reciprocation Let’s begin from there Reach out, extend you arms Get to the connection To arrive at the Destination Composed at 17:47, 3rd February 2021, Shah Alam, Selangor DE. Photo: A bridge over the canal in St Petersburg, Russia. I was on a boat passing under the bridge and took this shot of two lovers. 83

The Verandah View I sat by the verandah Watching the gentle morning unfold The stirrings of the night are being overtaken Gradually, by the slow morning call A bird or two begins their excited, welcoming song Eager in their quest to shed the blanket of darkness As the colours of the morning begin to unfold Is that a mynah or a peahen foraging in the field Giving meaning to the term ‘early birds’? Someone is stirring in the back room of the homestay Did I hear a reluctant grunt? Seeping through the seams of the mosquito net down the corridor? The warm embrace of the blanket is hard to let go On this cool and early morning But you better don’t take too long You will miss the morning’s show As the brand new day unfolds And spendidness of the morn Disappears with the mist From this verandah’s view Photo: The Verandah view from The Marylyn’s, Bario, in July 2019. Poem was composed in reflection of that visit.

The Way You Are You came into my life When I had nothing much at all You brought into my life Most everything like a waterfall You came into my dreams Like an angel from on high Your blessings are like streams That wash and cleanse me by You came into my world Made me much more than whole You are stronger than the world You shared a life to behold So welcome to my soul My kindred spirit, so bold Together we’ll bloom like gold Till we’ll both grow old I see there is nothing old Your freshness is always there For loving hearts never grow old Living forever much everywhere Photo: A sketch on the mobile phone.

Leper Messiah Like a leper messiah Among the outcasts live Not to preach but to love To be a friend of the shunned To ease their pain A faithful companion of isolation Living with the lesions Embracing the shame A messiah not for the saved But for the salvageable For those without hope Those who are lost and loathed For to be a Saviour, is to be a leper But only in the eyes of the arrogant, the prejudiced The truly lost, but unbeknown Themselves bereft of hope In need of salvation In need, of a leper messiah Note: A composition in 2016.

Leave Nothing But The stream leaves nothing in its wake but the eddies The blooming flowers leave nothing but sweet fragrance and amazing colours The clouds pass by leaving nothing but coolness and showers of life-giving rain The jungle takes nothing but carbon dioxide and leaving us oxygen to breathe The years pass by leaving nothing but seasons and wonderment A lifetime goes on for a time and leaves nothing but memories So take nothing more than what you need and leave nothing but footprints Linger not too long but tarry on in exploration and discovery This here is just a short sojourn so you’ll get to know thyself Photo: Courtesy of Datin Josephine John.

A voice

Jeremiah and the Now City Jeremiah was a bulldog, He barked and snarled, at all the injustice He screamed and shouted, against all the immorality, He lamented, and he cried, For he bore a burden, a heavy message to the world He was set aside from birth, As a warner to the nations, Yes, that Jeremiah the puller of heart strings, The crier in the ruins, The one urging a change of heart, Calling, screaming, threatening, he cared not how he did it He was the message, the man Jeremiah A message to return to the path, A message to one and all, to return home, to the one true God-path But where is our Jeremiah, like that Jeremiah, the son of Hilkiah? Jeremiah, his message still applies, Yes, his message still applies. This Jeremiac message is solely needed, Like raindrops in a patched desert, A desolation in need of refreshing rain.

Where are the Levitical priests of old, And the priests of today to guide to the right path? Where are the priestly messages? The voices of conscience, of true faith? Their voices are sorely needed, but their voices have become strangely quiet Where is our small village of Anathoth, From where our Jeremiah shall come from? We need just one Jeremiah, Just one for these end times. But this village of Jeremiah’s, It is not lost, I hope. Not swallowed in the concrete jungles of the now, In the city, somewhere Northeast of Jerusalem, so it is said We need a Jeremiah, to come down to the City of Now, Groomed and already ready, To scream and shout, To walk among the ruins of the Now Earth. For Now, Earth’s cities are lost, distorted, and unrecognisable For the same it is, in all the cities, in all directions, As seen from Jerusalem, The Jerusalem which is city of all, That city, which is the centre, of our being. Clue: The Now City is the heart Photo: KL Skyline, as illustration only.

