She stood on the bridge
In silence and fear
For the demons of darkness
Had driven her here
They cut her heart
Right out of her chest
Making her believe
That the demons knew best
They were always there
Sometimes just out of sight
Waiting in the background
Till the time was right
These demons were destructive
Knocking down the life she knew
Hating everything about her
She hated herself too
These demons can't be seen
But they're far from fairy tales
They live inside your mind
Their evilness prevails
So on the bridge she stood
About to end the fight
Then she stopped and thought
I'll fight them one more night
I'm so tired all the time,
wishing it was my bedtime
So uninspired and heavy
my thoughts push my head further into the pillow
gravity hooks its steel claws into my skin keeps dragging
my mind keeps lagging
my eyes sting and cry
perhaps I need a lullaby?
I'm so tired all the time,
my eyelids are in a constant fight
against the glowing light
i feel all this guilt as I sink further into my quilt
Why do my limbs feel numb and my limbs like they will collapse
perhaps I should get up?
I'm just so tired all the time,
yet why can I not sleep when I'm already in this deep
I'm so tired all the time,
perhaps this time if I close my eyes
sleep will creep upon me
when I first met her
seven years ago
she was a drunk
she rented a small
room from her sister
and brother in law
her tits were fake
but her personality
as real as the drinks
we shared that night.
I never engage her
I could have but
this went way beyond
the laws of attraction
and we shared a
one year and one half later,
I heard from her
brother in law that on
she hit the bottle a
little too hard,
grabbed a butcher knife
and tried to stab her family.
then proceeded to slit her
own wrists and went in for
the long nap.
the next day, I went to visit,
looked around her vacant
room and saw the bottle of
whiskey sitting on her dresser.
I took a hard look in the mirror,
grabbed the bottle and sat on her
uncovered blood stained mattress
and finished off the bottle thinking
about the first time we met.
I threw her bottle in the
waste basket on the side
of her bed and when I did,
that was also the end of
our special connection
we once shared.
I was a bit drunk after that
and gaining an allergic reaction
to their 3 cats, so I took some
and passed out in their chair.
I see her sister and brother in law
every now and then and they never
talk about the incident,
like it ever happened
or that she ever existed
but sometimes, it’s best
that silence is a language
we currently stay fluent in.
a mountain’s peak
with green forest brow
lingering tendrils of white
brings me back to her.
dew heavy pansies
tilt and titter away
a gentle breeze
swills earthy scents
mixed with musty memories.
Chocolate chip morsels
fresh from the oven
cooling on a worn albeit tipsy rack
seal her eyes closed
in solemn repose.
a slightly appalled laugh
black coffee at 5 am
with buttered toast
beckon my perusal.
(I don’t even like coffee, how can I miss it?)
through hundred year old walls
in creaking steps
and crumbling brick.
Carved door knockers,
discarded garden gloves
an old pair of wool socks
hide their appeal
beneath my gaze.
I wrench myself away
a slow and painful inch at a time.
My hands bleed
in crescent shaped moons.
I'd make a fine stone in
the Duck and Drake game -
skimming through the surface
with the bare necessary contact,
to sink when slowed down;
you had seen me slowing down
and sink with a faint splash,
the moment you said it was better
that we meet in letters,
best we do not meet at all;
or did I say that -
I do not remember;
perhaps yes, for you never
said a word which could reconcile
me with my self which I left that evening
on the shores of the big city
and hurried back, leaving you
to go round and around -
the cab guy picking customers and dropping -
nobody ever finding their true destination
but only places to go.
Ever since I have housed myself in
the crowded cafes where
people smoke cheap/semi-expensive cigarettes
and sip on tea/coffee/lime-tea/black -tea/ginger-lime-tea
the talking never ends and it is an all right feeling sitting
in the bright light, knowing that people have things to say when
I can vaguely recollect my thoughts.
If I was a Jean-Paul Sartre, I would avoid pondering over your thoughts
like the beer mug in front of his eyes at which he would avoid looking for
half an hour straight,
but I am not a French existentialist philosopher
and reading four and a half dead poets a day,
plunging myself into nicotine only tires me enough
to fall asleep,
and this is when you enter my dreams.
Your arrival is agreeable to me and I always
find myself sitting confused in one of those galleries
which my mind constructs -
a glittering set for the presence of
the two of us -
faces of other people in my dreams,
I do not recall.
