I’m Not Here

No teu olhar
Um espelho de água
A vida a navegar
Por entre sonho e a mágoa

The raindrops outside.
The anxieties inside.
The that was then, this is now moment attack on a rainy day has been made worse by thoughts of other rainy and not so rainy days played in a back winding imagery  of conversations over coffees, beers and cigarettes with various collective figures, real ghosts of the past and present. Like a reel of old movie with jumping silent scenarios of  corner tables in empty cafes to an unmade bed at dawn and from a wet earth of a never ending grass field during a storm to shots of far away cold foreign cities side walk covered with dirty white snow.

Silence. A bunch of scenes with smiling familiar blank faces.

But, oh the noises I’m hearing at this moment. These flashes coming from the back of a floating mind. Flashes that comes in waves of reflections in a sea of disturbing thoughts and made up an obscure melody of a threesome unison; the time traveled me, those blank smiling faces and the drizzling rain.

In those flashes I see a space in the glimmer of watery eyes. The reflection of life navigating between dream and pain, both ancient and present.

Damn it, that glimmer is me standing, traveling and greeting the blank smiling faces. Now standing in the rain, place-less from the unbroken bond.

Inspired by O Mare e Tu -Andrea Bocelli & Dulce Pontes

The Traveling Soul

Funny how it can be
The different beats of the heart formed by rhetorical instants
Out of pieces of lyrics and rhythms
From the Deep South country twang of Sweet Home Alabama
That takes you to Interstate 95 on an open top Mustang
To the All by Myself moments monopolized by Bridget Jones
And the almost empty bottle of the finest Absolut
From the rebellious sound of London Calling by The Clash
Till I Can’t Smile Without You
Of Barry Manilow’s corny but sweet melody

Capturing thought
Dismissing reality
Forming fantasy
Creating delusion
Giving inspiration
Providing persistence
Offering desire
Escaping existence

From the pond of lotus garden
To the crowded Arabic market
The soul travels…

Haiku Tweets

Gray morning :: Inside my black coffee :: Floating irrational powers :: Of love and desires :: I sip slowly

Shadow assassins :: They are lovers :: With matching blade throwers :: Stabbed in one heart

The dream :: That I had :: The tree was tall :: The nap was short :: I’m not dead

Simply Hey

hey rain
i smell your scent throughout the wet earth
providing me with sweet paradoxes
making my day a little colder and my heart a little warmer

hey rain
your drops seeping wetness into my heart
seeking dry rose in a dry dessert
making my day filled with sweet scent of autumn

hey rain
trickles down my glass window
a decorations of slow moving tiny rivers
smiling at itsy bitsy spider hiding under the window seal

Are You an initiator, commentator or gawker?

I wonder what would be the division model here in Indonesia for social media Initiator, Commenter and Gawker.

Read more on China’s consumer interaction with each other and brands using Social Media by OgilvyOneConnected

One Night Light

january till june
nothing inked on a virtual paper

fireflies light
turning darkness into empty white

the words are there
they’re not stuck, just unspoken

replace by bird’s chirping
chasing fireflies light

before the sun is rising
and I dig a grave for the fireflies

Inspired by Grave of the Fireflies (火垂るの墓, Hotaru no Haka), an animation by Isao Takahata

Unreachable and Forever Incomplete

Tomorrow is my 1st February
The month that ends prematurely

None like other months
This one is short just a few days

Just as moments are about to prime
But then left incomplete in timeless space

As faceless strangers with the same names
They reappear under a different stars

Imitating what was there in the timeless space
It’s not the same, nothing is when it’s unreachable

Order Me A New Year

Got a very nice email today from TUT (Totally Unique Thoughts) :

I want you to know, yoodi, that I’ve ordered up another year for you.

Think I’ll call it 2010.

I’m going to put most of the same people of 2009 in it, since you all think so much alike. But there’ll also be a few new, very cool cats coming to play – give them some time to grow up though.

And I’m going to have things start off pretty much exactly where they left off in 2009, for continuity’s sake. Flips folks out too much when I don’t.

All in all, 365 more days in paradise… and only one request of you:

DREAM BIGGER.

Coolio?

Let’s do this,
The Universe

Hidden Memoirs

An hour before midnight in the last day of my December which somehow takes me to a decade backwards. A journey re-winded to the days of open sea and clown fishes, a separate world from where I am , divided by an oxygen tank and guidance from dive masters. A different universe totally, living between two worlds and breathing on different kind of air pumped into the lung giving the heart a different kind of beats.

