My boss, my leader, my conscience.

The days, they are slipping away fast like sunlight streaming out of the eaves.

as night plays musical chairs with dawn, i am fading away like the dying cries of the cicadas.

i lament the chaos, the disorder, the anomie of the organisation.

what is organisation but alphabets jumbled up in an incoherent mish-mash.

who is a leader that does not align his deeds to words,

but an empty vessel trawling a route of misdirection.

so much unhappiness seething in the ground,

and yet he sits unmoved in his ivory tower.

as another torrent of meaningless dither comes forth,

sad we are, the misguided crew.

Moving house

Oh I will miss
The pitter-patter of
My niece's little feet,
When I pack up
And move house.

Oh I will miss
The fragrant and delicious
Cooking of my mom,
Commingled with her admonitions,
When I pack up
And move house.

Oh I will miss
All the familiarity and comfort
That I grew up with
The last 30 years.

When I pack up
And move house,
A chapter will come to an end
And I'll begin another.