Chapter Five: Soured Wine.

A wine that is aged
Beyond two and a score
Should it not be mellowed
More matured than before?

Yet this wine, alack
Is sour, tart of taste
And methinks that no honey
Could such unpleasantness replace

It seeks to prove its splendor
By raiment rich and fair
But appearance deceives not
Ye gentle folk, beware

And so avoid it if you may
With all your earthly might
For such a wine is apt
To spoil the appetite
And ruin a lovely day.

Chapter Four: Sing a Song of...

Sing a song of sixth sense
And a bucket full of sighs
Four and plenty absurds
Falsehoods, bluffs and lies

When the eyes were opened
The truth began to stink
Wasn’t that a dainty way
To break the way I think?

I was in the counting house
Counting all the funnies
You were in the parlour
Bright cheer and sunny

Wasn’t it you in the garden
Doing goodness knows
Then came crawling a centipede
And bit you on your toes

There was such a doodle
That this poor wretched wren
Had to come and labour
To soothe them back again

And for all my soulful efforts
She gave me with her hand
Nothing but a heavy bag
In which was only sand

So I thought to pull her nose off
And run away with it
But in the end my conscience won
For all the good it did.

Chapter Three: The Faithful Minister.

Hark, listen to me, for I have a story to tell.

Once upon a time, in a Kingdom not far away, there lived a faithful Minister.

Now this Minister was very hard working; day and night she toiled for the sake of the people of the country and beyond, teaching them to hoe the soil of their fields. Now then, this Minister kept some wonderful seeds in a golden bag; these she gave away generously. With tender care and love, she nurtured the seeds till they grew into big strong trees that sheltered the people against the harsh rays of the yellow sun. Wonderful was her work, for although she planted the same seeds in the same soil, often beautiful flowers would spring forth from her seeds to please the eyes of the people, or yield forth sweet thick grasses that for the people to stuff their pillows to rest their weary heads. And the people loved her in return for the love she gave to them. Ah, but then, even as she tried to teach all the people to love the wonderful trees and flowers and grasses that she grew, there were many lazy people who did not like her because she made them work with her to hoe the soil in which she grew the wonderful trees, flowers and grasses.

Now then, one day these lazy people went to the King of the land, and spoke against the faithful Minister, for they were powerful with their words, and sought to twist the King's goodwill against the faithful Minister. So strong were their words that the King got angry, and called to the faithful Minister and sternly told her not to work for the people, and not give them harvest from the lands, for they paid very little tithes, and so he thought that they should not have so much given to them.The poor Minister was very sad, for she could not understand why the King could not see how beautiful were her wonderful trees and flowers and grasses, and how happy they made the faces of the people who enjoyed them. She wept bitterly at the rebuke she had received, and the people who loved her cried along with her.

Yet, still again she took up her hoe to till the soil.

Ah, but then, no longer was she happy, for her heart was heavy. The King had again listened to the lazy people, and had taken her fields from her, and she could no longer plant as many wonderful trees and flowers and grasses as before. She watched in great sadness as the King's men built a wall around the fields, and she could no longer plant in them, for she could not climb the wall. And so, she went back to the fields she had left with a broken heart.

The people who loved her tried to make her happy again by bringing her water for her trees and flowers and grasses to drink, but she no longer had the heart to plant the fields. Ah, but then, the seeds in the soil of her mind began to grow, and she thought and thought hard of how she should make the best of things. One fine day, she decided to pack her things and leave the Kingdom to wander the great wide world, in search for a new patch to grow. But she did not forget the people who loved her, and sought to teach them one last thing before she left. The people who loved her were very grateful, and tried not to weep as they sent her on her way. Ah, even then, they watched sadly as she walked towards her new life with a spring in her step and a smile on her face, and silently promised to themselves that they would follow in her footsteps someday.

As for the old King, whose unjust anger had driven the faithful Minister away, he saw now that there was nobody left to tend the fields, for the other people had all run away. The last I saw him, he was forced to till the soil himself, and so, here to myself I say, 'Alack, good man, had he not sent the faithful Minister away, here he would not be toiling by himself today'.

And that is the end of my story.

Chapter Two: The King of Fools.

