Dengan setiap rukun ruku’ dan sujud
Aku ampuhkan seluruh pancaindera
Menempuh alur waktu dan wujud
Membucu setiap sisa rasa sengketa
Pancungkanlah nafsu buasku, Tuhan
Agar dapat aku bernafas tanpa sedan.
#592 On Keynes
In the long run of History you stand
Tall astride the mysterious alchemies
Of commerce and trade, the intellectual
Colossus of economic thought. Bands
of adversaries, with their arrayed blasphemies,
Have not dispelled your gorgeous gospel.
We bow to your memory, John Maynard Keynes
Your truths congealed in our collective veins.
#586 On Those Poor Children
It is as if the world is constantly surprised
That those who most ardently profess
Religiosity are often those who commit
The most egregious forms of wickedness.
Those poor, poor children: could we permit
Their suffering to be ignored, be pushed aside?
#585 On Mommy’s Nightly Games with Puff Puff
Every night, she jumps the shark of
Felt necklace and twirling string.
With eager anticipation of leisure,
She is a blur of black and white, swirling
In tune to mommy’s fierce fantasia.
Each evening, a declaration of love.
#582 On Your Torrent of Lies
Torrential stream of bilious lies
To try to smother unkind truths
To fulminate and to disguise
Your cruel intent, devoid of ruth
In disbelief I witness gall
Your chutzpah keeps your cult enthralled.
#567 On The Saggy Bending of the Knees
A saggy bending of the knees
Prostrating to the will of Fate
Amidst the shimmer of these trees
My life’s regrets coagulate
I sink into the mud of Time
And beg His Mercy for my crimes.
(with apologies to T S Eliot)
#564 On Your Dark Clouds of Regret
Encrowned with dark clouds of regret
In far-off lands you seek refuge
A proud denial of life’s upsets
You hide in practiced subterfuge
But still the sadness’ yours to keep
Your life’s “J’Accuse” is what you reap.
#503 On The Unsheathed Sword
You shirk the task with nonchalant reply
This menial duty far beneath your grace
And so I take it on myself to try
The task dispatched away with heedful haste
No pointing blame, but this I shall remark
My sword, unsheathed, awaits the next lit spark.
#490 On Time that Strips Us Bare
It feels millennia since I’ve walked those halls
The uni years of youthful politics
As if that young man was just someone else
In subtle ways, we’re prey to Time’s false tricks
How did that young man come to be this old?
Did Time strip off the masks that kept us bold?
#483 On the Pain that Purifies
The pain: it purifies and clarifies
Draws into keen attention Life's travails
A sharp and rude reminder to the wise:
The tallest trees can fall amidst the gales
Hold fast to Him, and He shall grant you ease
His Mercy shall bring suffering now to cease.