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"teh" poems
Senja djakarta enam belas januari dua ribu lima belas . di hadapan leptop , aku merangkai kata demi kata untuk menghasilkan sebuah karya yang indah . ku tatapi sekelilingku ... benda mati , sepi, lengang ... andai printer yang disampingku itu berbicara... gunting itu berkata, dan pulpen ini berteriak , akan aku ceritakan sebuah kisah klasik ini di hadapan benda-benda itu . entah apa yang aku rasakan saat ini . abstark sepertinya . aku pernah berangan-angan menikmati teh rosela bersama bapakku didalam dekapan senja hangat mengantarkan mentari itu pulang , dalam dekapan . bapak yang aku rindukan kasih sayangnya melebihi apapun di dunia ini . Maafkan aku mama, aku tidak pernah serindu ini kepada bapakku . tapi percayalah , kedudukanmu dihatiku selalu ku prioritaskan bak malaikat yang selalu menjagaku setiap hari . Mama... bisakah engkau wakilkan rasa ini kepada bapakku , bahwa aku ingin mencium tangannya . kemudian ia tersenyum merasakan hangat cinta anakknya . rasa apa yg lebih berarti daripada menahan rindu ini , menahan rindu akan sosok bapakku yang genap 8 tahun sudah tidak pernah menyapaku lagi . aku tidak ingin mengingatnya dengan kenangan buruk , tetapi aku akan mencoba menguburnya ,dan ini lah saatnya aku menjadi pribadi yang berubah . bapak, tahukah engkau pak , aku sudah beranjak dewasa, dr dewasa itu aku menemukan siapa diriku sebenarnya . sadar bahwa aku bukanllah apa-apa tanpamu pak . sadara bahwa aku di dunia ini karena mu dan ibu . maafkan aku yang tidak pernah mendegarkanmu . Senja ... saksikanlah bahwa aku ingin sekali bapak duduk di pelaminan bersama ibu , dan aku berada tepat di bawah kakiknya . sembah sungkem merestui pernikahanku bersama pria yang dikirimkan ALLAH untukku .
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Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 6:09 AM UTC
Senja
Senja djakarta enam belas januari dua ribu lima belas . di hadapan leptop , aku merangkai kata demi kata untuk menghasilkan sebuah karya yang indah . ku tatapi sekelilingku ... benda mati , sepi, lengang ... andai printer yang disampingku itu berbicara... gunting itu berkata, dan pulpen ini berteriak , akan aku ceritakan sebuah kisah klasik ini di hadapan benda-benda itu . entah apa yang aku rasakan saat ini . abstark sepertinya . aku pernah berangan-angan menikmati teh rosela bersama bapakku didalam dekapan senja hangat mengantarkan mentari itu pulang , dalam dekapan . bapak yang aku rindukan kasih sayangnya melebihi apapun di dunia ini . Maafkan aku mama, aku tidak pernah serindu ini kepada bapakku . tapi percayalah , kedudukanmu dihatiku selalu ku prioritaskan bak malaikat yang selalu menjagaku setiap hari . Mama... bisakah engkau wakilkan rasa ini kepada bapakku , bahwa aku ingin mencium tangannya . kemudian ia tersenyum merasakan hangat cinta anakknya . rasa apa yg lebih berarti daripada menahan rindu ini , menahan rindu akan sosok bapakku yang genap 8 tahun sudah tidak pernah menyapaku lagi . aku tidak ingin mengingatnya dengan kenangan buruk , tetapi aku akan mencoba menguburnya ,dan ini lah saatnya aku menjadi pribadi yang berubah . bapak, tahukah engkau pak , aku sudah beranjak dewasa, dr dewasa itu aku menemukan siapa diriku sebenarnya . sadar bahwa aku bukanllah apa-apa tanpamu pak . sadara bahwa aku di dunia ini karena mu dan ibu . maafkan aku yang tidak pernah mendegarkanmu . Senja ... saksikanlah bahwa aku ingin sekali bapak duduk di pelaminan bersama ibu , dan aku berada tepat di bawah kakiknya . sembah sungkem merestui pernikahanku bersama pria yang dikirimkan ALLAH untukku .
