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Midnight Malarkey

a peek inside the poetic freak

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Poetry

Once again I find myself
Sprawled on the floor
My tears, turned ink
Staining parched paper
Forming itself into words—such a painter

Once again I’m startled
To hear the grandfather clock strike
Hours past midnight
And my rhymes still unfinished

I have learned to trust
That being is enough
That effort is merely social construct
That I will no longer let disrupt
What I am fundamentally 

Human
Being
Human being

What is the body but a compartment for stories
A manifestation of man’s want in seeking glory
Vessels in which purpose can validate its autonomy
In the form of a life-long journey

What are bones but phosphor and calcium
Chemical reactions that happen to be solid
In naked-eye form
Doesn’t mean it should steal legitimacy from
Concept and ideas built
By humans, with the mind as its guild

And what can you or I take from a train
Of undisturbed thoughts
Dripping drops of conceptual rain
Building blocks
Building our own version of reality

This is why man finds peace in nature
A reality we don’t need to ponder
An existence unquestioned
A systemized entity we may affect
But its inner workings remain undisturbed

It is here we find solace
Where our value isn’t based on solvency
Where the most urgent issue is only of survivability

 


April 1st 2017
@Nala Coffee, Serpong

My Name Is Poetry

My name is poetry
And I am the reason
Your heart wrenches, fast
Upon hearing angst
Against all reason
For things merely spoken

My name is poetry
And I’m the “why”
You people try
To find meaning
In between sounds that ring
Why you’re so adamant
To make these lines seem relevant

My name is poetry
And I’m the cause
For you to pour
Sweet, sweet honey
Dripping forth between your lips
Quenching the thirst to pour out your soul

My name is poetry
I am the thief that steals your sleep
Why at 2 am you’re awake
Ink staining your fingertips
A testimony of what’s unspoken
When you can no longer weep

My name is poetry
And I am just what I am
And that’s why you love me
That’s why you try to understand
Master every rhyme
Collect vocabulary as much as sand
Write like you’re out of time

My name is poetry
An activity, ideology
A way for your whole being to breathe
You may think you can meet me
Get a taste of me
Then leave

But my name is poetry
And I will consume you
Your feelings, thoughts, memories
And when you do me, I can see it in your eyes
How you feel so free, so fine
When the truth is, darling
You. Are. Mine.

No good night kisses
No good night wishes
Just a sentimental quote
That I wrote

Because, dear
What good can night be
Without you near
Me?

One thing only
Is I can dream
Make us sweeter than
Reality

The things I write after a flurry of romantic quotes can get disturbing sometimes. sigh

Why I Write

You were right
That I write
About so many things
Facts and feelings

You were right
That I write
But you don’t know why
I keep this habit of mine

I’m a little broken
Heart, spirit, soul
And words flow out like a stream
Out of the unplugged cracks and holes

Words help me make sense when I don’t
They comfort me when people won’t
They speak for me when the tears won’t come out
When no one will listen even if I shout

You were right
That I write
Out goes my hidden skeletons
Hidden in metaphors and comparisons

You were right
I write
To filter out what to say
So people won’t ever get away
With anything to talk back against me

I write
To filter out those who stay
I go back and reflect
Figure out the people who crept
Out or in my life
And the ones worth it have I kept

I write
Because my voice isn’t as strong
As ink is on paper
With lack of an eraser
It will stay longer than my little squeak
It won’t show if my tone is meek

I write
Because at 3 am
No one’s up to hear my rant
When the voices are so loud it forbids me from sleep
Or worse, so silent

I write
To get my feelings out
To quiet down the memories
That my mind won’t stop to spout
So unrelenting
So threatening
To my sanity

You were right
When you said I write

But you had no idea why

I break into song and dance
I skip and jump and prance
It’s like I’m in a trance
When I’m with you

They say my life’s a movie
So watch me fall in love
Let’s make this thing a happy ending
Worth watching on the silver screen
Worth giving awards

I’m thinking of a tune
I hope you’ll be immune
Get used to this random me
I’m like this because I’m happy

And this is actually new to me
Letting out emotions so freely
But I guess that’s why music is universal–
Everything in life has a melody

High or low
Home or on the go
You can count on song
To help you move along

With life
And its strife
So you can enjoy the ride

Turning Point

This is when my heart
Breaks apart into tiny pieces
I want to put away my love
Lease it
To writers who’d at least
Appreciate it

This is when I face
The stone-cold
Reality is
I knew this plot would unfold
With something happy
In the end
But not for me

This is when the end looms
When I take up a broom
Sweep away all traces of you
Or at least try to….

