lies
You, Malaysian
You Malaysians live despicably in an age where each Merdeka is heralded as a new dawn.
You are all open-minded, you are all modern, you are all progressive, you are all righteously appalled at your country’s perceived moral and social decline. You are all courageously, relentlessly unique in the face of insurmountable odds; you are stalwarts for change and clamourers of justice.
We cannot stand for the sightless images you deliver to our minds.
You are all “intelligent”, and you wallow in the boastful pride of your children’s manufactured intelligence: your Enfagrow kids of mere months speak eloquently to repeat copied wisdoms. They are but parrots. How easily you are amused!
You are all “different”, and you lay claim to genteel affection for your arts and your literature. You cannot remember, can you, if your play was not reality?
We are today, the Butcher of Kuala Lumpur, itself a name we deride, yet we could not ignore a name that is at once discreet yet telling of our intention.
Who we will be tomorrow, as much as who we were yesterday is not our decision.
For the present, this is who we are.
We Are
We are the Butcher of Kuala Lumpur.
You should presume that we are a joke, we expect. And we expect also that you should not understand the humour.
If you meet us in the streets, do not cower. Hinder us, as best you may. Harry us, do not allow your incomprehension to excuse your inaction.
We are the butcher of Kuala Lumpur.