The Moon is On The moon is on, But it will soon be gone; While life is still on, Live it before it’s gone. Blue skies up above, It’s time to live and love; Under the moon, sing of love, And go for the treasure trove. Photo: An evening shot with the crescent moon in the sky. These lines were composed at Hole 9 between the tee box and the green at Kelab Golf, Bintulu, Sarawak. 15th January 2017.

Nothingness Becomes Me This zero sum game you play Of course, it’s easy for you But let me tell you: it’s tough, really tough for me it’s killing me, killing me softly it means I will be gone And most of all Nothingness becomes me! And you, you will remain — Steadfast, living Everlasting Always there And everywhere Just like it was meant to be Photo: Where did the music come from? The head of the lute from Borneo.

A Mountain Goat Be A mountain goat be — with no fear, no pain Leaping into the void, where heights is of no restrain For when the mind is of fear devoid No amount of conditioning will be a constraint So leap ye into the future, leap into life’s embrace That’s taking this moment right in the face With no fear, nor pain Amen! Photo: More Dramatic Bintulu Sunset.

The Road Taken Many roads and multiple tracts, and then some, As long as each takes us home. For home is where the heart belongs; Home is where the smiles await. We all have our own roads to take, Walk to where the heart leads; Perchance, you will arrive, To where you truly belong. Photo: The main village road in Bario inspired me to write this. I may have walked this thousands of times.

The Yellow Tree Where’s the yellow bird in the yellow tree? It comes out at night, to tell its story; with such melody, I hasten to add. It sings tidings, and odes of thankfulness. While in the silence, we earnestly meditate, for the eternal bliss we seek. The silence of emptiness, is no void, oh no! But it is of real solid space. The silence reverberates, from the inside, and extends all the way, to the edge of the universe. That’s when the yellow bird, comes in. It reminds one of our own spirit, a free bird out of its bodily cage. And the tree a fitting metaphor, as the point where the spirit perches. This tree of the mind, body and soul. The tree made yellow, bathed in the golden light, of the Ancients. The same light that ignites the spirit, this spirit that seeks to fly, free of the yellow tree. The perch and the body in one. The cage, to escape. 94

The Test is Done For this short and oft-brutish life is nothing but a test A test that is hard and unyielding Where every step and every dream Seeks to either mislead or to guide For this test is for both the seeker and the oblivious And no one is spared, and none can escape And the accounting is meticulous and carefully recorded For each and every soul This search is for the Oneness Made complicated and bewildering By the seeming and prolific multiplicity Of the Essentiality of Unity A mirror of existence and non-existence The search has to start in the now In this temporal realm where we are located For only in knowing our own situation and self Can the journey to reunion start on the right footing For to know one’s true self, is to know God And to know God, is to let the ego self fade away Just like the snow man Melting in the heat of the sun One moment there, the next gone The test is done Time-check: 23:17 Saturday 30th January 2021, Shah Alam DE. Photo: Passion fruits in a native basket. 95

Hug My Heart Alone we are on this forsaken road Each one taking to it just himself alongside the multitudes But loneliness is the name of this trying game So extend your loving arms And hug me tight Hug my aching heart For it is seeking a companion Seeking a true friend On this lonely path This path called ‘life’ It’s an episodic glimpse A twinkling of an eye, Yet of a momentous purpose Along the entire road The journeying towards eternity This is the road of the aching moment When the yearning is at the greatest And the separation is most felt For that reunion most sweet As only beloveds know Photo: Gold dusting at dusk. The night is nigh, the beloved’s arms awaiting.

I Missed You I went on a journey of searching I travelled the world over On the outside and from the inside I left in search of myself like many others before me And so I thought I found that I was running away from myself And running away especially from you But it looks like a futile effort And soon I realised it was a journey to nowhere: I missed you I missed myself I found myself I found myself in you This road leads to one end only No matter how many pathways and diversions are taken I’ll find myself trodding back To the same road The road that leads me home The road that says ‘I missed you!’ Photo: Even in the ultra modern city, there is no escaping this haze.

