Read Online LONTAR issue #1 by Jason Erik Lundberg (editor) - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jason Erik Lundberg (editor)
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contraband,
living it up like rude lords in my realm.
Despite such mosquitoes on my shores,
who, sometimes I would slap down with my troops,
liberating their wealth on elephant backs
I, the rajah, ruled these Dragon Islands.
5. Confluences
Gradually, civilizations from the East
traded well with us—the Hindu-Buddhists
bringing too, the arts of temple friezes—
the visages of men who would be dewas;
and our best were sent to India for higher learning,
or for steps of temple dance and architecture;
or China-ward to understudy ceramics,
and learn the forging of metals into gongs.
Next, dragon-headed Chinese temple priests
settled among us. They carried the South Sea goddess
for prosperity among our sea-town merchants,
hosting loud occasions with gods and ghosts
deploying gunpowder, fire-crackers, and sky rockets
to scare their dead souls when they got too hungry.
Thus, envoys come in droves and sit and feast
on coconut rice served on banana fronds
and small fish wrapped in green leaves, skewered and baked
with the finest spices, sauces, sweet meats, tidbits
as feasting is the prelude to politics,
the elephant trade of mutual wealth and peace.
Gifts demanding gifts, made bonds and treaties.
Princesses from China or the Malabar Coast
were brought to build the blood stock of the court,
strengthening ties with fragrant etiquette
adept with music, silks, and other graces—
the sacred arts of the red bird rising up
before the gates of jade from dusk to dawn.
The Brahmin blessed my seaport town with joss
on holy days. This was the royal way of Rajah
Jayawarman—chiseling in stone,
the Barong's great, yet frightening countenance.
6. Nutmeg
Thus, millennia had docked here for our nutmeg,
a sweet ancillary to cakes or eggnog,
a piquant garnish for all fish, flesh or fowl
slowing down the process of decay.
I wish I'd known this would be ours as well
through a spice that masks the rot in meat.
First—Indian and Middle Kingdom fleets,
then Arab traders with a new conversion
that we received, yet never lost ourselves,
wearing them like another coat of silk.
Each adapted each through intermarriage,
softening the nutmeg in our pallor.
Pirates plied their trade with long snake boats,
with dhows, the junks and Indian unnatas,
all bound with spices, ivory and sandal,
dragon silk brocade, imperial Ming.
Some shipwrecked here and gurgled to the depths,
rattling nails and teacups in the current
as gold and silver tinkled onto the coral.
7. Adventurers
It seemed there was enough for all, until
European galleons dropping anchor,
forced themselves into our grand istanas—
clinking men—steel conquistadors,
brassy, cunning, venal, loud and blunt,
demanding trading rights upon our shores.
Their doggedness was gauche, yet refusal
was not a way of action that we practiced.
We followed in the path of courtesy,
through a dynasty of Jayawarmans.
Gradually, we saw them as they were—
double-tongued, bent on grabbing all;
and later on, wind-jammers stopping too
with green tea and opium as tender,
invading with false dragon-breath our dreams,
annexing the islands of our bodies,
squeezed us in their merchant-python grip.
Appropriating hands would not let go,
seeking to chain us, divesting us of power,
relentless as the earthquakes that now came
one after the other. As Ruler, I was blamed.
The priests performed the ritual with a lotus
to the dragon in the smoking mountain,
reciting prayers and waving champa joss,
then stuck them into offerings of papaya
because this rajah had become too modern,
inviting foreigners to our spice-tray table.
Accepting tribute, refusal would be rude
and fire carillons of cannons from their ships.
What could I do? We had not said No before
to Indians, Chinese or the Arab traders.
Our royal ocean barges were outmatched
by gunboats shouting off at us for show.
Every hoard of nutmeg, costing blood
was traded on to Europe, that
living it up like rude lords in my realm.
Despite such mosquitoes on my shores,
who, sometimes I would slap down with my troops,
liberating their wealth on elephant backs
I, the rajah, ruled these Dragon Islands.
5. Confluences
Gradually, civilizations from the East
traded well with us—the Hindu-Buddhists
bringing too, the arts of temple friezes—
the visages of men who would be dewas;
and our best were sent to India for higher learning,
or for steps of temple dance and architecture;
or China-ward to understudy ceramics,
and learn the forging of metals into gongs.
Next, dragon-headed Chinese temple priests
settled among us. They carried the South Sea goddess
for prosperity among our sea-town merchants,
hosting loud occasions with gods and ghosts
deploying gunpowder, fire-crackers, and sky rockets
to scare their dead souls when they got too hungry.
Thus, envoys come in droves and sit and feast
on coconut rice served on banana fronds
and small fish wrapped in green leaves, skewered and baked
with the finest spices, sauces, sweet meats, tidbits
as feasting is the prelude to politics,
the elephant trade of mutual wealth and peace.
Gifts demanding gifts, made bonds and treaties.
Princesses from China or the Malabar Coast
were brought to build the blood stock of the court,
strengthening ties with fragrant etiquette
adept with music, silks, and other graces—
the sacred arts of the red bird rising up
before the gates of jade from dusk to dawn.
The Brahmin blessed my seaport town with joss
on holy days. This was the royal way of Rajah
Jayawarman—chiseling in stone,
the Barong's great, yet frightening countenance.
6. Nutmeg
Thus, millennia had docked here for our nutmeg,
a sweet ancillary to cakes or eggnog,
a piquant garnish for all fish, flesh or fowl
slowing down the process of decay.
I wish I'd known this would be ours as well
through a spice that masks the rot in meat.
First—Indian and Middle Kingdom fleets,
then Arab traders with a new conversion
that we received, yet never lost ourselves,
wearing them like another coat of silk.
Each adapted each through intermarriage,
softening the nutmeg in our pallor.
Pirates plied their trade with long snake boats,
with dhows, the junks and Indian unnatas,
all bound with spices, ivory and sandal,
dragon silk brocade, imperial Ming.
Some shipwrecked here and gurgled to the depths,
rattling nails and teacups in the current
as gold and silver tinkled onto the coral.
7. Adventurers
It seemed there was enough for all, until
European galleons dropping anchor,
forced themselves into our grand istanas—
clinking men—steel conquistadors,
brassy, cunning, venal, loud and blunt,
demanding trading rights upon our shores.
Their doggedness was gauche, yet refusal
was not a way of action that we practiced.
We followed in the path of courtesy,
through a dynasty of Jayawarmans.
Gradually, we saw them as they were—
double-tongued, bent on grabbing all;
and later on, wind-jammers stopping too
with green tea and opium as tender,
invading with false dragon-breath our dreams,
annexing the islands of our bodies,
squeezed us in their merchant-python grip.
Appropriating hands would not let go,
seeking to chain us, divesting us of power,
relentless as the earthquakes that now came
one after the other. As Ruler, I was blamed.
The priests performed the ritual with a lotus
to the dragon in the smoking mountain,
reciting prayers and waving champa joss,
then stuck them into offerings of papaya
because this rajah had become too modern,
inviting foreigners to our spice-tray table.
Accepting tribute, refusal would be rude
and fire carillons of cannons from their ships.
What could I do? We had not said No before
to Indians, Chinese or the Arab traders.
Our royal ocean barges were outmatched
by gunboats shouting off at us for show.
Every hoard of nutmeg, costing blood
was traded on to Europe, that
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