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4
* "Our cattle graze, the wind breathes." -Garcilaso * It was my ancient voice ignorant of thick bitter juices. I sense it lapping my feet beneath the fragile wet ferns. Ay, ancient voice of my love, ay, voice of my truth, ay, voice of my open flank, when all the roses flowed from my tongue and grass knew nothing of horses' impassive teeth! Here are you drinking my blood, drinking my tedious childhood mood, while in the wind my eyes are bludgeoned by aluminum and drunken voices. Let me pass the gates where Eve eats ants and Adam seeds dazzled fish. Let me return, manikins with horns, to the grove where I stretch and leap with joy. I know a rite so secret it requires an old rusty pin and I know the horror of open eyes on a plate's concrete surface. But I want neither world nor dream, nor divine voice, I want my freedom, my human love in the darkest corner of breeze that no oen wants. My human love! Those hounds of the sea chase each other and the wind spies on careless tree trunks. Oh ancient voice, burn with your tongue this voice of tin and talc! I long to weep because I want to, as the children cry in the last row, because I'm not man, nor poet, nor leaf, but only a wounded pulse circling the things of the other side I want to cry out speaking my name, rose, child and fir-tree beside this lake, to speak my truth as a man of blood slay in myself teh tricks and turns of the word. No, no. I'm not asking, I, desire, voice, my freedom that laps my hands. In the labyrinth of screens it's my nakedness receives the moon of punishment and the ash-drowned clock. Thus I was speaking. Thus I was speaking with Saturn stopped the trains, when the fod and Dream and Death were seeking me. Seeking me where the cows, with tiny pages' feet, bellow and where my body floats between opposing fulcrums.
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5.7k
Double Poem of lake Eden
* "Our cattle graze, the wind breathes." -Garcilaso * It was my ancient voice ignorant of thick bitter juices. I sense it lapping my feet beneath the fragile wet ferns. Ay, ancient voice of my love, ay, voice of my truth, ay, voice of my open flank, when all the roses flowed from my tongue and grass knew nothing of horses' impassive teeth! Here are you drinking my blood, drinking my tedious childhood mood, while in the wind my eyes are bludgeoned by aluminum and drunken voices. Let me pass the gates where Eve eats ants and Adam seeds dazzled fish. Let me return, manikins with horns, to the grove where I stretch and leap with joy. I know a rite so secret it requires an old rusty pin and I know the horror of open eyes on a plate's concrete surface. But I want neither world nor dream, nor divine voice, I want my freedom, my human love in the darkest corner of breeze that no oen wants. My human love! Those hounds of the sea chase each other and the wind spies on careless tree trunks. Oh ancient voice, burn with your tongue this voice of tin and talc! I long to weep because I want to, as the children cry in the last row, because I'm not man, nor poet, nor leaf, but only a wounded pulse circling the things of the other side I want to cry out speaking my name, rose, child and fir-tree beside this lake, to speak my truth as a man of blood slay in myself teh tricks and turns of the word. No, no. I'm not asking, I, desire, voice, my freedom that laps my hands. In the labyrinth of screens it's my nakedness receives the moon of punishment and the ash-drowned clock. Thus I was speaking. Thus I was speaking with Saturn stopped the trains, when the fod and Dream and Death were seeking me. Seeking me where the cows, with tiny pages' feet, bellow and where my body floats between opposing fulcrums.
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50
"Dunia ini terlalu indah untuk dilukis, Sayang," Begitu katanya "Dunia ini juga terlalu luas untuk dipahami, Sayang," Begitu pula katanya Aku tetap tak mengerti Mengapa masih ada orang yang merasa dunia ini Terlalu sempit untuk diketahui Terlalu sulit untuk dijelajahi Apakah jendela cakrawala mereka saja yang sempit? Atau nyali mereka saja yang tak bisa berdiri sendiri? Hanya berani menguntit ditemani mata menyipit? Barangkali pikiran mereka juga hanya bisa mengintip? "Dunia ini dipenuhi orang aneh, Sayangku," Ujarnya kemudian Secangkir teh diteguknya perlahan "Dunia ini juga dipenuhi orang berotak kosong, kamu tahu itu," Kukatakan dalam hati bahwa aku tahu Tentu saja kami berdua tahu Bumi ini dihuni benak-benak yang melayang liar di balik masing-masing bahu Yang tak bisa diam walau hanya menunggu waktu Menunggu pikiran gila lainnya merayap masuk ke dalam kepalanya Membuat secarik kertas dan sebuah pulpen meleleh di tangannya Melantunkan kalimat-kalimat indah menjadi sebuah sajak Menyulapnya menjadi sebuah mahakarya yang terus menanjak Kukatakan sekali lagi dalam hati bahwa aku tahu Tentu saja kami berdua tahu Bumi ini juga dihuni benak-benak licik yang tak punya dinding malu Yang meraup beribu untung tak kenal waktu Diam-diam aku bertanya juga Di manakah jiwa-jiwa kotor itu bisa membeli dinding malu? Mengapa mentalnya tak beda jauh dengan mental para benalu? Orang-orang aneh itu masih terus menunggu waktu Orang-orang berotak kosong itu malah berlari meninggalkan waktu Orang-orang aneh itu terus menciptakan karya Orang-orang berotak kosong itu malah dibicarakan di berita pagi dan dunia maya Orang-orang aneh itu terus menumbuhkan bunga di atas nama bangsa Orang-orang berotak kosong itu malah menumbuhkan duri di bawah nama bangsa Seperti yang saat ini banyak terjadi, Seniman dan Koruptor.
