5/11/2018 07:25:00 PM
Look what you've taken for granted,
you always came back when you're already
fell into the same somber dark room
that's been a year ago.

With no knowledge of emerging out
eloquently and unbruised,
why haven't you learned a thing?

Image result for the metamorphosis kafka

Poetry

Left behind

5/11/2018 07:14:00 PM
1. Mystery

'Twas the first time I hopped into an independent bookstore
In a country that still notorious for its crowd
I cluelessly wandered through the racks
Dilemmatic which books should I choose back

"Don't be improvident." the heavy voice said
Who is this guy beside me, I wondered in my silent
Confused why he seems to read my book already
And I read nothing of him much as far, clearly

We did it anyway, being improvident
Watching me with a proud and broad grin
(unfinished)

2. Impeccable

When are we stop questioning
someone will come in precise time,
and in the impeccable moment,
without any confusion
without torn anything apart,
stop the clock and make it heal.

3. Long Night

Here's to the time
when the moon has the spotlight,
yet it's not to be seen
with the help of aspirin,
and not to be seen
with bare swollen eyes.

Poetry

Amidst the Silence Embrace

2/15/2018 11:57:00 PM
When words have lost its significance
and melodious sounds have no ear to listen with,
any thoughts were put aside and 
the weather was not meant to be discussed.

His warm breath was sensed close by her neck
as her arm caressed his firm spine,
and strands of hair dangled in front of her face
as his finger danced around them.

Tighten, the arms pulled both torsos together
and crushed each other's sanity,
memories got no vocabulary
and there wasn't any notion but a thing;

the definition of something isn't on
any dictionary,
it's a serenity.

- Amidst the Silence Embrace
Poetry

What Mr. Rochester Would Say

2/11/2018 09:05:00 PM
Do not take words uttered
from one's mouth that breath
each vowel with significance remarks
for granted

It isn't produce by a machine
nor modern robot
it is one's spirit that addresses
your spirit

as if both had passed through
the grave
and stood at God's feet

equal
as we are.

- What Mr. Rochester Would Say (inspired by Jane Eyre)
Poetry

Unlike Fairytale: The Little Mermaid

2/02/2018 12:16:00 PM
She began the day by caressing her fin
with a sheet of seagrass chopped from a distance,
used to be as green as the feast for the eyes
now is filled with thingamabobs that they cast.

Why would they ruin such an allure, she asked,
that does no harm other than being alive.
While diving to her surrounding, wandering
her home's closer to a moonless sky.

Wasn't a scholar of their fundamental existence 
stated this is the substances of life and all,
the monstrous fellas called him Thales of Miletus,
if her recollection is not getting fuzzier to pitfall.

One time she found what she called that fellas,
fell from their equipment to transport by her home.
She conveyed him home and heard his sound like a thunder,
what a dolt to want someone with a fin and a gut to feel.

Perhaps one day she'll learn enough words,
until one day blood will flowing from her fin
that she welcome with no groan nor tears
to give them a punchline they see coming.


- Unlike Fairytale: The Little Mermaid

Snowball

1/26/2018 03:25:00 PM
The calendar marked today
was the day he touched her hand
like the way he tried to make
a snowball in a four-season country.

Delicate, yet gripped each finger
with the precise angle to entwine with each other,
slowly curling into a single ball
ready to bounce into whatever out there.

She can still feel his finger
like a glove, wrapped in hers
that she can't take off ever since months ago
'Twas pleasantly remarkable things.