I WAS INK

I walked alone beneath the skies I was in tears and ink,
drawing my way uncertain signs among the weeds.
The rough road does not betray me.
Myriads of diamonds, disguised as stars, gave my heart to courage
and this subtle removal of all my sorrows at the same time made me feel grown wings.
Perhaps even more was I a pen,
marking its fleeting shadow on the earth's surface.

But while my head was not in my stars continued to materialize
in the mud a destiny which I felt it was not me who cares,
I followed him so he would become mine.
The night by killing the twilight had covered my flight,
the dazzling brightness of his dark blind: I was part without hesitation,
and without hesitation he should continue.

I was aimless, but equally devoid of starting point.
If I existed or not, I had no idea but it was not the point.
However that was, all remained: the fabric of the past did not exist,
that the future was a virgin and this was floating somewhere suspended between the two.

So I walked.
Around me,
no landscape is offered to the eye and everything seemed
to drown in a darkness that seemed endless.

Only above me,
distant and sublime stretched the sky and Milky Way.
I thought for a moment that the stars would have embroidered the way of my wandering,
but since I was still down here it was probably understand that I was wrong,
my way were to emerge and it probably started - but did he really begin? I like to think not, but I expected nothing; without optimism and without defeat,
I expected as a sign.

So dawn arising in golden butterflies and blood rose,
but for me there was monochrome an immense clarity.
I expected the fall but he did not come,


I cried and everything went white.

　

WOMAN

This time for you only,
I am ready, To turn the earth,
In to a graveyard.

'Cause in your embrace,
I've heard the last whisper,
Of my breath,
'Cause to fall in your love,
I've been crucified,
Birth after birth.

In your sin, Your blood,
Your still to come egg in ovary,
I've already given signature,
Of my manliness.

Every-time I've touched you,
In you I've smelt, felt,
Gloom of history,
Whichever point in your body,
I've listened to, Have heard,
The embrace song,
Of earth and sky.

In your stark blood only,
Have I drawn map of sin,
And have seen how,
From inside that, Extending an arm,
Has picked me up a virtuous sky,
Where there is,
Eternal youth for my poems.

My entire fate, I've offered in worship,
In the pyre fire of your hate,
You only are the extreme point,
Of my proud manliness,
You only are the Horizon's Goddess,
Of all my dreams.

In total submission, In incantations,
I invoke you my Goddess,
You come,
As a drop of blood in gloom,
Merge in mine,
Turning in to, Merged total gloom.

The only remaining thing is,
My last and extreme point,
Submerged union with you,
Do you know it that,
Only in your blood, Lies hidden,
The ultimate freedom, The nirvana,
Of my soul ?

DESPAIR

Snap those lips down tight for me.
Paint them virmilion splashed with disregard.
Skipping in disgrace and fear,
Arm in arm across the way.
Sprinting towards the edge.
Falling into fire; dive into my empty place.
Doused in blackness and gasoline.
Torment and tension tethered to my sick sick brain.
Razor wire, dried bone, ruddy muscles, and hot sticky blood.
Something terrible is rising up and I can’t stop it.
Frantically I write on the walls trying to keep it at bay.

I don’t want to again. I don’t want to…please.
I can feel it clawing at me; biting my insides.
Little fangs. Gleaming chompers.
Dumping lava into my arteries.

I squeeze tight, curling into a ball trying to crush the snake in my belly.
It starts small…little sparks;

then the bigger logs begin to catch light and I’m up and away.
Blazing like an inferno I’m gone; outta sight.
Running to the brink hell bent for glory.
I can feel sizzling under my feet and bitter winter wind on my face.
I wish I could wink out of existence…

I need silence then this also will pass .

Something, anything to clear away the slate of my heart and make me blank inside again.
I close my eyes but I can hear the imps giggle as they scurry in the darkness.
There is no quiet. No credits roll.
Please earth under foot.. open and swallow me entire.
The jar holding my joy is broken and every ounce is gushing out.
The sand drinks it up greedily begging for more and I wish I had none left to give.
But jet after jet still spurts out...a valve is broken somewhere it seems.
Like a finger in an open sore.
Like that infected tooth that you can’t keep from touching with your tongue.

