Please give me your heart,
because I've just lost
my
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         L

Happy Birthday to my mom!
Happy Birthday to my little sister!
Best prayers for both of you, for all your hopes and dreams.

At 1 a.m.
There is a girl
who
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in my head.
I give my hand
and she gives her hand too.
She talks to me
what if we walk together
in a dark night.
I say, okay.
She talks to me
before going
she wants me
to hold on her hand tight.
I say, okay.
But,
I have many questions
which I have to ask.
What about if
I reject her
by saying no?
I swear
she will die
in suicide
because she
                  j
                   u
                     m
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                          e
         ­                   d
in my head
and I didn't help her.

The strangers in the past kept staring at me and smiled.
I smiled back at them.
I let myself not forget them.
Their happy face always stays in my mind.
The memories of them give me a chance when I am getting lost and don't have a place to find.
Sometimes I don’t have to choose.
The only things I do only remembering them.
The strangers in the past kept staring at me and smiled.
I am happy with them.
I want to say I have to go but I can't.
I want them to know if it will be a beautiful goodbye.

It's raining tonight.
Cold.
My head was hot full of flames and wanted to explode immediately.
Like what if I cool the head full of fire in the rain full of water, will it die down or vice versa.
No animal sounds tonight.
There was no sound,
other than the rain falling from the sky onto the ground.
Blessing rainy night to all creatures on earth.
What a wonderful thing it is,
the gift from nature,
the gift of life.

You are a butterfly
that flies and perches
on a corpse flower
throughout the rainy season
in December.

Why so many people imitate
the same popular things
that people did
and the one reason
I only get that they want to become
as popular as them,
and here I am writing
that they don't know,
or vice versa.

Is that called creativity?

Like a dead poem
who must be reborn
on the same night again
with all the endless silence,
words back to learn
to string his sentence.

"Everything that has been exhausted now it's between love and hate."

And a long road engraved
back to make a new face
along with each space.
We try to say the word go,
say the word again.
Everything that looks new
never forget the past.
And for all that is finished,
waiting for another story to the last.

Can I serve you a delicious poem
in the plate of paper?
I will tell you.
This is a secret.
I can be your best chef.

When I kissed your lips for the first time,
souls unite and vibrate in the crown of the head.
Our world cries out just to be owned by the two of us.

The wind that had brought the news then stopped,
looked at the two pairs of eyes that were not mutually exclusive,
traced the area making out intimately,
put on a stunned body.

The air that warms the body turns the sweat cold,
the heart races as if we are being chased by danger;
so fast, and great.

The light touches our eyes gently, beautifully, and so enchantingly; relieves every pain,
burns every bitter taste.

I kissed those lips for the first time.
And the birds chirping from afar sounded more melodious adorning the ears,
making ornaments on every scale.
And trauma turns into the experiences we've been looking for, during the transition from adolescence to adulthood.

I kissed those lips,
feeling relieved and happy afterward.
But now those lips had kissed someone else's,
and I'm sure everyone had witnessed the memories.

We are poetry written with sadness and tears
I no longer miss you, and so do you
We become fear

There is nothing in nothing.
I get myself there.
There is a love in a love.
You take me affair.

I'm a foreigner
at the crossroads
what you see from a distance
wave hands
say hello to you.
I've been confused
ever since stand alone in the crowd,
no one sees me
except for a pair of eyes
that is lodged in people's heads
which I never knew before;
and the clouds turn blue but don't hurt flowing right over the head
then the birds rise expel the wind
who had tossed my long hair.
I just stare at them,
hope they don't look at me.
However, the world suddenly stopped. And my world seems to have a limit
to transcend isolation.
I'm a foreigner
at the crossroads,
which has been left behind by old memories,
and when the new comrades have become adept at reading signs,
and therefore we have bonded
like a relationship
that we are not really aware of.
I'm a foreigner
at the crossroads,
greet you as a stranger too,
but now everyone is busy making their own festival,
and don't ask,
I make a festival for whom,
except for the day
when I'm not known anymore.

Send me a true love
and I will pay it
because I never get it.

When you feel
you are so tired
to do all the same things
in everyday,
what you need
is just a good sleep.

You choose to close your eyes and never see me.
I die in it.

The bright sky
kisses my eyes,
I'm stunned
and I can't blink.
Clouds hanging overhead.
And the wind
blows my hair
also brings
the music of nature
like the chirping of a bird
perched on a branch.
Cool and calm.
The green leaves
make me not want to leave here,
the place where I always miss,
life in a quiet village
which many people
do not choose to stay.

