There were days
when I just know,
that it is not any better
than the last summer
or even the first
day of this year.

if I stay within this
circle of fear,
and waiting for the
blizzard to be out of here.

I will forever remain
a raindrop, instead of thunder.

Nothing has
taken place
in this empty
cold and dark
remote room
it has been
and always will be
empty.

I can hear the
punching
on the table
the hard slamming
of the door
the shouting
of an ecstasy rage
from the outside
but still in here
in my little, cramped
secluded room
it is just silence.

There is nothing
for me
to command
in this
empty space
a wise, old
drunk man
once said
'don't try'
and somehow
it turns out
to be true
that everything
is here
not to be tried
and for all the
emptiness in it
there is nothing
for me
to command
in this
empty space.

There is nothing
for me
to wander around
in this empty space
there is no
road, street
or alley
for me to go
back and forth
but there is
always this
static presence
of feeling
of nature
of instinct
that has been
squashing me
sitting on me
telling me
to run and jump
frantically, wildly
just to see that
it bores nothing
and there is nothing
for me
to wander around
in this
empty space.

This empty space
can't be filled
this empty space
can't be replaced
this empty space
can't be changed
for
this empty space
has always been
empty
and it will
always be.

Flower dwindles
for another flower
Thunder strikes
for another thunder
Summer arrives
for another summer
but human left without
any shadow on sight
and they do not leave
for themselves
but the ego in them.

Nobody forced them
nobody stick a knife
at the back of their neck
if they are not willing,
the door is always open
commitment is crucial
presence is superficial
don't you dare tying
the undone shoelaces
when the sole is destined
for the sweet destruction.

Remember what happened in that black 98
battered souls, bruised dignities, blackened eyes
fallacies, conspiracies
no apology, no sympathy
but this is David and Goliath
don't you remember,
like eighteen years ago
except for its atrocities
and ridiculosities.

Dad,
you inflicted this on me,
you should have known
that the wheel
doesn't stop rolling.

Kehidupan
tak menjanjikan
harapan;

Kematian
tak menjanjikan
penyelesaian.

We are tied in this together
harder, closer and tighter
I had this kind of bad fever
that I can see this last forever.

We are so compatible
like long lost friends
you are my decible
in the tightest wavelengths.

We are close to each other
like long lost siblings
you are my unending river
in one of the world's greatest findings.

We are so wide awake
like a record put on shuffle sings
you are my deadly snake
in the need of poisonous stings.

We are almost inseparable
like a fit thunder and storm
you are those birds that dabble
in the strike at sea out of norm.

We are hardly intangible
like hydrogen oxide in the air
you are the only trouble
in the search for lone hydrogen in pair.

We are so great in tandem
like Leonard Cohen's words of rhythm
you are the heart of my poem
in the greatest invention since algorithm.

You are surely the best ever
as,
I have lost count of my own blinks
you assured me that everything will be better
as,
I will never know what the future bring.

Prayer
is when
you lump
all your fears
and desires
indefinite words,
waiting for
all the fractions
in the metasphere
to take over.

I hate routine
and even though
I hate it,
with all my guts
with all my life
with all my veins
and I have been
saying it
for as long
as I have lived
I am still
doing it
embracing it
enduring it
for almost
two years
I have been
out there
every single
weekdays
from seven to six
without fail
except for
those days
where I cannot move
or think
and sometimes
it stretched until
eight, nine at night
and there were
few times
where it stretched
to ten, eleven
close to midnight
and I have
to go out again
the next day
to do it again
to force
the cycle
and to force
myself
to jump over
the hurdle
just to get
a bowl
full of noodle
and I believe
it is the best
of all routine
that able
to be served
to the human
of all layers
of all levels
of all stratums
that are
desperately
in need of
a life.

So if you
ask me again
why do
I hate routine
please allow me
to ask you back
after all that
I have gone through
How can I not say
that I hate routine?

26/4/14

and tell me
how it feels like
returning to the suburbia
walking past couples
eating chilly popsicles
from each others’ hands
while kids fall on the pavements
not a worry, not a melee
as the first full moon
overlooking us
beyond the double pulses
built at the epicentre
witnessing all of the
wild, harsh river flows
that taught us life
I am not the melodramatic aristocrat
you are the forgetful, envious plutocrat
will you make it through January
when I still linger with December?

you would know that only answer.

antologi itu
adalah
aliran
air deras
dari puncak
gunung
manakala
puisi
adalah
anak-anak
alunan
buih lunak
di kaki
terjunan.

