li-bels. (sounds like lesbian-meets-rebellious)

puisiku mengalir karena kekinian.
semua puisiku dibuat untuk mengenang masa kini agar dalam masa depan, akan ada orang yang membaca dan menganggap puisiku adalah bagian dari masa lalu yang pernah ada dan terjadi secara nyata.

puisiku bukanlah puisi orang lain.
puisiku juga bukan digerakkan oleh hatiku.
ini tulisan, 'kan?!
dan cuman tangan yang menulis puisi ini, faktanya memang begitu …

kenapa kenyataan bahwa kekosongan adalah bagian dari proses pemenuhan itu susah untuk dimengerti?
boleh 'kan dalam kepadatan masa timbul waktu sejenak untuk suatu perhentian?
suatu kosong yang jelas-jelas tak berisi apa-apa.

kenapa aku mandeg?

- the end –

teruntuk 14.

Kenapa kau harus menjadi obyek pemikiranku?
se-istimewa apakah kehadiranmu yang tak pernah …
hampir … tak pernah nyata dalam menitku sehari-harinya?
hanya karena sebuah rencana tak terwujudkan yang kebetulan saja mampir dalam lintasan pikiranmu lalu aku terjerembab dalam licinnya aliran sesat yang mengalir karena saat itu hujan, kala pernyataan itu terdeklarasikan dengan ketidaksengajaan.
lalu aku semakin jauh terdampar pada alam khayalan yang maya dan tak nyata, menarik sekali, karena sekelam apapun, pasti ada pelita yang akan bersinar benderang.

Hey,
kalau dirimu yang notabene juga manusia bernafas dan berbudaya bisa sampai menjadi sumberku di coretan ini, alangkah agung-nya kamu!
padahal tak pernah energi-mu tercurah padaku
mengapa? kah?!

detachment. limitku akan terserap. ingat itu. detachment.

- less than 24 hr. away? make it then! –

a 1 & a 3

petang yang hujan
pukul tujuh malam
dengan lampu biru berpancarkan kuning benderang
among the stillness of silence
something beats and drums
encompassing the white pale walls
protecting any harms which may be fallen unto you.

I’m not sure what this could mean, but …
I’m waiting for that final moment.

Have we ever been here in before?
I was the object, something considered as a breakthrough in history. Then it’s not history anymore.

Maybe you’re my next best thing to happen,
all the things we might have been.

Apakah semu yang selama ini mengungkung?
Apakah aku terjerumus menuju alunan sendu yang tak hanya pada romansa melainkan pada satu bentuk yang … shunned?
Wasted? Not preferred? Left-side? Kurawa?
Drifted apart. Things taken for granted. For the sake of fake!
A wounded heart. Good intentions you had many.
How do we begin?

I’ve come too close to happiness, to have it swept away.

dua belas saja.

teruntuk kenangan
yang dulu, sekarang dan esok
selamanya akan bersemayam
di sebuah sudut pojok
yang akan hanya terbuka
‘pabila denting terdengar
ku terus mengasah tanpa
hampa rasanya, memang
bila jiwa tertinggal raga
tersisa lah keluh kesah pahit
bagi!

untunglah, bahasaku …
kamu tak pernah tertunduk.


17-03-02

birthdate.

keinginan dua bola mata untuk terpejam
bukanlah alasan bagi dua belahan otak
untuk berbuat yang sama.

kalaupun toh harus disamakan,
yang terjadi malah rehat tak berbunga.

ah, indahnya dirimu yang kurupakan bagai setangkai bunga.

ragamlah wujudnya, karena semerbak yang merekah dari dalam mu yang kucium.
mesra.

agak sedikit norak …


- saat alunan denting orkestra dan redup pelita terasa … yah … begitulah! –

top 10, dah!

"The trouble with happiness is that you don’t realize it when it’s there. You remember it."

(from Thank God He Met Lizzie)

- the long awaited rain falls on Saturday, March 2, before 3.45 pm –

wolu, SONGO, ....

malam penghabisan di bilangan kedua pada kumpulan 12x30-an,

Face the fact,
Sepertinya masih ada mendung menggantung.

Mungkin juga bukan tahun ini Bang, hal itu akan terjadi (lagi).

Whatever gets you through the day …
Entah sampai masa berbilang kapan
Nyatanya aku sendiri juga
Tak mampu untuk berkata pada Yang DiSana.

Malu. Atau bosen?

‘Coz we’re gonna be forever you and me ..
Rupanya aku rindu pada perasaan semu.
Karena realitas adalah sesuatu yang pahit yang harus dilangkahi karena keterlanjurannya terhidang di depan mukaku. Bukan pikiran.
Tidak pernah!
Karena tugas pikiran buatku adalah untuk menata impian dan khayalan imajinasi diri.

Hmmm … Rasanya memang sudah saatnya jerawat ini pecah sendiri.


9.35

8 days.

@ the end of the 2nd month
towards 9.30 pm

After all, it’s not those songs that matter.
No matter how your heart feels, that does matter.

Let’s see … the year’s already spent its 59 days, and I may have to look forward to this old repetition that always happens on my birthday.
You know what that is.

