Recently there was, portrayed in the blogsite of one Uncle-Glamour-Seekers, a series of dreams and predictions regarding the fates and happenings surrounding the lives of some artistes and celebrities in Malaysia and, not surprisingly, much to the chagrin of those people whose lives had been duly and irresponsibly been "predicted", some furor was raised concerning the worth and sensitivity that the issue could potentially bring about. Now I said to myself while reading that --- wowee! That sure was one distasteful thing to be doing ... predicting other peoples' lives while both the predictor and predictee are still living and breathing. I mean, how does "I predict and dreamt that Jamal Abdillah will shorten his life being snuffed out by a combination of dope and HIV and that 45 women will now lay claim to the posthumous alimony that will be issued by the would-be deceased entertainer" sound like. Well of course I just made that one up because Jamal Abdillah appears to be as healthy as an apek just fresh from an evening of Bak Kut Teh but then what IF. What if such ... irresponsible ... predictions are made on the lives of living people. Wouldn't that be terrible?
I was musing along that line of thinking when suddenly I caught myself and said to him---i.e. myself---hey wait a minute. Leman Pulut is some kind of seer-dreamer too: he sometimes dreams and sees into the future some visions not very much unlike what Nostradamus of old had, and thereafter, just like the sage, uses his poetic skills and abilities to write these visions down in some form of quatrains best left to be deciphered by future generations.
Usually Leman’s dreams and visions are ones of calamity and doom, its magnitude and harshness dependent upon whether or not he eats durian the night ere. Well, after the usual kejar-dek-rimau or sloppily-wet dreams, the visions and nightmares would take in the form best described by the following sample quatrains, partially:-
I see flames of Greed burning and engulfing
The household and territory of Nga Kor Ming
For whenever Perakians need some sewing and stitching
The official sewmaster is just a whisper away.
Done onto a PAS member and I do not mean Nik Ajis
And they stone him and they curse him and still he says his piece
In the long run, Hassan Ali is here to stay
And I see a great multitude who doth rock the boat
And I see DSAI being impervious to what was wrote
For in Sg Buloh he is happy and cheerful and gay
And Norma the proud wife measuring him by the inch
But some old folks finally caught him up and got him lynched
Aaah… a sad ending for Mat Sabu and his wily ways
And I see them bloggers in dark misty voids too
And 20 years hence BigDog diagnosed as cuckoo
And the Shiites, the Jebats, the Rockys and one Parpoo
To Tanjung Rambutan they're all being hauled away
Raja Petra, Din Merican, the Nutgraph and TookarTioob
All having fun watching the growth-progress of Milosuam’s boobs
Malaysiakini undergoes a grease job, Unspinners got some Lubes
And everyone’s nostalgic about the online “MalaysiaYesterday”
And Madam Helen Ang in the year 2020
Is now littered with six kids and conveniently drives a Humvee
She doesn't blog anymore --- it's the children, you see.
You think it’s easy to become a trophy wife of one MCA?
And now with a heavy heart I have to say this
My wife, Miss Malaysia, she'd be sleeping besides, in full bliss
For eight years from now everyone will reminisce
The writings and poetry of DATO' Leman Pulut, AMN, PJK.