The Moment of the Rose Like someone awakening from a deep slumber’s slay, I woke up this morning on a cold winter’s day. Like someone who’s risen, risen from a state of comatose, unripened Lost in a state of temporary death, a momentary shut off. As I lay down in my bed, my mind slowly adjusted to the state of awareness; Just like newlyweds, being both conscious and anxious, They are the lucky ones amongst the awoken, True lovers lost, In their own biasness. I thought of what happened yesterday, but there’s nothing I could do about it, but chat I just can’t change anything about that past day, No matter how real all the regrets, the pains and the joys may feel They are still in the past reign And only to that extent real.

I thought about the morrow, Of all the possibilities, Of the dreams, the promises All that the morrow may bring, but they are just as a distant, misty spring, At the moment just meaningless, They are something in the future, sans form and still lifeless. So I asked myself “Why let the past, which is long gone, and something already passé, affect me now, pray ask why?” And I added still, “Why let the future which is yet to come, and may never come, do the same to me, pray ask why?” Then I realised, O yes I saw it, like the words in a song, on the tenement wall clearly lit, That what matters is only the Now, What matters is each and every present moment, What matters is the Now, This very moment as I live and breathe it, This is the Now and all its moments, that matter most. It’s the present that’s real, This is where I am alive, where I can feel, This is where I exist, and everything jive, It’s not yesterday, nor tomorrow, no matter how much I may insist. I am alive — here and now, I should feel — this aliveness, feeling it in the now. I should savour it, observe it, just be it. Like a rose, blooming vibrantly in the Now, Not caring for the past, Nor worrying for the future, The rose on the stalk, fully contented, fully alive Be the rose, accepting of being a rose, in the moment and in the Now.

One of my previous composition has gone to print in RKS’ Programme Book of their Education Excellenece Award 2019. For the happines of man, lies in the toil

Toil With Honesty With bare hands, and in regular shifts, Expend vigour with those limbs of yours, Be fired with the light, shining within, Fear not Frugality, it is not a sin, For in the hard, lonely In the country, of the crisp mountain air, The Serenity of the spirit, in solitude endowed, Then it’s jus you and the earth connected, Understandably, but inexplicably, For a bonus well conferred, It’s awe-inspiring health, That only the hardworking gets, For the happiness of man, lies in the toil, The secret essence cometh, in the sense of accomplishment, It’s all in your hands, and the sweat that glows, Your skin radiant, alive and breathing, Watch that wonderful feeling, it will come, Flowing like a mountain spring, Joyful tumbling over the rocks and stones, Moment by moment, In the waves and flow, All because of the days’ honest toils.

100

The Last Singer I pen these lines but it’s way too late The last singer has since sung her last There’s no chance for any more rebate She’s gone for good and way too fast So no more recitals of the ‘adih’ songs For the hands of Fate has made her move She says, ‘from this one, no more songs’ So no more nuggets, from her treasure trove So I pen these words to celebrate She the compiler of our tribal tales The voice of the past till the present state Of high spirits, and the assorted tales Photo: Pun Mala Adih, a fictional last reciter of mythology and ‘adih’ songs.

101

The Baggage Game Oh what stark contradiction Selling short ourself to the world We gladly mask our affliction As pain envelopes us in whole We hide away our hurt condition We keep resentment as true gold As a proud batch of great honour Wearing our heart’s full frustration The tone of our soul’s demeanor Burdened by deep desperation With false pride and fool’s valor Holding tight a bag of resentment Like the pompous matador After a kill for entertainment We crave applause of the corridor Pride in our heart’s false attainment In earnest strive we do labor Carrying our hurt in merriment With forgetfulness we do bear Hide away how we truly feel Putting a mask just to smear The clear image in mirror do fill Pray stop you this madness so clear Just be truthful in freedom fulfil So carry not your baggage shame Live in truth and be whole again Your wild despair just put to tame Begin now to strike a true bargain The horse of truth is not lame Ride it away and claim life again Composed Fri 06/04/2012 9:29 pm. 102

