Wednesday, February 23, 2011

The Thing

by Tararith

That thing there
Why doesn’t it talk all the time?
Why doesn’t it know all?
If it were alive it would be so,
That thing there.

If it were alive why does it
Blindly go the wrong way?
If it were a bird why doesn’t it fly?
If a fish why not swim?
These things I know.

That thing there is not black or white,
But its heart is not good like the crow.
It pecks and tears at all Khmer around it,
And like a monkey, it is not faithful or modest.
It brags and borrows around the world.
To build it image and power.

That thing there
Can not compare to what we know,
Instead it is always fighting and making people scared.
Spreading its control and dictatorship.
It is always dirty
And carries the stench of jealousy.
It destroys the Khmer nation, country and culture,
Erasing Khmer from history.

That thing there,
Like a leech, sucks our blood
Until it is swollen,
Nourishing other nations but not the Khmer,
Who will be sucked into the body of Indochina.
These things I know.

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