My private universe, a comfort space where joy, honesty, fears , insecurities and anger can freely expressed. But most of all it is the space where passion and sensitivities grows robustly. Open, express-full and sincere. It is like a place of a quiet barbecue party for two in the backyard under the sky filled with shining stars where the rest of the world is indulge in euphoria of greeting the new year in masses whether it is a place of rage urban vanities or marginal gathering in open public spaces.

It is a place of warm safe feelings from holding hands and doing things together, watching the rain and smelling the scent of wet grass and white lilies. It is the kind of passion that are not meant to be for the arrogant red roses in crystal vase but those for wild flowers that don’t require human intervention other than those who loves the rain and wet earth. The same kind of free spirit that creates sensuality which urge longing for love making naked on a wooden garden bench under the stars. An intimate delicious dessert at the end of that quiet barbecue in the backyard.

It is home. A house of dream that somehow abruptly at this hour before midnight has turned into several hanged framed photographs entrapping collection of stories and the grapevine of underlying hidden memoirs. Memoirs within a block of time that was given for free just like breathing the air but now is lost. Time that passed is lost forever and another block of time ahead is uncertain to repeat the same kind of experience.

And as I am writing this I suddenly realized that where that house is located, the new year arrived one hour earlier. Happy new year my dive master and thank you for giving me a space to breath a different kind of air. Thank you my universe for handing me all the blocks of time for free.

Written just about reaching midnight 0f 2009
image source shoppingblog.com

Selamat Jalan, Sembilan

Kulihat rangkaian batu alam berwarna hijau itu tergeletak diatas meja dengan salah satu ujungnya yang cacat tanpa kaitan.

“Rantai cerita terputus” kebiasaan menterjemahkan sesuatu hal kecil dan menjadikannya sebuah kejadian besar muncul begitu saja dibenakku. Imaginasi tolol itu kemudian aku teruskan dengan mulai menghitung satu persatu batu yang terangkai menjadi sebuah gelang itu dari ujung yang satu ke ujung yang lain.

Ada sembilan batu gempeng yang terbagi menjadi tiga bagian yang terpisahkan oleh sepotong hiasan perak. Gelang batu alam ini sering aku pakai dibanding dengan pernak pernik perak lain yang aku miliki. Aku suka merasakan dinginnya permukaan batu-batu itu menyentuh permukaan pergelangan tanganku setiap awal memakainya. Dapat kurasakan suhu badanku kemudian perlahan mengalir lewat kulit dan rasa dingin yang tadinya ada kemudian hilang. Sebuah proses yang terjadi dari aksi dan interaksi antara dua semesta.

Biasanya aku lalu suka memutar-mutar gelang itu dipergelangan tanganku sambil menyentuh satu persatu batu yang ada dan merasakan kehangatan yang sama antara batu-batu itu dan kulit tubuhku. Peristiwa ini kadang membawaku kepada kehangatan-kehangatan lain yang kurasakan seperti turunnya hujan dihari yang terik, aroma kopi dipagi hari, tertidur lelap di sofa yang empuk, bahkan kembali kepada peristiwa masa kecil dimana ibuku menggandeng tanganku di hari pertama masuk sekolah.

Sembilan batu alam itu seperti rangkaian peristiwa yang menyatukan semua kehangatan itu dan memberikan rasa nyaman yang luar biasa setiap kali memakainya di pergelangan tanganku. Sembilan batu ajaib itu kini sedang cacat tanpa kaitan yang berfungsi merangkai rasa nyaman yang tersimpan dalam batu-batu itu dan mengalirkannya kedalam tubuhku.

Aku bangkit dari dudukku dan mencari alat yang dapat kupakai untuk memperbaiki kaitan yang lepas itu. Sambil memegang ujung yang cacat dan mengencangkan kaitan yang lepas dari jepitannya dengan sebuah tang imajinasi tololku kembali memikirkan angka sembilan dalam bentuk yang lain.

Umur kehamilan biasanya sembilan bulan
Kucing katanya punya sembilan nyawa
Sembilan puluh sembilan nama Allah
Ronaldo dari AC Milan memakai kaos dengan nomer sembilan.

Tiba-tiba aku memikirkan sebuah permainan angka:
Urutan kesembilan dalam bilangan bulan dalam satu tahun dan gabungan angka dua dan tujuh yang penjumlahannya menjadi angka sembilan.

Sembilan ternyata memang angka yang unik. Begitu juga dengan tahun 2009 yang merupakan tahun kesembilan dalam dasawarsa ini. Selamat jalan, 9.

Hallo 10!

image shared http://www.northof9design.com/