I'm hugging the words--
     but not as warm as your hug.
     Get me a blanket!

I need an answer
when you don't give me a question.

Dia ingin bermain kata-kata ternyata.
Sampah!
Mari kita permainkan dia bersama kata-kata! Akankah takut siapa yang tahu jika tidak pernah kita coba!
Kita perlu membencinya!
Membenci kebohongan busuk akal manusia.
Mari kita bermain kata-kata!
Siapa yang takut jika ia sering di cerca oleh pertanyaan mengapa!
Baiklah, bunyinya seperti ini.
Kau busuk akal rupa juga canda tawa tidak pernah ada artinya.
Kalimat yang kau lontarkan tidak pernah bermakna lantas apa arti jika harus hidup tak bisa bebas dan merdeka!
Bebas dan merdeka hanya kata-kata, tindakan ada setelahnya, apa yang kau perbuat setelah bermain lantas kau bereskan semua permainan yang ada!
Kau dalang permainan yang sejak awal kau ingin menang di dalamnya!
Masih ingin bermain?
Masih ingin bermain atau kau tak punya lawan main?
Seperti apa kata-kata kita cipta seperti apa kau punya wewenang kuasa!
Lupa cara,  buta aturan semua kau yang pegang!
Itu ujaran kebencian katanya!

Tear off my chest
and stab my heart
with your dagger,
then I will feel nothing,
because I have died.

Have
      you found
yourself
      inside?

Every poet takes his own lonely path to compose poetry.

in the cold morning
the wind blow pouring in my skin
the dews see its seen
the cigarette burns its stem
the sun sets it's grim
the white flower keeps staying
in the broken heart of blaming
and I sing a song
of why life
is so much hurt long

We need to stop for a moment
and take a breath to be able
to return to what we hoped for.

Like remembering childhood
and the ways we learn to grow into adults
even though we never really understand anything that we have been through;
playing football in the field next to the house after school,
or rent a game console set for a weekend night,
or spend the next day watching television cartoons.

Let's remember what memory has given us for the good things in the past
that we may now think of as something we can't get back.

It's true, that never happens again, even if we try,
but the feeling is no longer the same as childhood being put on things
that should now earn an adult title.

Let's laugh in silence at all the fond memories of childhood,
even though now voices of the pain of waking up are trying to come in and dominate.

Let's reminisce,
and lose ourselves
in the hope of the present.

We are clouds hanging from rain and hope and farewell.
Shortly after you asked for a clear sky and I failed to provide it in your eyes.
Whether we have spent several times; in cities,
on the streets,
in the park,
in the cinema,
on-campus,
in the library,
and in the last place, we parted.

We go home.
We return it.
Everything from the beginning, in your eyes that always provide my presence.
We return and return,
in the last place, we parted.

We will learn from each other; to hate life, to love leaving.
Because life is just a game;
love
and
hatred.
Because love is just a game; let go of a go
and
accept the fact.
Then we return and return to the last place we parted.

We return those who left and do not belong to us, because we never asked for failure as the main goal.

In the lonely of your eyes, let me grow and love you.
Blooming on a heart
then cooking the rice.

There are days
when I'm so happy,
not when I'm writing poetry about love,
but I find love itself.

Writing
is not just about therapy,
but it is the love
that makes something impossible
become possible.
You will grow
among them in hope
and you will decide
to appreciate yourself
in the end.

In your city
I called you home,
a place where I decided to stay longer.
In your city
I was in love.

In your heart
the sun is so bright
illuminate the universe

In your heart
the moon looks beautiful
illuminate the darkness

In your heart
I live comfortably
and no longer cold

In your heart
grow goodness

One day, somehow
your name will sound again
and my name makes you feel
become abstruse.

Often,
time is not the answer
which we have been looking for.

You may have received
something that was once foreign to you.
I now have to
to be stranger
and accept it.

We have agreed to marry.
You marry the person you feel is right for you.
I married loneliness
which I feel will never be right
and that you have given me.

You are now busy at work.
I'm busy loving now
scenes
now
never again

there is.

I saw a man crying alone in myself.
He was sitting on the chair and here I am telling you the story we have.
The window's there and the future's rare,
we looked at those from our eyes,
"I was there before, then the sadness's getting out", he says.
And right now, I see myself not to look at back.
A man has gone and I pretend that the past was fake.
All of the memories also out from the track.
Here I am the last one trying to finish the run I take.

I saw God trouble came,
      so I ask
                    want
                              to
                                  play
                                          a
                                            game.
I saw God made me cry,
                               should
                             I
                        do
             more
   pray?
I saw God laughing,
     nobody
                   was
                          playing.

