Friday, August 19, 2016

The Mornings are Colder in Jogjakarta

The mornings are colder in Jogjakarta
Where the songs of your heart fill the air
The sound of your typewriter synchronizes with heartbeat of the sleeping cat
You can hear your sorrow floating in the air
So close but it feels so light

The mornings are meant for poets
Who fell asleep early last night
Waken up at five by the loudly singing birds
This poet sings the song of his doubt
The story of his failures and the faith of his future

And on the paper on his table
That’s stained by sweet coffee
Lay the questions of purpose
And the counter-intuitions
Asking for a meaning in a heart full of loving
On the wall that’s once pink
He demands for a change
To be free from his doubts
Rid off his better judgment

In the morning that’s colder than any other mornings
A poet wants to be happy in a sad, sad world
A poet wants you happy so he cries, cries, cries

In a morning that’s cold
He’s on his bed praying
That maybe life aligns by itself

Monday, August 8, 2016

I am a boat

I am a boat
I am doomed to sail
I am expected to float
I am to do what I am told

and I am told to cross the oceans
break the waves,
challenge the storm,
sail under the rain,
breathe the growling wind

and when my sailors tear with joy
walking home with their wives
I am to stay afloat
in a cold night alone

I am to bow and to obey my captain
I am a boat, and only a boat
my captain steers my faith
he needs no faith in me

I am a boat, bound to obey
I am a boat to listen to the cries of my captain
I am a boat to not complain
to crash to drown and let the waves wash away tears

I am a boat, and a boat is strong
A boat must face pain because I am a boat
A reason is not needed for I belong to my captain
I am a boat, blindly in love with my captain

the sailors complain because the captain gives them order
the sailors think they are slaves
but I am boat
I am a slave for the slaves

I am a boat, to be stepped on and steered
and when I hit a reef and fall apart
I shall not complain
I shall drown with my sweat tears and blood
but my captain, my captain,
my captain must stay afloat
I shall break into parts for him to grab

Wednesday, August 3, 2016

Sailor of Depths

Have you ever seen a dark moving spiral in the sea? Spinning, enlarging, and swallowing.
You shall hear the story of how it came to be.

Long time ago, in a time older than your great, great grandfather, the sailors rule the sea. They cross the world from west to east, north to south, and the places in between. There were no waters unsailed and no lands undiscovered. But on a night darker than depths of a well, a sailor discovered what he has yet to discover. In one strange dream, a lady with fading beauty, but hair that shines like gold said to the young sailor. “It is only the width of the sea you have conquered, but not the depth.”

Once he opened his right eye, he calls for his crew to assemble. Large ships of the finest woods lined the sides of the harbor. Up the stairs to the ships went a queue of the tallest young men, the strongest and the cleverest.