The scab you can’t help but pick.

It's agonizing... but I could force myself to do what must be done.
I want to smear blood across my forehead and rub my face with ash.
Then sit under a moon black as sack cloth and lament loss ,

despair against finality , and rage indiscriminately against anyone and everything till my fingers are worn down to ragged nubs and I cough blood in vivid gaudy streams.

To hear the sound of anyone screaming except me would be a welcome change
Instead of crouching inside this icey tomb to loss rehashing everything…

going over the words and the days and the years again and again.

Running my fingers over it studying the crevices and crannies looking for an imperfection… any imperfection.

Some indication...God…something to tell me I could have seen this all coming.

I’m at ground zero…a pillar of ash...stark and alone, oblivious that the world around me has drastically changed and the road ahead is dark, lonely and uncertain.
I feel spent and all that’s left is this quiet aching. Standing at the edge of that abyss; one good shove is all it would take.

Then I could escape into the black...and fall forever…I would finally have quiet…instead of looking at scattered pictures and shattered glass…Instead of praying for it to return…instead of waiting for the joy in my eyes to come home…I miss it

Chiaroscuro - Haiku

Take the thinnest brush,
trace your silhouette and find
the silent madness

.
.

THINK ABOUT IT

What determines who we are and why we are like that? Is it our past and the issues or problems we encountered as nothing more than young children? Or are our personalities and traits determined by a greater force and developed over time? It would be wise to choose the most logical answer, which would be that our traits, personalities and intellectual minds develop over time giving us more knowledge and thus creating us to be the wise. But what does it really take to be classified as wise? Do you have to reach a certain age?

Do you have to know almost everything there is to know about a common topic in everyday life? Or are you simply classified as Wise when people take the advice you give to them? No, none of that is wise. To be wise you have to live through the past, survive the present and dance through your future, because your life, which is your personality, your traits, your intellectual intelligence, etc, is more important than anything in the world. No amount of knowledge, wisedome, courage, money, etc can amount to the price of your own life.

To be honest, i think that our personalities, traits and intellectual intelligence is determined by the way we react to the issues we all face everyday and how well we accept what has, is and will happen. We control the direction of our lives, the chances we get and the choices we have to make by the reaction we have to certain things in life. There are the obvious reactions, like over reacting to a brake up or not reacting at all when a gun is pointed in your face, but there are the smaller reaction that can cause consequences, and sometimes, those consequences makes 'ripples' and as you know, ripples expand, so you see, the little reactions count too.

Life is uncontrolable yet we control it each and every day, we walk and we talk, we breathe, we eat, drink, use valuable resources...not only do we control our own lives, we control the lives of those around us.

MY MOM'S FUNERAL

Mother . . . your life was full of loving deeds,
Forever thoughtful of our special needs,
Today and tomorrow, my whole life through,
I will always love and cherish you.


Good bye, mother . . . .

My sister, she lost her voice that day from too much crying

The village Chief

 

My sun glasses is my best friend at time like this . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

R.I.P

My mom died in my arms yesterday at 1 AM.

I love you, mom.

Please God, give me some strength . . . .

PEOPLE

Taken with borrowed camera, I convert this picture to a black and white. A fruit seller in Yogyakarta open market.

~  GREEN  ~

 

Like death and taxes, there is no escaping colors. It is ubiquitous. Yet what does it all mean? Why are people more relaxed in green rooms? Why do weightlifters do their best in blue gyms?

Colour symbolises the differentiated, the manifest; diversity; the affirmation of light.
The colour green:
Ambivalent as both life and death in the vernal green of life and the livid green of death; also as youth, hope and gladness but equally change, transitoriness and jealousy. Green forms the mystic colour; it also combines the cold blue light of the intellect with the emotional warmth of the yellow sun to produce the wisdom of equality, hope, renewal of life and resurrection.
In Christianity; the vernal green is immortality; hope; the growth of the Holy Spirit in man; life; triumph over death and Spring over Winter. It is also initiation; good works, and in medieval times it became the colour of the Trinity, Epiphany and St John the Evangelist. Pale green is equated with Satan, evil and death.
Green is the colour of tranquillity; harmony, peace and contemplation; but, depending on the shade of green, it can aslo be depressing.

