Neo-Maya, Neo-Malaya (dedicated to all Malaysians)
By Azly Rahman
And thus sprach Zarathustra,
prophet of long ago who spoke of good and evil
of this world as battleground
of the sacred and the profane
of the triumph of Man
of the triumph of Superman
Ahh, what worth is there
in believing in religion, in philosophy, in the arts
when these are silenced by the State
unto which the necessary evil reigns
when the mantra of civilization and progress hath made Man insane
Bring down the walls
tear down the bricks,
one by one, and all
Peace be unto the nation
that builds towers that touch the sky
Unto which Man shall return
as he hath plundered by the billions
Peace be to the new Temple of the Mayas
of this country now called neo-Malaya
of towers of power built upon the glory
of people’ blood, sweat, tears, and fear
Glory Glory Hallelujah …
Amin amin Ya Rabbil Alam ‘in
InsyaAllah things will be fine,
as they say
Many prayed while the tyrants wine and dine
Build towers as tall as power allows it to be
So that the leaders can spit on the rakyat
from up in heaven yonder
And the rakyat may happily see that as blessings
And ask for more — in a world wherein modernity means assisted dying
In politics and business lie the evidence
of the glorification of the beastiality of Man
couched in language of arrogant knowledge
that philosophy and poetics cannot triumph,
in a world of historical complexity
wherein beasts, plunderers, and hell-raisers triumph
over philosopher-rulers and prophets of hope and deliverance.
Towers of power Man so desires
To enlarge the Inner Rings of Fire
and burn the soul entire
Whilst this too shall pass
As fast as capitalism’s speed in forming caste and class
Whilst this too shall pass — hell-raisers and bloodsuckers
will feast in merriment –
till the state coffers run dry leaving the nation aghast
Ah… progress .. progress .. progress we must as our leaders say
Progress we say as we steal from the poor
and keep true patriots at bay
Let us tell the people we are one nation under god
One Malaysia indivisible and all
As we plunder — before the general election smash us
Crooks and cronies and all
worse than the broken pieces of Humpty Dumpty’s fall
O’ people down below
Excuse us while we kiss the clouds
and embrace the limitless sky in our three-piece suits
and our split-tongued sermons
Excuse me if I have to spit down below from the towers of power
and ignore your sorrows
for you are poor because you are lazy
we are wealthy because we are the chosen ones
our children born with silver spoons guaranteed
O’ chosen ones — manage this land of plenty
And in God we trust
For all is but a grand design foretold
In this land that grooms dynasties living in lust
graced with thrones of gold