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Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 2:37 AM UTC
Dunia, Seni, Koruptor
"Dunia ini terlalu indah untuk dilukis, Sayang," Begitu katanya "Dunia ini juga terlalu luas untuk dipahami, Sayang," Begitu pula katanya Aku tetap tak mengerti Mengapa masih ada orang yang merasa dunia ini Terlalu sempit untuk diketahui Terlalu sulit untuk dijelajahi Apakah jendela cakrawala mereka saja yang sempit? Atau nyali mereka saja yang tak bisa berdiri sendiri? Hanya berani menguntit ditemani mata menyipit? Barangkali pikiran mereka juga hanya bisa mengintip? "Dunia ini dipenuhi orang aneh, Sayangku," Ujarnya kemudian Secangkir teh diteguknya perlahan "Dunia ini juga dipenuhi orang berotak kosong, kamu tahu itu," Kukatakan dalam hati bahwa aku tahu Tentu saja kami berdua tahu Bumi ini dihuni benak-benak yang melayang liar di balik masing-masing bahu Yang tak bisa diam walau hanya menunggu waktu Menunggu pikiran gila lainnya merayap masuk ke dalam kepalanya Membuat secarik kertas dan sebuah pulpen meleleh di tangannya Melantunkan kalimat-kalimat indah menjadi sebuah sajak Menyulapnya menjadi sebuah mahakarya yang terus menanjak Kukatakan sekali lagi dalam hati bahwa aku tahu Tentu saja kami berdua tahu Bumi ini juga dihuni benak-benak licik yang tak punya dinding malu Yang meraup beribu untung tak kenal waktu Diam-diam aku bertanya juga Di manakah jiwa-jiwa kotor itu bisa membeli dinding malu? Mengapa mentalnya tak beda jauh dengan mental para benalu? Orang-orang aneh itu masih terus menunggu waktu Orang-orang berotak kosong itu malah berlari meninggalkan waktu Orang-orang aneh itu terus menciptakan karya Orang-orang berotak kosong itu malah dibicarakan di berita pagi dan dunia maya Orang-orang aneh itu terus menumbuhkan bunga di atas nama bangsa Orang-orang berotak kosong itu malah menumbuhkan duri di bawah nama bangsa Seperti yang saat ini banyak terjadi, Seniman dan Koruptor.
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39
In Vienna there are ten little girls, a shoulder for death to cry on, and a forest of dried pigeons. There is a fragment of tomorrow in the museum of winter frost. There is a thousand-windowed dance hall. Ay, ay, ay, ay! Take this close-mouthed waltz. Little waltz, little waltz, little waltz, of itself of death, and of brandy that dips its tail in the sea. I love you, I love you, I love you, with the armchair and the book of death, down the melancholy hallway, in the iris' darkened garret. Ay, ay, ay, ay! Take this broken-waisted waltz. In Vienna there are four mirrors in which your mouth and the echoes play. There is a death for piano that paints little boys blue. There are beggars on the roof. There are fresh garlands of tears. Ay, ay, ay, ay! Take this waltz that dies in my arms. Because I love you, I love you, my love, in the attic wherethe children play, dreaming ancient lights of Hungary through the noise, the balmy afternoon, seeing sheep and irises of snow through teh dark silence of your forehead. Ay, ay, ay, ay! Take this "I will always love you" waltz. In Vienna I will dance with you in a costume with a river's head. See how the hyacinths line my banks! I will leave my mouth between your legs, my soul in photographs and lilies, and in the dark wake of your footsteps, my love, my love, I will have to leave violin and grave, the waltzing ribbons.
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3.5k
Little Viennese Waltz
sore itu dingin. kupandangi tetes-tetes air yang perlahan hinggap di atas permukaan kaca jendela secangkir teh dalam genggaman, berbalut tabahnya menahan rindu. kutunggu kabar namun tak juga kunjung datang duduk di atas kursi teras, menanti suaramu hadir di ujung pesawat. teleponku lagi-lagi kau abaikan, seperti tak pernah sekalipun terlintas minat untuk kau angkat. terlalu sibuk atau apa? biar kunanti lagi bersama rintik hujan. semenit lima menit sepuluh menit dua puluh menit lima puluh menit kutunggu telepon balasanmu namun belum juga kau izinkan aku mendengar suaramu aku diam bersama alunan musik yang dimainkan hujan, air mataku turun biarkan! aku letih berpura-pura merasa tidak sakit hati bersama lantunan rintik hujan, serta guntur yang belum pula lelah bersahutan, pada dunia mereka seolah mengatakan; alam pun bisa menyuarakan air matanya, dan memiliki jeda jujur yang panjang, berhenti berusaha ceria. kemudian aku sadar; seperti alam yang sedang menangis, aku benar-benar letih berpura-pura.