‘Arise, my man’ Our hands reach out to the sky, Our imagination consumes us with dizzying effect, Our hope takes us to where the eyes can’t see; To the yonder beyond, right on the edge of seeming madness, Across the void of uncertainty, to where consciousness disappears, Beyond to where we know only silence and stillness prevail. Yes, the goal is both scary and exciting, Like the calls of the siren on the rocks; It’s about escape and freedom in a tumultuous sea. It’s about survival and true living. But you say, our feet are rooted on the ground, We are stuck on terra firma, We are planted in the dust and the clay, And all the elements are grasping at us like lead balls. Cold, encumbered and fearful — we are powerless: Surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves, We are made to feel hapless, and we are rendered useless. But my man, so it seems, But soar like a bird in the winds, Rise on the updraft of the warm air, And forget that you are a tree planted in the ground; That ground is of imputed fear and uncertainty. See instead the beauty in the goal, Draw on the energy in the ambition, Rise on the updraft of righteous anger. Arise, my man arise! Go for the sky and go for the beyond. Photo: Skyman sketch by #maya_green. 103

Fished In I am fishing through the window At the idyllic morning scene below The shore fisherman is early today He is hoping the fish will stay Fishing through the window But I am wondering who is fishing I hope he’ll catch something And I will fish me a show I am still grappling with the day And what will become of today Will the numbers go up or down? This affliction that has come to town The cities and towns are in a lockdown The countryside is still safe and sound So here am I fishing by the window As the days go by very very slow Photo: Tg Batu, Bintulu 23rd April 2020.

104

The Blind Monkey We are so so blind, O why, why are we so so blind, When we are walking down the street, Or when we are talking out of beat? We might as well be totally blind, When we are always in a bind; Wrapped in our own egoistic selves, Like closed books on dusty shelves. We are so so blind, Alas, that is not at all fine; We see only what we want to see, Blind always to the needy in humanity. We might as well not be around, For this world is hallowed ground; We are here to see what is all around, Lending a helping hand, being duty bound! Are we those with eyes but do not see, With hands but no burden we dare carry? Are we those with stones for a heart, With no loving embrace but eternally apart? Photo: The cover page of an illustrated book of poems, a collaboration between Maya Green and Alena Murang.

105

‘Suci Dalam Debu’ Restated (Of Purity in the Dust) You are like fresh water Contained in a dusty vessel The dirt that is seen Merely hides the purity within Love is invisible to the eyes Love resides deep in the heart Appearances can mislead And differances oft magnified But keep your hope alive Accepting that true beauty is hidden Know that true love binds A spark from heaven Know that — that day is certain When the light will shine forth And the door will open For us to step forward as one Then will be seen The Light of the Truth shining And what was deemed dust Is but a very precious gem What was a shame, And humility and debasement Is something noble and indeed a wonderment This here is not an empty claim It is the truth that I seek to proclaim A certitude everlasting By the power of love I fear no evil For even if it’s an ocean of fire Through it I’ll swim to you 106

The Face That face I can’t forget it. No matter how hard I try it’s forever imprinted on my slate It is wonderful — a timely reminder to go around with open eyes! There are faces everwhere: Faces in everything Faces needing recognition Faces seeking acknowledgement Faces of differents shapes and shades Faces hiding one single face Faces of ours staring back at us That face Don’t ever ignore it again Try hard not to ignore it As you have done upteen times For even if you do It is still looking back at you It’s just that you are not paying attention You are distracted As you are most of the time So remember to face it Face the face Look into those eyes See yourself as you have never seen before Perchance, you’ll finally get recognition And your spirit will be lifted And you are again centered Photo: A wonderful picture by Roberto Pazzi of one of the faceless multitudes in one of the myriad streets and alleys of India. Truly amazing!. 107

