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#murka
*Ini aku, gambaran hatiku Kusertakan padamu, kusisipkan untukmu* Sejenak aku rebah, luka tanpa daya Aku didera puluhan cabikan Aku kalah dalam perang Perang melawan hatiku Gersang namun hujan Tandus namun ranum Itulah hatiku Malam demi malam kulalui Dengan mata terjaga Hari demi hari kulewati Ditemani gundah gulana *Aku yang hanya menunggu, bagaikan menantang murka laut* Tiang layarku patah dihantam ombak Kain layarku robek diterjang badai Aku terombang-ambing antara suka dan duka Ombak bergulung-gulung menanti di depanku Aku menoleh ke belakang, Menimang untuk merubah haluan Kutak rela
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Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 1:47 PM UTC
ga
Gambaran Hatiku
*Ini aku, gambaran hatiku Kusertakan padamu, kusisipkan untukmu* Sejenak aku rebah, luka tanpa daya Aku didera puluhan cabikan Aku kalah dalam perang Perang melawan hatiku Gersang namun hujan Tandus namun ranum Itulah hatiku Malam demi malam kulalui Dengan mata terjaga Hari demi hari kulewati Ditemani gundah gulana *Aku yang hanya menunggu, bagaikan menantang murka laut* Tiang layarku patah dihantam ombak Kain layarku robek diterjang badai Aku terombang-ambing antara suka dan duka Ombak bergulung-gulung menanti di depanku Aku menoleh ke belakang, Menimang untuk merubah haluan Kutak rela
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22
Tired of being spectators, they threw down their beer, turned their eye from the spectacle of it all, and started clogging the gears of poisoned progress with their designer clothes, smart phones, televisions, and credit cards carrying the debt of ages. No longer the spectators, passively accepting their elected fate, they burned the ballot box with the ember of liberty; but it was their breath of righteousness that turned that box to flame. It was only after they turned off the television that they realized their banal heroism--their right to fame. Together they would inherit the earth in its shabby state, knowing that if they could make it past this winter, a new spring would emerge from the seed they had sewn; no man or woman could hold back the feeling of regret for the past, but it was the children, unseen and unnamed that would strip them of the past, and pave new roads to the future.
0
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC
mattrick-patrick
Tired Prose
Tired of being spectators, they threw down their beer, turned their eye from the spectacle of it all, and started clogging the gears of poisoned progress with their designer clothes, smart phones, televisions, and credit cards carrying the debt of ages. No longer the spectators, passively accepting their elected fate, they burned the ballot box with the ember of liberty; but it was their breath of righteousness that turned that box to flame. It was only after they turned off the television that they realized their banal heroism--their right to fame. Together they would inherit the earth in its shabby state, knowing that if they could make it past this winter, a new spring would emerge from the seed they had sewn; no man or woman could hold back the feeling of regret for the past, but it was the children, unseen and unnamed that would strip them of the past, and pave new roads to the future.
Continue reading...
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