Root out the clever people I root outthe clever peopleinside my headI’m not intimidated anymoreby the words of clever people,who speak with such passionthe world doesn’t change because of the chatterof speakers in seminar roomswhose pronouncements are publishedon the pages of newspapers—maybe their readers are in awebut the world doesn’t changewhen the newspaper is folded […]
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Stage Boundary to the playersthis is our zone of authoritydo not cross this boundarydo not interfere with what happens up herebecause you are spectatorsyou are outsidersdo not change the story we have prepareddo not adjust the plot we have plannedbecause you are spectatorsyou have to be silentthis broad stage is not for youit’s ourswhat happens
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how happy it is live in the televisionthere is no stenchthere is no worriesthere is no troublethere is no succumbingtime is only passed by for singing how happy it si live in the televisionthere is a benevolent doctorgreen paddy fieldssmiling farmersthe labor are paid well, in the televisionthe labor are paid well, in the televisionthe
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(Untitled) tonight the rain fallsto protect me those poorly paid Intelligence guysare fed up with their boss for sure tonight the rain fallsto protect me so I can restso my energy can be restoredafter days of exhaustionso I can stay freshand win tonight the rain fallsto protect me the croaking of frogs and the whistlingwindmake
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green grassgrows againeven though you cut us downagain and againeven though you burn us upagain and again green grassgrows againa hundred times you mow us downyou torch us with the fire of riotsgreen grassgrows again my hopeconquersmy fearsthat you breedwith your speechesand your rifles I see green grasseverywhereoh in vainthe powers that be put upboards
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I travel through the airhopping across radio waves on the air you cannot lieradio waves cannot be silencedby knives and guns on the air there is no banthe minister of foreign affairs,the minister of information, the presidentcan’t talk as they please on the air a thousand voices speakthey can’t be made uniformed when a bullet
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Note againyou arrested meI wrote about it againyou twisted my armsI wrote about it againyou clubbed my headI wrote about it do ituntil I spit bloodlet there be proof do itin front of a crowdshow themyour guns and your sticksand let them see againyou’re abusing meI’ll write about it my body is the evidencethat you
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Don’t forget, my love don’t forget, my lovewhen the moon is fulland we are taking a strollthose people sleeping outside, in front of the houseand on the edge of the drainage canal,are our neighbours, my love don’t forget, my lovewhen it’s five o’clock in the morning,the throngs of female workerswith bleary eyeswho walk alongside youare
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Come on Warsini! warsini! warsini!are you home from work yet warsiniworn out after a day standing in factoryit’s night nowwere your pants and bra searched againbecause your boss suspected you of stealing a packet of motoor did you stop off again at the hairdresserhow much are you in debt this weekis your budgeting in a
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Song of a becak driver if the price of kerosene goes up, mother will fightmore often with fatherif kerosene goes up, so will chillies,so will all basic necessitiesand we’ll be forced into the hands of the money-lenders. who would not be angry when it gets harder and harderto make ends meet, fiteen hundred rupiahs is
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