Keep The Faith Despair not for the best fights come in times of despair And angels appear when all seems lost Pay heed to that certain call When the whisper arises in the silence Of the deep within Make the choice to come together When people are dying everywhere For the time is ripe to make our common humanity shine To shed the shackles of ignorance and of distraction To show our truest potential One family without any separation And embrace the gift of life, no matter how transient it seems For eternity can be found in a fraction of a second And know the Truth and live by it It’s the Love that powers the universe That keeps everything whole And intact The Light will send the darkness away So despair not and keep the faith That is a gift for the taking It’s the helping hand that is extended in times of troubles When angels will make their appearance It different forms and happenstance So keep the faith, Do not lose hope, do not despair But keep on walking Hand in hand forward Into a new dawn Into hope and victory When despair is vanquished And the best fight is done

108

Have You Heard Have you heard of it, Of the black hole spitting fire A jet of hot plasma shooting out Powered by a distant quasar Have you heard it, Of a protein crown spitting poison, An invisible conflagration unleashed Bringing fear across the world Have you heard of it, Of hope in the eye of a storm, The rain will soon run out Bringing back the calm seas Have you heard of it, Of man forgetting himself, He searches everywhere for peace failing to see it in his own heart Note: Composed at the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic. Tanjung Batu, Bintulu Thursday, 9th April 2020.

109

Thirsty Traveller Man’s unquenchable thirst is being in search It takes him across all the worlds And pushes him to such extremities Sometimes he finds that what he’s looking for But sometimes not all He seeks to conquer and rule over all All in search of his unquenchable thirst He slays dragons and monsters of all kinds Yet fail to deflate that raging thirst inside That monster within has to be subdued For him to quench his raging thirst within To find what has been always looking for That monster within needs a taming So the search can finally come to an end For he would have found nothing but himself Photo: Cardova Walk, Spain.

110

Poisonous Malady Serpents they slide in sly And spit venom that blinds And kills instantly Humans they throw stones With hidden hands And shoot spitballs That bite and curse And kill The spirit of humanity Blinding The whole world in darkness Sketch: A sketch entitled Loss of Innocence.

111

Slave Of Love You moulded and shaped, each one of us; The moment we were formed, in our mother’s womb. Though similar we are not exactly alike, for we are just but a unique expression of yourself. And such is your richness and beauty, that every single one of us, from the beginning and till the end, will always be different in some way, from each and every other. For we are all a celebration, of your unlimited tributes. Just as any and all, other parts of the universe, that we see. And those unseen ones too. But the most humbling part, that we note, is that underlying all and everything, is the reason and the motive? as to why you did all these things!

112

For ‘tis for none other but love. Yea, that pure unselfish love, of whom and what you are. So how could we not, just be astounded? How could we not, just have to fall flat on our face? How could we ever repay? this impossible debt? How could we not, be a hapless slave? A Slave of Love, Forever and ever. Yes, we surrender. We are consumed, Absolutely and utterly. We are yours — Absolutely Utterly Forever Note: First composed in 2013. Revised in Aug 2019. Munich Spring 2019 Bloom.

113

My Noble Friend You are never alone Just remember I’ll always be there Whenever you feel alone You’ll always have me Thinking about you All the time All the time You have taught me How to live You have taught me How to love You have taught me How to die So how can I ever forget Your sweet loving soul O... my guiding light You are my noble friend Photo: A sunset in Tg Batu, Bintulu.

114

I saw the Moon I was on Fuzhou street strolling When before long the moon too came along strolling For each step I took The same was also taken by the moon’s own look I have been bowing my head long enough now And only after a while did I notice the moon too doing the bow Pretty soon I’d hope I’ll see not just the moon doing so But the stars in all their galaxies And the trees and grass too earnestly so So whether you are in Fuzhou Or is in Miami or Toronto Don’t ever miss this celestial show Join in the universal display tomorrow And on every other day This bowing of the heads by night and day Photo: The moon on the street of Fuzhou, a photograb.