Many Palestinians died in being killed by Israeli armed soldiers
Why are many citizens of the world silent and as if they don't know anything?
So many people don't care?
They said it is a political problem
They said it is a religious issue
They said even though we speak up it doesn't change anything
This is a humanitarian problem
This is a form of colonization
It is a matter of peace
Those of us who do not live in Palestine may be able to live comfortably and peacefully
Without fear
Without any worries
Without feeling sad
And without crying
But, have you ever imagined how those who live there?
The bomb explosion came unexpectedly
The rocket came unexpectedly
Destroying the buildings
Destroying houses
Destroying residences
Many people have no place to live
Many people are hungry
Many people died and were injured
Many people are sad and grieving
War is not a solution
Occupation must be abolished
Peace has the right to be upheld
Zionism is a form of colonization
Never be silent for all forms of oppression and violence
Because silence is a form of agreement
Be care because we are all human
We are all human
And be human

I am too young
to feel and realize
that the madness
had become my friends.
Nobody tells it
that what I feel never be end.
I said nobody.
I'm lost in every poetry.
When I realize, there is nobody in there.
I am a line that you read right now.
Did you see if there is nobody here?
I am too young
to feel and realize
that I am the foolish man
grown with many foolish things
arounds me.
Nobody sees it
and nobody realizes
if there is nobody here
but YOURSELF.

A lion king goes to the crowd alone.
He needs a friend to live together.
But they don't want to be his friend because they are afraid of his hair and his knowledge.

The sunlight said, "Good morning, my dear".
You got it when you opened the window.
The sunlight said, "There are many good things to do if you're in a good day".
Until you realized the cloudy fill them with tears and you got fear, but there are still good day indeed.

I'm sitting here
on the darkest night
when a poem comes
and says, "stay there",
and silence will be your friend.
Let's pretend
to know each other
even though
we never remember
faces like the people
we once loved.
I'll say this
and everything you hate
shut up.
You are victorious
over all solitude.

I see myself walking in the night sky, taking the moon home, and letting you stay in the best place of my heart.

I saw an empty glass
I poured myself into it
Full, I wanted full
I drank it
I drank myself
Run out
I drank it up
I was swallowed up by force until all of it into the esophagus
I then saw the dark night sky
And it was three o'clock in the morning
Shadows, I saw shadows
And maybe it was myself
I saw a faint light from the ventilation of the bedroom window
And the street light
Also the air goes in and out of the room
I'm still sipping it
I'm still sipping it for today
I looked back at the dim light and looked for an empty glass
I poured myself back into it
Run out
Turns out, I forgot to buy it back
And I forgot myself
And I needed to go back

I roll you in cigarette's paper
and lit the fire
I inhale
and exhale you
deep into my throat
And I blow off you again in the air I take
How it makes my heartburn with love
I think I lose you every single time I do smoking
It hurts me with suffering on my lung
And I always keep loving
Why must I imagine a love like this?
If I knew, I swear I would never try to do this
I am sorry,
I've lost you like my wish

My darling is no longer here
nor on tonight's poetry
where half of her face was lost in the night
and dreams are now no longer like a blushing red moon
when I last saw her drunk in the lap of love.

It’s really happy if you can always create the night from restless in your heads--
creating many twinkling stars in your sleep
reaching the sky
seeing her cute smile from out there.

What is my darling doing now?
Like a hope that I failed to achieve again.
O, is this a loss that is felt many times?

Tonight is like last night.
Poetry is like a cure for every addiction
to such a sad life.
O, I just let go--all the words.
Just let her fly around the lost soul
on a body that was empty
and had become in rubble vanished.

Even though there is no moon and stars anymore
even though you are still looking for the bright light
in your cramped room--
because the sobs never end and always cover your chest.
Tonight will remain a long night--
the sound of the bats are so deafening
the sound of the crickets soothe the atmosphere—
like your lonely heart
who has died by many buts.

Alright, let's get it--everything
like nothing had ever happened
like the indifference of human life
like you can only feel your soul fly in the imagination that you create yourself.

Alright,
tonight will be like last night--a long night
the night where my darling is no longer here
neither in my head
nor in this poem.

One day you will love the blue sky that I see from here, when you ask me why it took me so long to pick you up after work, even though we spend time together in front of the screen—me, who at that time was still glued to the window; looking at some of the birds that managed to fly high into the sky, I'm sure at that time you were able to count them freely.

Later, if it rains in the afternoon, you will start to love the sun that never sets, telling you one of the most beautiful ways to leave, you will understand why what is far away seems close, and vice versa - you never prepared anything after parting and I are the people you care about; who also understands nothing but happiness.

Later, when the night comes with all its worries, you might find the shadows we've met before, I hope you don't run away. Because, wherever you go, everything will only end up hurting yourself.

You may find another pain from loneliness. Do not be afraid. After all, I've taught you how to sew wounds, even though I used to be blind.

I act to be happy
and nobody knows.
When I cry,
they know I cry,
but they don't know
that I am sad.

Am I still alive when my feelings died?
Yes I died before and you never knew where I was buried
So today I will tell you more and you will know me more
I will tell you about my feelings
But the truth is true when you know all of them
You will receive that I am still waiting to die
With all of the feelings that growing up in my heart day by day
If I speak to you, will you listen?
If I tell you, will you feel like I am a liar?
So let me die at this moment I tell the truth
That I am still alive, and my feelings died,
but I am not heartbroken

A morning coffee--
  warming the cold body that
   longing without hug.

Poetry
is a drug
for me
that sometimes
makes me
addicted.
And now
I'm trying
to get away
from it.

