Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Just Because I'm a Muslim.. (Don't Stereotype Me)
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Just because I'm a Muslim
Doesn't mean I'm one of those Arabs
Doesn't mean I'm fanatic, radical, conservative, moderate, liberal
or whatever things you would label on me
Just because I'm a Muslim
Doesn't mean I'm not sociable
Doesn't mean I think I'm always right,
Or you're always wrong
I do not, and I will never think that all non-Muslims are sinners
Just because I'm a Muslim
Doesn't mean I'm a terrorist
Doesn't mean I'm violent or abusive
Doesn't mean I'm not negotiable, or do not want peace on earth
Just because I'm a Muslim woman, wearing a headscarf
Doesn't mean I'm forced to wear this piece of fabric on my head
Doesn't mean I'm physically, socially, or economically abused
Doesn't mean I cannot express myself freely
Just because I'm a Muslim....
Don't stereotype me.
Posted in poem by .: Kartika :. | 4 comments
What is the point of being good?
Monday, December 31, 2007
What is it to be good?
helping the needy, or use them to help your reputation
listen to what your kids say, or buy them lots of hi tech digital devices to show your affection
being spiritually modest, or make yourself seem to be religious to endorse yourself in a political campaign
to be honest, or to bare all facts
to hide some facts, or to lie
to go out with somebody you love, or to create a backstreet relationship so people won't look you down
to say "I hate you", or to say nothing so that people will consider you as their friend
to walk home with your sister in the rain, or to take your boss' offer for a ride to show your courtesy
to own a gun, or to own a gun
to protest something in a peaceful manner, or to eradicate an evil system by rioting and bombing
to let ourselves be what we are, or to be like what we want to seem
to be Jewish, Christian, or Muslim
to have a fair, or dark skin
to be petite or to be overweight
What is the point of being good?
If we cannot distinguish between "good" and "looks good"
The visage of life is incensing, arousing. Paragons.
for those who ensnared in Mr. Bush's boisterous discourse,
and those who think that it is as sacred as Martin Luther King Jr.'s.
I wonder why people lead the world to infirmity. Indignity.
Misuse their discretion
"Kill the Jewish!", "Muslims are terrorists!"
I hear protests and censure of sober people everywhere
But their words are just nothing more worthy than a non-appetizing door-to-door solicitation
I wonder why they call anexatie as citadel. God's will.
Where in fact, these are tumults to me
Dude, give me your slingshot and I'll chase this nightmare away
It disrupts my disposition every nightfall
Like blaring horns and clanking gongs
It makes my eyes gleam. My heart thumps
I'm tired of it. So exhausted.
And I always wish expectantly that the sunlight will slant into the world soon
to make the wall between what is good and what is not good crystal clear
and to show the world that being "good" and "seems good" are different things
which means, men, are not necessarily what they seem.
Posted in my mind's talk, poem by .: Kartika :. | 1 comments
Susahnya ikhlas
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Ikhlas itu susah ya?
Hitunglah dan menghitung-hitung
Dari yang terkecil sampai terbesar
Berkeluh kesahlah dan terus mengeluh
Belum cukupkah keringat ini mengucur?
Hidup ini kejam!
Nasib tak bisa diajak kompromi
Huh!
Tuhan...
Belum kokohkah azzam ini?
Ingin rasanya bagai ulul azmi (salam alaika)
Yang tersenyum tulus di tengah kutukan kafirun
Besar hatinya sungguh
Bisakah aku?
Ringan tangan cepat kaki
Tanpa memikirkan untung rugi
Bergerak lurus menggapai diri-Mu
Maju tanpa kenal rintangan
Meski jantung dicabik timah panas
Meski wajah terbakar mesiu
Meski hati terkoyak lidah penghunus
Meski malu tercoreng umpatan
Ingin aku tak bimbang
Tetap berdiri tegak dan tersenyum
Kokoh terhujam dalam kalbu
Maha Suci Engkau tujuanku satu
Bantulah aku Tuhan
Kalau Engkau mau cucilah otakku
Dari segala rantai diri yang bisa mengusik
Keikhlasan hatiku
Read More...
Hitunglah dan menghitung-hitung
Dari yang terkecil sampai terbesar
Berkeluh kesahlah dan terus mengeluh
Belum cukupkah keringat ini mengucur?
Hidup ini kejam!
Nasib tak bisa diajak kompromi
Huh!
Tuhan...
Belum kokohkah azzam ini?
Ingin rasanya bagai ulul azmi (salam alaika)
Yang tersenyum tulus di tengah kutukan kafirun
Besar hatinya sungguh
Bisakah aku?
Ringan tangan cepat kaki
Tanpa memikirkan untung rugi
Bergerak lurus menggapai diri-Mu
Maju tanpa kenal rintangan
Meski jantung dicabik timah panas
Meski wajah terbakar mesiu
Meski hati terkoyak lidah penghunus
Meski malu tercoreng umpatan
Ingin aku tak bimbang
Tetap berdiri tegak dan tersenyum
Kokoh terhujam dalam kalbu
Maha Suci Engkau tujuanku satu
Bantulah aku Tuhan
Kalau Engkau mau cucilah otakku
Dari segala rantai diri yang bisa mengusik
Keikhlasan hatiku
Posted in poem by .: Kartika :. | 0 comments
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