Life as a poor Malay in Singapore

This is the advice to the Malay youths from a 48 year old Malay man living in Singapore for 48 sickening years

The other day I visited the CDC
requested help with life troubles
Then I see bless me
a tudungn girl that is a Manager

Hoping that a sweet child smile and a little figure
would me see through
that was not the case
as is not the case i definitely believe
with BG Isyak the new icon

I reckon
Then know what she
said
You You I why you so brave
Quit the job before finding another

I notice the you being used not the pakcik
for I am indeed 48 years of breathing curdling blood

for to live in Singapore
as a Malay is to fight two enemies
the first which I have nil chance
to succumb to
the big the mainstream C

the second
is the little m becoming a C.

I thought Mahathir was spot on when
he alluded Middle Kingdom
for Middle is correct all spectrums of my m existence

For I used existence without a purpose.
You need the c middlemen for all trades in Singapore

To build a mosque you need all the cs

The mosaic is c driven
the stars is c installed
the pulpit that m use to sermon the c
is c built

Why is c comes before m
because the ms are known for their p h d
Theres a joke says the dka

in hell, all crawls out. Angels bashed them out one by one
C I O each one of them
not the M why ask the baffled angel
the other ms will do us a favour

Now dont get me wrong
Theres so many cs I like to love

When it comes to power and such
quickly all the cs will come in place
the ms will always scamper to the back

the more I studied the tudung girl
with the satanic smile and decitful ascent
I have come to just
this

The m besides you has ceased to be
long paralysed with the crowding cs
comatose paralysed bodies in demented minds

born to be slaves
created for this?

Now there is the Final Solution
which many ms aspired but only One conspired
Just One will do sir

And we have to start all over
For heavens start with a bang

A nation is built upon a soldier's slap

As in anatomy, the m is studied
every cell has its studier
no iota is left untouched
with clinical precison we are being watched

if there is blood oozed or crevice presents
the anatomist poke with a cold instrument
the dead flesh smells of despair
dooms in the cold lab

and he has on him white gloves and white masks
he is pure they say as he kicks the
flapper with the cold

Now rejoice
for the deeper cuts and the HURT
will exact a price
since we can have any
all will have nothing

that translated
all and all are possibilities
will go back to the source
and claim the rightful place

beyond the anatomy is the one blood and sweat
when one is ready to go asunder
and be cut in 1000 ways

a new is created
then all the ms and cs will
skimper to their rightful place!