The small blue Arab stallion dances on the hill
like a glancing breaker, like a storm rearing in the sky,
In his *****-ears,the wind, that wanderer and spy,
sings of the dunes of Arabia, lion-coloured still.

The small blue stallion poses like a centaur-god,
netting the sun in his sea-spray mane, forgetting
his stalwart mares for a phantom galloping unshod;
changing for a heat-mirage his tall and velvet hill.

aku bernama sepi...
tanpa ayah, ibu, sahabat,
apalagi seorang kekasih
hidupku tak bahagia...
tapi aku tak pernah frustasi
aku tak pernah berpaling dari realita...
karna ini memang nasibku...

aku bernama sepi...
tanpa ayah, ibu, sahabat,
apalagi seorang kekasih!
berbahagialah kau
yang memiliki semuanya!
sepi lalu meninggalkanku

bahagiakah aku?

I’m a bunch of feelings and thoughts caged, like adrenaline and rage.
My thoughts are eating at my head,
My visions are too it hurts.

I try so hard to calm myself and make myself drowsy.
I haven’t been at night for at least a week.
Hospital changed everything my hole prospective on me.

I use to hate myself wish I was different.
I almost got what I wanted right at the moment;
I realised how badly I didn’t even want it at all.

I love myself weather other people do or not I don’t care.
I’m me and this is how I am and always will be.
I will only change for me and change how I want not for other people.

When an army of congruent efforts
Hide away the blurs of truth for smile
And paints mischief like never before
A community of applause is born.

Same jargon of satires where I left last time
They stand like shameless souls weaker enough
And lose their naked counterparts which became bold
Enough to paint their skins and garden their hairs.

The beginning of the body as geometric machines
To demonstrate humankind rather than mankind
And *** equally splits into male, female, gay, lesbian
Spoiling the colors of your beautiful rainbow into one.

Where opinions vary and similes carry
But **** facts are sincerely presented
To carry a soul into our very build world
Welcome to the world of fashion & fashionistas.

When I get to be a composer
I'm gonna write me some music about
Daybreak in Alabama
And I'm gonna put the purtiest songs in it
Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist
And falling out of heaven like soft dew.
I'm gonna put some tall tall trees in it
And the scent of pine needles
And the smell of red clay after rain
And long red necks
And poppy colored faces
And big brown arms
And the field daisy eyes
Of black and white black white black people
And I'm gonna put white hands
And black hands and brown and yellow hands
And red clay earth hands in it
Touching everybody with kind fingers
And touching each other natural as dew
In that dawn of music when I
Get to be a composer
And write about daybreak
In Alabama.

Forgotten

A miniature person.
Im gagged and Im bound.
I look through my keyhole
with nary a sound.
I watch as they play
I watch as they laugh.
Afraid to get out.
As they walk about.
Afraid I will Fall.
Afraid to stand tall
Im nothing at all  
but a china doll.