The mountain from afar

crispair
sunny rays peepin through de clouds
of cottony blue, white and grey
i look towards the beckoning green canopy
mount furong looks breathy from afar


i stand in the valley of seremban
starting a hike of hope and breakaway
from a jungle

of politcians shouting at the top of their
VOICES
sweetmelody to shouters' ears
jarring to the enforced audience

alm st four -- Sei in kantonis -
blardy months after march 8
the chorus is still out of harmony
the conductor looking Hi&LO for his baton

the orchestrator seems just mported from Great Britain
out of tune, out of mind

the mountain looks serene
Parliament House inhabitants sound a gaggle of geese

i reach the top
it's heavenly up hear

you Politikus wake up
the world is slipping us by

as you writHe in your whirlpool of self-interest
among slithery mobs of dfferent hues
but within

still little mounds of cow dung
duck's tales and bull shit

i'm goin' to the mountain top
for a breather
away from the din and meanness
of meanness behind that handshake

and artificial s-mile-s
mounted on mounds of dung, well-lined coattails and bullshit

of the sub-human species of Homo sapiens
we lovingly call YB ...

Yang Bullshitter


PS: Composed in a moment of madness that cometh quite often
post-March 8; mayhaps NegaraKu is becoming a semi-asylum,
or a jungle of treehouses fool of cuckoos?

slithery rattle-snakes