Lost Leaves, Lahs and Lors

I am XenoBoy. I am the Political Savant.

Sitting at RedHill coffeeshop. Drinking my "teh peng" (iced milk tea). Thinking of a conversation with a close friend from last night. He is planning for migration with his wife to Australia. They are a young couple, working professionals, the very ideal products of the Singapore education system.

"Why migrate? Singapore not good meh?"

"Singapore ok lah ... but ... (the usual reasons expressed in many forms in local Internet)"

"Ok lor"

Ok lah. Ok lor. And another pair of bright young people go.

RedHill is abit deserted today. A slight drizzle. Fallen angsana leaves plastered to the floor. Some older people in the hawker center. A little desolate actually. Maybe because many people cannot resist the inexorable pull of a glittering Orchard Road, the peripheries are left a little bereft.

Ok lah. Ok lor. I am home again.

The lah and lor opens up in that fleeting instant, a glimpse of the Singapore Conscience. That resigned choice-less-ness and help-less-ness. The plateau of apathy residing wordless in our souls. Safety from change. Safety from chaos. Loss of choice. Loss of adrenalin.

Ok lah. Ok Lor. The darkened angsana leaves on the concrete floor, the truly lost.

lightning crashes, a new mother cries
her placenta falls to the floor
the angel opens her eyes
the confusion sets in
before the doctor can even close the door.

lightning crashes, an old mother dies
her intentions fall to the floor
the angel closes her eyes
the confusion that was hers
belongs now, to the baby down the hall.

oh now feel it comin' back again
like a rollin' thunder chasing the wind
forces pullin' from the center of the earth again
I can feel it.

lightning crashes, a new mother cries
this moment she's been waiting for
the angel opens her eyes
pale blue colored iris,
presents the circle
and puts the glory out to hide, hide ---- Live, Lightning Crashes

Merry Christmas to all my dear readers.

I am XenoBoy. I am the Political Savant.