Of traders and poor

If a trader has poor neighbours, he could only sell them bicycles,

Cheap flimsy furniture, tacky plastic containers, frail spectacles,

Inexpensively produced by child labourers working in shackles.

He would be afraid each time there is a commotion,

It might be hungry countrymen venting their emotions,

Fueled by anguish and fiery determination,

To burn whatever that is not belong to them or theirs.

If a trader has rich neighbours, he could sell them luxury,

Shiny BMWs and Diamond coated eyeglasses,

Hand carved leather chairs and Swarovski crystal vases,

Ornate decorations carved by skilled hands of masters.

If there was a commotion he too would be worried,

It might be his neighbour’s daughter getting married,

His stomach is full and he couldn't manage to take,

but he knows he could not escape the sumptuous crepe,

Another feast of sumptuous delicacies at the buffet table

For he was a neighbour and no escape is he able.

So tell me again the wisdom of thy alarm,

That they insidiously all mean us harm.

Hazidi Abdul Hamid. 10 May 2013.

The Voices in My Head Speaks Again