#inked
As I look through my past poetries
I've already felt the feelings I am feeling now
Like on repeat stream, I stream through it again
I will capture it once again,
Like a treasured entity.
The paper will be heavily inked
with an account of watery blotches
My eyes heavily rained
it makes an unforgettable picture,
the state of my heart,
the same as this half torn paper.
Sep 11, 2020
Sep 11, 2020 at 4:24 PM UTC
Saint or sinner,
one and the same.
If you prayed for me,
I'd pray for you too.
If you said you forgive me.
"I've forgiven you"
If you say, you love me,
I'd say "I love you too".
If you miss me?
"Do you miss me?
like meeting my ghost?"
"Love is elusive,
Love is a ghost.
In the end...
You're what I miss.
You're what I miss the most".
- James Taylor
Jun 3, 2020
Jun 3, 2020 at 2:21 PM UTC
Tattoos are nice.
I wish the rest of life
could be illustrated.
Jan 27, 2020
Jan 27, 2020 at 12:02 AM UTC
If you cannot let go of your past, you won't be able to embrace the future. I wrote this one for a boy whom I used to like a lot.
May you live for another 70 years
like your grandmother
May you influence young people,
inspiring them to follow their dreams
May you help thousands of people,
making them happy
May you eat all those Indonesian food
you like most
May you see a sky with five billion stars with
someone you love (someone is not me)
like your friend who visited Greece
May you get wrinkled, inked and loved.
I will keep you in my heart.
Goodbye.
2018.12.19
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 6:21 AM UTC
You make me smile a bit
The one void, fading, devoid.
I do not know how it is.
Do not ask me to make it concise.
All I know is, you brighten the grey from the black shade the shadows bring.
I walk, head bent down, without Life beckoning.
I hear your voice, nothing musical, but lyrical.
It's a miracle I'd say when I wake up the next day,
A poser to keep my blues away.
I do not know why it is.
Do not ask me what I can't fathom in.
All I know is,
one day I met you and the sun shone a little brighter the next day.
The wet rain could not blur away what I saw.
Under the red light, I fret for my life.
After you, I come to my senses enough to force a smile.
I know you know,
You know I know,
We know they know,
They know we know,
Still we carry on,
Walking down these dorms,
still and seperate.
Doors locked, tear stains on pillow cases by dawn.
Love do not breed the strong.
Hate brought no muse worth wasting.
All I know is, lost we will seek.
Sought thus found was never thee.
From last night I couldn't distill.
Today, I learned to be still.
Tomorrow, I know I will need you more than yesteryear.
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 2:12 PM UTC
I WANT SO BADLY TO HELP PEOPLE
-BUT I ALWAYS SEEM TO BE THE BAD PEOPLE?
BAD
APPLE
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 4:12 AM UTC
The words curled around her tongue
vanishing before she gets a taste of it
Her hands are inked with sentences
Her stomach are filled with phrases unknown
Every bit of her skin
Are marked with ancient lines
Four lines, five lines, six lines
And she lost count of the others on her back
They called it stanzas
From the World Before
When words were freely written and spoken
On things called books and papers
With an ink that must be the same
As the one inscribed on her soul.
She is an obscenity
A walking contradiction
A curse in the post human language era
As she bears all the words and languages of the world
So that all can see through her
The beauty that words can make
(Yet none can read nor understand)
Even though none can read nor understand.
She wears her soul on her skin.
Still, no one can read her.
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 12:34 AM UTC
I looked feverishly at the sky thinking how naked the night looked, and slowly glanced at myself.
I was covered in a blanket; wrapped up in the dark sky with a thousand shiny stars shimmering all around me.
The twilight chills seeped through me, causing my bones to clench themselves and hold on tight, and they made me realise:
If the night sky; a mere fragment of the universe loves to expand itself and love its cosmic-self, then I should be able to love my own body no matter how cumbersome it is.
I can conjure my body into a canvas and paint it. I can be my own chromatic artist.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 9:57 AM UTC
You reside in my eyes and flow through my tears, so I let you rest on my cheek for a while before you fall away from me.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 4:09 PM UTC
Tired irrational thoughts
Miss the page and end up inked blots
What use is this?
Too many thoughts for paper to hold
I thought this would clear my mind
or so I was told
Time to be bold
Commit these thoughts to skin
For every body is a canvas
Fill it with your art and memories
Fit it with your love. Cover your skin.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
The first time can be scary
not sure you made the right choice.
Unfamiliar sounds and smells
gives you a rush you can never forget.
But with every new one
you slowly become submerged in this world.
The ink lets you express your heart
or heals your soul.
For a moment time stands still
and your at peace.
Accepting yourself and choosing
to live the life you want.
C.F15
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC
and if i longed for a sense of belonging
i would just lie down, facing the ceiling;
i am my home
here is where i belong.
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
*Years ago, I wrote your name
Over and over on a piece of paper,
Now it's faded and gray
Like the memories we shared long ago,
But do not worry dear,
You are inked in my heart forever.*
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 10:19 AM UTC
He was not difficult to love
but hard to forget.
He would make you fall in love
with the letters
he writes using his soul,
it would tattoo on your bones
and you could never erase it,
for when you try, you’d only get hurt.
The pain of losing him
feels like he’s using your heart as his scratch
and you’d choose to feel another heartache
than to completely destroy the love he built
and be vanished for a lifetime.
You live to hear him.
He loves to write; lives to die.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 2:04 AM UTC
in 1 bed
there lay 2 inked bodies
she was filled with pictures
and all of them seemed to mingle perfectly
the eagle on her neck, the hourglass on her waist
He continued looking at her
her soft features,
how every tattoo was a piece by a different artist
but they all were perfect
He was filled with words
and oh, how beautiful he looked in them
the ink flowed in his skin to form various words
Many of them said he might come back stronger than ever
Some were a gentle reminder of loved ones
"Not a single cover up in all these years"
he would flaunt them to her.
She would giggle in response
in 1 bed
lay 2 inked bodies
with 1 heart beating
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 8:35 AM UTC
Her bleached skin
Frays at the edges
She stitches the tears
With black thread and coloured ink
A wavering rise
Paints her back, golden
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 5:22 AM UTC
The ink you have seen
My love for you
Rooted
Deep under my skin
There you remain
For always
I will be willing
To suffer
A temporary pain
For a permanent friend.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 3:16 PM UTC