SOUL TOURISM: Singapore: Pintu

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Singapore: Pintu

PINTU
Staged by Ekamatra
Playden, Arts House
21-23 December 2006

Written by Isa Kamari
Directed by Sani Husin & Isa Kamari

Terrorism has its roots in political culture, not just blind ideology.

Whose fault is it? The dance of life continues regardless.

Criticism does not necessarily mean Opposition.

Sani & Isa

The Crew

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A POETIC JOURNEY

HORIZON

i
age creeps into the horizon
accompanied by white seagulls
and strong winds
it is time
to face dusk

ii
nothing escapes from
the mirror of self
however we try to postpone
rebellion of the heart
time does not flee
though the sun sets
for the one that slides forward
or left behind in regret
is humanity

iii
existence is indeed trying
our sense of responsibility
tugs at the base of the heart
choices make us human
humans make choices
a guessing game
age is a gathering of
futile hopes
and fears
approaching the dark night

iv
freedom of the self
breathes of maturity
age demands wise choices
between needs and gifts
between desires and positions
perfection
never belittle
any strand of life
the golden dusk
is a give and take
between darkness and light
carrying moist and dust
that float freely
in the passing wind

v
happiness and sorrow alternate
storm and calm oscillate
life is a struggle and dance
of the soul and body
the wide sky and desolate sea
beyond the shores of time
forging a new universe
in the roar and silence
of the chasing waves

vi
it will always be
truth is challenged
every beating of the waves
will create
a new shore
the certainty of day
never witness
the same horizon

vii
we are a baby
who will cry
when abandoned
by the memories of yesterday
or an old man
who is sad
by the desolation of today
approaching the frontiers of age
the sea
is love’s
eternal abode

viii
age creeps into the horizon
tomorrow’s seagulls glide through the wind
yesterday’s winds caress the seagull
fly with the seagulls
reverberate with the winds
and capture the light
of today

LAKE OF LONGING

in the silence I detect movement
the glazing surface of the lake
behold by the mind’s ripples
such is my focus on you

in movement I detect silence
the lotus swayed by the breeze
hemmed by the heart’s obsession
such is my worship of you

the dew drop
throwing waves on the surface
the span of your love
spreading circles of beauty
my life is blessed
with echoes and movement of destiny
clasping tranquillity by the bank

a drop of dew you give
my entire life
drowned and deluged
by the lake of longing

THE MERLION

merlion
be patient always
I hear your lonesome whispers
to the raging waves in your heart

heartless was the hunter
who trapped you
on the fringe of this
coarse city life
your tail shaking feebly
sensing the sea breeze
your eyes long for the forest
where eagles
nest in peace

I understand your existence
in this restless
marriage
your song at dusk
makes me understand more
the sufferings
of your mind and heart
when love and
personal freedom
finally become
the statue of progress

WALL

the dragon thunders and chases me
the length of the great wall
the smell of my body strange
poisoning the spring air
the bricks of history crumbling because of its clawing
the dynastic dust clouding the people’s tale
blood flowing between the crevices of civilisation
those who had never climbed the great wall
could not be considered warriors
whoever had built the great wall
his soul and dignity
trampled by visitor like me
the scent of the emperor’s body
smelled like foul fish
smuggled into the city
awe turning to loath and melancholy
reaching the first tower
glimpsed the forbidden city
the graves of terracotta warriors
a manicured giant garden
the dragon crouches and hisses
its mouth foaming
for the sake of dignity and secrecy
the dragon would kill
behind the smile
of empress dowager
jammed with the black pearl
humanity castrated
so great your wall
I had time to wave the flag
phoenix’s scratches still damp
fallen on the chest
this visitor
had usurped your rights
with the love of a hot afternoon.

LIGHT

I choose
beauty
clear and bright
at a time when humans who claim
to be open
reject certainty
and sin
treading upon the dark age
hung by words

I choose
brightness
for ambiguity
is only light
upon light
and the sand bed
which is white
is only visible
through clear waters

I choose
the sweetness in
drinking clarity
that the sensitive soul
would melt
drowned in meaning

WIND SONG

body and soul i surrender
to smoke, steam and mist
that i gather from the last bit of strength
listen to my desolate song
for the sun is too envious
of my existence

this life at last yearns for separation
frailty is the lot of humans
ballads upon ballads you will know
an earnest young heart
is often laughed at because of his age
a parents’ fortified love
sometimes make them act as dictators
if you feel your life is that of a caterpillar which dreams of freedom
reflect that your moth’s wings will break
at the moment you accept willingly
the tenderness of silk
if the clouds are too heavy for the roof of your home
call the wind, cry to the earth
you will taste
the sweetness of life in service
but remember, barren land
sometimes is better left barren
because beauty also demands justice
speak, do not claim
your worth is still in balance
because life is bountiful
be discrete in your giving
but you must be brave to challenge
even if it means you have to burn
a piece of love letter
because God is nearer
than your jugular vein

i come to you
from a long and dusty road
where i have to gather smiles
from smoke, steam and mist
listen to this desolate song for a while
for i am envious
of the approaching dusk.