115

The Long Look I gazed at your face Looking deep into your eyes I could see your thoughts Like clouds in the wind Care you to pause awhile To look back into my eyes? Can you see my thoughts too passing by in the winds? My mind and yours are but one sky with many clouds A passing wind blowing through both our minds but our minds are intertwined Connected, they are in the thread of recognition Whilst in the look askance In the momentary silence sits a true meeting Just like dear old friends Meeting after a long separation Two minds that are intertwined bonded Two souls separately embodied But of one feeling That one feeling of recognition In the momentary silence Somehow surely united as one Knowing with understanding Acceptance of being Humble, Grateful, Fulfilled (On the ‘look that connected) On the road home Kuala Lumpur, 16th March 2012). 116

A Mere SandCastle This speech that I make, Which for emphasis, mine hand will shake, Of a promise of service and integrity, To the people and sundry; Is something not to be taken lightly, But rather with all solemnity. For if I should fail to deliver, In mine boots I shall surely shiver, For I am then no better than an empty vessel, Something with no substance, nor particle. A verdant promise would have turned into a lie, To all who hears or just choose to idle by, But most certainly to my own self, I am certainly left bereft: Of all the benefits of doubt and polite tact, Of any shred of honesty and self-respect. For the lie would have found me, And into a prison would I have led myself be. A lie upon a lie, A shame that has come by. A broken promise, a broken vessel; Fragile and useless, like a mere sandcastle. Just waiting for the evening tide, To sweep by, with me along for the ride. Look away, look away, I can’t for you bear to stay. 2 Kim Seng Walk, Singapore 18th August 2015. Photo: Free speech square in ancient Pompeii, Italy.

117

Live Dance I dance this beat inside, Of this rhythm that resonates; It puts springs in my legs. I jump for joy! I scream my lungs out! I am of this earth! Yea! This nature that is part of me; This moment of eternity. Why should I not rejoice? Why should I not cherish it? For I am alive — just as the birds, Just as the trees, and the blooming flowers, too! Alive! So let’s dance! The live dance. Photo: Maya Green performs at the Rainforest World Music Festival 2013.

118

Cry Me An Ocean Cry, cry me till my tears run dry Cry me an ocean or a river if I must I’ve brutally done it to myself, and in sly In broad daylight, ignoring the signs of trust ‘Tis test I now have to bear, like dirt in the sty Cry, cry me till a whole ocean I’ll make To cleanse the retribution of dirt in the sty I take this abasement for what is at stake Till the light of humility comes back in the sly Timid as a cat, returning at daybreak Cry, cry me in all the remaining days For creeping like a thief at night’s intake Comes the grim reaper sans all the delays For all will be brought to that far away wake When crying will be too late in so many ways Photo: A sketch entitled In the Seething Ocean of Grief.

119

Harga Diri Perjuangan itu bukan barangan Pantang dibuat bahan dagangan Karangan mungkin ada perbezaan Biar intipatinya pasti berkekalan Kekayaan dunia boleh dicari Harga diri tak boleh dibeli Nama yang baik dibawa mati Buruk nilai cemar bergenarasi Buat baik biar berpada pada Buat jahat jangan sesekali Jangan leka nan berfoya foya Padah binasa bakal menanti Ayuh mari cepat kembali Ke jalan yang lurus lagi benar Singgahan hanya seketika disini Lautan hidup sempit mencabar #08032021 - 21:17 Shah Alam, Selangor DE Photo: SGCC on a soft morning.

120

Keep the Aspiration Alive In being born of dust is Being soiled and spoiled Like the spring is come After the winter’s despoilt So let not being soiled Nor being a little spoiled Kill the hope that closely rides on The spring’s tender tail Look at the morrow’s promise Hold on to the rope of aspiration Give not hope an untimely demise But fill up the void with inspiration Being born of dust it surely means Being soiled, muddied and oft-dirty As the water is an agent of means Aspiration absolves and is the agent which cleans Photo: Clean up in the water of aspiration, which flows out from the lush rainforests.

