YOU DO NOT SEE ME

you do not see me
a little girl from un unknown town
thrown away from sea to sea
and wet your bed with her dreams
you do not see me
a beautiful curse
spat out of my mother’s tongue
and the fire in my father’s hands
you do not see me
a mistaken lover
wandering through a harsh winter in her head
leaving you forever guilty
you do not see me
a shivering mother
crushing the train’s wheels
crumpling her heart in a plastic bag
you do not see me
a hungry pigeon
strutting away from its crowd
into the dust, into the dust
you do not see me
until you see the last light over saint-séverin
and gulp the parisian rain
with joy, with joy
paris, 15 sept 2016
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THE LOST FERRY OF CHILDHOOD

from gentle and merciless light
darkness will take you back
you’ve forgotten how comforting
home can be when everybody’s left

love can be so threatening, you know
that’s why we keep it in our heart
and not hold it in our hands

must you go on that ship
just to prove you couldn’t swim?
a bag of tomorrow’s lunch
and lifetime supplies of sadness

the horn was blowing
there was never another shore
you close your eyes
though there’s no shame in losing

dorset, october 2015

UNLOVE

Processed with VSCOcam with q4 preset

When I’m hurt, my typical initial reaction will be to call a friend avoid people. I would even leave my habitat and start over, meeting new people until I’m hurt again. There is a reason for this, at least. There is something about pain that makes you crave for it. You see, for me, like love, pain is a life’s gift. you get hurt, you want to feel the pain, to celebrate it. Sometimes you do it by hurting yourself. But, unlike love, pain is not limited substance – it grows. Sometimes it’s not enough to hurt yourself, you hurt another person because you cannot contain the over-growing pain within yourself. I seemed to understand this mechanism hence i kept running away. Continue reading

PLATH: THIS IS NOT I 

SONY DSCSeven years ago, I was invited to perform my poetry in Jakarta on one of the two nights of a literary venue.

I just finished, at that time, a poetry performance project with some young musician and artist friends and had successfully performed in two cities. However, the committee of the venue in Jakarta wanted me to perform alone, just me and my poetry, or in the man-in-charge’s own words: “could you just come without your boyfriend?” He sounded bitter, and he was wrong – my then boyfriend had nothing to do with art except that of making me cry. Love, love, love. Continue reading

FRIENDS

pnhb dina stasiun ratu boko 2009-07-30 1

What are friends? It’s an idea that excites my spontaneity and shakes my deeper layer of being at the same time. I don’t know where to start or why I am talking about something I don’t quite understand.

Where do you start when you talk about friends – do you start from regular hangouts, endless supports or traumatising betrayals? Continue reading

THE OLD SMOKE

(klik di sini untuk versi bahasa indonesia)

i have no memories
to start a conversation
there were only thrills that grew
while the chances had begun to paralyse

they say silence means yes
but you’re not asking any questions
except about the wind, except about others
i don’t have the answers

i still often hang about the kitchen
pretending to cook yet sobbing
only because we were not talking
as if we were a couple of burdens, as we are now

they say if you love you remember everything
every kiss which if discussed
would wound the meaning of ‘ex-lover’
while being kept would turn into bruises

the night has stopped by, “another cigarette,” you said
a fire squeezed my hand, twice
i thought time was up, although time
has nothing to do with my heart

yogyakarta-dorset, 2014