O, you are a success.
You are a living success.
You are a success,
that have unearthed
the chaos and unrest
in the minds of a generation
from baby boomers to millenials
from the east to the west.

O, you are a success.
You are a living success.
you left a lasting memory
and unshaken legacy
filled with utter hypocrisy
and bureaucracy
shrouded with the cry
of everlasting demand
and accomplishment.

O, you are a success.
why should you be worried.
You are a living success.

While you sat at that corner
singing all your praises
over the cosmic and summer

I was at the other corner
listening to the words of your
worry and wonder.

I must have loved you
like how I adore my paracosm,
like how I need a microcosm.

It is not impossible
to find joy in pain
when things are
getting sensible
for all of us
to feed a ploy
that will always
play and return
to the initial point
over and over
again.

Tell me
who does not
ever feel
joy in pain?
a veterinary
a mail carrier
a sous chef
a sommelier
a taco vendor
a groundsman
a pilates trainer
a football quarterback
a fast food chain worker
a ship captain in Somalia
they all have tasted
the wine of delight
while they have been
wounded severely
every single day
when they woke up
in the morning
from Monday to Sunday.

As for me
I’d rather
blow away my mind
by blowing
few rolls full of life
before I take
the paper
and detach
the pen cap
from its body
to start writing again.

In the midst
of the hullabaloo,

I found a heaven
that resides deep
in the heart of the hell.

I ran towards it,
only to realize
that I was dead for all this time.

There is no passable route
to the eventual soulless rite
skidded floors,
frozen painted walls
enclosed in jupiter's rail
embossed in eyelids tail
contradictional theory
off the Savannah 101
piroutting our own soul
writing off our own role
state of devastation
lifted off the barley field
stuck in a time warp
the sky has been waiting
and turning and rolling
tired of never ending doubt
flung towards the soul
aghast with how it ends
the kingdom never arrives
but with face full of joy,
you rob everything off us.

We are
nothing but
supercalifragilisticexpialidocious


but we are
good at making ourselves look atrocious.

Why would I turn back
and smile,

if you left me out in the cold,
lost in the wild.

spill
a glass
of water
on the floor,
quit staring
and leave it
as it is.

interdependent.

How similar
we are
antonym is
turned into
the antidote
to the decaying
synonym.

There are only
two outcomes
out of this similarity;

burst of the sun
or a flower off the gun.

There is no
calmness
and happiness
in poetry
those things won't
just fit in.
All that's left
in this
is madness
emptiness
and hopelessness.

When Socrates
said in Phaedrus
that poetry
is a form of
madness,
he must
have encountered
a truly, beautiful
mess.

Every time
I look at you
I know it is
the worst ever
feeling to have
in this world.
It is worse than
having a tyre
punctured on
the road
in the middle of nowhere
and being kicked
out from the boat
in the middle of nowhere
you are stuck
in a glass box
you did not
built it
and someone else
who thinks
they are superior
built it for you.
I wish I could
hug you
kiss you
and bring
you somewhere
without further
ado.
All you can wish
is just to be free
not just another
commodity.
It is better to be dead
on a natural cause
outside
than being stuck
in somewhere and
feeling lost
inside.

Feline oh my feline.
Nothing wins, nothing ever wins.

The polemic exists
when the full circle persist;

The space in between?

A mess that you don't have to clean?

A question of what could have been?

The questions are valid
for the idea is not obsolete.

George pleaded for his life
begged to breathe, requested
the continuity of his own existence
before the lynch with a knee
on the commemoration day
of many lives that have burned in vain
violent resistance on detention
a fabrication out of desperation
when all they had was the sick joy
of seeing an innocence in pain
fell silent and motionless
once and for all,
and he too, has burned in vain.

do not let that be a fact.

Eric waits, and now
George too.

It was once high up to the brim,
the storm, the wave, the breeze,
as we are carried to the middle
of the uncharted yet wild sea
and the sun about to rise
the dusk about to disappear
we let the rosy amethyst
came and became the catalyst
the catalyst of the uprising
and we are no longer undermined,
now the dam is no longer a dam too.

