Simple Passion

Before

Before I was born

I was a drop of dew

hanging heavily

at the tip of a leaf

waiting

waiting

waiting

before I close my eyes

and let go

 

It was a bungy jump

just to be here

 

My Poems and Me

It only depends on

laughters  and smiles

these poems

would’ve been dead by now

 

If only depends on tears

I

Would’ve been dead by now

 

Misty Morning

My gut rises

up to where my throat begins

forms a lump there

and chokes me

 

Misty morning in Brusata

from room number 17 on the third floor

I watch the Alps coming to life far away

and I realize that the vines

creeping up the wall outside my window

are roses

 

The lump in my throat chokes me

the longing for your warmth is so strong

you can see it radiates

through the skin of my chest

Mute Morning

The fog has cleared

From the window of my Van Gogh room

I can see

the monks’ robes hanging on the lines

in the autumn colored garden

blown by the wind’s soft breeze

 

The grapefruit juice is having a great wild time

at my chapped dry lips

in the middle of the quietness

I’m wondering if I can ever feel or think

or do anything

without involving you

 

No

 

Love Letter

Please excuse

my juvenile way

of loving you

but every action

carries a meaning

and every word

is true

Destructive Love

Patches

sewn on the blue heart

have your name

handwritten

covering wine stains

and cigarette burns

 

Like Water

Like water

escaping between my fingers

unstoppable

getting away from my begging hand

 

Like water

it dries out

before my thirst is satisfied

 Thursday Child

Thursday child

will travel far

 

And today

the child is sitting in front of an open window

with Marlboro Light between her lips

watching heavy clouds rolling

above Old Delhi

seeing lightning

waiting for thunder

29th Floor Suite

From here

dusk is deep

and dawn looks

more violet than ever

 

The maroon sheet

and golden pillow

sigh emphatically

for my blue heart

 

Bleed

Bleeding womb

bleeding heart

not a Frida Kalo’s

bleeding picture

but my real bleeding palms

Mamallapuram

Say your prayer for me

Young Gypsy

so I can have faith

like your thin stomach has faith

 

Like the rocks on the shore

stand the test of time

you too must

face the dry burning wind

against your young skin

 

Your eyes

Young Brother

look at me like I am your crying baby sister

and you’re the wise old one

Behind the Hills

Somewhere behind these hills

is Vientiane

 

Although I can’t see you this time

I know we’ll meet again

somewhere in the middle

maybe somewhere by the sea

when another one of your wishes for

comes true

Your Eyes

I’m a good swimmer

drown

in the clear water pond

that are your eyes

Legian Beach, Bali

Between the moom

and you

I choose the one

who’s willing

to grow with me

through the consequences

 

Time is short

The answer must be had

before the next wave breaks

 

Quiet Prayer

Like an evening that goes down

to twenty six degree

you also stir so so gently

in your sleep

 

Dreams of rainbow brige

and jasmine garlands

pass like gentle breeze

under your heavy eyelids

 

The white sheet smells

like morning sunshine

and fragrant rose petals

fall like rain on your face

 

You wonder what’s happening

 

It’s only me

miles and dimensions away from you

whispering your name

wishing you well

 This Is How You Killed Me

When I called out for you

you didn’t answer loud enough

 

When the wind was to blow me away

you didn’t hold my hand strong enough

 

When I said I didn’t understand

you didn’t explained enough

 

When I was dying

you didn’t cry hard enough

What Do You Bring When You Come

Your pity?

or burning jealousy?

Your money?

your body?

or goodwill charity?

 

Or your hands

Empty but extended

to hold mine

 

Compassion

Your compassion

leaves me feeling small

maybe that’s the point

so you can then come in

and be the grand savior

 

Your compassion

is not of my taste

 

Goodbye

You can’t even calculate

the distance between reality and dream

 

So stop the b.s.

