I often wonder
whether in those books you read
you ever read my name
between the lines

like an unexpected gift
or unfortunate rift
like a rifle aimed at you
or flowers handed to you

do you ever feel like I am there?
staring back at your weary eyes
do you ever stop and think back?
the love we never got to share...

a poisonous thought, come evening
I wonder and wonder and wander
to you, the birthmark on your wrist
the poems you write, the meaning you twist

between the lines
did you ever wonder?

quietude of love
everlastingly beautiful
rambunctious excitement
effervescent life
never, yet, the twain shall meet

between the lines
did you ever wonder about me?

Nobody told me how much life would change once I graduated. The immense feelings of nostalgia, I barely managed to dissuade it. My heart, in all its complexities and difficulties, yearns for all kinds of things, scenarios, people - feelings. my heart yearns to feel. love keeps me warm, but lately, I've been awake with alarms, ringing like a maddened storm.

I think of the people I no longer talk to, my mind can come up with a few. Do people get over this? or is this a mist you cannot miss, haunting like a broken wrist, a cruel fate twist, that drives you searching for some kind of bliss?

I am undone. There used to be so much sun, but now it's hard even just to have fun. Is it cowardice to want to run? I imagine buying a gun and aiming it at my head, a joke so blunt.

I lay awake yet again. Dreams used to be so grand. But now it's all so bland.

I don't want to be bland...

as the mists of night rise,
I can see the faint illusory white light
in the distance, gleaming beautifully
like an oasis in the middle of the desert

I get up from my bed and open the window
tears welling up in my eyes, dissipating sorrow
suddenly, I saw life as it is and it was wonderful
I haven't had as terrible a life as I had thought

Isn't it funny how life is but a fleeting moment?
I can't say that it isn't filled with harsh torment
But happiness isn't too few to mention too
Life isn't always all shades of the color blue

I rest my head on my pillow again
Still, in my chest, I feel the subtle pain
But tomorrow is a new day
and, perhaps, the beginning of the end
of all this terrible pain I've endured.

When the day is over
and night takes its place;
Would you wish you weren't sober
if you still remember her face?

I've quit drinking, I would say.
You'd smile and congratulate me.
Is it really worth the price I pay?
The ability to access lost memories...

Now I can see how lonely the moon is
As I recall of the first time we kissed
Is it just as sweet for you as it is to me?

When the day is over
and night takes its place;
Is anything even worth anything?
At the end of the day, you gotta live it alone...

loving often feels like running hurdles
but it's endless; there is no specified finish line
you keep jumping hurdles
and you keep running

you brush aside fatigue
you brush aside pride
you burn the desire to quit

you don't stop running.
that's what love is:
running endless hurdles.

two lovers making love in a Ritz room
life is heaven, but for whom?
a government official returns to his family
life is heaven, but for whom?
gods watch in pleasure from far up above
heaven is life, but for whom?

houses made of thin sheets of metal
life is heaven, but for whom?
wooden beds and endless drops of sweat
life is heaven, but for whom?

words of love and tender affection
life is heaven, but only for some
fancy dinners and bottles of wine
life is heaven, but only for some

as for the rest,
I needn't say

I look inward and found mere hollow space
seems I've run my course and lost the race.
looking back and thinking of long lost days
when games were the things we all played

now we dig deep at one another
like madmen loose in a hospital
we rip out one another's hearts
tears in our eyes, unable to speak

in the end I could fight no more
all the fibres in me you've torn
you've nailed me to the cross
you've crowned me King of Loss

I could call on father above,
but what's the use?

tell me, dear
what's the use?

you weren't wrong.
i'll be frank; you were difficult to love
you were a slow, lento song
a nimble, agile, little dove

i'll be frank; you were the sun in May
when darkness was oppressed
when warmth felt depressing
and love choked itself, dying

you weren't wrong.
you held me at gunpoint and cried
you pushed me an inch closer to the void
you called my name and chose to hide

but i held on,
longing for December rain once more
longing to be human once more
longing for you, and you alone

but you were long gone
a day late, a dollar short, a metre shy
you are glory days,
golden age

you were.

there's no set of eyes i long for more
than yours
no gentle touches i pine for more
than yours
no person i yearn for more
than you.

even if i had known love has been and always will be quicksand, still i'd jump in it, simply in order to tell you i love you. simply to drown myself looking at you. even if i were to drown again, again, again, again....

