26th August 2026

 What can I do, O Pussycat Afflicted,

When the Spirit of God has grown weary of keeping you alive

And all that's left are space-age doctors and their fancy space-age establishments

Who cannot even save themselves when comes their time to die 

But whose Lamborghinis and Ferraris I and others like me

Must help in procuring and afterwards maintain 

In the form of astronomical bills and consultation fees?

19th August 2026

 Houdini's twin she ain't but Houdini's art she knew;

Beneath the surface paint lies the truth concealed from view;

She knows Houdini magic and uses it quite well;

Beware you don't, the fool thou art, fall under her spell.

5th November 2025

 An Ode To High-Rise Suburban Living

Why would anyone pay upwards of 700,000 bucks Malaysian 

For a bird's eye view of endless car head-&-tail light trails

Snaking along a highway in the distance to the right,

An ambulance with sirens blaring elbowing its way through a traffic light intersection 

Not too far away to the left 

And deafening fireworks exploding in the skies above the housing estate across the road in front 

At balcony height from a thirtieth-floor luxury condominium unit

Smack in the midst of a chunk of a smog-&-traffic-noise-polluted section of suburban Province Wellesley? 

Baffling.

29th June 2025

It's happened so often, 
One death after another,
There're no more tears left to cry;
The reservoir from where tears flow is dry.

A heart so often broken
Cannot be broken again
For it has no chance to heal
And be whole again.

Another death in the family,
One less furbaby to kiss and cuddle,
But there's no pain.

I'm just numb all the time.

29th May 2025

 I cry for the people of Gaza,

Getting shot in the legs 

For stealing food

Or getting killed 

For looting food warehouses

Stocked to the rafters

With enough food supplies 

And humanitarian aid boxes 

To feed thousands of hungry people 

For a month

Because here in Malaysia 

We have so much food,

Perhaps a bit too much,

And so much money,

Perhaps a bit too much,

That we can all go sit down in nice restaurants 

And order nice restaurant food,

Half of which we eat

And half of which we leave on our plates

For the strays in the back lane,

If the kitchen staff were thoughtful enough,

Or for the garbage bag collectors

The following morning.

I cry for the people of Gaza

Who get shot by their own people

For stealing food 

In a food-scarce land

Ravaged by war

Because here in Malaysia,

Even our cats have so much food 

Half of it goes to waste.

22nd May 2025

 It was this very river 

Into which you were cast,

Wrapped up in your burial shroud,

The day you died

About a year ago.

If you are in heaven,

As you must surely be,

As were all cats,

Being pure of heart,

Ask God to bless the others at home

And heal them of their afflictions

If it pleases him

Or not

If it pleases him 

To look the other way instead.

You were sorely missed, 

My Eve, 

My Yeva (Єва)*.

All I have left of you, 

Apart from the photos and videos,

Were your children,

Calicoco-Jean, your daughter,

Oyen, her son,

Agape, your son,

And all your other grandchildren and great-grandchildren,

The ones that have survived.

I think it was Somalia,

Another son of yours,

Somalia, remember (?), 

Whom I bumped into yesterday evening

As I made my way through the side lanes of the neighborhood,

Heading towards the main road,

Where I would begin my evening run.

It seemed to recognize me,

From the way it didn't run off as I approached it,

Calling it by name,

Somalia.

Not so skinny now either

Like it used to be, 

Hence its name,

Somalia.

It was that Chinese broker lady's cat now, 

Or one of them

For many cats she had,

In front as well in the back lane behind.

Agape used to give Somalia a hard time,

Both being boys and boy cats being boy cats,

Probably why it packed its bags and said goodbye.

I didn't know why I wanted to come here,

To this very spot,

But now that I'm here,

I do.

I should've died the day you died. 

Eve, my Yeva ((Єва)*.

I've said it before and I'll say it again,

Eve, my Yeva ((Єва)*.

I should've died the day you died.

*Ukrainian for 'Eve'.

23rd March 2025

 The rain showed up in force today, 

Ten battalions strong,

Infantry, cavalry, 

A hundred miles long.

