#hadiysyakir
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.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 4:54 AM UTC
Your opinions
will always
be invalid
for what I think
and what I do
I don't need
you to
justify it.
Don't waste
your time
in questioning
the way
I paint my own
land, sun, moon
sand, sea, cloud.
I can even destroy it
within a blink of yours
if I wanted to.
Everyone does it
in their own style.
Don't you think so?
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 4:36 AM UTC
Age
shall not
worry me,
nor the years
condemn.
I yearn
for an existence
that goes beyond
everything,
and nothing
deserves to bind me
and dethrone me
from my own
plateau.
I deserve
every single breathe
that I heave,
and there is
nothing off me
that you can
steal.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 4:35 AM UTC
I'm afraid,
afraid of something
something that feels like
tailing me,
but don't, don't
don't mistaken this
it doesn't follow me
neither haunts me,
out of necessity
it reflects of something
when I looked upon
the troubled water
from the unending bridge.
It hits me,
like a hanging skin being stitched.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 4:34 AM UTC
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.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 4:09 AM UTC
I want to return
I want to give back
all the good things
I do not want to perish
in the broad daylight
I do not want to wilt
in the coldest night
and in doing so
I need this life,
I mean it this time
I do,
I really do.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 4:08 AM UTC
Things deteriorated
at an alarmingly rate
and we are set
for another horrendous spate.
But this is our time,
there's no such thing as fate
and you always know,
that nothing is ever
too late.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 4:07 AM UTC
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.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 3:44 AM UTC
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.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 3:43 AM UTC
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.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 3:40 AM UTC
At which point, does a man realized
that he is everything but a human who he thinks he is?
I am asking for your permission
to allow me to cut open your abdomen
so that I can pull your intestines
before your eyes and display it
just like the fish and the hen
at the daily market.
You may chew and taste it on your own
before you digest it,
and figure out whether
it will grow again or not.
Never mind, I had enough of this blood smell
so I am just going to ring the bell again,
and I am asking you again:
At which point, does a man realized
that he is everything but a human who he thinks he is?
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 3:38 AM UTC
He is immune to things that could shake him
for years and years
like the rohypnol, cotton bleach, light beam
more tears and tears
been shed upon the Christ's myth
and nothing could indulge in more width.
He can never lie in the bunk
throughout the summer, forever
a thousand of ships have allegedly sunk
into the oblivion, since we gather
in the acrimonious way in withholding
the frivolous conviction that we refused.
He missed thousands of roses, lilies, daisies
He stepped on it, he couldn't resist
when they arrived to announce the capture from the harem
he departed just to leave a terrifying mark all over them.
He dragged his soul through the abandoned street
street of hope and lie that forget to greet
tend to set ablaze any shape of territory
Inferno's fault is that it never told us the whole story.
He is now dancing alone on the sacred mountain
savoring the peace that he thought he could never obtain
horrendous mistake when they set him apart to be blamed
even Abraham made up something to take everyone's sight off the frame.
They shirk their responsibilities resulting in the furor
he wished that he can never be bothered anymore
for John, Donald, Henry are passersby in waiting
and the Sun now, seems to be brighter and deafening.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 3:36 AM UTC
It feels like
you just came
and visited me
yesterday.
The lemonades
and Anna Karenina
left open
on top of
the coffee table
waiting for us
to drink it
till there is
not a single drop
and for us to read
to debate
and to fight over
before we close it
and go through
another tale.
But you are not here
as the table
has been left
unattended
long time ago.
It was not
there alone
just like the day
we dragged it home
from the waste bay
and stationed it
at the center
of the hall.
It was full of mess,
dirt and marks
I can't hardly see
any signs
of love and
happiness
and pride,
the same feelings
we used to have
on it.
We used to run
to the grocery
down the corner
and laughed at
all the flattery
over the dinner
We used to kick
all the jittery
over the thunder
and shoved
the maturity
down the throat
but now we are
slowly getting
used to be like
a stranger
like a feather
off the duster
fly separately
on its own
to meet the final
destination
of its soul.
you are
no longer
here with me
to encounter
the thunder
as the lady luck
choose to
smile on you
and I fall into
the lethal oblivion
that stays longer
than the morning dew.
You may have
long gone
perhaps to the
end of the world
or to the center circle
of the endless whirl
it might be forever
or just like
the stay with me
that ends
prematurely,
but I hope
you know that
you will always
reside in the back
of my mind
at the bottom
of my heart
permanently.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 3:34 AM UTC
It takes me years
to go to nowhere
I've been waiting
for the moonlight
to wrap me up
for the sunshine
to burn me up
but I can't let go
the pain of not wanting
a revenge on the
sight of deity goddess.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 3:17 AM UTC
I wanted to be like
Abbie Hoffman before,
until I built a prison
of my own.
Now I am trapped within
the usual circle
that I have grown
tired of,
even before I start,
even before everything ends.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 3:30 AM UTC
We left our hearts
in the graveyard
and now you ask
for a new start,
well isn't that
sounds like
the funniest part,
when all the doors
and windows have been shut.
Still you have the guts
to pick all the pieces,
all the shards
when you are not
even a wildcard
in our hearts.
Go away, die in lake
go away, rot in hell
you leech, son of a witch.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 3:29 AM UTC
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.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 3:24 AM UTC
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.
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 11:16 AM UTC