Hendak

Beriringan layang-layang berkutat mesra berlomba dengan awan,

Berhamburan lelatu berwarna-warni menyayang malam hingga pagi mengganti,

Bersambutan tawa tergelak hingga menangis terbahak tanpa terisak,

Berlarian bertelanjang kaki terserak-serak pasir diciumi ombak, dihibur angin dikelitiki senja ditemani selamanya

Hendak

hinggap sejenak.

Tale

There were dreams
Once upon a wonder upon a time
And in spaces we held hands unknowingly
Tethered, but never anchored
Floating free like leaves and
Pages of a storybook that tell us
There are dreams, still
Once upon a wonder upon a time

(And through the unwritten lines,
our hands will always be entwined.)

Things Queens Don't Say

Mirror, Mirror on the wall
You see this face, but not at all
A pair of eyes, a pair of lips
With countless sighs, no soul to kiss

Mirror, Mirror do tell true
See a face, but really do you?
Inside a frame I am entrapped
A lifetime held by promises kept

Mirror, Mirror when will thee break?
beneath thy frail pieces, my fate will you take?
my love is gone, a funeral too soon
the sun has set on kingdom doomed

Mirror, Mirror bathed in candlelight
send me a light, send something bright
because Mirror, Mirror cold on my wall
nothing can seize me the moment I fall

Riddle Me We

a tandem effort by me & ms. runi.

i am blue and she is green.

here's the next part
of the lovely maze we are
you go this way and i go that
and never mistake it for goodbye

tracing walls with our left hands
you with the stars, and i the breadcrumbs
two lost children
how can we know for sure?

the sun set and shadows gone
and fireflies playing hide and seek
(some shimmery undecipherable language we see)
yet your heartbeat's clapping with mine

a wonderful confusion we be
here to get lost to get found
barefooted and bare hearted
we finally meet at where we part

it's
       r
       
             a

          i

                    n

              i

                      n

         g

and i'm walking






without my shoes on

between you and me
the sky and the tall trees
the moon and the stars
and all these lovely sparks

we could build fires

writing for strangers

i know what you're reading but
what are you reading?

are you reading the words that
are written or are you
reading the words i have written?
have you your faith in my spaces
and dashes and whether or not
my i's are oversized
and without dots?
do you weep and bleed or perhaps
feel the corners of your lips tug
upwards when a chapter closes
like i?

i know what you're reading but
what are you reading?

there is no gentle breeze
but a storm
when you let yourself
small

-

di satu sudut yang

jarang kau kunjungi

ada satu cerita yang

belum ada selesainya

(jika kau ingat-ingat

mungkin kau tidak akan lupa)

di satu kalimat yang

tidak pernah lagi kau kunjungi

ada pecahan hati yang

sempat utuh sebelumnya

(jika kau ingat-ingat

mungkin kau tidak akan lupa)

di satu setapak yang

tak bisa lagi kau temui

ada hari lalu yang

semakin jauh adanya

(jika kau ingat-ingat

mungkin kau tidak akan lupa)

di satu hari yang

telah sengaja kau tutupi

ada aku yang

berdiri diam saja

(jika kau ingat-ingat

mungkin kau tidak akan lupa)

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.