Friday, April 17, 2015

manusia palsu

aku itu manusia palsu

kerjannya hanya mengadu

lalu menikam dengan palu

percaya ku tidak lagi pada tumpuan

pundung tua aku menunggu rajam Tuhan

seperti dihimpit besi gerigi tua

penuh karat mengotori lembar jiwa

sepi

sendiri

sudah itu marah pada kelam

tak lama lenyap ditelan malam

Saturday, March 28, 2015

daddy's always right

i was only eighteen
when dad first sent me into another circle
this circle lead me a way
in to the peace of mind
where i think i belong

daddy's always right
man born to go bow down to the mighty
because woman is a domineer
and that creature of God
light up my first cigarette
but thanks to Him anyway
for making champagne does exist instead

see,
im safe in my delusional
and the disko dyed my broken
into the burst of rainbow lights
inside this blessing room
where the DJ asked to put our hands up
and forget the fucking pain

in another night
in my luxurious yet empty flat
i wish my dad was wrong
for you might not be coming back
but again
daddy's always right

So sleep son

beneath the dark
under the moonlight
our locomotive cross the green field
with this baby blue blanket
and you slept in my arms
im tansfering my warmth
i remember the time
you were still five
you said,
"daddy look at my muscle,
when i grow up i wanna be just like kungfu hustle,
cause i knew life is cruel
i dont want to hear you rustle"
oh son, what is it to be grown up
this 25 years i spent my life
is just a joke of and old broken casette
tangled and shrilled
ah the hell with where this train would go
as long as im with you i'll go
mama there always watching from above
everynight she kisses you a good dream
and wakes you by the heat of the morning sun
she grant me her death
so that you come to my world
and give me my lost conscience
so sleep son
my son
my pride
my brave
my wealth
my weakness
my soul
my son

(Semarang, 6 Maret 2015)

its okay

i saw that black of loneliness
in the brown of yours
and at the same time
the melodies of mellow hardcore
are also heard through the beats of that walking step
i dont exactly understand how hard it is
that maybe gravity and your sanity
are secretly compromizing
to take you down under the rain of anxiety
did you bought satisfaction with the money you earn?
oh jesus, you bailed out pain with the money you pay
you filled the mind of yours
every kind of artificial bliss
in every friday
smoke, girls, club
little true good guy
youre just completely drunk
so
let me drive you out of nowhere till 5 in the morning
and you can be yourself till the day of endless
ill lean you my shoulder
the time youre ready to stop pretending
its okay for everyone to get tired
its okay for everyone to be weak
its okay for everyone to feel ordinary
what are you worry about?
dont be scared
a mask that made of steel
really is incriminating
all you need is a warm blanket
with a waterproof mattress
where its free to cry
and safe to harbour
let your fear be burned
and when you built the faith
the dawn of our enchanting day star
will ready to kiss you its light
on the bright of your smile
its okay for everyone to finally realize
its okay for everyone to get back to be exactly the way they were

its okay for everyone to miss themselves

Sunday, February 15, 2015

this is the story about

this is the story about the secret agent
who stands by concealing his identity
who stands by the loneliness far away to protect his fiancè
who stands by feeling so much guilty and tormented after postponed his wedding

this is the story about the mail man
who brings new like a magazine would do
who brings smiles under his sweaty cap though he was tired
who brings only a box of fried rice for his wife on his way to home

this is the story about the pedicap rider
who drives from dawn to dusk
who drives in fatigue and still disrespected by the heartless mothers from the market
who drives miles just to buy his daughter a birthday gift

this is the story about the brat guy
who lives particularly next door
who lives under the addictions of drugs
who lives struggling, suffering his pain

this is the story about the prostitute
who desires being a daddy's little girl instead of late night in the club
who desires to be loved by her true love
who desires a practical normal life

this is the story about the born to be rich
who wear his pride everywhere he goes
who wear expensive suits and arlojis
who wear no more his dream becoming a doctor for he was sadly forced to run his father's company

this is the story about the famous lawyer
who gives her best in the front of law court
who gives victims hope to win the session
who gives her mind an order not to concern the misjudged for helping criminals

this is the story about the poor fresh graduates
who works at the bar serving beers to pay back the debt to the mafia
who works on his weed everytime he lose his faith to God
who works to death to buy ring for his engagement

this is the story about the mafia
who slays every single soul who considered as an enemy
who slays also his conscience everytime he murder people
who slays his heart into pieces pretending not to have any kind of human sense

this is the story about the stubborn
who still close both of their eyes and ears
who still follow the stereotype and think one sided only

who still dumbly realize nothing after the past three minutes reading my poem

analogi metafora

surya membara 
menyelinap di lapis-lapis besi
ego membara
menyelinap di lapis-lapis emosi

bumi berguncang
mengoyak retak anak tangga
hati berguncang
mengoyak retak rumah tangga

mulut membisu
tiada berkata kemudian dicaci
raga membisu
tiada usaha menyesal nanti

luka tergoreh
membekas perih di kulit mati
iman tergoreh
membekas dosa dan lalu mati

a Déjà Vu

in the light of evening you're dying of hunger

and decided to eat commons habitual supper

you offered the menu saying "the meal is lecker"

i said no my coffee is more more better


you're a freak of sleepless and smokes like endless

you forgot stuffs and naturally reckless

you dont blabber much and say things careless

even so, we went along better than the previous


i think i'm kind of misjudge you

for when it rains who gave me an umbrella is you

it feels like a Déjà Vu

a Déjà Vu

a Déjà Vu

cause someone ever did it to me too


i went home by the light of you under the moon

your car fragrance adhere my top that sweat at noon

in my dream that night i see us together eating macaroon

i hope that we could catch up again soon



tiny cotton candy

i was an innocent brat who did a crime

cause in this giant gaze of bliss i crossed the line

i barely remember the phrase of wicked 

it is free to put me in jail i'd be punished


when the sun goes down the sky

my sins were slipping by

through the warmth of laughters

through the jiggle of shoulders


this song is about some guilty plea

for thinking about tiny cotton candy idea

that dissolve at the tip of the tounge area

and unseen by the cornea

you'll see how lies works

you'll feel how lies worth


this last sips of caramel taste sweet and quench

i wish there are still more in my clench 

oh no

the swinging of clockwise is breaking the bench

but thanks to God, He forgive me by the drenched



Friday, January 23, 2015

another controv literate in 19th-Century

“What of Art?
-It is a malady.
--Love?
-An Illusion.
--Religion?
-The fashionable substitute for Belief.
--You are a sceptic.
-Never! Scepticism is the beginning of Faith.
--What are you?
-To define is to limit.” 


Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891)



Tuesday, January 20, 2015

a flake of "Kaddish"

And you're out, 
Death let you out,
Death had the Mercy, 

you're done with your century, 
done with God, 
done with the path thru it
Done with yourself at last
Pure
Back to the Babe dark before your Father, 

before us all
before the world
There, rest.

No more suffering for you.
I know where you've gone, it's good.

by Allen Ginsberg, 1961




Friday, January 02, 2015

(r.b)

so its three in the morning. probably half four by the time i wrote this. lately im kind of having a little sleep disorder which i have no idea why. and that was the reason i thought about spending more time in the front of computer and watch a lot of movies.

it is a cold warm night where im taking my blanket on and crumple up by one of the masterpiece of human being. it belongs to the wondrous Rusty Borgens, who played by Nat Wolff, an ordinary (yet touchy) character in a movie ive just watched.