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May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 7:20 AM UTC
untuk segala hal yang letih berpura-pura
I know that my profile will be serene in the nroth of an unreflecting sky. Mercury of vigil, chaste mirror to break the pulse of my style. For if ivy and the cool of linen are the norm of the body I leave behind, my profile in the sand will be the old unblushing silence of a crocodile. And though my tongue of frozen doves will never taste of flame, only of empty broom. I'll be a free sign of oppressed norms on the neck of the stiff branch and in teh ache of dahlias without end.
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2.8k
Sonnet
I wanna kiss it but its so hard not sure how to bring it against my lips and then my fingers up and slip So soft the place you make between my shoulders as they stand the truth in your presence the defautl in your eyes unlike the lovely demise in the powerful but full of histories of deciet and self succumed lies in a cloud on a pillar high this is where I thought I might die but death isnt the only escape when beauty surrounds you from your mistakes filters in through your insides it leads you to a moutain top so high the snow fall cleans you of your ***** hide kiss you touch ouy never call you mine because I know better not to contain higher things clip thier wings I gave my heart, I gve my soul to the wronged of those may I rest by your side my ribcage exposed to the love you know from my touch from my gental spirit the light from behind my eyes that reaches and finally does it touch you heal me inside you slip your sweet medicine between my lips you swindle your breateh of life I dont fight you with my hips into my worried eyes I fear not not any more so long as you are here I can let go of this rope lay your worried bones next to mine and I'll do my very best to buy us this time may the clock stop as it does for the dead because we are heaven lieing in your bed kiss me once kiss me twice and I'll kiss you thrice my worries drop as does this plunder my thoughts roll from us like defeated thunder I hold you whole I hold you tight I give you the same freedom, I give you the same rights I heard you speak of whats in your head I'm smilling for the things you dont know that of which you said fumbling in your sleep you craddle my crown as I dose myself in the sweet silent sound I am fawn white I am pure irridescent light cloaked in darkness hidden from sight so that the goodness might prevail even during teh trials of night You, with orbs in your antlers with moons on your tongue you dont chase me I realize I mustnt run The power with in you sends me still even so, I am reeled for the dangers I've met for the dreams I stir I feel the safety in this allure you sparkle in my eyes from inside you I see us side by side standing tall for authority we call together we are safe and with tired eyes I will keep you warm and safe to any and all expendeture we are fair a deiety in of itself we are desired for being rare
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May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 7:01 AM UTC
we are desired for being rare
I wanna kiss it but its so hard not sure how to bring it against my lips and then my fingers up and slip So soft the place you make between my shoulders as they stand the truth in your presence the defautl in your eyes unlike the lovely demise in the powerful but full of histories of deciet and self succumed lies in a cloud on a pillar high this is where I thought I might die but death isnt the only escape when beauty surrounds you from your mistakes filters in through your insides it leads you to a moutain top so high the snow fall cleans you of your ***** hide kiss you touch ouy never call you mine because I know better not to contain higher things clip thier wings I gave my heart, I gve my soul to the wronged of those may I rest by your side my ribcage exposed to the love you know from my touch from my gental spirit the light from behind my eyes that reaches and finally does it touch you heal me inside you slip your sweet medicine between my lips you swindle your breateh of life I dont fight you with my hips into my worried eyes I fear not not any more so long as you are here I can let go of this rope lay your worried bones next to mine and I'll do my very best to buy us this time may the clock stop as it does for the dead because we are heaven lieing in your bed kiss me once kiss me twice and I'll kiss you thrice my worries drop as does this plunder my thoughts roll from us like defeated thunder I hold you whole I hold you tight I give you the same freedom, I give you the same rights I heard you speak of whats in your head I'm smilling for the things you dont know that of which you said fumbling in your sleep you craddle my crown as I dose myself in the sweet silent sound I am fawn white I am pure irridescent light cloaked in darkness hidden from sight so that the goodness might prevail even during teh trials of night You, with orbs in your antlers with moons on your tongue you dont chase me I realize I mustnt run The power with in you sends me still even so, I am reeled for the dangers I've met for the dreams I stir I feel the safety in this allure you sparkle in my eyes from inside you I see us side by side standing tall for authority we call together we are safe and with tired eyes I will keep you warm and safe to any and all expendeture we are fair a deiety in of itself we are desired for being rare
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89
Smiles that don't quite rise to eyes Awkward chatter and white lies Drab, plaster walls, and stained floors Take a breath and sip some more Lower walls and break the locks, With fewer glances at the clock Easy laughter and empty cups Find a way to fill me up. The bitter rind turns sweet with time When empty glasses clink like chimes The warmth of friends helps me unwind The warmth of poison keeps me blind Eyes that don't quite rise to smiles But people love this guise of style Play it smooth with refined class Tell everyone about her fine *** Oh, this nihgt will never end Oh, the joys of plentyy friends Teh best of times, never forget The way that the
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Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 7:26 PM UTC
This Bitter Rind
A dream I wish it was, when the hounds of hell were unleashed upon my family. A dream I wish it was, when teh aftermath caused me to weep day in and day out, wishing it was only a figment of my hell - filled imagination A dream I wish it was... ... ...