　

Mmmm . . . . wonder why I love green so much. :)

Good Morning !!

I'd like to drown
in these thick and bitter
turkish coffee grounds.



THRUST

Its not about sex, its about power

the slow lead into explosive murder

the sensual sachrine mindblowing

god crushing... fuck

Its not about making love ... It's about taking love

about endless passion staring back at you because

they're so crushed and broken by the impact of the insatiated demon

this engraving on their soul

this thing that caters only to their sex

this fuck

this whore, this monster, this love...

It's not about motion, It's about rythym

the precision beat of adrenaline lust rush

the cataclysmic barrage of bare bodied bodies

slamming their truth into eachothers lies

cleaning the sin

its not about religion, it's about jesus christ

It's about making her forget his name

It's not about rape, it's about her having no choice

its about being inside to erase the begging sick in your head

erasing the scribbles of society enforced media suicide

with every thrust and push and break and bleed

It's not about insatiable want, It's about insanitys need

It's not about cumming, it's about being inside

it's about the walls giving in around you

because they can't handle the raucious ravage ride

Its' about god fuck jesus christ heroine sup suicide

and about not caring if you live through it

as long as you cross to the other side

It's about the crash, and the burn

about fucking so hard it hurts

about becoming one

about being one

it's not about me, or you

it's about creating one

from destroying two

Oscar Wilde

Oscar Wilde is one and only my favorite writer. I really like his writing style.
These are my favorite quotes from him.

"Be yourself; everyone else is already taken"

"Action is the last resource of those who know not how to dream"

"Ambition is the germ from which all growth of nobleness proceeds"

"Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative"

"Cynic: a man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing"

"I have the simplest tastes. I am always satisfied with the best"

"I do not approve of anything that tampers with natural ignorance"

"I regard the theatre as the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being"

"It is better to be beautiful than to be good. But... it is better to be good than to be ugly"

"Laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is far the best ending for one"

"Man is a rational animal who always loses his temper when he is called upon to act in accordance with the dictates of reason"

"Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us"

"My great mistake, the fault for which I can’t forgive myself, is that one day I ceased my obstinate pursuit of my own individuality"

"Our ambition should be to rule ourselves, the true kingdom for each one of us; and true progress is to know more, and be more, and to do more"

"There is no sin except stupidity"

"Why was I born with such contemporaries?"

"Illusion is the first of all pleasures"

"Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live"

"The only thing that sustains one through life is the consciousness of the immense inferiority of everybody else, and this is a feeling that I have always cultivated"

　

　

　

　

H.A.T.E.R.S

Haters. There are lots of them out there. Real haters don't care if you are at the bottom of the barrel with your head just above water and they are atop a mountain of gold.... they will still hate on you. Haters will go to the same restaurant everyday to eat lobster and filet mignon walking right past you, sitting on the curb outside. If they happen to catch you particularly destitute and they happen to be particularly brave (because this breed tends to be cowardly by nature)..they will point, laugh, and deride you with their buddies..then go inside to have a great meal while you sit cold and hungry outside. That's where it ends a lot of the time.

Why this horrendous behavior? Because ultimately the hater, really hates themselves. They bluster and boast and inside harbor a deep resentment for those that have little but still manage to remain happy. Haters often times will adorn themselves with the newest and most ostentatious garb in order to further bury these feelings and hide the fact that they are more miserable with their lobster and steak then you are with your tiny crust of bread. They will also surround themselves with sycophantic degenerates who act as their narcissistic supply, filling the function of a buffer between the hater and their self loathing..commonly referred to as their "entourage". Often times both entities will work in tandem : the hater parading their paper thin successes in front of this "entourage" and then proceeding to drink up the accolades these slaves will invariably spew. This practice is commonly referred to as "flossing".

These delusions of grandeur blind the hater to very important facts. Their place of power isn't really all that stable, in fact many of the aforementioned variety often have more to lose due in no small part to their elevated position. They live under two misconceptions.

