My December

Inspired by Jalal-al-Din Rumi's poem, a Persian poet and sufi, the spirit of Christmas and the love of the Divine for Virgin Mary, Our Lady Madonna. Also by Linkin Park's song "My December"

Love , White Lily , Empty Bench @ Deviantart.com

Fragile

Sentimental Forsaken

Staring bright through the window
You’re bending over to me
A sentimental forsaken
You’re trying hard yet to comfort
But you’re waving me goodbye
A sentimental forsaken

You’re looking around you are hasted
You’re supervising my chief
My heart is tikking, let it on
Looks like you’re dying to say
But now you turn your head away
Get out and leave me, let it on

But when it’s going to be ok
I’m cruisin’ on a train
I’ve got to fear no holiday
Fear is where I’m in

You’re staring bright through the window
you’re moving closer to me
A sentimental forsaken
You’re trying hard yet to comfort
But now you’re waving me goodbye
Get out and leave me, let it on

But when it’s going to be ok
I’m cruisin’ on a train
I’ve got to fear no holiday
Fear is where I’m in.

Macet dan Rendah Hati

Macet !

Aku duduk santai di kursi belakang taksi yang kutumpangi sambil mengamati kemacetan Jakarta yang acakadut. Aku sudah terlambat untuk janji ku berikutnya di sebuah gedung di bilangan Sudirman.

“Heran, masih ada aja orang mau ngantor di Sudirman ?” gerutu ku dalam hati.

Aku tidak bisa membayangkan setiap hari berangkat dan pulang kerja harus bergelut dengan kemacetan di central business district dengan gedung-gedungnya yang megah dan moderen. Belum lagi dengan ancaman terror bom yang sering terjadi belakangan ini.  

“Belum sampe tempat kerja aja udah stress” pikir ku lagi dalam hati.

“The poor souls trapped in a boring uptight corporate life” aku tiba-tiba merasa iba yang tidak beralasan terhadap orang-orang itu. Kenapa musti iba? mungkin mereka bangga bisa berkantor dan berdasi ria keluar masuk gedung tinggi dan makan siang di hotel-hotel berbintang setiap hari. Dan juga untuk sebagian besar pekerja di daerah itu mungkin merasa sudah sangat beruntung memiliki pekerjaan yang mapan meskipun harus berangkat dari rumah mereka di pinggiran Jakarta sejak jam 6 pagi atau bahkan mungkin lebih awal lagi.

“Each human being on the planet occupies a unique place” bisikku dalam hati

“I simply need to learn to form a balance in which to celebrate my own worth and at the same time believing that every other person on this planet is just as worthy as me” kataku setengah bergumam dan sok bijaksana seakan berbagi pikiranku kepada si supir taksi yang sedang bertopang dagu ke gagang setir sambil mengeluh mengenai kemacaten yang tak ada ujungnya.

“humility is not that simple to master” kataku lagi dalam hati sambil mengelus-elus daguku seakan ingin menekankan kembali pemikiran bijaksana ini kepada si supir taksi.

Dari kaca jendela aku kembali menonton mobil-mobil yang tersangkut di kemacetan itu. Pikiran ku santai meskipun aku telah terlambat untuk janjiku.
“There’s nothing you can do, so why worry?” aku pikir. Terserah apa kata mereka nanti.

Raindrop Stories

A collection of short stories and poems inspired from an onomatopoeia of my name in Chinese 雨珠

View this document on Scribd

Sealed With A Loving Kiss

I looked at the different bottled preserved fruits line up in a three levels rack. The different flavors from strawberry, orange marmalade to mixed blueberry and lemon made up a display of colorful bottles of both local made and imported fruit jam. My eyes scanned the different brands and trying to remembered which one of these brand I bought the last time. I had my taxi waiting for me outside and told the driver to let the meter running as I only needed a moment to get a certain flavored jam which I have always bought for someone. My next destination was to dropped of this bottle of jam before hurried back to the office for an afternoon meeting.

Somehow, that day I couldn’t seemed to get my mind made up of which brand to choose. It wasn’t a hectic time of day for grocery shopping and the bottled and packaged confectioneries aisle and sweets where I was standing facing the colorful rack was empty. I decided to take my time and continued to concentrate on the imported brands and trying hard to remembered the brand I bought the last time.

Vaguely I could hear The Carpenter’s “Yesterday Once More” played over the supermarket’s PAs and standing there looking at the colorful bottled jars the empty and quiet aisle became my private space.

When I was young
I’d listen to the radio
Waitin’ for my favorite songs
When they played I’d sing along
It made me smile..

The romantic melody by The Carpenters soon shifted to a more upbeat and intense punk version by Redd Kross singing that same song in my head in that quiet empty aisle. Slowly the colorful jars of preserved fruits turned to empty clear jar filled with water and bright color gold fish swimming inside.

Yesterday once more was now a flashback of a young teenager walking by himself on an autumn day. The colorful autumn leaves fallen from the trees covered the sidewalk like a mixed of reddish and yellowish carpet. He dragged his sneakers over the carpet of leaves and smiled on the music he made from the movement of dry leaves brushing themselves against one another. He had been walking a few blocks from his house and had no particular place to go. Earlier he was lying on his bed in the attic of his house after school and looking at the colorful trees outside his window pane he decided to take a walk on that autumn afternoon by himself. He loved the cool September wind especially like that day where it was cooler than usual. The slightly cold wind made his usually frizzy hair during the humid summer weather felt lighter and straight. He enjoyed the feeling of his hair flew freely over his forehead and fell nicely slightly covering his eyes. It made him feels invisible from the rest of the world and taking him to his own solitude corner where he sometime hide to find emotional ease and peace.

