Fanon and Friends - Chien S.T.

The waiter made you wait with your hand raised - before you caught his attention. The maid thought the crows attack her twice, on separate days, because she’s a maid. The bus doesn't stop when you flag. You aren't as slow as an old man.
It is night time, the street lamps are on, the street isn't darker than your skin.

Clementine - Chien Swee-Teng

the poet of chips and beer,
interrupts our strumming and singing
like a grandpa;
asking about the last train
but he is also the poet of flowers, although I forgot what he said
when he was walking past some red tropical flowers of december
is there a difference between chicks and ladies?
no, says the poet of half-moon, as he points to the sky
the poet of the river, look at the murky brown water
was it ever green?
the same river we threw glasses, beer bottles and one chic plastic chair into
asked the poet of
flower
women
moon
and river
and out of spite, he called his best friend Harry Potter
the poet of rock.

Fireman - Chien Swee-Teng

1. It was not exactly an affair, 'I met her before him.' [Although we were young, she's my ex. She left me for a fireman]
2. 'But it's so unfair, now he gets to smell her hair'. [E, B, Am]
3. I can only see her when he is working: sleeping, slacking at the station waiting for the next disaster or putting out fire.
4. I am not a pyromaniac, but I started burning down buildings within our district, to keep him busy, so that I can see you, sending him 5 or 7 miles away from the Central Fire Station, 10 km from home, and return with a shade of charcoal, no, a layer of soot... but he is not the tired grey of the miners, he is the endless replay of the heroic firemen who died in 9/11, a simulated version though.
5. Each time we meet, one building, or one unit is on fire. Thus, the only surely fire proof day is the day he is on leave.
6. I started with the overpriced restaurant, the pawn shop where I pawned my mother's jewellery, the indie book store (where the owner pretends to be your friend), all the art galleries and museums, the spas, squatters, bars, clubs and pubs art students frequent, the playgrounds, golf course, casinos, amusement parks, public and private estates...
7. but I left the sleazy hotel alone, and the provision shop, the hardware store untouched.
8. And soon, was it a year or two, I ran out of things to burn, but the heat did not die down,
9. like her hair, like most stories it needed a twisted. No, I did not start burning random people on the street.
9.1 Burn my house, or on one occassion there was a fire somewhere although 'I' didn't start the fire, and when I got home it was my house, my apartment.
9.1.1 My flat to trap and kill Mr Fireman
9.2 Burn the fire station
9.3 Burn her apartment, Mr Fireman returns to see her with him (which is me)
9.3.1 Saving his wife and the man like a hero
9.3.2 watching the adulterous couple burn
9.3.3 both stood and watch the woman burn (to provoke the feminist readers)