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Poem: Fraud
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Well it’s actually called Singaporean Chinese, I? , and written some time last year, I think.
The product of diaspora:
Eyes jet, hair of ebony,
Bronzed skin.
The spoke Cantonese, Hokkien.
I understand neither.
When I think ‘Mandarin’, I think
Not of the language,
But of oranges.
My mother tongue is not MY tongue.
I quote Shakespeare,
Know nothing of LiBai.
I reason; think; dream in—
I breathe English.
My mouth itches to lapse into
the sole dialect of familiarity:
Glaswegian.
Say “opera”, I see Pavarotti
Not Madame White Snake’s glistening gown.
”Instruments!” Why, violins, trombones, flutes.
What Guzheng? What Erhu?
Rice is not my staple, bread is.
Kueh Lapis and Ang Ku Kueh
I eat not. Scones and jellies
were there first.
Singlish feels foreign on my lips
I am Chinese, I am Singaporean,
but not bilingual.
Bicultural? I am alienated,
From one by birth, the other by upbringing.
Displaced, misplaced, forever skirting the fringes.
A lost, English-educated, Chinese illiterate,
Fraud.
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3 Responses to “Poem: Fraud”
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July 5th, 2008 at 7:01 pm
wow…this poem illustrates so many feelings… in fact they feel so negative (like frustrating!) and at the same time it’s so rich (i don’t get about half of the foreign languages here! lol).
don’t you ever wonder you live in your own world that others don’t comprehend? that is the feeling i retrieve by reading this poem.
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August 22nd, 2008 at 1:31 am
Do you ever contemplate what your life would have been like if you were only of and livedi none culture? When I read your poem, I realized I hadn’t. Love the poem, very TCK.
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August 23rd, 2008 at 5:52 am
I like your poem a lot.
Elizabeth, i’ve tried….didn’t work…don’t get it.
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