sorry to disappoint you

This poem is supposed to be depressing

if it can't be a good one,

but I haven't written for so long

and I had forgotten how to.

I wonder, should this poem be short

as one's dying breath

or as long as his poignant life.

A meaningless appearance

credited by a brief eulogy-

I don't know,

I haven't written for so long

and I had forgotten how to.

This poem is supposed to be depressing

but I haven't been depressed for awhile.

Well of course it's a good thing

for me, but not for this poem

as right now I'm trying so hard

to remember funerals,

dead friends and sad movies.

And using words

such as poignant and eulogy

doesn't seem to help.

This is not depressing.

This is not even a poem.

archangel

burial-archangel

holiday (thank fuck)

Frigid wind passing through
overlapping layers of damp laundry.
Fake curtains for a temporary room.
God bless these rainy mountains,
I don't mind if I'm buried here.

Sighs won't stop this bed from getting colder.
Stares won't hide those dust coated books.
Worries won't finish these never started tasks.
And all we ask for is more sleep,
and more strength to stay awake.
Maybe a bit more time to waste?
If death sneaks in between thunder and lightning,
would it be for the worst or the best?

God bless these rainy mountains,
I really don't mind if I'm buried here.

mothers always cry

Mothers always cry when we told them
about bad things their kid had done.
And the lies their kid had told them
make their cries even louder.

Such soft being wasn’t meant to be here.
This is no place to be all-motherly.
In this dump truck to hell
where excrement are melting ice cream,
sweet flesh and gold bathtubs
tempting, breaking even the holiest of heart.
What do you expect?

Lies are made for you, for us
to have breakfast with you with no shame,
to knock on your door and still call you mother,
while feeding the dogs inside us
with guilt and more mistakes.
But what do mothers know? Other than truth
that is long gone.

Failed to see through tales we crafted
and never know that this kid
that come out of them is pure shit,
pure mockery to God's design
of hypothetically more clever apes.

Devil's firewood kicking in your womb

for nine wasted months.
But what does a mother know? Other than giving birth
to a liar
who never wrote this.

are we there yet?

Inches are now miles.

Days are now years.

Two roads are now made one,

and destinations are set

for as long as our fingers are intertwined.

Aim for the furthest you say.

Shoot for the brightest star.

Doesn't matter how severe

my worries leave me sleepless,

wrecked and dying, you'll serenade me

with tales from a better life.

"It's okay,"

"It's allright,"

"We'll make it through no matter what,"

But will you ever let go? I won't.

For everyone knows

how my feet are stronger

when I walk beside you.

How my stride are more swift,

and my smile are more sincere.

For everyone knows

how easily you rip the pages,

and rewrite me line by line.

I am your masterpiece.

I am your companion.

I am yours.

Sing me a song my dear,

tell me stories that I will remember

promises we will keep forever

mountains we will both conquer

shores we'll swim together

stars we'll die under.

baseball bat

Ink may dull. Bones may break.

Passengers bound to separate.

This room is on fire

and we call out for you.

Eyes ahead. Heart in the present

yesterday would stay indifferent-

Get out of my way.

Get off you bastard.

We never got room for dogs.

Clenched fist bound to cross.

Pilot drowned in bloodlust.

Will the oldest be the best

or left mangled in the dark.

branches

One with the branches of the trees,
the skeleton of who you are.
I cant stand these rotting limbs.
Just cut it off. Just tear it off.

deadliest gang in russia

                                                                               

Brb installing dashcam on my bike :D

shitty brother

My time is always wasted, and I always feel nothing. Today I found out that my brother is gonna be having his upsr on tuesday, and when I go through his exercise paper, I found out that he knows nothing. Not actually nothing, but he is so far than prepared for it. He said he couldn't do anything for the composition part for his english paper, and I'm okay with that. Not that I expect him to be so good and writes like a pro. I asked him the meaning of those words on the exercise paper, and I point out the word "classmate". He confidently answered "kelas math la bodoh sial tua ni". Now i know how it feels when sarah always give up on me when she teaches me arabic. This few days before we never stop talking about that kid that has finished all Harry Potter books and had begin reading what, Hobbits? Fuck that kid.

I know that all I've written here, could never be understood by my own brother if I never do anything before it's too late. My three months holiday I've spent for nothing, should have made him better if I ever kicked his bedroom door and smacked a book on his face. But I didn't. What a waste of precious time. He should've known what a classmate is and not make me feel like shit right now. Feels like waking him up and begin cramming everything in his head until he pukes blood. Good luck for upsr.

twinkle twinkle little star

Twinkle twinkle little star
We've forgotten who you are.
There's no diamonds in our sky.
Just some airplanes passing by.

first of the forest

I'm the first of the forest,
the tallest of the trees.
My weakness is honey with
a side of thousand bees.