you've been hollow
sending me on the verge of sorrow
anticipating a better tomorrow

i write, and write, and write
and yet my feelings just fight
all the way through the night

they bicker
they thrash

they fall apart
soon to follow my heart.

tonight I am in favor of silence
of the blue skies only belonging to some
of the pretty stars only shining for a few

tonight I am in favor of silence
of the small house with wooden fence
the place where the small river bends

tonight I am in favor of silence
of the deafening sound of sirens
to fall apart with no defiance

for tonight you are in favor of a distant place
no, you have disappeared without a trace

tonight I am in favor of silence
for at least I can hide in it.

right now
we are staring
at each other's soul

right now
we are distanced
like Jakarta to Seoul

right now
we are laughing
though not like cheap flick

our screens
connect us

the last straw

i hope someday you'll remember:
the picture you took with your eyes
of a lovely, quiet, peaceful sunset
me sitting next to you, telling you:
"i will never forget this point in time."

i will always remember:
the picture i took with my eyes
of a gentle, warm, beautiful smile
of the March weather, ever so kind
"i hope we'll end up being happy."

i remember the day still.
but i don't know what i feel
like when you're ill
are you something my mind should ****?

if we never spoke to each other again
would you hold me one last time?

would you remember me in your darkest nights, when you just cannot shut your eyes, when your thoughts are black and blue?

would you think of me when you board the plane for your first flight, wearing your sweet uniform, greeting the weary passengers?

if we never spoke to each other again
would you at least tell me one last time that you loved me at times? or perhaps you never did feel anything?

why won't you say something?
why?

in truth:
i am terribly afraid of being joyful
and gay when i am with you

because they say the higher you climb
the harder you fall

and i have been feeling mighty tall
since the first time you called.

you told me something's off
what is it? i asked
(you're not him) you wanted to say

i'm sorry i'm not him.

it is difficult
to take a deep breath
inside a crowded room

to keep going
fully realising
you may never be enough

for yourself
for her
for anyone

to know you may never be enough
never...

tonight i am plagued
with self doubt
and anxiety

i want to exist
quietly
gently
for you

with you

but love's become
an impossibility

life's become
an impossibility

because of me.

because of me.

loving you
has made me think
"should love
be this difficult?"

o, this vain trepidation,
the fear that though it is you
who demands sincerity,
you're still treading
on both grounds

and i wound up lying on the floor
beaten and battered. and you're
the one dealing the final blow.

tell me:
how are beliefs helping
when they cause persecution
screaming injustice while performing acts of hate?

tell me:
how does one differ
folly for a questionable book
or the innermost desire to rule others?

tell me:
how can one say
religions are the foundations of earth
when morality is at a point of contempt?

tell me:
how could one say
one believes in a god
when one ignores humanity?

where is the decency?
what is peace in a tyranny of hate?
some day we'll realize a little too late...

what the hell does valentine's day means
when you lay awake at 1 am
anxiety's got your left hand
memories has got your right

and she has your whole heart

and you're not in control of it all

what the **** does it mean?

O, speak, Torment! I shall lament no more; no more of this uncertainty in which I have been thrown in, no more of this game in which my Virtues always win, in which I always surrender to the tenderness and reproach of the Lady. I, too, wish to speak my mind up. For I love thee not like a cat loves a mouse, like a dandy dragoon Captain loves a Cossack woman. But I love thee like a young man falling headlong in love, like the Priest loves his God, a devotion only a man who had long been tormented by solitude and uncertainty could gather in his heart, like a dying man grasping for his last breath; but do tell me: dost thou despise me? O, this torment of uncertainty!

this life
is filled with
enough uncertainty

please,
at the very least,
tell me that your love
is certain,
as certain as dawn arriving...

how much longer must i wait?

perhaps
i should have
seen the obvious:
the margins between
hope, fear, illusion
and the bitter truth
and how i
shouldn't have
mixed them all
into a blur
to satiate
my innermost
desire.

You.

like the weather in January
nothing certain about our love
like a misty morning in Jakarta
like a switch to turn it on and off.

oh, these melancholic nights.

I pretend to know love
when I fly blind each time I fall

I pretend to know you
when all I do is make you blue
as you do me too.

Worst of all;
I pretend to know myself
when I get lost in my own thoughts
and lie that I am fine each time I am nervous.

There's no title.
No beginning.
No, there's no ending as well.
These are the parts
In which we all
Are caught up.

In which we all
Spend our days:
Wondering,
Wandering.
Lost,
Found.
But never at the ending.