I see people.
I see myself.
I'm a part of them.
But they are not part of me.
I see their faces covered in masks.
Some are happy.
Some are sad.
I never know what they are feeling.
I also never know what I am feeling.
I see people around me.
I see myself surrounding myself.
I see them.
But they never see me.
I see myself.

I set myself not to be in love
in the same way I'd ever taken
because sometimes I know
I will get the same pain
and give me the same wound.

I set myself not to be in love
with the same person in the past
even though it will be hard
to challenge myself to forget
and also to pass,
because the memories still stay
and I will say that's the last.

I set myself not to be in love
but I think my heart opens
and my feeling is hidden treasure because all I have is only the way
I can keep my own, that's enough.

I wish you were here.
I need your hug.
I want to lean on you arm
and tell you that my day was going to be bad.
I just want to tell you
and you will hear me.
It's simple.

I still write my poem
Even if I don't share my poem with you
And you ask me where I have been
And you don't know why I am not seen
I still write my poem

The poem that tells about me
The poem that tells about you
The poem that tells about us
The poem tells about everything
What we have been through
Even if I never ask for you
I still write my poem

I will tell you as I tell to all my words
When I was writing my poem
And my heart was splitting into two
To convince that love is always true
To convince that love is always right
To convince that hate is always left
And we are together in between
As far as the broken heart symbols should be imagined

I stood in the headwaters of death,
spoken words
written poetry
memoirs of wounds
hugged again lonely.

I stop reading you
I decide to write
I write all about you
You become my poem
I stop reading you
And I get lost
I get you to stop reading me
We are in a story

I tried to read you
but I forgot that line which is my favorite in a book.

I tried to read you
but I forgot if I have lost the way to spell the words.

I tried to read you
but I forgot that you have first learned how to be a quote that I have tried so many times to love.

Here I am sitting
on my comfortable chair
enjoying my new years eve
smoking cigarette
and reading Zarathustra.

This is my first poem
in 2022!

I am holding
my last cigarette
and sitting.
Reading my favorite novel,
Vanity Fair.
Pouring the wine.
I used to drink all the night
with some friends
that nobody knows about them.
The poem was written after,
the ***** poem.
They told me
sometimes my poem was about it.
It was too late to say
that the things they only have
is about ***** mind.

It's raining outside--
     My cheeks become wet with tears.
     Memories flourish.

I turn on the fan--
My wet hair flies in the wind
I'm getting sleepy

I'm back to writing poetry again,
but not with the same feeling I had
when I first started writing poetry.

I used to start writing poetry on a blank sheet of paper, and a pen, and sometimes in a lecture notebook, maybe often before going to sleep, also on my smartphone notes.

Now, I'm back to writing poetry again,
but the feeling isn't like before,
for some reason now I seem to have lost interest, different from how I used to be.

I used to write poetry,
sometimes about my days full of emotion, oh no, more precisely about the loss of a lover, yes, I once had a lover, but not now.

I used to write poetry about loss, and everything related to it, maybe it's the rain that keeps falling, or the sunsets, or the lonely and lonely nights.

I used to write poetry about the past, which maybe now I shouldn't care anymore, actually I wanted to write all of that, but I no longer have the feeling.

I used to write poetry, and now I have forgotten many of the words, even the methods, please teach me to write poetry again.

Sometimes,
things are so hard to do
because we never try to start.
Prefixes
are always important
for finding patterns.
Like writing poetry.
Yes,
I have sat alone
in front of  the paper
on the table
many times
with a pen.
I thought about
what I really needed to do first;
beautiful words with parables.
I've been sitting for hours,
walking here and there,
then sit back down again
to finish composing a poem.
But I've never finished it
until now.

I write sometimes.
I read sometimes.
The day is going to be well.
But I feel I am always broken in many unspoken words.
Many poems were written.
Many feelings were poured in many cups of the day I spent too much.
They said, you are overthinking to yourself.
They said, you let more anxiety fill your brain.
I said, maybe this is the last time I will do.
Maybe I will forget the past and hope everyting is going to be fast.
I write sometimes.
I read sometimes.
Everyday I get I always heal myself.
Maybe I was born.
Again.
And again.
And maybe,
I will die everyday too.

