Moewardi
Moewardi (Perfected Spelling: Muwardi; 1907–1948) is a National Hero of Indonesia from Central Java.
Biography
Moewardi was born in Pati, Central Java, in 1907. After studying at STOVIA (a school for native doctors) in Batavia (now Jakarta), he began studying as a specialist in throat, nose, and ear infections. He also chaired the city's branch of Jong Java. He practised medicine extensively during the Japanese occupation (1942–45).
After the Japanese defeat in the Pacific, Indonesian politicians began preparing to proclaim the country's independence from Dutch colonial control. Moewardi, by this time living in Surakarta, established the Barisan Pelopor. This group which organised security at Ikada Square (now Merdeka Square) in Jakarta, to help secure the proclamation. Moewardi was one of the speakers at the event. Afterwards, Moewardi tasked his men with organising security for new president Sukarno and vice-president Mohammad Hatta, as well as other government figures. Moewardi was offered the position of Minister of Defence but refused it; the position went, in absentia, to Supriyadi.
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Mademoiselle
by: Murray HeadMademoiselle remembers too well
How once she was belle of the ball
Now the past she sadly recalls.
Mademoiselle lived in grand hotels
Ordered clothes by Chanel and Dior
Millionaires queued at her door.
Oh, she pleased them and teased them
She hooked them and squeezed them
Until like their empires they'd fall
She very soon learned
That the more love she spurned
The more power she yearned
Until she was belle of the ball.
Oh, Mademoiselle, such a soft machiavel
Would play bagatelle with the hearts of young men as
they fell
Mademoiselle would hide in her shell
Could then turn cast a spell on any girl
That got in her way.
She would crave all attention
Men would flock to her side
Woe betide any man who ignored
For she'd feign such affection
Then break down their pretension
When she'd won she would turn away.
Turn away, thoroughly bored.
Mademoiselle, long ago said farewell
To any love left to sell, for the sake of being belle
of the ball
Mademoiselle knows there's no way to quell
Her own private hell, just a shell,
With no heart left at all.
Poor old Mademoiselle.