We are common in these parts.
Where the sugar-coated lie
Sometimes break
And we can see:

We are all caught in this whirlwind of commonness. Of the lonely parts.

My youth is laden with
Unanswered prayers
Cold and nervous love
Colourless days

Half of the time
I try to rhyme
But I lost the lines
I lost all that's fine

My youth is laden with
Heaviness at heart
Loneliness at soul
Anxiety at being

I'm tired of being
What am I fearing?

now,
my whole existence
doesn't depend
on you

but
it's sure as hell
a whole lot nicer
with you

you are the monsoon that suddenly left after causing a flood in a village called I.

like the golden sunset
slowly turning red
you are the beauty of the world

i cannot deny
         the feelings i have
erupted like Merapi
                       at the sight of your beauty
your voice softly touching me
         like soft wind in May

goodness, i'm in love.

last night i realized
i needn't be dead to go to heaven
or be called upon by god

only your soft body

lying quietly next to me

takes me to heaven.

Last night here was a play
In it a middle aged man recalls his past
How his friends came to him like a parade
How her first encounter with love was
How long do those memories last?

Like the man, a wave of memories struck me
I played the man
Had a lover in hand

I was the man

Seven years have passed

No signs of them disappearing anytime soon.

We separated
I gathered enough courage
Courage to confess
How I've loved you
For months

You seemed a little bit embarrassed

I was an idiotic parrot, stuttering each line

I cannot help the feeling of defeat afterwards.

My nerve broke when I said I loved you.

along these lines
these strands of hair
the blackening shadows

of their beauty explicit
and at the same time subtle

intertwined with your curves
your edges
your color
and you discoloration

along these lines
i found your true beauty
and in it lies my happiness

lie the lies that form a sense of happiness

i brought my Fear and Trembling to the hills
i don't want to think of the stacking bills
those trivial things no longer give me the thrills
or the quiet love that slowly kills

“...why bother remembering a past that cannot be made into a present?”

that line had me bent
all the things i thought i could mend
why must i fall towards the deep end

i must reflect upon what is past

but life must be lived forward...;

that night
the night we walked side by side
feels very far away
like a distant light
hand in hand
Vredeburg laid quiet

the street band

remembering it feels very lonely.

we were young
i remember still your red shirt
you wore on independence day

we were young
our hands met
and decided to stay that way

we were young
you told me to look away
and you kissed my cheek

my heart traveled at light speed
i stood in silence
you kissed me again
again
and again...

I awoke
In a pool of nostalgia
Of a memory so far
Yet so clear

Of a memory from seven years ago
Such a tender kiss
On the cheek

Of two lovers

Not yet thirteen.

i am the ocean waves
crashing into your beaches
only to find everyone

and everything

but you...

July was in full bloom
I could see clearly from my room
the moon and the stars alive and well
The painting of the romantic night quickly fell

I walked to the window and sat
The streets were empty
The apartment even more
A night in the city’s belly

Buses, old and new, passed by
Men and women, of young and old,
stood still and are terribly ill-humoured
No jokes or stories were being told

A cigarette was lit in the room next door
If drink was at play, I was done for
She passed me a lighted one
Her gaze more dangerous than a gun

The streets became animated now
The cinema blurted out hundreds at once
I wondered what was on show?
She replied: probably another low

She brought out a bottle of whiskey
She said: once I leave, you’ll miss me
I said: is there a charge or a fee?
She said: you know it’s always free

She was right in that too:
I miss her alright.

someday I won't be bitter
someday I'll stop loving you
someday I'll no longer feel blue

but, for now
the calm orange light
breaking through
I can no longer fight
a feeling so true.

cruel is the month of July

you and I
we are trying
to make sense
of this old feeling

called love.

i feel inexplicable happiness when i am with you
once it is over, though, i feel utterly blue
i know, i know, it is very much true
'she feels nothing more than good friends with you'

but my foolish heart remains so
it keeps thinking that she is giving me hope,

what kind of hope shreds the man to his last piece?
what hope?

i wrote a poem for you today
it was written on the very back of your notebook.
i compared you to a beautiful spring in May
how even the most serene view you overtook

i wrote a poem for you today
i said 'i love you' in it
now i am in disarray

do with me as you deem to be fit

i won't change my words
'i love you'

oh, what terrible pain it is to behold
a love and hope you hold dearly,
to fall apart and crumble
to see that you are not the cafe she was looking for
to finally understand that you are a shirt one size below hers
that you are nothing more than a conversation machine
that you are a good friend
a friend
...