Struggles

Context:

 

August 2016.

In a strange summer of sorts,

a dry season in which rain never stops,

a group of psychologists, veil-wearing, nationalism-stoking, God-fearing,

Strode forth to Indonesia’s highest court, the Constitutional Court.

Demanding for the nation’s basic laws to abort,

existence of any homosexual-natured consort,

As bad as statutory rape, they say,

Even though underage marriage, they gave way,

In acquiescing silence, they are okay, with rape victims bearing brunt of all blames.

 

Hypocrisy,

while the most comedic jester,

is indeed, the scariest spectre.

 

PS. “Struggle” is also the title of Indonesia’s current ruling party,

keen-eyed on advancements of maritime security and economy,

calmly offering blind eyes, to fringe communities.

160216171911_idahot2015_640x360_bbcindonesia_nocredit

 

Mosques stoke flames of purgatory,

Against a self-perceived you-we duality,

with the LGBT…

An alien concept you barely comprehend.

 

Privately, you yearn for sexual liberty,

Bodies in bed writhing and bucking wildly,

Eating cherry repeatedly,

Anally,

Pounded relentlessly,

The sweet sweaty sin of day, noon, and night, secret ecstasy…

You yearn to elude,

the kind of divinity

that fixates only with your crotch.

 

In hopes of justifying

Your carnal thoughts to your Lord,

Through cacophony

of megaphone doused in cheap iron,

Hatred and ignorance sown fertile for eons,

Five times a day.

 

From tall spires,

You breathe fire, you bleed ire,

You breed liars, who conceal their true desires

This steed, dire,

Loving this quagmire,

that allows for violent squalls to suspire,

making rainbows expire.

 

Mom, dad, uncles, aunties,

Your horde of all remnants of ancient traditionality,

Your grasp and comfort of the so-called “normality”,

of heteronormativity,

Bear in mind, that it only began in the 17th century,

Over the sails of a medieval version of 3G

– gold, gospel, glory;

Colonization,

in all their flagrant, sadistic ubiquity,

supposedly brought forth your fury,

Only, “nationalist” comrades, make peace with enemy — you are ready,

when it fits your politics-fulfilling narrative of majority,

the sweet high horse of your privileged bigotry.

 

The brandishments you blurt,

to many young questioning souls you hurt,

with callous remarks, cold and curt,

telling how they’re more impure than dirt,

Please,

Know them,

Sense their trench-deep state of self-defeat,

Their seething rage and slitted wrists,

Their muffled woes, only their eyes mist,

Their silent flails, their worth dismissed,

Their hearts ablaze, their hard-clenched fists.

 

So,

As folksily said, with guitar strumming,

by the words of the great Bob Dylan,

“The times are a-changin'”…

New rivers fastly flowin’, changes are a-comin’,

This zeitgeist, stampeding.

When we’re askin’:

 

What is morality?

What is morality in today’s sense of things,

But an ode to a giant invisible man,

Quick to strike his divine cane,

Bearded long, angry, from a foreign land,

As engrossed in ego as Supreme Leader, North Korean.

 

What is morality?

What is morality in today’s sense of things,

if kindness is intentionally forgotten,

if empathy is readily forsaken,

if tradition forgets embracing,

if constitution condones witch-huntin’…

 

And if the toxic bacterium,

of ancestry’s delirium,

passed from generations to generations and generations of unquestioned cerebellum,

remains unbroken?

2 thoughts on “Struggles

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