We're gonna get slaughtered,

We heard our troops say,

Our feeble storm defenses

Will not help us today.

A shower of rockets 

Came raining down first

As we in our bunkers 

Awaited the worst.

And then a bugle sounded

To signal a retreat

Which left us all confounded

Like zombies in the street.

Perhaps a deal was made

By people at the top

Who shook each other's hands

And made the shelling stop,

Yes, shook each other's hands

And made the shelling stop.

 

13th January 2025

I was on the bike,
On a cat food shopping trip, 
Singing a song,
Trying to get it right,
About the day you died
And if your baby, 
Whom it was addressed to, 
Knew about it,
The day you died,
And how on that day
I cried and cried
When all of a sudden
I began hitting myself on the chest,
Hard,
Repeatedly,
In full public view,
To stop the wound in my heart
From bleeding again.

The next thing I knew,
I was riding that bike,
Aimlessly.
Directionless.
Going around in circles.
Confusion.
In.
The.
Brain.
Clouded.
By.
Muted Pain.

I did not know,
What I was doing,
Was looking for a deserted place
To cry my lungs out
To the skies
At five in the evening,
In this bustling part of the world,
An impossible task.

The next thing I knew,
I was back on track,
On the bike,
On a cat food shopping trip,
Destination marked clearly in the head.

Cats die,
All the time,
But the pain 
Never, ever, dies.

27th May 2024

Exactly three weeks ago, 

Two hours before dawn,

On a Tuesday like today,

You gasped your last breath
And left this world for the hereafter.

This is not a memorial,

No photos, 
No virtual tombstone bearing the usual cryptic markings,

Na da,
Nothing.

The gods who took you away,
Sometimes they do it for the creation of a new song,
Other times for the creation of a new poem,
Or a new post for the dead cat memorial blog,
Will get no such pleasure.

Not this time.

Let them kill all the cats in this household.
I'm done with memorial blogs marking the deaths of cats in this household.

Never again.

You were like a daughter to me.
They knew that,
Yet they resented it.
Why?

Because God is a jealous God.
Didn't you know?
Weren't you told?
You cannot love anyone or anything more than God.
You can, but there will be consequences.

Oh, yes, I can and I will,

Consequences or no consequences.
Let them do their worse.
After all,
That is who they are,
That is what they do.

11th February 2024

The gunfire has receded

From intense to sporadic,
A sign of rebel withdrawal

From the city streets and alleyways

Back to their lairs and hideouts

In the jungles and the forests

Of tropical Malaysia
Until the next round of festivities 

When the next Emperor God 

Takes his rightful place 

In the sky

And everyone rejoices
With shell bursts way up high

From howitzers and mortars

And an RPG or two
And sometimes multiple blasts
From an MLRS too.

12th November 2023

 

Weep not, O Palestine, 

For your children are not dead

Nor are your women dead

Nor your men,

Slaughtered in the name of jihad

By the thousands,

For they are martyrs,

Martyred in the name of Allah

Who will be welcoming them in paradise

And crowning them with dignity and honor,

The highest that can be attained

 In all of Islam.

Rejoice, O Islam, 

Rejoice, O Muhammad,

For ten thousand new martyrs 

Are on their way to join you 

In paradise,

On board the train which bears the souls of martyrs

And transports them to heaven

Where eternal bliss and the highest of honors,

And in the case of the men,

Sexual delights in the arms of seventy-two virgins,

Awaits them.

Bless him, 

The ticket inspector who punched your tickets

As you waited to board the train,

O Palestine,

And thank him

Instead of cursing him,

He who displayed on his ticket inspector's uniform

The star of David,

For it was he who has helped your martyrs,

All ten thousand of them,

Attain the highest of honors 

In all of Islam.

God bless martyrdom! 

God bless the Shaheed who is martyred in the way of Istishhad!

Allah-u-Akbar!

Allah-u-Akbar!

Allah-u-Akbar!

11th November 2023

I gave you a whole room where you could be all by yourself,

For you and your babies,

And how do you thank me?
By spitting in my face

And taking your precious babies elsewhere,

Not once but twice.

