Tag Archives: Minimum wage

Explained -The Mad Village Poet 11(End)

Jullunder: monkey drinking coca-cola

Please refer to my post @ https://ifeelshadows.wordpress.com/2012/07/16/my-idyllic-village-experience/ for a background to the story.

Original(O) :The city was becoming crowded
With the less-hairy members of my species.
Explained(E): I am at it again, pretending as an ape. As an ape, I regard human beings as my relatives. At least, science has shown that they are the next to me. One little thing science has blundered in, is saying that they are AHEAD of me in the chain. But, I am waiting patiently for when their lesser intellligence will get the better of them; and they will wipe out themselves in their violent and selfish animalistic fevers. A nuclear war dance would be a good way to send them all reeling off the stage. And I’ll have my day.
O: They laugh at my afro;
I mourn for their baldness.
E: Naturally, these deluded humans think I have more hair than I need.
(Incidentally, as a human, I actually had quite a lot of hair on my head -the typical afro style. And people never seem to say enough about it.)
Some of them have discovered their nakedness, but unfortunately can never grow back their hair no matter how much hair-growth formulae they use.
O: At least they have carved out a new niche.
I shall call them humans.
E: I have, at least, given them what they want. They always seem to be obsessed with recognition and some sense of importance in itself. They always seem to be crazy about identity(irrespective of whatever bizarre thing/belief/ideology they really stand for), worth(even when they are not useful to the next man), carving out niches and being different(even if this new niche is a self-destructive, no-good niche). This identity-thingy or title seems to be a different drug of addiction in itself, to them. They want to be KNOWN for something. Anything!
O: Now, I hope none comes back
To interrupt my solitary forest meditation;
Begging for some hair-growth formula
When they can’t keep warm by being “on heat”;
E: Humans are so ashamed of themselves that they never seem to tire of finding new ways to alter their biological make-ups. Some want to live forever and would spend their lives to purchase an anti-aging cream even if the active ingredient of that cream is monkey soup. Some want to change the basic colours of their skins.
These humans claim they are free-thinking free-will beings. Yet they have become enslaved to doing as their mind pleases.
Little wonder they can’t keep warm by being “on heat”. Little wonder they get high and dry seeking pleasures and whatever else their FREE minds desire. It’s a freaky cycle of knowledge/enlightenment – thirst – search – acquisition/”satisfaction” – realisation of further desires. They get all and they get nothing in the end. Still left cold!
I’ll probably humour them and do them a favour: in my solitary forest meditation, I’ll cook up an afrodisiac that can keep them “on heat” for as long!
O: And are desperate for some meaning,
Which is to be found only in monkey soup.
E: And, after all their search, they will realize that none of what they got made any real, lasting sense.
Maybe, they will at last come bow at my feet and I’ll teach them -the fulfilment in simplicity and realising one’s place as a creature.
O: It is midnight again-
My period of peak activity;
Ears stretched taut, hairs standing alert,
Nostrils flared, lips set,
Eyes unblinking, fingers feverishly working.
E: Just as written -my nocturnal self!
O: The mad village poet goes to sleep on his laid egg;
Hoping it would hatch by morning into the mad city poet!
E: Yeah! The eggs is hatching already. This being the last of the Mad Village Poet’s rants, The Mad City Poet is coming out of the shell soon. I can feel the baby kicking in my tommy now.
Thank you.
Epilogue(Original):
Couples hanging out on Friday night,
A transaction that comes with a “minimum wage” agreement.
Pity if either one is an economist;
Then the other will be a charitable social worker!
Epilogue(Explained): It’s Friday night, and the mating ritual of the humans reaches a climax. It needn’t be said that: even the so-called romantic love is still a two-way thing. It’s a kind of business transaction. It’s not as pure and selfless as they make it out to be.
Shame! Considering that in our ape kingdom, you needn’t be a father to the fruits of your royal oats sown! You don’t even have to give the she a banana to buy her butts!
The sad part of OUR people’s animalism!

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Explained- The Mad Village Poet 2

A young female of White-fronted Capuchi Monkey...

A young female of White-fronted Capuchi Monkey (Cebus albifrons). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Please, refer to my post @ https://ifeelshadows.wordpress.com/2012/07/16/my-idyllic-village-experience/ for the backgroung to the story.

