I’m forever blue with a mask of a joyful yellow

Like that fake smile grew on my face with ego

Hard to declare my dim red mind filled with anger

I rather bottle these mixed colors into a purple blur

Show me the real happiness if it exists beyond this black

I’m forever blue embracing a toxic mind of a plaque

the hens of Malaya are a quirky bird,

understand human speech entirely,

walk like humans 

too mockingly in my experience,

peck at rice

and turn up their beaks at worms,

prouder than peacocks,

wings folded behind them,

strutting their ridiculous downy round bottoms,

they know I am foreign

so they chase at me,

my slippers flapping up dirt 

to their cackling delight,

and the entertainment of the yard.

what if I were to whisper

near the wire mesh of their pen

one bright night

when they happen to be dozing off,

that their darling eggies,

the very ones that they sit on and warm with volcanic gentility,

grace every bowl and plate of noodles and fried rice and

fish and laksa

and roti

and oh haahaa 

land quite

nicely

onto my table!