Disclaimer: i know the blog name says no poetry. but i'm gonna break the rules anyway. maybe even change the blog name.
Once a upon a Century
There was a King of Fools
Who sat on upon yon Throne of velvet red
And cleverly (he thinks) he rules

His Crown perched upon a lofty brow
Mighty Pen he waves
Still as yet I cannot fathom how
Nor why so attentive are his Slaves

Oft he struts past the troubled lot
In robes of Righteousness
But methinks one thing he forgot
That he in Invisible robes did dress

He issues Edict and Decree
On a Web of fragile thread
Yet still all who read and agree
Are Goons set under his stead

He sits oft at his Table of Truth
And speaks Law to his Fools
With wonderful words to sway and soothe
Enchants them as his Tools

O Fools of the highest degree
By virtue of face white and fair
With his Majesty they mindlessly agree
With nary thought nor care

O King who owns a booming voice
And stands nose-high with magnanimous poise
He who waves hands with deceptive grace
And speaks his Law with a vivacious face

Point not your Scepter-Pen at me nor mine
For only knit wits a-plenty shall ever be thine
For methinks ever the King of Fools are you
And all the more Fool you are, for thinking us as foolish too.

Chapter One: A Comedy of Pies

Prologue: The Malaysian Affliction.

Isnt perpetualpracticalunpunctualitis syndrome just one of the worst diseases in malaysia ever? imagine: a a board of commitees setting a 12 to 4 pm time for rehearsal; therefore an undiseased individual spends ten ringgit on cab fare just to reach on time, and is subjected to an hour's wait, while the afflicted parties simply waltz in and joke around, poke around, mess around half an hour late. still later, two chronically diseased specimens lightly call out: 'those who wanna practice, just practice yeah? we've got to go somewhere for a bit.' ......aaaand everything's put on hold for them.

so yeah. w'all waited fer a whole daymmmm hour, ya know.

scratch that. how bout a top-notch quality control system that filters out the acceptable ones, but leaks the rotten bit through? in which case it's the filter itself playing unfair. it was hardly sporting of it to do so. hardly sporting at all.

Chapter One: A Comedy Of Pies

Once upon a time, not far in the land of helpful Busybodies, a Body of Busy Bodies held a pie baking competition. Now, A-Body was the in the Helping Body of the Kitchen Body and so he asked Somebody, whom he knew was good at baking pies, to come along and join Everybody. So Somebody went, and there he decided to prepare a big three-piece-pie, which was duly approved by Everybody. So happy was Somebody (and This-Body, of course) that he spent days practicing until his hands were sore.

Suddenly, on the day before the Great Baking Day (the Warm-The-Kitchen-Day), One-Certain-Body told Somebody that Another-Body would be taking over the baking of the first piece from his three-piece-pie, which meant that Somebody then had with a two-piece-pie left (ah, but then Another-body thought Somebody would be preparing that piece of pie, while Somebody thought that Another-body was going to do it, so neither of them prepared anything and in the end nobody made that piece).

Then, One-Other-Body told Somebody that A-Body (who could not come for Warm-The-Kitchen-Day) was not such a good baker and was not there in body, and so would perhaps not be allowed to join in the Great Baking Day, but Somebody and This-Body pleaded for A-Body and so it was not truly decided that A-Body would not be joining. Somebody was then happy that A-Body would still be able to join the Great Baking Day.

Ah, but then you see, on the Great Baking Day itself, just an hour before the baking, to Somebody's dismay (and This-Body's) he found out that A-Body would not be allowed to join the baking, and that his second piece of pie (which was to to be made together with A-Body), had been taken out and eaten by the Filter. And so he was left with only one last piece of pie.

And here, This-Body is very very unhappy, because the piece that the Filter ate is one of This-Body's favourite pieces ever and This-Body had looked looked looked forward to it being baked together by Somebody and A-Body. This-Body had also helped them knead the dough to prepare for the baking, and isnt it just a pity the Filter ate it before it could be cooked? (Ah, but then, the Filter's pie came out horribly burnt and lumpy, it was stuffed with no fillings and was so very badly baked, that This-Body didnt even want to smell it at all, it hurt This-Body's nose so)

And so Somebody baked his one final piece of pie very very well (even though a tiny bit burnt on the top) so that This-Body enjoyed it very very much, and This-Body thinks Everybody who got a whiff of the smell liked it lots and lots too. Too bad about the first and second piece; its alright, we'll get another oven sometime.