the garbage collectors

it maybe a lowly job
the society's offering
at the lowest base
collecting the garbage
those rubbish, the thrown-aways.... you know

no one thinks much about
those garbage collectors
their contribution, their sufferance
being buried in these heaps of rubbish
making the city clean
they having to smell the sting
having to take the decays
and the worthless thrown-aways
they do the job well

at the wee hours of the morning dawn
while those in their sleepy heads ...sleep
they are out there sweeping
collecting the garbage and sting
be trucked away and burnt
preventing this society from diseases and ills

their contribution.... though lowly
an honourable job
be respected
but what they have done is
unheard of, the society does not even mention!
'who cares?!
such is the fade of this working lot
these gracious humans should be treated otherwise and be thankful to them
maybe if they are not worth to be respected
who else ? on the contrary
be treated even better respect
if it is not them

Behind every smile a hidden tear

have thee not being greeted or
have thee not greeted anyone 'How are you?'
yet have thee not being responded 'Fine thank you' or
have thee not responded 'fine thank you'

however not every smile some happiness at heart
so nice, so very nice like the morning sun
those rosy flowers
those happy chipping birds
behind every smile, a hidden tear

the cry on his shoulders
the tears and sorrow
who cares?
just taken for granted' fine thank you'
no one could thee nor him turning to
no helping hands
keeping up the straight face
keeping his pride
but behind every smile.....

have thee not being sitted or
do thou ever invite him to sit
that sorrow mood...
down trodden with burdens
by thee to share the tears
the heart breaks lending ears to listen
in compassion to say 'I am with you'
'I understand'

yet as always 'Fine thank you'
and parted
as if every thing is okay
thus bespeak those days of darkness
too dark, too cold into the chilling bones
just in thy loneliness to cry
who is there thy tears to dry?
likewise he who is alone
never see the happy sun
behind every smile a hidden tear
but' How are you?'
'Fine thak you

Aberdeen Grey

Lines and lines into blocks of buildings
Looking down from the air
Aberdeen in grey
On the other hand...
Aberdeen by her country sides
The rolling hills, meadows, valleys
The greens of paddocks ... blocks of lands
the humble stone walls ...
Doted with spots of sheep
Cattle and horses grazing
Contributing a scenic landscape
Those Scottish artists to paint
The turners and constables time
And even those gone for before then
the country side ... the Aberdeen's pride
Individualistic in character
Stone - wall - linings
Paddocks and farms
In harmonious co-existing side by side
Trees with only branches - grey indeed
Of becoming the grey forest of woods
a gift of great perspectives
Miles into the distant far
inspiring ! inspiring !

Chinese Brush Painting

poem......Creativity

When creativity strikes
out of the blue - every eye opens wide
Every mouth in soundless gap
No one a noise is heard
Only what he says, what he does
Surprises all what they are thoughtlessly
unthaught off ?

When creativity surges
No logic , no rationale ever to content
To explain
Just it is there - the rightly place
Be there - just be

Amazingly enough to attract all
All those ordinary atmosphere and circumstances
A refreshing - a renewal of thought
A new dimension
Challenging the minds of the uncreatives
Why there is ? Why there is not
Only creativity enables it so !

Michael Chong Voon Kong

Art Education :
Chinese brush painting taught by Masters in Hong Kong, TaiwanWatercolour Masters Class, Scotland and USA

Exhibitions :
Participated in solo and group exhibition at both local and international level.
1987 Aspocae 87, Japan1
990 Aspocae 90, USA
1992 Aspocae 92, Thailand

Membership
1993 Chinese Painting & Calligraphy Society, Kuching
1994 Sarawak Artists Society, Kuching, Sarawak