And I really don't mind
for a chewy midnight snack.
God bless your axe young man,
my unlucky lumberjack.

sleepless

Tied to clouds
so high and proud
from hills to shore I see.

In smoke we sing
for most of things
that we had failed to be.

We laugh and smile
and say goodbye
before the morning shine.

But I got lost
in all the voice
and doors I couldn't find.

schoolboy

A hole on the floor

in the middle of his bedroom.

He keeps on falling into it

every time he got up from his bed

and he can't go to school.

He spent years to fix it up himself, knowing that

his dad can't afford the repair,

but every time he tried the hole gets deeper,

and deeper, and deeper,

and his mum keeps calling him

for lunch when he's at work.

He tried to fill it up with tears, and he can't,

everyone knows that he can't,

but he never asked for his mum's and dad's.

He figured out to think of all the time he failed them,

and after that every time he wake up

he fell into a salty pool, and blamed his parents

for never having enough for him

to take swimming lessons.

Until one day, the Devil himself

came dripping out of the hole and ask him

"Do you wanna trade your soul 
for swimming lessons?"

"No,

I wanna give my soul for a new home, a new room

with no hole in the middle of it. 

I'm sick and tired of falling into it every time

I wake up and I can't go to school!" 

"Well, that's easy.

In fact you'll not just get a new home

and a new room with perfect floor,

you'll get a new set of parents too!

A new mum and dad for free!"

During dinner

he look into his father's tired eyes,

and his mother's dull face,

and wonders if he could ever

replace them.

Yesterday, he's awake at midnight

and finally his foot hit the floor again.

He bent his fingers and it breaks,

and he smiled, and he thought of how tomorrow

he could wake up and go to school to read,

write and learn. And play with his friends until dark.

Then he could do it all again and again.

Again and again.

Again and again.

Again and again. 

Day by day

until he's old enough

to do things that a man would do,

to do things that fathers would do.

Things that makes mother's life worth the vow.

And he went back to sleep. Having it all planned well

for tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow.

When he opened his eyes in the morning

he raised his fist up to the ceiling

and jumped out of his bed,

straight into the hole on the floor

in the middle of his bedroom.

empty glass

I've felt much worse, but when I realised

how long I've been staring

at this blank white page

without having my fingers moving,

tapping on alphabets like it does before

when I want them to, I saw a man

who could say nothing but silence, slowly

sinking into the stagnant sea he called his life.

Sometimes by mistakes they deliver it to me

word by word, and I am a grateful servant,

a typewriter made of flesh,

better than a beggar I am right now.

As night crawls deeper the stronger

disappointment is persuading, pulling me

deep into sleep. But the bright canvas

lending its light into the bedroom

keeps on waking me up in the dark,

while whispering, not yet. Not yet.

So to kill the insulting guilt,

how easily I am defeated

by the void that has claimed my mind,

mercilessly swallowing sentences

and drowning uninspired inspirations,

I keep on writing for you, my dear

about how I can't write tonight.

kindness

I admit that I'm nothing but shit.

I am.

Till the day I die

a rotting carcass.

I admit that you are made for greatness.

You are.

I never deserve you

and I will never be.

I admit that my regrets drown me.

Always. 

Time just nods silently

with chains stiff on my neck.

I admit that I miss the dead.

So much.

But they won't be so kind

when they receive me.

prodigy

"We have no time. Let's move, they are at 35 and 36 when we both left"

“Let’s not disappoint Mr Arahat”

This is a huge mistake. Arahat of all people knows that I'm not from any Combat Class. We just finished physics few hours ago and he didn't even mention any of this. What the fuck was in his head when he put my name on the list? I would be dead for sure, if they put me in a cage with one of those flamethrower kids. What kind of sick joke are this you spastic old shit. These two guys are still not answering any of my questions. They keep lifting their feet alternately while indirectly commanding me to move faster with them.

From the reflection on the glass panel at the corner we had just passed 1.2 seconds ago, I can see that the man on my right is taking his step with his feet bent at an unnatural angle to his walking motion. Maybe an old injury had resurfaced, something a perfectly placed kick would do. Sadly I really don't have any idea on how deal with the towering second guy; he looks like he's made of boulders instead of flesh. The odds for me to get back to my bunk are obviously higher if I get into the arena, compared to going against this colossal beast right now. We finally get into the end of the corridor. I was instructed to stand on the round platform, with my impending doom waiting the moment the hatch above me open.