I forgot how to start
a brief meeting
between the two pairs of eyes, Adam and Eve

I forgot how to start
a simple conversation
between two human children who are growing up

I forgot how to be blunt
I mean the real you

Even now I have forgotten how to express it
because I'm scared
your feelings change with time
blown along with the wind
dropping in accidentally
without knowing if you have forgotten the place before

and finally
I was paused by the time
so long
until I forgot how to write a point at the end of our story

I will be forgotten
and I am waiting for it.
At first, you realized it
or in the last, you knew about it.
The time that brought you to grow
always explained to you that the suffering seems like the voices you can’t hold.
I will be forgotten
and you knew that I am waiting for it.
You tried to tell me about it.
But at first, I decided to be calm in every moment I can do.
The wind that blows.
The sun that always let me glows.
It will be remembered.
but I will still be forgotten.
The story that told you in every book you love just leave me memories.
That’s a gift so I had to keep them as I had many glories.
I will be forgotten.
All I wish I could do is only tell you
so it will be remembered.

One day I will raise my child
like I have raised my feelings,
and it will all grow into something that most people agree on for adults.
One day I will raise my child,
and in the future when the present is something we can live.
One day I will have hope in them
as I hope in myself.

Sometimes I feel they don't want to see me.
Sometimes I feel they don't want to see me around them.
Sometimes I feel I need more light even I just have a little.
Sometimes I need the way I can see myself even when I always get lost in many darkness.
Sometimes I feel  I am bad when I am doing something and they want me to be perfect one.
Sometimes I feel I always do wrong.
And
Why?
Sometimes,
I write
and cry
and also pray.

Give me a pen
and put it on my right hand,
I will write our story
with the right love,
so we have a new plan
to explore this journey.

I said, "Keep going!"
Let's the pain be your friend!
Let's the pain feel that it's not enough to push you down!
I just need finish this race through my line.
I said, "Keep going!"
I said, "There'se no future. All you know right know is a dream!"
I said, "Keep going!"
to myself.
Whatever, it takes.

Even a lump of diamond
will remain a diamond
even in a pile of dirt.

Aku menciptakan bingkisan berbentuk hati,
membungkusnya dalam rusuk rapat melengkung
agar tidak ada celah sedikitpun untuk kesedihan itu terlihat padamu.

Puisi-puisi kita pernah menjadi hadiah untuk duka dan luka yang samar-samar,
lalu air mata adalah bentuk kebahagiaan itu sendiri.

Kita adalah kado untuk perayaan perpisahan di tiap hidup seseorang.
Awal kita adalah degup jantung kencang yang membuat rasa penasaran,
sebelum akhirnya napas kita tersengal-sengal.

No more time,
for us to exchange greetings.
And no more time,
for us to exchange words.

Let's talk about revenge,
with a poem that ignites the fire
and then burns an identity.
You will find a sleeping monster within you
that you have been deliberately ignoring.
Let's talk about how an upheaval in the bodies oppressed reality,
a war that rages inside our heads.
I am a liberation warrior.
You are a comrade of struggle.
A spirit that is no longer
only shown in the metaphor of words
or the love of romantic characters
in the love life that haunts adolescence a lot.
Let's talk about revenge,
a fictional monster,
and a boy who stands bullied
wanting to show his identity
in every ******* world order.
Losers behold, those who flock!
And for he has long been alone,
fighting monsters in poisoned brains,
and a stomach that is only the main goal
of fighting for power,
now we are again in vain.
Let's talk, really the truth!
No love grows other than our love for ourselves.
Awaken!
Even if neither you are the hero,
nor the main character!

There are so many lilies in my brain,
spreading the petals of the pain,
full of the fragrance of regret,
they are too hard to forget,
thrive and flow fast through the veins.

Same bed
Same love
Same memories
Same old fashion
Same favorite food
But we have our own new stories.

You just have to keep me save on your mind that I love you so much.
All of memories about you is always there.
If it happens, it won't make me scared.
Because I think I will be cared.

Live with expectations.
Dreams get higher but never come true.
People give a lot of motivation and provide solutions.
Some say to dream as high as possible. Some say live as realistic as it is.
Some say keep trying and never give up.
Some say love yourself now as it is.
Some are silent.
Some talk a lot.
Some don't care who you are.
There are those who need each other. There are those who help each other. There are those who choose.
Some volunteered.
Some write poetry, but get nothing.
There is me among them.

I want to share
the idea from my mind,
it is all about longing,
and the way I miss you,
but I can't.

And here I am
with all my darkness
trying to enjoy my dim light.

The idea of being forgotten
always be my main ghost.

The crowd always controls you
and you will feel lonely
because you do not know who you are.

Losing you may be my fault,
but having you forever is not one of the ways to treat wounds.

Losing you
is a bitter taste
on my lips.
And I was a child
who had to learn
to know
there was a taste
other than
sweetness.

I

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f
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