Eksistensialisme, English, Meditasi Tulis, Puisi, Racauan

It’s that time again

It’s that time again when I have become sleepless. And in this state of mind, glimpses of horrendous images comes to mind unexpectedly, triggered by unprecedented scene. I will not give you the context of these images. I just want to share these aesthetically awful memories that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

The body of a friend who got hit by a train.

Strains of hair of an ex girlfriend on the sink.

The scar under the belly of a loved one.

The warm chest of my father who just passed, blood on his lips because he bite his tongue.

Corpse of my uncle, skinny, dark, blood from his mouth, ear, eyes, nose. His body bent and stiffed.

The smell of fresh linen out of my crush uniform in High School.

Her smile while giving me warm milk in morning. The taste of that milk.

The rope on my neck on a failed suicide attempt.

My salty tears, and the wind on my face while driving my motorcycle, after a family tragedy.

That rain when I went home from her house, walking for hours.

The sound of my brother adzan on my father’s grave.

A picture of a woman I love, naked with another man.

These are slide of films, that will bug me for the rest of my life.

And as long as I am alive, my life will always produce it, more and more.

I hope I can be better at editing it.

Baca lebih lanjut
Cinta, Eksistensialisme, Kontributor, Puisi


Dia cantik, mempesona dan gemerlap
Dia bahagia, memikat dan memukau
Dia hebat, bersinar dan candu
Jalan buntu menghalangi, menghujam, dan mematung
Lara tak dapat ditolak, namun tidak untuk diundang
Tersenyum tak menampak
Tertawa tak melepas
Hanya sebuah karya Tuhan yang mendamba embun
Lalu bagaimana lara membunuhnya?
Biarlah ia mati, dan kan ku hidupkan lagi dia yang lalu

ISMI, 2022

 Ismi Budiawan mengakui dirinya sebagai Perempuan Matahari dan Broadcaster of Happiness

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Cinta, Eksistensialisme, English, Puisi

Skip a Beat

We are hurting each other
Just by existing and living
You see the stars and follow my footsteps
Yet you have to deny me because I was right,
and you hate that.

And my heart skipped a beat
Every time I see you, I’m still looking for you too
once in a while.
On the stars.
In every crypt.

You will always deny me.
You will always be angry.
And hate me. And love me.
In whatever way.
In poems, films, works, go on. Go on.

My heart skipped a beat. One beat. Two beat. Three beat. And in every broken heart and lovers lost… It skipped a beat.

And there’s a little bit of me
In everything you do,
Those are the heartbeat that you took.

By beat. By beat.
And the last beat, will be
for billions of years that
created my first heartbeat.

P.S. It’s so great being on our own in our own little world, ain’t it?

Cinta, Eksistensialisme, Puisi

Burning Brine

Lord I am drowning
In my own tears
Since these glimpses
Just won’t let me go

I see corpses of my uncle, auntie, best friend, father

Dead bodies, empty vessels, fade voices and laughters

And I can’t stop thinking about my sins and guilt

I don’t think I am a victim
On the contrary, I was a perp
Inflicting pain to others
Like strains of hair on her sink
Or scars below her belly
Or my hand marks on her neck

And my dear sibling inability to function
Or my mother constant sadness in her laugh

Jesus how did you take the sins
By being crucified, betrayed.

Sleep now, sleep my friend
All will be done in no time

All shall pass

To the grave in a hope for grace

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