121

Reckless Heart Wake up sleepy one Tear off and open the envelope This covering that smothers you Cacooning a comfortable but false security Have it removed and cast aside For a stowaway you have been — far away from home A restless wave in a locked sea Waiting to join the wide open ocean Your true content is written on your tablet of hearts Let it out and live your true potential Your reckless heart is awaiting release Let it be free — to fly away from its caged existence Into the sunshine of the living ocean To be united, to be annihilated To be free at last, No more a reckless storm in a tea cup heart Photo: On the coastal road, Bintulu, Sarawak.

122

Say the Truth I say, ‘ignore me as you please’ But ignore not what I have to say For I’ve put myself at ease A witness to the truth, that’s what I’ll share ‘Shame on the devil’ I ain’t here to please For I have a mind, a conscience to bear My tongue speaks, my heart’s at peace Of the truth I dare say, so I don’t despair To tell a lie is not shaming the devil, but puts him at ease I’ll only cease and desist when the fight’s not fair But holding not my tongue, when the truth needs its piece So I say, ‘ignore me as you please’, I don’t really care But do side with me under the banner of truth, and of peace Say, say, say what you have to say Let it be nothing but the truth, even if it’s just a piece You would have carried your torch, to light the way 10 Collyer Quay, Singapore 15th December 2014.

123

Good or Bad Whatever the situation that you find yourself in, Accept it, whether it be bad or good, For in the acceptance, you help restate within, That everything, will ultimately be for your own good. — for that which is good or bad are mere degrees of spin And different shades of all that is essentially good.

124

Kesucian Yang Teruji Dalam dakapan sunyi-sepi yang di luar batasan Dalam nestapa yang tidak terduga Dalam sebuah jalanan kehidupan yang penuh fana — luka kesucian ini teruji bagai himpunan bara api Wahai deruan kesabaran Hampiri, bacalah lalu fahamilah isi dan kata hati ini Walau ujian ini bagai bahang bara api Ia mencengkam dan merantai sanubari ini DoaKu, moga ia bertiup dalam batas upayaKu Dan kesucian ini kekal murni sejernih embun pagi Photo: Tanjung Batu, Bintulu, Sarawak.

125

Tell me the story about the moon, who loved the sun so much, that even when the sun was gone, the moon still reflected its light. Photo: A half moon photo by Sofiyan Yahya.

126

Haiku: See Yourself See humanity Whenever you look at me See yourself in me Photo: Winter in Portland, Oregon, 2017.

127

You cry at the sunshine Those little tears of joy It’s the magic moments When the heart is afire And everything is just fine Photo: Wentworth Golf Club, Surrey, England.

128

Beware the El Niño, I hope I don’t have it say, ‘I’ve told you so!’ So repent, and pray. Photo: Obviously I was angry at the lorry driver.

129

The instrument doesn’t play the music It’s the musician that does Don’t ever forget that - Maya Green, short poem.

130

THE JUNGLE BOY WITH A VISION Dato Mohammad Medan bin Abdullah straddles two worlds. In one world, he is the highflying CEO of Bintulu Port Holdings Bhd, the operator of Malaysia’s sole export terminal for liquefied natural gas. A law graduate from the University of Malaya, Dato Medan started his career as a trainee legal officer in Petronas, and rose to be among the main players to take the oil and gas business global. Over the years, Dato Medan has held numerous positions in notable oil and gas companies in Malaysia, the UK and Singapore. Then there is the world of words, music and nature, of which his kampung in the Bario highlands in Sarawak, plays an influential role. The tightknit way of life in the longhouse, the idyllic days spent roaming barefooted in the jungles and afternoons spent swimming in the river has never quite left this jungle boy despite his many years of travelling and his professional role as a business leader. This book captures his life where the two worlds fuse fluidly and with a kind of naturalness. Here nature is cherished not just in the outdoors but in boardrooms where ideas spawn and tough decisions are made. He hopes to share this life through this collection of poems as Maya Green.

ISBN 978-967-19969-1-1

9 7 8 9 6 7 1 9 9 6 9 1 1