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Genduk May 2020
Another Tinder match
supposed we hike to bromo mountain
If not to suffer me

neighbor country guy
Where jaded is the least people be
lives in a bunkbed dorm room
For months and months
Certified to put judgement
on strangers

He studies everyone
But locals
Talks in languages
but local's

He's interested in story of stragers
But not my story
Too local maybe

One lunch in a local's
I lend him lunch money
He never thinks he owes me
A thing

He sits there on the corner
Reading people's story
Those whose land made
By foreign spices, coal, and sweats
Like me
Genduk May 2020
Eat at home
Drink at home
Work from home
Love at home
Read at home
Nourish our home
Alone at home
Together at home
Make peace at home
Grow beans at home
Educate from home
Sit and cry
Grow patience
from home at home
Genduk Apr 2020
Pick a color out of me
The light blue chair in the living room
The sky blue in the sky on moday noon
The spinning chair with a grey stain of a mine company receptionist
The business district full of green glassy glass windows
The weary mind missing a mother in red lipsick
Roses as white as medical students jacket
Scars of an old man selling brooms
Dragged on dried fresh black asphalt
Brightest streetlight still watching the night will
Of merry little heart
A city that fill our little lamb
Hasan Aspahani Nov 2019
I just sit on the stairs
I gave the entrance ticket
to someone, a few more minutes
The show begins, I already know what story
that will be on display, and I'm bored

I just sat on the stairs
Crowds come cheerfully
coupled with wry lies
I know who they are, but
they pretended not to see me

I just sat on the stairs
in front of a performance house
actually, who lives and what is there
in this house? Is only hope that must be
I bought with a very expensive ticket?

Yesterday I read in the rest of the local newspaper
articles that are far from the headlines
someone wrote a review about
the theater is dim, the actors are getting worse,
and bankrupt show management.

I just sat on the stairs
see people pretending to be happy
buy a ticket with the remaining savings
that should be paid
for health insurance.
Joy Azrouss Aug 2018
Start something with no desire and without much intention embedded
Like knitting fabric without thread
Collect the strands after the silk from the worm that hangs on the sleeve of the tree
Seek capital and foster determination as much as possible

A moment of consciousness
What I am doing this time is not something easy
Some time to come will feel heavy and not for a moment
Dictate education and learning that must be boring
It is not easy to deepen what I have decided
But in other words
Choosing is a path that must be taken by anyone
Regardless of what and how the choice is made
Of course the greatest consequence is to accept and run everything with the best treatment

Choosing does not mean losing one thing to another
But choosing is the form and attitude in determining the way to achieve something
Although there will be a lot of opposition and even rejection within
It is not the end
Make every difficult thing a whip
And what feels easy
Becomes the power to fulfill the difficult

For what will happen in the future
All attitudes and treatment must be embedded from this moment
Having chosen is courageous
Ready to live and wrestle all the races and obstacles ahead
So far
All new preparations have been collected
While walking slowly
Follow the directions and learn to read nature

What I have started
One day
I have to reap
If you're help. Im a hope.
Hasan Aspahani Aug 2017
I a m hungry, therefore I am -  Garfield

IN prayer he will never utter
    it waits for the rain of milk,
       a heavy rain, because of him

the cat with thirsty tongue, see with
      its own eye, when mother was disappear.

In prayer he never dared to ask
     it wants a fishy fish neck,
         the smell of a fisherman,

no care about salt salinity, or its own sweat.

In prayers he will never say
       it expected the lap, the fire on that stove
                warm, and maybe also sear.
Hasan Aspahani Aug 2017
WHAT is the color deserted? He hides from the eye catch, over time, blooming orange gerbera, we plant it in the wounded land.

What is the scent of lonely? Blood that does not drip, the sap that does not flow from gerbera stalk wound, when we pick it.

What is the taste of lonely? Leaves fall not brewed, imagined what is dissolved in our cups, which once did not get to the petals gerbera.
Hasan Aspahani Aug 2017
HE stroked a white cat. The cat slowly turns into a cloud. He was about to cup the cloud but the whole cloud came into his eyes. She became sleepy and fell asleep.

The cloud that had entered his eyes became cloudy outside his eyelids. He dreams about a sheet of sky that will rain. Then woke up with slightly wet eyelashes. But it was not the tears.

Who cried in my eyes last night?

He did not see, the cat or the cloud wanted to answer but they were stuck in a holy book that on one page of inserted a brochure course an easy way to reach the paradise that has been long past the date of its operation.
Hasan Aspahani Jul 2017
HE took me
To the dirt road
Along the creek
The flow of time.

We met a child
Who can not swim strongly
But good at fishing.

He took me to the cemetery.
We saw
A child and his father pray
Visiting women
They are very dear

He pulled my hand
To the banana garden
Which bear fruit on long bunches,
And it knows
Will soon be cut down by a machete.

He was lying with me
On a night
And awakened by various things
The scramble wants to be a dream
In a rush sleep.
Hasan Aspahani Jul 2017
LET'S stop by, just take off the tired helmet, and
Put a weary suitcase, year and year in the age line,

Then we stand up at the height of the tower,
"That," I said, "a ***** cloud, will there's a mud rain,"
you shook your head and stared on the motor lock.

"Chevolution, chevolution," I heard

Like that word you hissed over and over again.

You reach for the handlebars of the motorbike,
slamming in the direction.

Which far refuse comfortable cage and shady wells.

I plucked a banyan branch, for a pointer to
read again, a Book that we can never finish ...

The air is lagging after you step on the gas,
Drove in the far direction, I knew it was perfume,

A man who leaves no trace, except
Spilled coffee on the tablecloth, and dried cauliflower.
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