The neighbors have complained,

Not once but twice.
"Are these your kittens?" they said.

"Take them away," they said. 

"We know not what to do with them," they said.
Not once but twice,

And now you have done it again.

I gave you a whole room where you could be all by yourself,
For you and your babies,
And how do you thank me?
By spitting in my face
And taking your precious babies elsewhere,
For the third time now.

Enough!
Henceforth, you will no longer be welcome in this house

Whose open doors and welcome mat you have spat upon

For the third time now.

You will be shooed away on sight.
If within reach, you will be caned on sight.
If out of reach but within air soft pellet range,
You will be shot on sight.

Until the day you submit to me,
The Hand That Feeds You,
And bring your babies back.
No longer will I be the hand that feeds you.

Not as I have decided
But as you have chosen,
Thou fool of a mama pussycat.

27th October 2023

Just look at you.
God must've been so pleased with himself the day he made you,
He would've declared that day a holiday.

Just look at you.
God must've been so pleased with himself the day he made you,
The look of satisfaction on his face would've lasted from sunrise until sunset.

Just look at you.
God must've been so pleased with himself the day he made you,
He would've summoned everyone from the four corners of his kingdom
For a day of feasting and merriment.

22nd August 2023

I could watch you read the news

Every day for the rest of my life,

Observing the movement of your lips 

As you spoke in sync 

With the movement of your eyes

And I would not be bothered 

If the outside world was burning

And mountain slopes were crumbling

While people dazed and stumbling

Were wailing with their voices

Reaching to the skies

For I would feel so blessed

To be watching you

In paradise.

14th August 2023

 Tea. 

Piping hot.

Cooled by blowing gently before each sip.

No other way to drink it.

Just made myself a cuppa with boiling water fresh off the stove.

A piping hot cuppa tea and the morning newspaper.

No other way to start the day.

Whoops!

Cats' water bowl waiting to be refilled?

Whoops!

Cats' groundsheets waiting to be changed?

Whoops!

Cats' rice waiting to be cooked?

Tell you what.

To hell with everything.

Too many times, too many times.

Lukewarm tea after getting everything else outta the way?

Again?

For the millionth time?

Not this time.

To hell with everything.

This time it's me first, everything else afterwards.

OKAY?!?

Now where's that piping hot cuppa tea?

What?

Got distracted again?

Damn!!!

22nd April 2023

 

A wise man once said,

We are the product of our environment,

And so it was,

As here you lie at Death's doorstep

And here I am,
Writing about it.

You did not choose to be born

Only to die forty-two days later,

Yet here you were,

Fulfilling your destiny

Just as I was fulfilling mine

As a writer

Born with the inherent gift of writing

And shaped by the nature of my environment

According to whether a sandstorm was blowing in my face

On the parched and arid sands of the Rajasthani desert

Or whether it was pouring cats and dogs

In the tropical and dense concrete jungles of Malaysia.

Rest easy, 
Little One,
For soon your earthly troubles will be over.

31st October 2022

Oh, goody, here comes the rain;
The neighbors can't complain
About the smell of cat piss
Permeating the air.

Oh, goody, here comes the rain;
The neighbors can't complain
About the smell of cat poop
Trapped inside the hair
You'll find inside the nose
Of the one complaining.
(Relax, folks, it is raining.)

A floor littered with cats
Waiting to be fed
Fish and chicken rice,
Boiled but very nice,
Tasteless if you ask me,
But that's what soy sauce is for,
So pass the soy sauce, honey,
Think I'll have some more.

5th October 2022

The smell of exhaust fumes fills the morning air

Which a short while back smelt of last night's drizzle

Which cleansed the air of the day's smog and dust

Whilst the world was asleep,

Nauseously intoxicating, the smell of exhaust fumes,

Whose composition of burnt and unburnt fossil fuels

Entered the bloodstream of every living creature in sight

That breathed in the exhaust fumes-filled morning air.

Excuse me while I cough up a little blood,

No, nothing to be concerned about, 

Not yet at least.