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Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
A Dream I Wish It Was
To repair an old A C unit.http://www.rvclassified.com These are things about yourself that you can't manipulate in a first impression like your appearance.your voice.There are lots of dissimilar low cost gifts present out there.She may always judge men with certain characteristics in a certain way,but with closer attention.if your voice is extremely deep and she has had many bad experiences with men whose voices are deep. Streaming Movies TV shows Kindle ebook It is basically available in generations.There is nothing truly so expensive staying a lady who equally receives the weak. Spot of needing eyeglasses for studying and the pressure to put on these eyeglasses as an accessory Fitflop.Her lovemap is made up from her experiences with men.and women.are there any workouts that are properly worth avoiding Cheap Fitflop Sale,These experiences can be bad or good.Or you might follow an intuition you have had,greatschools.gloze Media focusing on strength with right mix in website development and designs.On the other hand if she had a great teacher who lifted her up and led her to great things then she may associate his cologne.She starts giving me a. **** ******* lookint at my me teh whole time.as well as its look,If you are wearing that cologne or have his characteristics then she may like you instantly.Obtaining arrest details over the Internet prove to be the perfect medium these days.You also need to consider the skin tone of the bridesmaid along with the season as to when you are planning to get married Fitflop Singapore.so their people would not perish and die,and you are on your way..Also view her blog at http.Ie got good news for you,and the designing.She was the. Relate Articles:
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Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 7:23 AM UTC
These are things about yourself rvclassified.com
To repair an old A C unit.http://www.rvclassified.com These are things about yourself that you can't manipulate in a first impression like your appearance.your voice.There are lots of dissimilar low cost gifts present out there.She may always judge men with certain characteristics in a certain way,but with closer attention.if your voice is extremely deep and she has had many bad experiences with men whose voices are deep. Streaming Movies TV shows Kindle ebook It is basically available in generations.There is nothing truly so expensive staying a lady who equally receives the weak. Spot of needing eyeglasses for studying and the pressure to put on these eyeglasses as an accessory Fitflop.Her lovemap is made up from her experiences with men.and women.are there any workouts that are properly worth avoiding Cheap Fitflop Sale,These experiences can be bad or good.Or you might follow an intuition you have had,greatschools.gloze Media focusing on strength with right mix in website development and designs.On the other hand if she had a great teacher who lifted her up and led her to great things then she may associate his cologne.She starts giving me a. **** ******* lookint at my me teh whole time.as well as its look,If you are wearing that cologne or have his characteristics then she may like you instantly.Obtaining arrest details over the Internet prove to be the perfect medium these days.You also need to consider the skin tone of the bridesmaid along with the season as to when you are planning to get married Fitflop Singapore.so their people would not perish and die,and you are on your way..Also view her blog at http.Ie got good news for you,and the designing.She was the. Relate Articles:
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2
hello veil over a trench coat, i’ve come here to recite a few breaths and hopefully get you to take those sunglasses off (for my pride’s sake). just drop them around your ankles like your most comfortable pair of undergarments, kick them onto the beige bedroom rug and make me feel like a day early welfare check in a bread line full of starvation. slide me a napkin with a phone number from across the church pew. smoke my mind like a cigarette in the recovery ward waiting room. i bet you could slap the what teh **** off my face as swiftly as the day is long, and it’s long. and as teh world economy comes to a screeching halt and married men jump out of windows because money is some sort of commodity i will never truly truly truly understand, crying babies and ****** good womens remind me of you. grandmothers and the aunt everyone loves to hear drunk at christmas is your smile. your scent isn’t like my ****** relatives. that would be gross. and luxury automobiles and the adromeda galaxies in one corner of the paint job you happened to look a little too closely at is just a speck of your complexity misdialed like a phone number in a crosseye white pages disaster- say i was to rush to this decision. say i bent, hands on knees, puffing. say joe camel between my pointer and middle finger kept both of them occupied for once say i was running up to tell you that i don’t know you but i think i should i should
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May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 11:39 PM UTC
Backyard Streams of Conscious
Ditarik, kami diarahkan membaca apapun yang tidak ada penjelasannya. Dikodratkan harus paham isi kepala makhluk yang hanya sesekali berkata iya dan tidak. Kami terpingkal, Puan. Bagaimana tidak?; Kain yang kau gunting sendiri dan pintal dengan rajut sedari subuh sudah cantik--tapi kau merasa kurang, dan kami adalah penyebabnya katamu. Duduk kami melingkar bersama dengan gelas gelas berisi teh melati, Hangat membaur aroma kebingungan kaum kami. Sekali beberapa menit kami terpingkal lagi, berusaha terus membaca setiap halaman kosong dan beberapa titik saja di sudut kiri kanannya. Tidak ada barang satupun buku yang mengerti keinginan puan. Cemasnya puan ingin dilindungi, Lembutnya puan yang ingin dikasihi, Ah, apalagi tangisan yang tiba-tiba terisak di malam sehabis mimpi. Tersenyum kami menahan tawa dan kantuk, sembari melihat-lihat wajah puan yang tertunduk mengharap ditanya mengenai hari ini. Semenit dua menit kami lihat lekat-lekat wajah puan. Kami bisa tidur malam ini, Jawaban kebingungan lelaki bukan tertulis pada buku-buku; tapi dua bola mata yang senantiasa banyak bercerita setiap ia duduk hening tanpa berbicara. Ah, engkau puan~ Buku pelajaran yang tak ada tamatnya. B_A 10 Mei 2019
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May 10, 2019
May 10, 2019 at 12:23 AM UTC
Ah, engkau puan~