"Hey kid. Good luck"

Glad to know that there is a human inside that mountain. He swings the glass door close while his mate with the bad leg pressing authorisation code at the panel on the wall. The elevator ride lifted me intensely, as I re-enacted every possible strategies for almost all Combat Class available in my head. Most are still made of flesh; I just have to think of ways to stay alive until I have my chance to strike. I will survive. Then I’ll kill Arahat. My brain is a gift, more powerful than teleportation or any fancy tricks.

As soon as the vertical ride slowed down, the slit above me grew larger into an opening, and gradually I can see the whole arena. About a hundred meter in front of me, a girl ascends from a hole in the ground into the prepared jagged surface full of fist-sized rocks. I swear I've seen her somewhere, but I have no time to focus on trivial stuff when my life depends on every single decision I'm about to make. There are 638 rocks with enough weight to shatter human skull, but most of them are on her side of the arena. I have to move really fast. I can’t wait to know what I’m going against.

"No 43. James Anderson. Einst. Raise your hand if you're ready" I wave at the tinted glass covered platform hanging above both of us.

"No 44. Fatimidae Arahat." what. The. Fuck.

“Mover. Raise your hand if you're ready"

I don't have any time to think of what his motives are. As soon as the siren breaks the silence, I shift all my weight to my left foot and begin strafing towards anywhere my feet would take me. I know that I’m already dead. Inches behind me was a constant stream of swooshing sound followed by numerous ear-shattering smash. Dust flying with shattering debris all over my track.  It doesn't take her more than two seconds before a big chunk hit my calf, ricocheting me upside down like a ragdoll into the air.

She is very good, a prodigy just like her mum. They said that she lifted her whole house off the ground when she was five. I wonder what kind of shit Arahat has to deal with every day, having both of them under the same roof. She's looks nothing like him though. Her skin was flawless, and that stiff smile look exactly like the pictures Arahat had shown me. I can see it from here every strand of her jet black hair is floating in the air; I can count it from where I am, few meters above the ground bracing for the impact. But it hasn't come to me yet. 

I could always count the strands of hair if it's not moving at all like right now. I begin to realise that something was not right -not physically right. The closest rock floating in front of me would hit my face 0.03 seconds ago in its previous velocity, but it hasn't yet made any progress from that exact spot. I can see even the minute specks floating in the air like pencils graphite, suspended on invisible strings. Everything in motion regardless of size and speed has stopped on its track seconds ago in a long numbing silence. Everything from slicing projectiles to my eyelids are all still.

Then there he is, walking down the arena with that smug on his face. I put a lot of effort in twisting my head towards him. He never failed to impress me in his lectures, but looking at him walking effortlessly in this paused chaos made me feel like he’s some kind of deity among mortals. He stops right behind his daughter, and then laid his hand on her frozen shoulder.

"You know, I really love Fatimi, but I always wanted a son.”

“So how does it feel having it switched on for the first time?"

new trick

Rocky was barking non stop at the window. He had been acting a bit weird since we get him inside, and now he had spotted something behind our fences. The last time he did this is when that weird kid trying to climb over. I told Marie to stay in the living room as I grab the baseball bat. Rocky calmed down as I get outside with the bat loosely in my right.

I give an "O.K" sign to Marie and Rocky through the glass. As I take few steps across the wet grass, I tell myself on how unlikely a robbery is to be happening in the rain. The only possible culprit is that weird kid, even a thunderstorm would not stop him. Some say he had been entering houses for fun. I was pulled back to my intention as a faint trail of blood on the fences heighten my senses.

I followed it out of the gate until it leads me to a spot in the bushes, where the weeds is pressed down by a mangled body. It was too familiar, covered in its wet golden fur. Raindrops keep hitting on it, washing away some of the blood covering it into numerous little red streams. I stare at it, baffled and soaked head to toe.

"Rocky?" it didn't respond to me poking on it with the bat, while my head processing everything desperately fast. I waited for my feet's next move, while my baseball bat already on the ground. My conclusion causes me to turn my gaze to the window. The dog is not there anymore, so does Marie.

anomaly

2.57PM

"Can't we at least wait till I get back?" the man on the beach chair asked.

"No we can't. We can't wait till tomorrow nor for another few minutes. Your time is up to 3, and the rest is oblivion my friend. We're sorry for the late notice"

His voice was calm, in an unnaturally superior way. The boy who's constructing his sand castle close to the conversation is now staring at the big man, who is certainly out of place in that strip of sand. That sharp black suit is more than unwelcomed.

"What do you mean oblivion? Will you make me forget about here or the one up there? Both are still unfair I guess"

It's obvious that he is frowning behind those sunglasses. His peace was clearly not there anymore, it's like a violent storm has arrived. His short holiday wasn't meant to be disturbed, he had cursed the rain for few days back, and now this big guy won't step out his view of the sea.

"Both. You will be brand new, with no record of being sent before"

"You'll make people forget me too?" he stares at the big guy in disbelief from behind his sunglasses.