Into the night
we stand still
and hold on tight
whatever we feel
unless it is right
we foot the bill
to reverse the tide
overflow overflow
change the world
so that we can grow.

It doesn't feel right
when the neon is too bright
and instinct is out of sight
give me a rollercoaster ride
before you hold me tight
push me with all your might
but when it doesn't feel right,
it doesn't feel right.

What kind of world it is,
if half of it is satisfied in isolating the rest of it,
happy at letting it to be in
the dark over the whole idea, situation, and vision.

Even looking at the rest of it
invokes the other half of distrust and disgust.

Corrupting the idea
of a united world is the biggest treason committed towards the creation of mankind.

You burn the box
and set the ring of fire
you tame the fox
and set up the wings of desire.

How can I walk away?

Let me in.

I am tired
of putting on the shirt
because it reminds me
of the unwanted chain
before the imminent dawn
plucked bouquets
torn down curtains
ripped out blankets
burnt book covers
broken empty cups,

because all that
are just signs of a show
that is about to be staged.

C'est la vie they said, but every moment they departed with the beautiful, delightful phrases that has mysteriously managed to distance itself from the that is you, you have failed again to realize the potential in you. You placed the burden in your mind, in the isolated chamber of yours, as if it's possible for you to fill in every inch of your sullen skeleton, you would. You have come to expect something that is living beyond the border of reality and in order for that to take into effect, the neglection of the genesis behind the seed of our life has to take place. Reality and truth, are the two things that have always been abandoned by greed and dishonesty that have been infesting our minds ever since we are doomed to feel the wrath of karma. We are the author of our own destiny and if we want to be happy, we should take control of the ship and for that to happen, I need a company to face the music and you are the reason that the ship is still afloat as it takes two to balance it. Everything is absurd but love.

O' I can see that
things are much
clearer now
but somehow
I still don't like it
for your presence
is something
that I miss
seeing you move around
is pleasantly
destroying my ground
like how we have fought
and I thought
that I was an
absolute Messiah
but I was wrong.

You are the moon
that reflects the light
from the everpresent
Mata Hari
without you
my world is dark
and clueless.

Please, don't make another move,
may the constellation
soon collide
so that I can be with you
and shed the brightest light.

Forever.

this world poetry day
is meaningless,
Maya, Charles, Sylvia, Allen
never even thought of it
it breeds more seed of
ego and monstrosity
deep inside those men
to lift their hands and
push us down the drain
to ensure that
we are stuck in between
honesty and reality,
forever.

It is great. It lasts forever.
It trumps life. It persuades time in no time.
It is full of uncertainties. It is an adventure.
It concludes everything. It is our home.

Denying its greatness
will only
make your own
looks like a desperate attempt
in asking for forgiveness.

the severe coldness shot me still
like
how your tenderness caught me still.

Maybe
I am just too young

And
I don't possess an iron lung

But
I am definitely where your heart has sunk.

I
won't
mourn
over
my
eventual
demise.

I
just
want
to
keep
in mind.

I
am
done
with
lies.

Walking
out
of
thin
line.

Running
o­ut
of
time.

Ride the bus every day
till the sun makes its way
out of chaos,
the temperamental blues
like a dog going after
the isolated leaf
searching for the breath
of eternal grief.

send me over
a postcard
of tense yesterday
push me further
than where you departed
during the doomsday
hallelujah is the last hurrah.

Another day, another way
till summer rain, till winter sane
drifting away, drifting away,
way, way further,
way, way further.

countless
tempestuous moments
a prognosis of the
stupendous temperament
a desire to believe
a desire to achieve
and I have never
looked away,
from the shallowest river
that I have sunk my foot into.

there is no limit
we live in the world of infinite
impossible is not a word
for any man
invisible at the heart
of a perfect plan
rock the chair of a child
and let them go wild
this world is meant
to be in chaos
and truth be told,
we are already in lost.

helplessly drowning in a rapid tide
let's indulge in this eternal wild ride.