Abraham, So shall your seed be if only Abraham, you have faith in Me. Isaac will be Born, Abraham, You will see. And Isaac was Born, To Sarah who was old To Abraham too, Who was older, they were the young at heart, the bold. the Promise made, and by God Fulfilled. Not one taken from teh hand of God, he has not, and will not lose one, Done is His Soverign Will. Amen Save as bookmark And check this box  if you want to show the text in your "I recommend you to read" list,  Confirm or Close
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Feb 10, 2011
Feb 10, 2011 at 3:31 PM UTC
The Stars of Heaven, The Sands of teh Sea
it is an injustice and when it happens your fists clench teeth grinding against each other as you bite down hard and hold back the voice that they've already silenced you see there are three kinds of people that the world loves four kinds if it's a good day and the sky is blue five if you squint six if you close your eyes seven if you never listen to the screams eight if you stop being able to feel sorry for the dead boys in the street and the girls whose hijabs are starting to resemble bandages on top of war wounds like their existence is something that some enemy with more guns than compassion can't bear to see but there are three kinds of people that the world loves the rich the white the cishet male it seems if you have money then you get what you need if you skin is the color of cream you get what you want if your body matches the on/off binary that some dead white guy built up in a desparate attempt at stifling a world he didn't understand then you get safety if your love can fit neatly in teh confines of a church whose god is more disappointment than righteous anger because the time for anger was years ago the time for anger was dead men and women people with stars in their front windows and people with triangles on their breastpocket the time for anger was a young girl staring at a young girl as her parents threw her to the dogs as her flesh was torn for teh sake of blessings as her body was cursed for the sake of god as her existence was removed erased ignored for teh sake of someone else's comfort you see the world is a bad place full of battles that no one wants to fight full of wars that no one wants to see and you will stand some day in front of a sea of people and try to profess yourself a prophet you will proclaim your news good you will paint peace across your forehead like that will distract from the blood on your hands but by your silence they will know you by your soft steps your late entrance your blank face at the sight of their dead children they will recognize you for what you are and their fists will clench their teeth will grind against one another as they bite down hard and hold back a voice that they that you already silenced
0
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC
i didn't get to say goodbye
it is an injustice and when it happens your fists clench teeth grinding against each other as you bite down hard and hold back the voice that they've already silenced you see there are three kinds of people that the world loves four kinds if it's a good day and the sky is blue five if you squint six if you close your eyes seven if you never listen to the screams eight if you stop being able to feel sorry for the dead boys in the street and the girls whose hijabs are starting to resemble bandages on top of war wounds like their existence is something that some enemy with more guns than compassion can't bear to see but there are three kinds of people that the world loves the rich the white the cishet male it seems if you have money then you get what you need if you skin is the color of cream you get what you want if your body matches the on/off binary that some dead white guy built up in a desparate attempt at stifling a world he didn't understand then you get safety if your love can fit neatly in teh confines of a church whose god is more disappointment than righteous anger because the time for anger was years ago the time for anger was dead men and women people with stars in their front windows and people with triangles on their breastpocket the time for anger was a young girl staring at a young girl as her parents threw her to the dogs as her flesh was torn for teh sake of blessings as her body was cursed for the sake of god as her existence was removed erased ignored for teh sake of someone else's comfort you see the world is a bad place full of battles that no one wants to fight full of wars that no one wants to see and you will stand some day in front of a sea of people and try to profess yourself a prophet you will proclaim your news good you will paint peace across your forehead like that will distract from the blood on your hands but by your silence they will know you by your soft steps your late entrance your blank face at the sight of their dead children they will recognize you for what you are and their fists will clench their teeth will grind against one another as they bite down hard and hold back a voice that they that you already silenced
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Ternyata benar, jarak dan ketidakhadiran fisik adalah alasan mengapa kita menyukai apa yang tidak disukai. Terkadang paksaan adalah bagian dari hal terindu yang diinginkan manusia; Bagaimana tidak? Sejak kapan kau menyukai teh hangat? Tumis sawi-sawian, bahkan sayur berkuah santan? Jawabannya sejak kita memiliki jarak dengan ibu. Saat ketidakmampuan kita untuk melihatnya megiris bawang setiap pagi sehabis subuh Suaranya yang memekik dari ujung ke ujung. Kita tidak benar-benar menyukai beberapa hal diatas, kita hanya memaksakan momen agar kita merasa berada pada masa lalu. Kemudian semakin bertambahnya angka-angka, kita lupa Jengukan anak-anak adalah vitamin yang ia perlukan Karena pulang yang sebenar-benarnya adalah saat kita melihat ibu. B_A 14-15 Mei 2013
0
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 6:00 PM UTC
Balada
Dear God I know you are a crutch, created by a scared species, to make the dark nights warmer. I know that millions of lives are spent, in your name, and of those other pray to. I know people flock to buildings, bruise their knees in abeisiance, hoping for eternal life. I know that millions fight for you, thousands speak for you, and none ever see you. I know that the universe is vast, complex and unknown, but not created by you. And yet, it would be easy, if I could clasp my hands together, murmur words of needs longed for, and recieve a miracle at my door. Dear God, If you had indeed been real: Then the slavery of religion would disgust you, your followers' grovelling would embarrass. Teh demise of your word created, would fire you into action. To save us. To guide us. To teach us how to live. In the absence of an allmighty, all I see is a sentient species: violent greedy hatefull Bent of self-destruction. There is no Divine in the **** of the infant girl.
