shrug

simply.

we are balloons
drifting without a home
except if you count the clouds
in a cotton candy sky.
we are dying red red hearts
skipping too many beats
but i guess
feeling is being.

lonely kings

gold and pearls
and precious stones
on an empty, worthless throne
do not compete,
do not rival
the kind of love
lonely kings
burn empires for

Wishing Purse

click. close. i wish, i wish, i wish.

be happy. get married. live together in the smallest, cheapest place you can find. fill it up with pictures upon pictures and candles upon candles because who needs furniture? work, work, work until either one of you get a raise— and then you move to a slightly bigger place. and yes you will take the pictures and hang them on your new walls. talk about having kids. and decide to adopt a cat first. fight about who spoils the cat the most. of course, you'll always win the fight— even though you both know you spoil it the most. fake fight about everything else. then kiss and make up. make each other's dinners. or have a date every saturday night. or friday. or stay at home and fake fight over the remote— you'll always let him win this one. talk about having kids. and maybe decide to have them for real this time. try every single rocking chair in the store and decide that you want your grandmother's old one. paint the nursery yellow because you don't like pink and he doesn't like baby blue. and when that baby comes out, or arrive at the front door— whichever you decide— have tons of fake fights about who loves him the most as he grows up. cheer for the baby's first step. then maybe the baby will fall and hurt their head, and oh dear god he's bleeding. so you frantically drive to the hospital and start cursing at every single living thing who's wearing a uniform but not helping the baby. and then maybe you'll scowl because of course he's going to laugh at you. but he tells you to not worry, and you stop worrying. well maybe just a little bit because—hello— your baby's in there with a suspiciously young nurse, who, by the way, has probably never handled a child before. so you pace the waiting room until they call you in to bring the baby home. go home. sit on the rocking chair. you'll never let the baby out of your sight again, you say, and he'll not like it. but he comes back with a hot cocoa and pillows, and an air mattress that he just pumped. you laugh when you hear him say maybe you should've settled with another cat. cry on the baby's first birthday. cry on the baby's first day of preschool. spend every morning curled up in each other's arms before your son barge into the room and bounce bounce bounce on the bed. then cry on the first day of elementary school. high school. and when your once little baby's finally off to college. he'll laugh at you, but later that night he'll tell you that he misses him too. on your fiftieth anniversary you'll have nothing else to say to each other, yet so much to tell. so you make him his favorite dinner and he helps you do the dishes. happy anniversary, he says, and yes it is a happy anniversary. and you tell him he makes you happy. he boops your nose and tells you ditto.

click. open. i wish, i wish, i wish.

Itu Merdeka

this is an oldie from last year. i just discovered it again on my other blog and it's not here yet. so.. yeah.

berlarianlah anak-anak kecil yang tak dikenal
menggambar engklek dengan kerikil di pinggiran jalan
habiskan waktu menunggu lampu menyala merah

tabuh tamborin seadanya
tutup-tutup botol dipasung ke sepotong kayu
tak bersepatu bukan berarti berhenti bekerja

melagu terus hingga dijumpai lagi lampu hijau
dan engklek pun kembali dilakoni tertawa-tawa
ayah dan ibu duduk melihat sambil berteduh saja

(ini kisahmu sekarang
bebas merdeka tetapi merdeka berlalu,
merdeka yang hampir)

buku cerita terserak luka
sedu sedan tangis pilu bersisi dua
merdeka masih suatu hari datangnya

semacam tembang yang dicipta lalu terlupa
buka jendelamu hingga terusik ia terkenang
dengar anak-anak kecil bermain di pinggir jalan

itu merdeka, saudara
semerdu merdeka yang pernah diajarkan kepadamu
buka kepalan tangan itu

dear helen

of all the things you ponder
at sixty-two
did you regret giving betty
i wanna be loved by you
(just you, nobody else but you)
or just
betty?

the other side of midnight

the other side of midnight is light
untouched by the cryptic voices in your head
spared by the vicious monsters that reside in your heart
and most importantly, armored from your self destructive mind
it's happy — in a non tumultuous way
colorful in a muted tone that tugs a sigh
but still it worries for the sun will eventually rise

the other side of midnight is light
and vile

hell

is
a 
small
small
world

Waiting for Polo

where do you go when you're lonely?
(are you singing or are you asking a question?)
to a tree.
to a lonely tree in the middle of the park.
and you sit there,
leaning your back against it.
wishing that you'll grow lesser in loneliness,
well, now that you're sharing it with the tree.
but it's no use.
your heart feels smaller than it's supposed to be.
or did it grow too big for your chest?
either way, it's not a good feeling.
you want somebody's hand to hold yours.

why are you here alone?
("Marco," you whisper to the wind.
the wind answers you nothing.)

arcane

(then you forget,
a little too easily
that i, too,
break)

this is how

love
loudly and with purpose

santana

in darkness you sit alone and unholy
but you are not unlike your name
you have seen the light but there it fades
already forever damaged, cracked,
and broken indoors you have become

you ask yourself, how does one carry on through
a killing avalanche without turning into one?
but before the question was finished,
you've forced upon yourself an answer:
one does not.

so sinking to the floor you are now
unsure but willfully losing air
you smile a faint smile and say
hello, to fate, but as you do
you wail to love a silent goodbye



*yes, i invest too much in fictional characters. but i like what her name means. 

i thee wed

forget the flowers they will just die

let's just be
let's just live
crazy ever after
we will love

state

and how can one drift
in and out and in and out
from one limbo to another?
there's no winning to this matter, is there?

what i am is afloat,
but barely,
and contentment
is unknown

bisik

terkadang yang kau dengar hanya hiruk pikuk suara
mampir lantang menggelegar menyakiti telinga
dan nyatanya baru kau tahu
ternyata sepi itu bijaksana

ternyata sepi itu bijaksana
kalau kau tak sibuk mempertanyakannya
yang kau tahu hanya yang boleh kau tahu
bukan dari mana datangnya atau mengapa dia diam saja

ternyata sepi itu bijaksana
kalau sesekali kau berani menghilang
di tengah ruang gelap dan yang kau perlu
hanya menutup mata dan menghirup nafas saja

(lalu dengan penuh cinta dia membisikimu,
memelukmu dengan kata-kata bisu yang tak bisa kau dengar
tapi kau rasakan dengan seksama,
nyatanya sepi itu bijaksana)