Original(O): “Why did I have to grow up to become burdened with a life of minimum wage.”
Explained(E): In the country then, the minimum wage scheme was meant to make workers’ lives easier by stating a minimum salary that must be paid to the worker. Unfortunately, the set level was so low that it became a “punishment” to the workers. A hard life!
O: “To be deceived by cassanovas and vixens.”
E: I needn’t state the horrors suffered from a heartbreak, need I?! I have tried to be gender-fair -cassanovas being the male players/heartbreakers, vixens the females.
O: “To be sold into a life of rents, mortgages and bankruptcy.
To die of broken hearts.”
E: Meant as written
O: “Wouldn’t cancer have been a better deal or ordeal?”
E: I am a medical doctor and absolutely do not mean any slight or indifference by my reference to cancer. I do wonder though which hurts more -the pain of terminal cancer or the grief from a bad break-up? And my heart goes out to that person who has suffered a heartbreak and is in the terminal cancer stage now.
O: “Why can’t I grow young?
To become burdened with gifts and food.
To be sold into a life of toys and overfeeding.”
E: This is in contrast to what I am facing now. Can’t I be heavy with food, and not debts? Can’t I be crowded with toys and not troubles? I am not asking to look young and fresh-skinned again. Just to enjoy the simple joys and pleasures of childhood!
O: “To be deceived by mum and dad.”
E: At least mum and dad only deceived me about questions and answers -issues of sex, how babies came to be,etc. They did truly care for me and didn’t break my love.
O: “To die of paediatric delinquency.”
E: Oh the insane things I did as a kid: crossing busy streets carelessly just to boast to friends, picking left-over cigarettes, jumping from crazy heights just for the thrill, etc.
O: “Wouldn’t a child-soldier‘s death be more honourable?”
E: (permit to confess that I have temporarily lost the will and wits to explain this line, just thinking about the lives and fates of children-soldiers!) Hmm!!!
O: “And now I am even being deceived by some semblance of orderliness to my thoughts.
When my torch is failing.”
E: Anyone who has read “The Mad Village Poet 1” will notice that it is less sensible than this. I wrote both in one night; and by the time I was writing this, my battery-powered torch was already failing; alone in my dark room, in my cottage hospital lodge!
O: “I might as well set my house on fire tonight, so I can see clearly.”
E: And be guilty of arson? I’ll take a rain-check, thanks!
O: “Is the life of a poet graceful? Does not the monkey display mastery of the arts?
What makes humans better?”
E: I have been impressed with the psychology of a monkey at work. And I have got to say, the monkey does have arts too. Is it to be compared with the artistic display of man? Well, art is no man’s and every man’s land.
In another sense, the monkey is quite a comical creature and I have come to like that comic quality; so much I sometimes poetically liken myself to a monkey. Hehehehe!
O: “I like monkey soup though. Little wonder I think and write like one.
At least I should have a fulfilling life in the pot. And brace myself for the fire that will try me.”
E: From liking a monkey, to likening myself to one, to actually becoming the monkey in the pot of soup.
Anyway, we all shall be tried by fire in life.
O: “God help me if the cook should doze off.”
Oops!

The Mad Village Poet 2 (original)

This is the second excerpt of the poem I wrote whilst working in the village/countryside setting. Please refer to my post @ https://ifeelshadows.wordpress.com/2012/07/16/my-idyllic-village-experience/

Why did I have to grow up to become burdened with a life of minimum wage.
To be deceived by cassanovas and vixens.
To be sold into a life of rents, mortgages and bankruptcy.
To die of broken hearts.
Wouldn’t cancer have been a better deal or ordeal?
Why can’t I grow young?
To become burdened with gifts and food.
To be sold into a life of toys and overfeeding.
To be deceived by mum and dad.
To die of paediatric delinquency.
Wouldn’t a child-soldier’s death be more honourable?
And now I am even being deceived by some semblance of orderliness to my thoughts.
When my torch is failing.
I might as well set my house on fire tonight, so I can see clearly.
Is the life of a poet graceful? Does not the monkey display mastery of the arts?
What makes humans better?
I like monkey soup though. Little wonder I think and write like one.
At least I should have a fulfilling life in the pot. And brace myself for the fire that will try me.
God help me if the cook should doze off.

PS – The “monkey” used above is purely referring to the animal, and is in no way racist.