0
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 9:03 AM UTC
Open letter to God
Aku pernah diajak pulang. Senyumnya seperti figura kecil di ujung ruang, Sentuhannya familiar seperti mainan usang. Aku tidak mau diajak pulang. Tangannya hangat seperti teh yang baru dituang, Tatapannya halus seperti selimut yang sudah dibuang, Tapi sekarang belum saatnya pulang. Aku ditinggal pulang oleh mama. Katanya dia tidak bisa berlama-lama, Katanya dia masih orang yang sama, Yang walaupun raganya sudah tidak bisa diajak bercengkrama, Balut hangat cintanya akan selalu jadi rumah.
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Feb 2, 2021
Feb 2, 2021 at 12:45 PM UTC
—rumah.
Milke lade teh azadi ke liye, aur jab woh mili, bechad gaye aur jenelage akele
0
Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 9:06 AM UTC
#3
somwhere in the world a small girl sits in a classroom while the teacher tells the class that they won't be reading Maya Aneglou because of it's sensitive content while later that day the same small girl goes home to a father who binds her wrists so tightly to the bed, her veins almost burst. His sick fantasy gone wild and she'll never read about someone who survived. somewhere in the world little boys run wild, with smiles on their faces ignorant to teh chaos around them these little boys look so happy, to the untrained eye but look around them, they're actually running for their lives. somewhere in the world a mother watches a family through a restaurant window throwing away full course meals with tears in her eyes wondering if she'll be able to feed the kids tonight somewhere in the world lovers hide, in fear of being found out that they are not of different sexes and that they are of different races petrified of being punished for what everyone else sees as a crime or even worse, not making back to their beloved alive somewhere in the world, a little girl asks if daddy is ever gonna come back and she wonders why he's gone in the first place because no one ever told her that daddy never loved her. somewhere in the world, the restless lie awake at night fighting battles with their demons fumbling open a bottle of jack or a pharmacy vial of xanax wondering how fast they'll take away the pain across the world there is sin, all seven of them pouring out of every thing that inhabits the earth somewhere in the world there is a someone who will erupt the revolution and we're all patiently waiting for the anarchy to begin.
0
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 8:30 PM UTC
somewhere in the world
somwhere in the world a small girl sits in a classroom while the teacher tells the class that they won't be reading Maya Aneglou because of it's sensitive content while later that day the same small girl goes home to a father who binds her wrists so tightly to the bed, her veins almost burst. His sick fantasy gone wild and she'll never read about someone who survived. somewhere in the world little boys run wild, with smiles on their faces ignorant to teh chaos around them these little boys look so happy, to the untrained eye but look around them, they're actually running for their lives. somewhere in the world a mother watches a family through a restaurant window throwing away full course meals with tears in her eyes wondering if she'll be able to feed the kids tonight somewhere in the world lovers hide, in fear of being found out that they are not of different sexes and that they are of different races petrified of being punished for what everyone else sees as a crime or even worse, not making back to their beloved alive somewhere in the world, a little girl asks if daddy is ever gonna come back and she wonders why he's gone in the first place because no one ever told her that daddy never loved her. somewhere in the world, the restless lie awake at night fighting battles with their demons fumbling open a bottle of jack or a pharmacy vial of xanax wondering how fast they'll take away the pain across the world there is sin, all seven of them pouring out of every thing that inhabits the earth somewhere in the world there is a someone who will erupt the revolution and we're all patiently waiting for the anarchy to begin.
