THE ARTIST FORMERLY KNOWN AS ENON

(inspired by the yet to be written book- 'poetry by anon')

dulu nama saya enon. saya tinggal kat tingkat tiga. saya suka makan lolly ais milo nyonya tingkat enam. saya suka main bawah blok. selalu kena marah denagn mak, buku lali dengan tengkuk berkeladak pasal mandi tak scrub betul betul.

tu dulu. skarang saya dah besar. dah lawa. orang dah tak kacau saya panggil saya Mak Enon lagi. Lagipun, Mak Enon dah lama mati. Sekarang my loved ones call me Zee (short for 'Zainon'). Strangers call me Mrs Picard. Because that is who I am. That defines me. I am who i married. because i got lucky. i married UP. my husband puteh. mat salleh. mata gray, hidung mancung. anak anak i nanti insya allah muka Pan-Asian, mesti lawa. dah besar boleh jadik mtv vj. nanti i ajar diaorang bebual slang. so exotic right...

perempuan.tanah.melayu.

oh this long suffering biarlah aku menjadi lilin thing is so not me!!!!!! every now and then shida rears her petulant little head and asks me what am i doing with my life? what is this marketing hogwash? what am i doing half working half pretending to be the corporate scum i will never be? i have no need or wish to realise my full potential as a pretentious pencil pusher manager type and scale some stupid ladder. i have left it to the more status conscious ambitious wankers of the world. i want to dance . i want to sing. i want to live my life with songs coursing through my tongue, dance running riot in my arms, mind unencumbered by your overpriced souped up fairy dust. i was happy. now i drug her to convince myself that this is the new happy. there is no old or new happy. there is only one. i want to smile because my heart is bubbling over with mirth and joy not because your ecstasy told my brain to pull at the corners of my lips till my teeth hurts. i am so sorry shida. i left u behind in an old pile of clothes that no longer fit into my wife life. i will look for you and we will find that twinkle in our eye, that skip in our step that we vacuum packed for posterity. we will dance again, you and i. i promise.

my so-called career

this soul of mine, yearns to fly home. this cage, this promised land of promises is sucking me dry with the decrepit deceit, double handed swashbuckling backstabbing. these people with their insincerity written all over their fake faces like really bad actors. this lying and dodging and shifty stealthy rodent behavior, i cannot. i just cannot be here anymore. like this. in this...