1
Normally, I cruise
with nothing but a pen
down the street. I mind
my business—the strength of ten men
I do not have in my fitness
then someone pushed me
in my stand.
I had to stop pretending
like I’m not someone who I am.
2
On the rooftop,
looking down on food courts,
abandoned houses, and student dorms,
forced to be perplexed. Adorning
the crown of curses and blue thoughts.
3
Feeling abandoned by society,
I ask myself ten questions:
“Am I meant to write?
Is my writing meaningful?”
Irony is imminent,
so sinister and sinful:
Roads.
One word of many meanings,
mean-spirited innings
striking down my shindigs.
“Is my message deplorable?”
Political spectacle,
anti-intellectual,
breathing down on
my mind,
lingering.
Their messages makes me shiver,
their lies makes me critical,
they push me down
down
down
down.
4
Three to the four
to the five
to the six
to layered realities
I can’t fix—pound me
to the ground
as I lowered myself crying.
They bested my sound
of my filthy tearing.
“Can I pretend enough
to withstand
their judgement
to the end?”
5
Indonesia,
breaking through layers of abstractions,
it’s no wonder “they” couldn’t fix ya,
the Founding Fathers we had for exploring
the political machine—machina, nations,
machine and aberrations,
imprinted on my nation,
and “I’m supposed to be writing fiction?”
6
If I had the means, I would Isekai,
teleport my brain and torch me in the sky
pick the place of landing—in style, in Shenzhen
the land of technophiles,
close my eye,
go straight to a Xianxia Light Novel,
pretend I’m someone who can fly,
who can’t die,
then try my best to conquer
the Murim, the Jianghu,
the Castle in the Sky,
the Martial Alliance,
the Asian Identity,
the Demonic Cult,
values, intensity,
“Can I pry open their minds
with chakras and energy?”
7
But chakras aren’t real.
No magic, no pills,
no gadget, no thrills,
just corruption,
petty talking bludgeon,
eruption,
politicking faction,
Escutcheon,
beat them by their heads
for their accommodation
of doubtful thoughts
that emphasizes scrutiny
“Democratic Stuff?
The stuff of fantasy.”
Listen to your politicians;
they’re the ones who are budging.
8
“Pardon!
The world might be falling.
The Earth might stop spinning.
The yachts might stop working
for the Blue-Blooded Darlings.
So, you might want to get off.
Stop writing and actually make the tough
decision, become educated, then learn our mission
then make some money with dirty visions.
This offer comes limited…so with this in mind,
would you be interested?”
9
No.
What a bloody nightmare
to consider a job offer,
the stuff of nightmares.
To be unemployed, I suppose,
is my destiny
cause I simply can’t stand
acting like I’m a prodigy,
I’m too honest.
Too cruel to be nice to please,
too understating,
too mad to be calm to be,
just as I overcome one tragedy,
my message gets messy,
blows up anatomically.
“Ha, what an embarrassing statement.
The state you’re in is nothing but mere pavement!
You’ll be walked upon!
Like bloated flies eating aerosol!
With this in mind,
care to change your mind
after you down some ethanol?”
10
Hell no,
no to the no
to the bro
to the code
to Dafoe
dying slow
in Platoon.
The year was 1986,
the movie was released,
the nation was in midst
of a critical stasis.
Crisis!
The moments of the Mises,
the one we need to save us,
backdoors and “they” act sus,
spreading the agendas,
message entertain us,
yet we still rioted
because of intellectuals’ inflammation.
“ARE YOU JUST GONNA ACT STILL?
THE WORLD IS A STAGE
THE NATION IS ASHAMED
SO RISE UP, MOTHER FATHERS,
RISE AND FIGHT UP!
OVERTHROW THE HIERARCHY,
REPLACE THEIR AGENDAS WITH ONE
IN UNITY
THE NATION WILL STAND,
THE GOVERNMENT WILL TERRIBLY
BE TORN APART, BE STRONG IN HEART,
LET’S PROTEST ENTIRELY!
SO LET ME ASK YOU THIS:
DO YOU HAVE A MESSAGE, MY FRIEND?”
Do I, indeed?
RIA DARA is the pen name for Rizky Aditya Ramadhan. As an aspiring writer, he writes political fiction, alternate history, and narrative free-verse poetry. His blog, Kandang Hantu, regularly publishes sincere reflections on life, including the poems, stories, opinions, and essays about Indonesian society and the world. His most recent publication is Pipeline Era, a collection of English poems published through Ellunar Publisher. In July 2025, with great struggle against the uncaring dogmatism of Indonesian society, Ramadhan graduated from an International Relations undergraduate program in Parahyangan Catholic University.
Featured image by Clay Banks on Unsplash.