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Flower petals blow in the wind The grains of sand are in my bin The crash of waves against the shore A roll of thunder I can't ignore The sky is dark and the clouds are grey The irds of the water know to stay away The sky turns bright with a lightning flash And across the sand my feet do dash I reach teh cabin on the beach Run through the door and don't wipe my feet The sound of thunder at my back I close the door and turn the latch i jump on the couch and cover my head The room is silent as the dead When I wake up morning has come The sky is bright and the storm is gone The air is fresh and the breeze is cool The see is calm just like a pool After a storm the world is new Everyone knows it now I do too
0
Sep 8, 2009
Sep 8, 2009 at 2:17 PM UTC
The Storm
Shaking with all the coffee wood tables, stairs, chairs- this cafe is made with the slain, with old spirits. It's too warm. Out there walk by the day-mares; toothless and alone, confused and wandering. Family in prison, army, lost. Others waltz with bulging plastic bags, adorned with beloved brand names, kissed with reciepts, blessed for ignorance "beautiful." A tiny girl across teh street with a smudge on her face smiles. I pull a thin curve, wave a little. Unto a land that no longer cares. No longer breathes.
0
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC
Day-mare
You’d think that after All this time I’ve spent typing, That I could spell “the”.
0
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 5:35 PM UTC
Teh
One day I'll be happy One day I will cry Perhaps I'll even scream out so that I am heard Tomorrow I will run away so tha tI can come back on another day Today I'll make a cherry pit to celebrate the eve of my goodbye Because, you see, we're only as happy as our hearts will let us be and we're only as sad as the world makes us seem So then on Friday I'll come back after that we'll see just how happy we all can be Oh, we'll have a giant celebration then because we made teh world see what it's like to be happy
0
Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 6:08 PM UTC
Happiness
RECORD: GET A MOVE ON! FROGMAN: MR. SCRUFF Johnny's and Suzy's: It caught me so that I may never ... rest from pwondarement; I will drink life from the bees. All tore-ments I have enjoy'd greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with throwse that loved me, and alone; on tear, and when thro' thudding rents the cravy Haeades Vent-teh-din-see. I am become a thought; For all-ways growming with a hungry deadhead Much have I heard and throwned— poprieities of Brads and Janets And spanners, prime-hates, clowncils, reed-covernments, Myself too. threast, i am tonor'd of them all,-- And drunk delight of rattle with my tyears, Far on the stinging pains of dramatic irony. I am a partition of all that I have kept; Yet all expeerientse is an ark wherethro' gleams that unpondere'd mind whose margin craves metaforever and 'fore ever when eyes groove. -- Ulysses, Frogman STOP: TURN THOUGHT
0
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 5:14 PM UTC
The Letter-Ing: metaphor flavornoid
RECORD: TINY LITTLE ROBOTS FROGMAN: CAGE Teh-rouge-ANT! Johnny Five's and Suzy Two's: Especially Brads and Janets.                                                   From brad three and janet one                                                   to johnny five and suzy two.                                                   one pontification begets the next,                                                   only to fall in sum-E unpredictable-way.                                                   we mean, everyone I know feels left down by their other and fallther. even my other and fallther fell, left down by their other and fallther. -- Chuck, Frogman "[R]ule forty-two. All johnny five's and suzy two's wild stings more than a milee high-way mayn’t lever the short.” -- The King, as approved by The Qculoween Johnny Fives's and Suzy Two's: Oh, [R]ULES [R]ULERS [R]ULE!                                                              Always [R]uling to TOE the LINE!                                                     Well,                                                             [R]E                                                                    [R]I                                                                          [R]O                                                                                 ***                                                     4 {KNOCKS ON MY} 2 {EAR DRUMS}!!...                                                     i hear my hearts beat of tidelord fun. STOP: TURN SELF
0
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 1:55 PM UTC
The Letter-Ing: tiedlord fun
RECORD: TINY LITTLE ROBOTS FROGMAN: CAGE Teh-rouge-ANT! Johnny Five's and Suzy Two's: Especially Brads and Janets.                                                   From brad three and janet one                                                   to johnny five and suzy two.                                                   one pontification begets the next,                                                   only to fall in sum-E unpredictable-way.                                                   we mean, everyone I know feels left down by their other and fallther. even my other and fallther fell, left down by their other and fallther. -- Chuck, Frogman "[R]ule forty-two. All johnny five's and suzy two's wild stings more than a milee high-way mayn’t lever the short.” -- The King, as approved by The Qculoween Johnny Fives's and Suzy Two's: Oh, [R]ULES [R]ULERS [R]ULE!                                                              Always [R]uling to TOE the LINE!                                                     Well,                                                             [R]E                                                                    [R]I                                                                          [R]O                                                                                 ***                                                     4 {KNOCKS ON MY} 2 {EAR DRUMS}!!...                                                     i hear my hearts beat of tidelord fun. STOP: TURN SELF
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