28th April 2022

Not even a single drop

Of the milk of human kindness

Flowed from thy dried-up breasts, 

O Singapore, 

Nor was even a single ounce of compassion to be found

In the hollow chambers of thy shrivelled-up heart

For you condemned a man to death 

For 42.7 grams, or three tablespoons, of a prohibited substance

That, unlike the damage, say, 

42.7 kilograms of a similar substance 

Was potentially capable of, 

42.7 grams, or three tablespoons, of it will in no way 

i) bring down the government,

ii) plunge the entire country into a recession,

iii) incite a rebellion of the masses,

iv) etc.,

And hung him by the neck from a hook

Until he was dead

And his lifeless body twitched no more,

A man you could have pardoned

By presidential decree or otherwise,

A man who could have lived a long and fruitful life

As a redeemed and contributing member of society

A man who could have potentially sired

A future Nobel Physics Prize recipient

Or a future prime minister of the country of his or her birth,

A man whose mother came begging on her knees
For her son's life
But whose futile pleas fell on deaf ears,
Ears deafened no doubt by years and years
Of dealing with distressed and frantic family members
Pleading for the lives of their loved ones
On Death Row

A man you sent to the gallows 

Not for having killed scores of innocent bystanders

By means of a strategically-placed car bomb

Or for having raped and killed dozens of children

Or for having murdered both an unfaithful partner and her lover

And afterwards disposed of their dismembered body parts

In a tub of highly corrosive acid

But for 42.7 grams, or three tablespoons, of a prohibited substance 

With a street value of less than a thousand bucks

But worthy of death nonetheless

In accordance with your draconian laws

And compassionless hearts.

Will you be pardoned for your sins

When the books are opened on Judgement Day

And your name is called,

O Singapore?

I think not,

Thou heartless murderer,

I think not.

Did you not know,

Thou self-righteous fool,

That all judgement passed down on Judgement Day

Will be based on laws written on stone tablets

By the hand of God on Mount Sinai,

Something, except for Judaism,

None of the other great religions of the world

Can boast of, incidentally,

However great the number of their devotees

Or powerful their armies might be, 

In terms of a holy book having being written,

Even if only in part, by the hand of God,

One of which says, 'Thou shall not kill,' period,

Not,

'Thou shall not kill

Except

In cases deemed worthy of the death penalty

In accordance with the laws of Singapore,'

And did you not know,

Thou self-righteous fool,

That when the books are opened on Judgement Day,

Singapore or Somalia,

Everyone will be judged equally without bias or prejudice

According to the contents of his or her own personal file?

 

So, I ask you again,

Will you be pardoned for your sins

When the books are opened on Judgement Day

And your name is called.

O Singapore?

 

I think not,

Thou self-righteous fool of a heartless murderer,

I think not.

 

 

14th March 2022

What have you done, Ruskovich, my son?

Why have you banded together with Belaruskovich, my other son,

To bring death and destruction upon your own brother, Ukranovich,

Upon his children, his wives, his livestock, his farms, 

His grazing fields, his share of the inheritance?

Were you so jealous of him that you coveted his children, 

His wives, his livestock, his farms, his grazing fields,
His share of the inheritance 

Apart from having your own children, your own wives, 

Your own livestock, your own farms, 

Your own grazing fields, your own share of the inheritance?

You have inherited this murderous gene from your ancestors,
Your forefather, Cain,
Who killed in cold blood his own brother, Abel,
Out of sheer jealousy, 
When he saw the offerings his brother brought from his flock
Were more favored in the eyes of God

Than the offerings he brought from his fields.

Should he not have pondered on how he might find favor 

In the eyes of God

By following his brother's example
With burnt offerings of choice cuts of meat dripping with fat
And whose aroma was pleasing to the Lord
Instead of killing him in cold blood
And denying his murderous deed afterwards?

You are making your ancestors proud, Ruskovich, my son,
By following in their murderous footsteps.

Here, Ruskovich, my son, here is a length of rope.
Hopefully, it will be long enough for you
To hang yourself with it.