We kiss and I am almost convinced that it is real -
there is no room to feel otherwise;
much like the first time when I kissed you
and you moaned a little, quivered a bit;
here we have it all going - our tongues slithering our soul -
teeth biting our nerves - this is how a kiss should be;
if there was a thing called a 'perfect kiss',
then our kissing portrait would make rounds of
the internet under the Creative Commons license -
a picture which young undergrads would use
in their assignment -
perhaps frame it on the wall
and when the grades come out, they would
get wasted with their pocket money in one of the
many sun-lit bars where the music is loud and
kisses are stolen behind the closed doors of
the public washroom.
You leave me in my dreams for a moment or two
and I get restless again, taking fast, counted steps to find you
and you arrive again -
such a relief it is to see you, and know
that it is a relief for you to see me too;
to life I wake up, knowing that you are far away and
that I could still be with you in less than three hours from now,
but if I should - I do not know.
I step outside and aggressively look for a cigarette -
a certain tangible object so willing to burn for me
and wrap myself in a jacket like I once
wrapped you in my arms.
Your warmth was more than
my jacket bought at a fifty-percent
discount could provide,
I thought you felt the same
I was not of your size
or you did not like winter
I want somebody who will care for me, the same way I will care for her. Someone who's going to call and text, just to ask how my day is going. She'll know I'm eagerly awaiting her word and won't ignore me when I need her voice in my thoughts.
I need someone who will value my weaknesses as much as I will value her strengths. Someone who won't hesitate when I need help as I"ll be their servant if needed.
She will listen to my tribulations and she'll understand why I sometimes weep for no reason, as I will also be her rock when she needs strength. I will listen intently and know her life story and why she is sad or happy.
She will be half of me, and I half of her and it will be clear that we were meant to be as one. She will make me understand why I had to suffer so much to deserve her, as I will be the knight from her childhood memories there to her rescue!
This someone will be everything I can't be and I what she can't. We will compliment each other like night and day, like salt and sugar, like husband and wife.
She will be the one who shows me how to be wholesome and reinstate the values that I lack. In return, I"ll show her how to be street smart and give her lessons from the school of hard knocks. She will soften me, and I will harden her.
This beautiful woman I will adore and she will be gorgeous to me regardless of her physical. We will reach that place in which we are so comfortable together, that our looks won't matter, however, we will look our best out of respect for each other..
She will make me long for her touch and when we make love, it will be explosive! She'll make me feel sexual and sensual as she will turn ill in anticipation for my touch...all at the sound of my voice.
The earth will tremble and the moon will shine brighter upon our love, just like our union had been written in stars.
We will love each other with the greatness we have inside and remain true until our death and together we shall depart to the after.
She'll know it's me she's been waiting for, upon the reading of these lines. I'll know of the same union, upon her presence.
at first sight...
- Hi. I"m Luiz.
kasihku seperti surat yang kusut dalam kolong meja;
berisi lirik-lirik lagu semenjana kata mereka
konser di jantung riuh semalam
di situ aku menjadi degup yang gagal ditafsirakan
keramaian yang suci, sejatinya telah lesap
padahal mereka semua telah berjingkat, sayang
suatu keramaian telah dirampas
oleh aliran rindu yang mengaliri dan mengakhiri beberapa muara sungai hingga sampai amis lautan
di ujung menyalakan lilin, di pulau sepi;
Malang, November 2017
I'm not wholesome, but if you accept me, my whole being will be forever yours, not just some
Sometimes, well most times, I curse when I talk, but I promise you that those same words will turn tornadoes to those whom may wish you harm
My checking account is empty, but your soul will never feel as full than with me
I won't always be able to take you out to a fancy dinner, but I'll slave in the kitchen for hours to make you what you crave
That's right, at the moment I'm broke, but my will is unbreakable and I will sweat an ocean to buy you things as soon as opportunity knocks
My deficiencies are temporary, but my resolve and convictions eternal
langit kemerahan menjejak bumi
menyeru sejenak mengabaikan waktu
duka dan luka akan kaubawa
lenyap di barisan kalimat doa
tapi doa tak ada dalam sajakku
karena doa tak pantas dinikmati seharu melankolia dan sepelik balada
doa bukanlah elegi untuk diratapi
waktu telah luput dari bibirmu
bibir yang gemar mengakrabi umur usang
milik seorang pendosa ulung yang berubah jadi pendoa yang urung untuk terlupa.
Malang, November 2017