Monday, May 06, 2013

Transfer Salon K.L


  Transfer Salon K.L.



Crippled by service to life,
He sits, tries to nod,
Accompanied by a rhythmical hum,
Air con frenzy and a squeaky shriek.
Casts of tribal dis-stain
Parted to the four walls,
As the neon now pulses
In a silent desperation for breath.

Tropical heat, held at bay
Behind plated eyes to the world,
As day break fast approaches,
Like the shuttle train
From the satellite hub.
Neck drooping, finally beaten
By the strain,
Journey makes lame, dad.