When the rain falls
I think about you
My lips meet mugs
The morning coffee
that warms my body
Your love touches my heart
In the city that covered me
On your jacket
And I memorized

And I start to write the words
And I write it by my bloods
And I write it in the white board
And I do not want it be sold
And I will say it a masterpiece of gold
And I will keep it in my hold
And I lose it
And I never be glad

I find something new in a new page.
But I'm not ready to write something new.
Life is a new world page.

The girl who was sitting in front of me is a liar.
But she is honest with herself.
I can't describe it any more than that.
The reality is always different every time I ask.
She hid everything in her vast heart.
I tried to wade through it.
Until now I never made it to the edge.
I'm drowning with her feelings.

A night always runs out,
and it looks like will be repeated as the previous night.

O night! You're so boring.
I decide to spend the night on writing
and a bottle of wine for drinking.

I won't be able to fall asleep.
What if I decide to write a poem in the times leap?
O night! I have to write it for delight.
But I'm too drunk to write a poem tonight.
O! I’ll still write a poem for sure, right?

I sit down to take the pen.
The paper suddenly goes out of my hand.
Where do you go, my friend?

O my poem!
O my poem!
Please don’t go, my poem!
Please don't go like my darling this morning.
Come here, I want you to accompany my saddest dream by singing.
O night!
O poetry!
Alright, let's start again and don’t worry!

The night is so cold and the poetry is so warm!
What the hell is old, and let me try to lean on your arm!
O night!
I'm looking for words.
My poem will finish and never turns out!
O good, God!
O good, a poem!
Let it go for those words.
Let it lie down with the ink!

Some nights are wild,
and you must be calm.

We all have the ability to suffer
when it comes to love.
We all have the ability to get the pain when expectations run away from our brain.
The reality always hits you.
And here I am in.
So let's get all of them create you become an art.
This poem may not get you
but it is better to share with you.
You may not realize who you are now,
until someone tells you,
someone that you didn't know before;
the strangers in your mind.

Should I fall in love with people that I never meet before? I say no, thank you. I don't want to be someone who will fall. Maybe you have to think it is  hard, your life is not to be about fall in love. The problem is why some people think you have to fall when you are in love. I mean let the love fall onto you. But when you don't get it, you just stay that you will be fallen in love by yourself. Please appreciate yourself, day by day, and little by little. It could mean your are in a *******! Never mind! I said thank you.

It is just only what I think,
and you may reject it.

It will be boring if one day you get someting beautiful of your day
and you never get something fool again,
I said your life is going to be cool.
It means your day will have another colours.
If it happens to you someday,
you will realize that you are in stand away in this universe.
Look at your body from the bottom.
Your feet will step on the ground.
The existence that you might have be found.

If one day,
or maybe that day you realize that,
please follow one way
that it is close to you.
It seems like close with your heart.
It will lead you
and you will get to hear more heartbeats.

You will get
fvcking easily dameged
day by day
in your feelings.

Sometimes
people do not care about
who you are.

And sometimes
people care about you
because they have the same feeling with you.

They just want to know
what you feel
but they do not care
what you do after.

You just feel your feeling
by feeling your feeling
day by day
until you do not feel
again
and again
that you are feeling
every sadness
every madness
everything you feel
you are nothing
about you.

Sometimes
you want to die
but dying do not solve your problems.
Anxiety is like you feel dizzy
in your head when you do nothing
but the atmosphere like want to **** you
bit by bit and you feel in your lungs step by step.
Sometimes you feel nothing.
In feeling nothing
you feel you are real.
The real creature that is you.

You deserve to be happy
one day,
and when you get it,
there is nothing
to care again
about what you feel
in the past.

They cut down the trees and then urge the young to plant them again, about how life goes, as if age is just a number, and we no longer believe in power.

They cut down the trees, clear land,
make production, then shop spree for a vision and mission because life only once and needs to be enjoyed, wrapped in a paper bag and then thrown away and become a homeless person's sleeping mat in front of the overhang of shops.

and we see a paper ****
and words are decorations on her body
and poems are pretty clothes for her
and this feeling is for you
and we see a paper ****
and a pen lying on the table
and you're the one
who's been silent
waiting for love to air
and the poet reads it

The rain is pouring.
    On my heart is full of love.
    Bloom a peace flower.

I got to know
some people nice
and gave me
the best advice.
Even though
I never see them
with my eyes
as close as I can feel
how cold the ice.

A piece of the night has fallen on your eyes
dripping with faint stars
with the moon
starting to frown.

The sky became the loneliest place to live--
and you still don't want to move from your stopover
putting on the body
and lament the loss.

I, who had been struck earlier,
was restless
and beaten restless--
trying to smile sweetly beside you
ignored and deliberately
overlooked
then finally forgotten.

Are you still waiting for me?
Until the end of the day
When I’m not waiting for you
And you realize the home is not enough
For you and I
Are you still waiting for me?
A stupid guy who never see you
And never think about you
The day will end someday
And we know we are not waiting for each other
What will you do?
Are you still waiting for me?