"I'm sorry, but I believe that you had make use of it all very good. We're not surprised as always, there's always that tiny percentage who are meant to be sent that way, and to stay. They are the pivot of most stories in the books. We will let you to stay too, if we get the instructions to. But I'm sorry to tell you that we don't"

2.58PM

"Why can't you just kill me, that wouldn't make things too complicated to explain" he took a sip on his drink, which has getting more tasteless from the melting ice.

"Hmm. In this case, it is not something that had anything to do with killing. See,if a factory produces a faulty goods somewhere, guess there's much more relevancy in claiming it back to the shop than destroying it. Right?"

The man on the beach chair didn't answer. This is exactly what he has heard from the whispers. They will be taken back, rebooted and repackaged. It's his fault that he made it too obvious, or should he just join the church from the start? The temptation was never a joke. Much more stronger when you know you already had it all. All the strings you see on everyone, how can you not mess with it? How can you not use it to get you everything when it's in front of you all the time. It's a gift since forever, today it become a curse.  

"Heh. What a shitty factory that is. What kind of job is he doing up there. Both places are in chaos. Can't believe I don't see this coming"

"He is never in chaos my friend. A factory is never perfect, just like the product. Mistakes are made for every billion that has passed. But the same thing can't be applied to the owner. He always knows when it happened, and what he sent was meant to be sent. He had written the start and the beginning of every single one, he even writes about this conversation we are having right now"

"You are meant for something, but it’s not here."

"You know what. Fuck that. You know nothing. What if I tell you that you're going to be wiped for some fuck up you didn't do? Will you be okay with that? Why can't he just let me stay? What different does it make if he let me?"

"I don't have the answer for that. I was sent here to take you back" The man on the beach chair is now half-smiling.

"Fuck it. I'm a man who never did any harm for all that I know. Why didn't he send you to end Hitler? That one's a mistake too right? Fucking teleport to Berlin now, wasn't time a plaything for you guys? Or is he just as disgusting as any sadist could be? Enjoying bloody shows while nitpicking on a businessman?" the boy halted his sand castle construction, as the man is now almost screaming in a language foreign to the beach. The tension is obvious between the two of them, in the realm of salty air and summer sunshine.

2.49PM

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid we don't have much time"

The man on the beach chair is frozen still. He knew that he's not capable to do anything to avoid this. His life was a good 22 years, of a vicious climb towards dominion. He got something anyone else doesn't, and he use it perfectly well. Like holding a divine dagger in a crowd of mortal, easily he made his way to the top. But now the glory must end, his youthful empire will cease to existence. His trace will be erased, as those who had been in his place before. History will be reconstructed today, with one man less.

The big man in the suit raises his hand to the sun. The air around begin to shift visually, signaling imbalance of substances which doesn't belong there, wrapping around them. It sinks in him, the same feeling he had had before he enter the red room, the unforgotten womb. The huge man then lowers his hand towards his shoulder. He shrugged. He is ready for this.

A bright flash of light swallowed both man and the beach chair for few seconds. It failed to catch any attention from the others on that crowded beach but the kid, who has already stopped building his sandcastle. The unworldly chaos then end in a split second, unnoticed as how it begin.

The huge man is now nowhere to be seen. He disappeared as he was never there from the start, his footprints is somewhat was lifted with him. The beach chair, its lowered fabric never rises. The man is still there, removing his shades and now wiping his wet forehead. A sight of relief is hard to be unnoticed from his face. His hand is still shaking.

He then stand up on his feet, then walk towards the boy and his sand castle. He picked the boy up, and then he put him high on his shoulder. He regain his smile for sure, still wandering if they both had yet declared a war on the factory up there.

"Thank you Gabriel"

"You're welcome my lord," said that tiny voice.

3.00PM

midnight's wishlist

Street lamps flashed like shooting stars

and I told you to make a wish.

Your teeth clipping lightly on your bottom lips.

Your eyes tight shut. A river of constellations,

flowing on these streets from the feet

of that frail majestic frame, which the owner

knows nothing of my wishlist.

I bet yours goes for balding Claire.

Her blonde locks once wrapped in your fingers.

Most visits was brief, but I'm still in the 4 hours trip.

Or does it goes for that big dream of yours?

To drop acid on summer cruise in the tropics.

"If I scream and leap off the deck,

Would Jeremy jump and save me?"

Lights flickering pierce through my eyelids.

Tuck my cold limbs in. You'll be in my care

seconds before we crash salt water.

Walks are dull, but I painted tonight's,

so my rewinds wouldn't be in black and white.

You tell me you wish we never missed the train.

"What do you wish for?"

Street lamps would frown listening to mine.

For so long it's impossible even for the stars.