I am an old-fashioned ****
that is trapped in a cyber,
instant millenial era
I want to profess my love
to you over the airwaves
sandwiched between
blue monday, common people
and have a picnic at the park
crisps, juices and dog barks
are the only precious things
that will lift our spirits on
every days that are like sundays
when peace has failed to fulfill
the entire notion of an idle landfill
I want to march against the tyrant
and be with Jeremy and Malcolm
at the front, resisting the Krokodils
and defend the wall in Berlin
from falling all over this sacred land.

But now here I am,

scrolling through all
the madness, loneliness
desperation of a generation
following through the routines
that will not fail to appear as
fake, ignorance,
foolish, blood smeared
and expressing my emotions
over it is the most that I can do
posting on what I believe
is the best that I can do.

We are all dead, buried
**** into the lively deathbed
and the funny part is
we are all livid and sad,

At the same time,
all at the same time.

It is
not precious

it is just plain ludicrous

and full of atrocities.

Lose it, lose it
before
you thought
you can


feel it.

We are just running away
or after something
if it never turns dark
from right to left
counterclockwise
the beast is still
tough and wide awake
the latitude means the world
is not in a linear desperation
to feed the temptation
of failure and destruction.

I confront myself every night
struggling to make ends meet
wiped the dust off my thorny feet
but the moment I indulge
in the confusing exchange
the suffocating, the suffering
betray the ever-present inkling.

I dreamt of my freedom
soaring high
from the eruptive Damascus
with the destructive Andronicus
to the mighty nebula and burst
visible in the night sky
horrible to your naked eyes
and I knew if it happens,
my time, my fate
would end and I
could comprehend.

Release me
from this
terrifying temple
prosecuting throne
horrifying reefs
tormenting prison.

Mama shall burn me
tonight,
out of everyone’s sight.

I am a tough soul
that has no ego,
I let it all pour,
the drain overflows
I will never win,
adding up to the sin
Jugra sees me fled
the scene with
stained pen and
****** paper
and I thought
the moment I left
gone, already gone,
disappeared, diminished
finally freed
but for all that, I am still there.

I am at the tower
looking around
but the weather
will check on the ground
and betray me,
betray me,
weakened and hungry
for truth and honesty
one day you'll triumph
over my disgusting failure
childless, spineless
and I will miss
all the thousand words
that you have never confessed.

They will never set me free,
and they will always remember me.

I possess nothing,
no power
or authority,
all I have is
this body, mind
and soul,
and I wish nothing
will stumble upon it,
as I will change
all the directions
and possessions
towards the
eternal space and hole
that I have created and breathe
for you to contend with.

Everything is out
of my hand,
and it is hard for me
to understand.

The moment has gone
and so does our bond.

One day we'll go at it again
and all this won't go in vain.

It's best if we don't breed
if for most of the time
we let our sisters
and brothers bleed.

Give me a wild poetry
I'll bow out quietly.

Show me a pale bigotry
I'll grow out saintly.

You're the last messiah
I am the last pariah
well teach me something else
before I disappear.

in
every death of my weary cells.

My dear,
you are the greatest of them all.
You don't have to worry that
the chimney is running out of fire.
You are the most powerful and
the most efficient gasoline
needed for in me, for your presence
and companion I will light up
the whole world,
You never left me in
bewilderment and perplexity
all you did was making me
lament at the thought of
the complexity.

22.5.2014

For more than a year
we never met each other
and nothing turns out any
better;

it is just an illusion of time that makes us suffer.

while I am busy
stitching up the patches
you are distracted by the
marching orders.
as every single particles
seem to be the same
there is nothing for us to
blame
the lilium has died
disgusted at the idea of
having it sprinkled
all over your dress
and those kids were never
born
shamed at the thought
of me lifting them all over my
face.
I think we are just too shy
to admit that we are
desperate
desperate enough to cover
up the memories
to run away from all the
reality
and to realize
that nothing ever change
since that day.

So you thought
that you can run
away,
escape from
all the misery
pain
and tragedy.

You give your best
you try
every option
of escapism
that available
upon you,
you thought
everything will
disappear
once you move away
from the place
that you stand.

But,
you are wrong
those things
won't simply
go away.

Never.

Isn't it funny that all it takes are just words of astute feelings and sufferings to make us reflect, while all the words have already existed long before we end up with that one powerful sentence.