This is when I write
Of what went wrong
What was right
There, staring straight at me
Something I just couldn’t see

You, my dear, didn’t want me the way
I wanted
You needed me
For comfort’s sake

How lucky am I to now awake
To the harsh

Reality is I’m blessed
Able to differ what I feel and
What my brain says is
My priority is
To let everything pour
Out of my brain, rhymes float
About you

And to tell you
The truth is I’m sick of
These feelings, clinging so
Tightly clenching
What I imagined
Would make me happy

No, scratch that
I meant things that
Would make me happy
But I can only
Imagine to be

So… it brings me to

This is where I
Stop posting for
Now I should try focusing
On other things
That are more tangible than feelings

Funny how you feel oblivious
To how I feel

About you

I’ve written a thousand
Words said, left hanging
In the air, the atmosphere contains particles
Microscopic pieces

Of you

Flaking off feelings
My feelings
Like saying “I love you” is
Simple, really, because I honestly love

You

Sejumlah Surat

Untuk: Yang pergi, ditulis saat melarikan diri.


#1—00.30

Aku tahu
kau bukan segalanya untuk
diriku
bukan apa-apa untukmu.

Aku tahu kau tak
pernah istimewa
di hatiku
selalu ada dirimu
layaknya benalu.

Kau membuatkau resah karena
kelakuanmu
membuatku tertawa
terhadap kebodohanku.

Tetapi rasa ini
luar biasa
menyebalkan sekali
pun aku marah juga
tak bisa marah padamu.

Apa ini teka-teki yang
para pujangga akui
kumatnya kinerja hati
adalah sumber inspirasi.

Maka, aku menulis
tentangmu yang tak peduli
tentangku yang bermimpi
tentang kita
tak ada cerita, hanya kenangan
sedu sedan yang kutumpahkan
kala memutar balik
khayalan indah
yang sebenarnya konyol juga.

 


 

#2—01.12

Apa kau tahu aku menulis dengan cara yang berbeda tentangmu? muluk-muluk, campur aduk, dengan hati lelah dan jemari yang tak pernah mengantuk.

Apa kau tahu aku menulis dengan cara yang berbeda karenamu? Aku tahu akan tercebur, dan karena tulisanku jujur, coretan tentangmu kucoret juga. Tentangmu, aku tak takut membuat kesalahan.

Apa kau tahu perasaanku saat menulis tentangmu? Tak karuan. Tentangmu, rasanya aku kehabisan kata-kata. Bahagia, sedih, mara. Mungkin…  cinta? Ah, entahlah.

Apa kau tahu perasaanku saat menulis tentangmu? Kaget, karena tulisanku adalah ungkapan—validasi bahwa kau berarti. Senang saat tahu bahwa hati ini berfungsi. Lega, sungguh lega, karena bisa menulis. Takut, karena sejak perjumpaan, tulisanku sudah menyinggung kerelaan. Seolah-olah aku memang ingin meloncat ke tahap patah hati atau perpisahan.

Apa kau tahu alsanku menulis tentangmu? Agar aku ingat bahwa pernah ada masa saat aku merasakan hal indah. Aku ragu sekarang masih mempercayainya, namun kala itu aku yakin bahwa menulis akan membuatku tabah.

Apa kau tahu alasanku menulis karenamu? Malu, karena tak biasa. Senang atas hal yang kurasa. Agar bisa kuutarakan lebih rapi agar kau mengerti. Agar bisa kuutarakan karena—ternyata, haruskah ku ragu?—kau tak mau mengerti.


Semarang, 27 Juni 2016
—Yang masih merindu

Today I saw someone
broken
arm just like yours.

Made me think back to the very first time I noticed
you
dangling by the window.

You’ve come a long way.
You’ve grown
colder
than winter,
bitter.

Reality has sunk in
deep in your bones
you feel
this is all life is.

But you forget
one person, dear
is enough.
One person near
unconcealed, unseen.

“We” is a word for you not found
in the dictionary
defined as
two
meaning to you
you
with another,
without me.

And you’ve gone
as our proximity grew
close
to saying goodbye
for good
I shall try to win
you back,
is it a mere dream?

We shall see
each other
maybe
with another
I shall find
“We” defined:
You, me,
together.

Untuk si Pemetik Rasa

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Sirna

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