OF HUMANITY

an artist’s love
is more fragrant than the rose
although the human heart
has lost its life and turned banal

an artist’s love
is purer than the clouds
although lightning
often strikes at his emotions

an artist’s love
is sharper than the sword
although injuries from war
often become the spoils

an artist’s love
is more loyal than corals
although waves of the sea
always smashes sufferings

an artist’s love
is unconditional
because God’s earth
is bountiful and wide

an artist’s love
is
of humanity.

THE ROSE

to live as a rose
in the midst of the forest
is a lonely reclusion
sometimes this isolation
would result in conflict
between self-respect
and sense of benevolence
when the wind and rain
force you to choose
between prolong yearning
and painful consent
you let your petals fall
one by one
for the basis of happiness
is peace in life
be it as short as the passing season
your fragrant service
fades into sublime earth
your red maturity
should teach you to accept
in the midst of a social jungle
sometimes you are regarded
as the forest
in the midst of the rose field
for the dew
easily evaporates
before the sun illuminates all

indeed it is true
often in this life
the rose grows only
on the fringe of paradise.

ARCHITECT

because there are things more meaningful
than letting us see
all efforts in life
succeed
God does not make every human being
a builder

must I sing:
don’t be sad
if we are hapless
to build a city
like others
what’s the use
we measure happiness
by the frame of life
determined by dictates of time
and circumstances
alien to the soul

or must I counsel:
because the house is dilapidated
we must move to a new place
built by others
for those unfortunates
who admit poverty
we inherit the future
which makes us
temporary lodgers

God does not make each human being
a builder
because there are things more meaningful
than letting us see
all efforts in life
succeed

it is more worthwhile
for a while
we live with the wind as the wall
the sky the roof
willing to face bravely
the heat and rain of today
the foundations of a mosque
planted in the heart
we overcome the frontiers of tomorrow
by the reconstruction
of religious thoughts

EARTH'S BELLY

at this moment we are walking in the rain
accompanied by blue rainbow
and red birds
bleeding in purple
if they are walking towards the dais
we still refuse to embrace love
when the moon weeps
it is not sweet to sail
in the orange henna sea

earnestly
we truly love
the eagle which flies high
if not for ravens such as you
our forest will be filled with hares
give us white wings
we want to fly with blue birds
returning home to love
we want to taste milk
is for us only urine
love flowing from dogs
sound your prayer call into our shacks
so that our cries
are not just to bear
the hardship of a plate of rice

if your sullenness is just to reflect
the sufferings of night anticipating day
our tears have flowed
from the molten earth’s belly
treaded by saints like you and them
who have thrown curses
on us heinous beings.

LIZARD

have you ever felt
an angel is a lizard
which spies from the cracks
of the wooden planks

have you felt angry
of the lizard
which disturbs your sleep
while you embrace love
the world which spurns waste
from your lovemaking

have you ever felt vindictive
of the lizard which is awake all night
while you are sullen
counting bed bugs on the mattress

have you
cet
cet
cet
cet
cet

SNAIL

looking at the snail
i ask myself
could the river of time
be stopped with my heart

for failure
is the violent undercurrent
which has eroded the banks of faith

looking at the snail
which battles in the rain
i become ashamed
of God’s benevolence

looking at the snail
which stubbornly persists
my humanity shrivels
my soul turns to pebbles

looking at the snail
which falls and is swept away
i become the mourner
in the piercing drizzle

remembering the snail
i learn
to be generous.

EARTHEN JAR

as dignified human beings
we should be sensitive
each time struck by lightning insults
and thundering jeers
we become anxious of stagnation
beneath the placid water

nevertheless
as civilized human beings
don’t pour it all out
the water stagnating at the bottom
of the old jar
for our children
would be thirsty in future
the wind bringing rain
does not necessarily head towards
the village and compound

occasionally
stir up our heritage
sieve our views
and channel love
towards the sea of
humanity
because the old jar
we inherit
also originates from the earth
we jointly stand upon.

SOUL TOURISM

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Singapore: Pintu

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A POETIC JOURNEY