First that the object of their misplaced aggression will always be "below" them, and that the status quo will remain indefinitely. This would explain the surprise that they often exhibit behind clenched tooth smiles when they hear news of someone whom they have been "hating on" coming into success. This in turn will cause their aggression and covetous hatred to increase and they may resort to numerous additional psychological tactics and sometimes physical tactics in order to exact revenge. Revenge for what you might ask? The hater must do anything to separate themselves from their self loathing; your success causes them to mentally decompensate in a sense. The status quo must be maintain : "How dare you...even attempt to better yourself...and even more audacious....how dare you succeed...how dare you make me feel bad about myself." It's as simple as that, the hater feels personally affronted that the object of their hatred has done well for themselves and views it as a direct attack.

Second and most importantly, haters often times believe that nothing can touch them. They will do anything to try time and time again to hide their inadequacies. If there is a potential for them to lose face in a situation they will make any number of excuses to prevent a confrontation because like I said before: inside all haters are yellow to their core and their cowardice is only superseded by their arrogance. If a hater is foolish enough; sometimes their arrogance will get them into a direct confrontation. This is dangerous ground from them because often times the object of their aggression has less to lose and everything to gain. The passive aggressive tactics of a hater do them little good in an altercation...so pour on the heat if they confront you directly. If presented with minimal force and maximal pressure the hater's thin veneer will crack and shatter.

So what does this mean for you? Stand your ground. Smile when the haters pass by..wave at them too. Even if you are down and out; smile at them. Live your life, be happy and move forwards no matter how hard it may seem. Like I said before it really does stoke the fire when a hater sees you smile. Learn to smile now and you will still be smiling when you ARE way above them at cruising altitude. They'll hate you more then but hey, they hated on you when you had nothing...its ok..let them hate on you now that you have everything. Their lives are so empty as it is...let them hate because that's all they can and will do. If you get lucky enough while you are down and out to have a hater confront you. The gloves are off..they've crossed the line..lay into them. Take not prisoners..destroy them. If you could liken the human heart and mind to a city....set torch to every roof, raze every building to the ground, and salt the earth when you are done. The hater in question has not shown you any courtesy and you have remained pleasant in spite of all their abuse. Now that they have over stepped their bounds...there is no place for civility. Be the whirlwind...and carry away everything that they hold dear..you are within your rights to do so. A loss like that is very damaging to the hater psychologically and may even stave off any further attacks for a time.

In closing, I know that I have a tendency to be rather wordy.. case in point. In plain english it comes down to this : Hater are gonna hate. If given the opportunity to snatch away that last drop, they will.. because they're just fucked up like that. In the meantime; if they step to you...do not punk out. If it comes to a battle of words cut them down..most of them aren't that articulate to begin with so this shouldn't be too hard. If it comes to and actual fight..oh baby...get ready to throw down. Its ok..God gave you two good hands..throw those thangs. If yer outnumbered you have little to worry about : chances are none of their punk ass friends are gonna jump in to save the day. Be strong and handle your business; it'll be worth sending that message : "I wasn't bothering nobody and you had to roll up on me talkin all kinds of bullshit and trying to start some trouble...that was a bad idea..it's hard to floss and look good for your homies when yer spitting out teeth isn't it..so why don't you gather up whatever's left of your dignity and fuck right off before something else bad happens to you."

Stand tall, smile, and don't let those haters get you down no matter how bad it gets.....hold on just a little longer.

Nocturnal Artistry

A glance along the tranquil waters

enveloped in the mildest mist.

The lake is yearning for the vapours

to slide aside and let the moon

be mirrored in its glazed nostalgia-woven

glass, on which the willows draw

thin silver feathers with their fingers

like long and lithe down-swaying whips.

Eloping with the lunar aura,

a looming, blooming louche of clouds

reflects for but a blinking moment

before the whisper of the wind

lay over all a silken cover,

adorned with sequins topaz-blue,

with aquamarine plumes of lustre

and trimmed with trinkling lullabies.

Alas, this landscape-writ sonata

of melancholic melodies

shall last the night and then shall wither,

shall wilt before the crack of dawn

draws cracks upon the newborn painting.

Sunk to the bottom of the lake,

the artist sleeps and waits for nightfall,

when the lost canvas is retrieved.