I should be moving on

 

And after I’m gone

please learn calculation

start from there

from where you’re standing

to the front door

 

Misguided Angel

Last time

you’re at home

you broke the glass window

to let the sunshine in

 

Secrets

Underneath you

clinging to your shoulders

I blindly bared my soul to you

You were not listening

too busy climaxing

which is good

since half of what I was saying

you’re not supposed to know

 

Candlelight Memorial in Amsterdam

Going by tram

passing cnal after canal to sing a song for you

under spring sunshine at Damrak

What makes me miss you more

is the people who look so much like you

warm like the spark in your eye

soft like your words

 

Lullabied by church bells

a thousand white balloons are set free

one is carrying your name

and my prayers

who are you crying for? asks the man next to me

Someone special, I say

Who has grown big white wings

on his back

 

It gets dark afterwards

in a corner of a cafe near the station

I order a fin and tonic

and save you a chair

Coffee

A cup of coffee

an ocean full of meanings

delivering story after story

of sadness and happiness

of my adult life

 

Bhakti

If even a gentle look

Is difficult for me to give you

 

Only behind closed curtain

I kneel and clasp my hands together

begging hard

so that everything that’s good and nice

will come to you

 

A Journey Into Myself

My silk sandals are muddy

and I swear there’s nothing I hate more than Mumbai

 

But as you pass by

I hide my face in embarrassment

The iron pipes you’re pushing on your old cart

is a metaphor of your life

pushing your strength against the world

on your old shaky legs

with no encouragement nor luck

 

And the evening woman

that you pay ten rupee

I know her too

She bows and touches my foot

everytime she sees me

and to this I also hide my face in ambarrassment

because she’s so pure and humble

while I’m borrowing her gold crown to play God

 

The Poet Who Falls Asleep

From her fingers

words blossom

lines woven

stories of life

grow to become adult

 

name and date

are signed on the

open wound

on her breast

 

Dream has been dreamed

and life has been lived

before she falls asleep

 

 Vidya, The Child I Never Have

Vidya is eye

My two eyes and his one eye

Melt into two big deep dark brown eyes

So tenderly swallow you alive

Lke mine

Like his

Like nothing you’ve ever seen before

Said I, ofcourse, a proud mom, what else

 

Vidya is Picture

Fine black and white

And Kodakchrome too

Gray zone wide as the wheatfields

we saw by the US interstate highways

So bold a line

In the softest color that gives you floaty dreams

at four in the morning

Going around

around

round

To the place where he and I first made love

Stop

Full circle

 

Vidya is Sight

Blinks blinks blinks so fast

Turns the other way

Stabs hard

Burns

Because all that can be seen is me

Trembling of caffeine overdose

Lungs congested with smoke from the purifying fire

White widow sari

china ink stained

 

Vidya is blindness

Touch me feel me

When seeing is no longer necessary

Only weak gestures of an old woman anyway

whose misty eyes

the nurse follow

‘Any children we can call for you’ the ask

Only Vidya, said I,

With her golden wingsAand her father’s eyes

 

The 26th Spring

I’ve grown

but still the same

as the girl you portrayed

in your story

about the young couple,

their frangipani tree

and Torito the black puppy

 

All dogs go to heaven

flowers back to earth

and you sailed away

perfect when I last touched you

perfect now from afar

 

I’ve grown another year

fulfilling my script

that I wrote with you

 

At dawn on my birthday

I’ll be on my way to San Francisco

 

The Mystery I

Have you ever been happier

Than when you are with me

Have you ever been lonelier

Than you are with me

I want to know the truth

But if it’s just gonna make me sad

Then I want to hear you lie

Although human mind knows

No limit

It gives up when trying to

Comprehend love

Because even the smallest moleculre

Cannot bear being

Heartbroken

 

25/3-2000

 

The Mystery II

I know bullshit

When I hear one

But because of the love

I have for you

Even bullshit

Are forgiven

 

Are human stupid

Or is that it’s

Mean to be human

After all?

 

Beats Me!

 

Jika Kau Sayang Padaku

Jika kau sayang padaku

terslah sayang padaku

karena itu cintamu

Aku hanya bisa menerima

dan hidup di dalamnya

penuh bahagia.

 

Jika kau benci padaku

bertanyalah pada dirimu

apamu yang terganggu

dengan adanya aku

dan situ kita berdua belajar

siapa kau

dan siapa aku

 

Jika kau sama denganku

jangan sesali kepergianku

karena kehilangan yang terbesar

bukanlah kemauanku

tetapi apa yang mati di antara kita

ketika aku masih ada

 

Dan jika cinta memang ada di antara

kita

aku tak akan pergi jauh darimu

hidup terus di hatimu

menghangatkanmu dalam kemarahan

membawa senyum dalam saat sepi

aku tidak tahu

aku tidak mati

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