Brother George

Poem By john tiong chunghoo

ever since
brother george
came on the scene,
i have felt something
sinister in his physiognomy;
that crushed onion nose
that seems to have been placed
in the wrong place;
that ugly mount that
forbodes uneasy,
uncanny things to come,
the superstitious streak in me
always urging me to to call him
to have a nose job done.
i blamed myself for not
until the plane
came crushing down,
the towers tumbling down,
the innocent peaceful
old giant buddha
the cyclone tearing at heavenly homes,
afghanistan and iraq falling like
giants with carpet
pulled from their feet
and the united nations
paralysed like eunuchs.
those mighty monuments
all have fallen into a heap
and assumed that similar contour
of that flat ugly uneven nose
that seemed to have gone
to the wrong place.
i have already thrown
brother george's picture
away lest the bad omens rubbed onto me.
that physiognomy that keeps telling me
that the owner brings trouble and miseries.
that physiognomy that has been hitting on a side of me that never fails to say the right thing
a tsunami of troubles forboding

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