crystallized carbon

Let the pearls outlast the shell, let it fuse with carbon, and under the pressure in the sand beneath leagues of sea, become diamonds that only sink with time into depths unknown. Night beneath saltwater, just like the night sky and its stars, sands in pitch black with lost gems in its innumerable body.

.

Aku berbicara dengan alam

        mengusung harapan

        menanti jawapan 

dari semesta yang riuh

dengan sepi manusia

yang menyangkakan

         sakit itu sakti,

         seni yang suci.

the world looks better through instagram pictures

Prettier, happier. Like nothing ever bothers you and you're doing okay.

hope to god

One last week, Five more days. And after, to happier things, I hope.

ramparts

I suppose I've always thought that time, promises, things done, reaffirmed over and over with sincere words, would culminate into something untouchable... that they would form the permanence I so desired. Apparently not. One could do so much and feel so much and still end up being just a footnote; summarized so briefly that it demeans all, cheapens all that I have ever committed my very soul to.

One could love, but it does not ensure one is also loved. So now I look upon the remains of my Walls, how it has been breached by not the strangers I so cautiously steer away, but from within.

Doa

Sebilah perasaan, seperca rintihan,
yang hanya kata-kata hati
mampui tinta ke kota langit
laungkan ke dada angkasa
kemudian bersatu dengan udara,
dipanjatkan ke kayangan;

menemukan Dia  
menemukan maaf,
          kasih, dan pengampunan.

pacemaker

Naturally, one would like to be explained to, to believe that the reasons as to why things happen to us will be unveiled in the immediate future... because otherwise things do not make 'sense', it adds up to our anxieties and discontent. But life's not like that, we don't always get explanations, no great reveals, no nothing. Life isn't rational (to our human faculties), it is not a persona we can hold accountable and make demands to, assign faults to. The question of faith fits here, the cupped palm that holds us. The irrationality of life makes for piety, for belief but that's not my subject matter right now. I'm talking about the whys, the need for answers when there is none to be gotten.

It's futile, but it's there, niggling away at the back of my mind.

Then, there is the question of self-autonomy, one's Will. To what extent are we capable of governing our actions? Is it exponential to one's belief that one is in control? or maybe we're not supposed to even grasp at the illusion of control, rather, to be bouyant and surf the waves that buffets us like flotsam at sea. Life is a journey afterall... the concept of acceptance being the great storms, trials, that visits.

I feel like anarchy is built-in into me. They call it the 'Nafs' don't they... heedlessness, always making the wrong choices, consciously so. Because sometimes I feel like I set bylaws for my heart only for it to be ripped apart, torn down, by my own self.

I can't help it. I keep wondering why I end up here, if it was by my own consent, if I did my own heart upon myself. How much of our relations to the world is voluntary, how much of it is destiny, and how much of it is pure brain chemistry?

Ultimately, the heart runs its own beat. It's not an instrument. We do not play its rhythm.

.

My perception of the world is deeply personal. I wage war with my ideals, flay myself alive,  repeatedly, for all the failings I am aware I commit. Maybe I like to suffer, who knows? It's very selfish of me to hold things in such deep regard, it is unfair, but isn't that the ironic nature of Justice? That there is a right and wrong, even when things are all gray?

Regardless, I would rather suffer the consequence of being this inflexible than be a wayward, hollow being incapable of knowing meaning... dismissing all as superficial, impersonal. 

I will be as I am. I will not be less.

In life, sometimes you just gotta say Fuck You to people while staring them in the eye. On another note, I fantasize about not having to drive all the damned way to Seremban day in day out anymore. That would be a good start to a new phase in my career.

Repose

Like the pendulum of a metronome one can swing between extremes of a spectrum and only passingly feel that balanced centered calm.

Many mistake the need that drives them are motivated towards affection, ambition and a myriad of other emotions or worldly things when really the essence of that elusive, endless want has always and will always be for repose —which is divine in nature.

The calm amidst joy, the calm amidst control, even at the contradictory apex of a thrill there is repose.

Life is riddled with anxiety. Repose; that momentary stillness, is the pinnacle of satiation and its constant absence can only be described as torture.

Tanah Tinggi

Banjaran, kau yang menjadi persinggahan

makhluk-makhluk kayangan –yang abadi

yang indah, yang tertib mengusung rahayu

dari pintu-pintu puri jauh di awangan–

       

Dimuka bumi ini, 

       dimana tersimpan tawa?
       dimana pintasan ke syurga?

Goodbye Star

the black stretches on

                   reaches out

in this pitch of silence

      this never-ending note of dark;

                upon bended knee

                     I bow to the night.

                 
                                 (August, 2016)

Not made of your expectations

It is okay if the world doesn't know, if it judges you by what it knows, holds you captive in the confines of what they believe you in your position should be grateful for –just let them be. What do they know about you and the things you treasure in your heart, the hurts you bury, the wishes you desire... the world doesn't know.

