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, English, Puisi

O, Brother!

O, brother
Why have thou come hither?

The morrow are being wither
Bone marrow are being batter
My sorrow will not be better
I can’t give thou bread and butter

For I, too, hold my hunger
You shall have to suffer

O, brethen
You call me heathen
Burn me at stake
make me a steak

My meat is meek
Blood wine as sleek
What will you seek
After I break?

Live like Jesus die like Jesus
Beelzebub babbling bobbling pus
Brother will you let me pass
working as hard as an ass

To give food on your family plate
To be good as a man on a gate
To be fooled by your poor little slate
To die bold on the hands of my mate.

O, brother
Why have thou come hither?

Can’t thou love me any better
Than to be sad and bitter?

Alam, Cinta, Eksistensialisme, English, Perlawanan, Puisi

The Five of Tens to One

The hunger the lost
The will to power over nothing
The running the hiding
The thirst to taste each and everything
The confusion the intrusion
The complication of a conspicuos mind
The pride the ego
The prejudice in interpreting faces
The body the sex
The desire on collecting playable objects

The moments the truths
The misdemenour of a forgotten subaltern
The break the broken
The time to rest upon forever
The silence the dream
The sleep surpassing state of death
The deprivation the population
The society rejects incorporation
The denial the defiance
The illusion of being a free anarchist

The God the angels
The promised heaven that never achieved
The cold the weather
The frozen point of burning guns
The laughter the mask
The wall exhibit emotions
The sickness the sea
The remedy of being a stranded stranger
The music the sirene
The leaves falls composing asphalt

The talk the poetry
The structure of tens of meaningless parable
The lovers the passion
The intercourse of incomprehension
The screen the keyboards
The random codes of exploitations
The island the man
The woman woven waves of wolves
The howling the city
The wind cries engine growls

The road the intersection
The part where chosing is not an option
The searching the roses
The pavement of rotting carcasses
The words the phrases
The pragmatism in losing semantics
The books the bibles
The open and closing of dangerous minds
The spaces the places
The end to start and the start to end

The evil the willing to never get even