oh my word.

never did know you could type up your blog post in 5 different indian dialects

imagine the surprise when your words turn into things you don't understand
and yet it would seem so familiar
as though the same muses
the same inspirations
contributed
to a different result
a catharsis of sorts
like a windmill that goes round and round
without knowing why
there are the ups and there are the downs
and being able to truly be there for every moment
to see and feel

makes all the difference that life holds

for what good is it
being all over the place
only to not remember
to not be remembered
to not be acknowledged
acclaimed
unappreciated
to have the moments pass you by
the confidante of memories
a privilege forsaken
life being the menagerie of emotions
of feelings
of hopelessness and of lost
of faith and of trust
of disappointment and anger
of rejection and frustration

of relief

life is all about the memories
make them at your own risk
place priorities that you may see where you really stand
ro-sham-bo your way to freedom
be liberated
live

find it all
store it up
like a collection
to view and peruse
at a later time

for truly
what else is there?

today's message was brought to you by the word: NEGLECT

an ode to Grace

like the embers that once was
from a coal as darkness is
what once was solid and strong
strikes now as brittle and fragile
and yet what could do such a thing
save a fire that burns from love

i see these hands of mine
and look at it crumble
to feel it break in my fingertips
to know if not for me
all this would be unavoidable

how fragile it is now
from what once was
that what set out to strengthen and fortify
has become the shattered link

pick up the bones
erase the burn
find it once again
bring in your joy
and realize from your depreciation
another will appreciate so much more

you liar and hypocrite
pick up your bones
that you may seek solace
in this terrible, terrible dance of yours

depreciation

oh woe is me
the victim of a depreciation

isn't it amazing how
you can just look at something
and see its value in a way that no one else understands?
see the worth that is beyond its outward appearance
see how important it can be
how great the potential for it
the vastness of how far it can reach within your heart
and think that you'd be willing
to bend over backwards to attain it
achieve it
grasp it

to even just touch

but lo and behold
here comes the difference
the second opinion
the worry of what the public might think
the look on your face when you realise its not as ideal as you think
the backlash of gossip
the burn of knowing you jumped too soon
judged to early
not out of prejudice
but out of hope

and as beauty was once in the eye of the beholder
the value that once was in that eye
has all but whittled away
to be left with the impression of beauty of another

and
to have left something depreciated so
to have hurt the feelings of one that was appreciated
to cut it down at its knees
and bring its esteem crashing to the floor
to turn its whole world upside down
out of your own selfishness
can not compare to the scorn that is deserving
should the depreciation
be initiated by you
and by you alone
and by you alone
only can all scorn fall
for that would be worthy of your avarice

to have your value adjusted by others
in due times of inflation and crises
but to adjust the value yourself
in search of something else that looks more valuable

oh the woe is on you



today's message was brought to you by the word : MAGNANIMOUS

Kekasih

Akan kupintal buih-buih
menjadi tali
mengikatmu

akan kuanyam gelombang-gelombang
menjadi hamparan
ranjang tidurmu

akan kutenun awan-gemawan
menjadi selendang
menudungi rambutmu

akan kujahit bayu gunung
menjadi baju
pakaian malammu

akan kupetik bintang timur
menjadi kerongsang
menyinari dadamu

akan kujolok bulan gerhana
menjadi lampu
menyuluhi rindu

akan kurebahkan matari
menjadi laut malammu
menghirup sakar madumu

Kekasih, hitunglah mimpi
yang membunuh realiti
dari syurga ilusi



Usman Awang

Sonnet XVII

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.


Pablo Neruda