It's not
like the movies, or shows
the books and the novels.
hollywood's way of
cheesy gimmicks.
It's not
like the Hunger Games!
Where people are injected
with sweet venom of
credulous lies.
Where 2 tributes disappears.
Every year.
Because,
right now, right here,
we have more.

It is 2053.
Promises long gone.
Contracts expired and
conspiracy failed.
Betrayed.
Lied to.
Indoctrinated.
Abandoned.
Hands over heads.
We, at the mercy of
the Red Dragon.
His highness roams.
We, losing our grasps,
collapsing.

I dreamed a home of peace,
safe, with freedom.
But it crumpled into
a million pieces.
No more teases.
When they had won.

Some people fled.
Unbearable of
the roads, tainted red.
They got lucky.
But I'm just a fuming middle aged
worthless powerless whatshername.
Talk about pity.

"I'm young!"
But you'll grow old.
And I tell you of this.
I warn you of this!
Because I see it
so clearly,
so vividly,
in your eyes.
I see no future of us.
Just our minds twisted.
Blood and gore mixed
with all that we witnessed.
Just healthy looking robots.
Patriotic robots.
Who has forgotten
everything.

Whose china collided
Waiting for choices
A chance
To get rid of the broken body
And never out of a permanent dream.

Last of a beloved set
of bone China plates
just developed a lesion.

You're too loud for
your porcelain throat;
your rose blushed
china doll cheeks
crack each time you smile
     -- just a little
That silk-smooth black
hair does nothing
to keep you warm in winter
but frames your face
in perpetually delicate contrast

Your words are hammers
Actions are sparks
as much a threat to yourself.

I'm not afraid of you, only
of when you come to life
and your expression never changes.

I shot up in 70's/ 80's England
For sale, there really was only one dream
It was sold to us through Thatcher
Star wars, Magnum P.I. and The A.team.

Now that dream is old and dusty
And the world looks for something new
Will it come from India, China, Brazil
Or will it come from the shaky E.U.

Or will, as I hope, there be choice
For my daughter and her 4 year old clique
Will she choose the American dream
Or will she dismiss it as a kitsch antique.

You swell some strain on me,
You, middle kingdom!
Eradicating small detachments,
Of both sailors and marines.

They were ranked on islets and reefs,
With an integer of nine –
There in the island next to me,
I’m sure, you know who Spratly is.

Always wanting such detachment
To be eradicated by your own;
Now stationed
On a World War II era landing ship.

Your toy-ships came near me,
With 9-kilometer of the LST.
“It’s there illegally,”
How adamant that be!

I’ve tipped you off already,
Surely will I stand firm!
Then, you’ve countered me on! –
Opting for the ******* of more skyscrapers;
Those that are on stilts;
Now nearby two Reefs & a Bank? –
Nearby my darling Palawan Island!

“There is no room at all,”
For the negotiation on some point,
You’ve declared.

Oh, here’s my friend, U.S.
Left us with course of action to try;
Everyone calm down,
Be less provocative.
For often, he flies over;
Probing some stuffs.

You are the biggest offender, my friend;
In this dispute, you show no sign of slowing;
Or backing, down.
But hey, I won’t give up!

(9/9/13)

Who can mark exactly when
the Malaysian plane
stopped being important
to consumers of news?

And if I disappeared in
the South China Sea,
how long would they care
or televise me?