Let the world trample this image of you that they see. It is not you it demeans. 

You are not the world's expectations of you, you do not need the approval of people who think you should be happy when you are not, you do not need to explain the flaws of your character... justify them so that you're able to make yourself worthy of being weak...

You are human and just as you are, you are capable of strength. Your dignity is always yours. Let them be. 

Brave on

You know what, I refuse to feel defeated. I'm brave enough for this world.

Kupohon

Tuhan, kupohon

lembutkanlah mereka

jiwa-jiwa yang ketagih

kasih hamba-hambamu

yang sendiri lelah dengan 

malam yang berpanjangan

(Emergency Department, Seremban 2016)

always on the night shift

I turn out the lights, lie awake, thinking shadowy thoughts, breathing slow, and let my heavy heart wander. Then I rouse at the call to prayer, step into the shower, let the water run on cold —still wallowing in the dark. Maybe it's an attempt to manifest the symbolic, maybe I'm just tired of being tired, whatever my motives, I then prayed, enveloped in darkness, my eyes having adjusted to the monochromatic world of the lightless; hoping Light would visit me from within. 

Later, I will leave again, drive into the night, where the bright lights of the ED is blinding, where human sickness awaits, continues, endlessly.

the dark of your eyes; wary of me

                                                                   disaat aku melihat

                                                                   matamu seolah berlindung
                                                                   dari aku
                                                                   hatiku terdiam
                                                                 
                                                                   kata-kata, sahabat
                                                                   aku, kau khianati
                                             

                           –Mata, 2016

      

Words, they weigh, penetrate, take root. I remind myself that withdrawing after being brazen with words is the epitome of cowardice. One needs to own up to one's words; every last syllable of it. The consequence of writing raw is that it doesn't matter if you only meant your feelings in that moment and regret it after. Once read, you, the author is unredeemable. 

Damning words will damn you. So stay true to the initial rush of your muses, be brave. You have been set alight, so continue to burn. 

In memoriam

A pause, a moment of suspended breath, where I find myself in a memory of light shafts on white ceilings, cobbled stones darkened by rainwater, alleyways full of wind halting my walk; and other warmer scenes of S. sitting on the carpeted floor against her bed, the fan pulled out of the back room finally of use in the summer heat, blowing the strands of her jet black hair about her white forehead into her brown eyes, and I, cross-legged on my bed, back to the cool wall, tapping away at the keyboard, sealing memory into eternity.

Days and days of sunlight, blue skies, brisk weather and countless cups of shared coffee with our twin lipstick stains around its edges. Days and days of songs about youth, of my witnessing S's lovegames, while I indulge in my ever permanent devotion to being singly poetic and ever single. Days and days of films projected against the pristine wall of our shared room, the whirring of the electric heater, like crickets in Autumn.

Soft, tender and vibrant; night walks in the city, aimlessly wandering the streets to listen to buskers, people watch, and finally crashing at Sofy's place. Me watching the two women going about their wicked friendship which ran hot-cold-hot, too familiar, like lovers (but not) in their intricate dance of secrecy, fondness for each other's beauty; the play of womanly egos. Morning afters where the kitchen is filled with music, as they cook and dance, while I sip my drink and enjoy their light-heartedness.

Lazy days of staying in bed, talking to S. in voices muffled by our quilts, making plans for the weekend, plans to the library, plans to buy grocery at the market; for domestic youthful pleasures. 

I have committed no other person to my memory as I have S. Her personality, physicality, hopes and dreams –all as familiar to me as my own. She is a moving image in technicolour so pervasive with happiness that I cannot part any conception of her from the feeling. While I'm at it, similarly, I have committed no other person to my soul as I have M. M. who is my prose, poetry, ever-friend.

Younger days; freedom so concentrate it leaves a taste on the tip of the tongue.

Another beat, another breath, the spell is broken. Reality rushes in, time catches up and the present is restored. Now is now. The satisfying weight of nostalgia nestles neatly upon my heart, which smiles and aches. I walk on, with dregs of bittersweet joy clinging at the corners of my mouth, dimpling my rosy cheeks.

reflections

Sometimes I hurt so much I wish I've never met you. I then would never have discovered the muses, attached to their songs and words ideations of you, would have never known, never wanted, never suffered.

All light casts shadows, and once it leaves, abandons you to darkness.

I choose here to be blind to the myriad of joys I've known and cherish (still) to instead openly wallow. Just for a moment, I'll sit with reality while we give each other hard looks over imaginary coffee.

tanah asing

Dalam desikan dedaun hijau
     bisikan sayu sang angin
kayanya bumi selepas hujan;
      Aku jumpai tinggalan setia-ku

Dalam lipur yang liar
     hatiku menggembara, keangkasa
 lalai menanam benih-benihan
     kemudian dewasa, menjadi hutan perasaan

Kini aku kembali lagi
     melihat tinggalan dia yang lain
hati ini terdetik,
     apakah aku dialukan?