The clouds seem to settle themselves high above … me.
While it may good to protect me from rain, yet I keep thinking how nice it’ll be if I can live in a moment where the presence of the sun dominates my days in a breezy climate.

(“you always want what you haven’t got”)

I guess, no matter how far your desire explores, you’ll get powerless if you’ve to control your inner needs.
But sometimes, you’ll find it hard to know what your inner needs are, ‘coz some needs are meant to be hidden and buried. Be prepared when they surface though …

It hurts when you are not able to fulfill it.

OK, still towards 9.30 pm.

7th heaven.

that was simple, eh?

as simple as my eyes set far across the window, my ears glued to the rhythms, my mind torn apart, my hand moving along with the pen, my heart and emotion lies to somewhere distant, and my pimples are simply annoying!

OK, you’re alive.

oh, one more thing. Michael Jackson always turns me off.

February 22, 3.20 am

finger number six.

I don’t feel like writing tonight
Yet, I feel obliged towards my pen.
It needs to be used.
Otherwise, it’s useless.

So is the paper.
I won’t leave it blank, plain, white.
So that nobody will tear it.
Because when they see handwritings in this book,
they will think that this book belongs to someone.
Therefore, they’ll feel that they’ve no right to claim this book as their own, because now they already believe that somebody owns this book.
Just because of these handwritings.
Let alone tear the papers, they won’t even read it!
“It’s not polite,” that’s what their parents have told them over the years since they are young. Very young.

Ha! I could go on and on, but it is easy to fool and be fooled.

February 22, 2002,
3.15 am

pandawa 5.

kutinggalkan berjuta goresan
pada setiap lembaran putih
yang terhidang dihadapan.

karena hanya pada sebuah pikiran tentang suatu jaman di masa yang pasti dating (walau nantinya aku tak menggores lagi),
yang membuatku bertahan.

entah itu sendiri, atau menyendiri.

tetapi diri tak sudi
kalau lirih ini mati.

- suatu saat dimana spontanitas tak dapat terelakkan –

February 19
hampir 9.30 malam

the 4th.

Off to the Fakes!

There you go
Bracing yourself to the fakes
Which promise you nothing
But artificial escapade,
and some comfort.

Comfort?

Perhaps you’re still busy adjusting yourself
To this whole new you.

The only old thing left from you,
is how you think that you
are detached.

- written @ one of those moments where wonder and being stunned mix up! –

February 19, 2002
9 pm
(or sth. like it)

numero 3.

I’m dead and dependent.

What can be worse than that?
Of course, a lot.

I just felt like asking that cliché question.
An unanswerable question.

Too bad then.

Too bad that you’ll laugh reading this piece in the future.
It’s so hard to stomp your feet on the ground.

Oh yeah.

You know what? This can be misleading and addictive as well, just like sensing the smell of hot coffee in one rainy night.

Again, I’m dead and dependent.

Even my heart shattered when I had to write those words, and my mind kept humming the sound of silence.
My freedom is locked and I was wondering, what can be worse than this?

Why ‘adultery’ is called an ‘adultery’?
Aint’t it cool? Yeah … rite!!!

Ps: I’ve killed it.

February 17, 2002.

the next entry.

Once it was said, "loneliness makes great stories".
My question is: does being alone count?

I don’t see any reasons why being alone may not make ‘great stories’. After all, being alone (almost) guarantees you to feel that sense of loneliness.

So far, have I made the point yet? I hope I do.
It’s just great when this whole air is yours to breathe.

The music … Your music! rhymes along in your ear.

Your mind wanders through your imagination, dreaming of every impossible reality you always hold on to.

After all, what’s life without a dream?

Like salt and sugar for my food.
Like a mirror and me.

almost Feb.10, 2002

the beginning.

Now.

How long will it last?

Considering the number of similar bundles of papers I’ve thrown away for this, I’ve no guts to answer the question.

It seems to me, it’ll never work well at all. Or will it, someday?

If so, I’m dying for it. But how will I know?

It’s all about covering up myself. From me.

I myself have decided not to reveal the truth about me to me … if you get what I mean here. Oh well, again, why complicate things as if your life isn’t complicated (yet)?

But I guess then, that’s the point (or one of the points) of life. How you expect one to be honest to others, while he doesn’t even dare to admit the truth to himself?

What can be worse than a man who lies to himself about his real existence? Well, of course there are worse ‘cases’ than that, but it is one of the worst ones, I think.

Even what I’ve written up to this is merely a piece of crap, don’t you think?

After all, it’s funny to see how easy for one to get carried away by his feelings when he was hit by a storm. Come to think of it, what’s a storm to this universe? Pretty much it’s nothing. Or is it something?

Well, I should’ve asked this question (and other ones as well) long time ago, right?

Yet, such occurrence never came to my mind. It’s late. Hopefully you don’t put that word “too”!

So much work it takes to be a perfect “Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde”, but isn’t life always full of pretentiousness and being fake? I should stop here before I get more sarcastic myself.

I don’t mean being that way though, and it’s not a statement of self-defense or whatsoever, it’s just … I don’t know … my pessimistic point-of-view? Yeah … one of the things that should be deeply buried and never mention ‘em again.

What is "luck"? Being "lucky"?


February 9, 2002
2.30 am