Up ahead he saw a busy intersection and a line up of small neighborhood stores. He decided to take a turn to avoid the crowded area and continued walking on a quiet street. His mind wandered aimlessly in his imaginary solitary corner. It was a corner that existed since he was younger although he couldn’t exactly remembered when was that corner built. Being the eldest in his family he found out that many things he had to learned by himself. When he was younger learning everything for the first time often had the outcomes of mistakes and disapproval from his parents. At times like that he often went to his solitary corner searching for someone to hold his hands and guided him to undo his mistakes.

Growing older he decided to keep this corner of his and still wished that somewhere there he would found an angel that would held his hands and guided him through the running race of life. This search of comfort had also made him intuitive to the needs of other, especially the happiness of his storybook angel, the fictitious friend he depended so much for his search of happiness. The late September wind got stronger towards the late afternoon and he felt more dry leaves fell from the oak trees lining up on that quiet street. He looked up as he walks and could caught a glimpse of squirrels jumping off amongst the tree branches. Continued walking and made another turn headed back to the directions of his house the playful squirrels reminded him of his unfed pet gold fish up in his attic bedroom which he bought recently out of melancholic nostalgic reason about a movie he saw when he was much younger.

Who is the girl with the crying face
Looking at millions of signs
She knows that life is a running race
Her face shouldn’t show any sides

The visionary jar with water and swimming gold fish started to disappear and I quickly grabbed a bottle of imported orange marmalade. By the time I paid at the cashier and went outside to find my cab, I saw that it was raining. Running to the cab with my bottled preserved fruits inside a supermarket plastic bag I told the driver my next destinations which was only a few blocks away.

Who is the girl at the window pane
Watching the rain falling down
Melody, life isn’t like the rain
It’s just like a merry go round

The soundtrack of the boy nostalgic movie kept playing in my head. I got to my destination and dropped off the plastic bag to someone who answered the door. Just before, while still sitting in the back seat of the cab, I gave the plastic bag an imaginary sealed with a loving kiss gesture.

Inspired by a British movie (1971) Melody Fair a.k.a S.W.A.L.K (Sealed With A Loving Kiss). Strarring Jack Wild, Mark Lester and Tracy Hyde. Screenplay by the now famous director Alan Parker

Fuck You Penguin

I recently stumbled into this blog Fuck You, Penguin which also has a book out by the same title. I need to buy that book. I can’t wait to see what’s all this about.

By the same token i need to also post this random line “The penguin shines across the loving hydrogen.” by PayPerPost.com in order to claim my blog . My life has been somehow influenced by penguins lately, don’t you think?

Green Over Black

Tokyo, 6.30 PM
Yamanote Line, Harajuku Station (present day)

The distinctive sound of the subway station alerting passengers of the subway’s doors closing somehow made the packed inched closer to each other inside. I stood by the door on the opposite side of the closing door holding on an aluminum railing bar while my blank observing look was looking at nothing and yet everything.

The train began to move and the sound of it was like a distant backdrop melody playing inside my head. Amusedly I watched the soft subtle movement of the car train sometimes went in harmony with motion of heads nodding and standing bodies swinging and were like a silent symphony playing with that backdrop melody inside my head.

This imaginary Ipod of silent symphony were suddenly broken as a pair of green eyes stared at me from across the crowded car. The stare came rushing circulating between the heads and shoulders that made up a distance between us. This union of windows to our souls were only for a brief few seconds. As she shifted in her seats she stared back blankly looking out the window into the dark tunnel.

The green color obviously came from a contact lens color as the owner was not that of an ethnic that would genetically own a pair of green eyes but was a local citizen with black long eyelashes and jet black hair. Her all black outfit gave the look of a typical Loly Goth punk but with a tasteful chick sophistication of stores in back streets of Omotesando rather than Takashitadori area. The brief moment of her penetrating gaze into my soul has left an exquisite taste of melancholy that led me to continued inspecting her from my spot.

Her intense sub-culture dark outfit style and the eye contact from the non-genetic green eyes gave me a glimpse of her sub-conscious mind made up of many closed doors with the hope of making her invisible and protected from the rest of the scenery around her. It made her overall pose spitted out moodiness that came out from a somewhat controlled sadness.

The landscape of her mind remind me of Shy Child and their song Drop The Phone that has a blend of electro, hip hop and punk. A controlled mind which often made her switched off her mobile phone in an attempt to purposely lose any distracting signal for some peace and safety hideaway.

The sound of the electronic melody of hip hop and punk switched back to the subtle sound of a moving train which this time was slowing down as it entered the Shibuya station. I continued to fix my eyes on the controlled sadness pose and once again the pair of green eyes gazed at me as she stood up and waited for the door to open.

This time l allowed her gaze to see through me so she could take a look at another kind of door already opened for her. It was a door to a protected space where the signal is safe and a mobile number to call written on a wall. It was an open invitation with no time limitation nor formality.

As the alert sound of doors closing was heard again, another kind of door remained opened anticipating an alert beep sound of an incoming mobile call.

image taken from www.layoutspace.com

Remembrance

His world will always be

A whispering water

At the river of your heart

Your soul will always glow

From the  fire

Of his  fire

For a friend – a poem by Rumi

Silence and Hunger

Ramadan has come
The table of spirit has arrived
Nourishment of the soul
Wash your hands and mouth
Become one with the Essence within
May we achieved through our silence and hunger
A spiritual enlightenment
Of generosity and compassion toward others
And mercy and forgiveness from the Divine

Creator, Fashioner and Director of our soul

-inspired by Rumi, Persian Poet and Sufism-