Be a strange

Blinded by what they have seen

by what they have observed

gained an overwhelmed feelin’

until it wonder for imitation

earning for applause, praise and cheers.

But days are not fixed

it changes and transformed

all that covers you,

will soon vanished

left with shame that scream

clothe but appeared like naked.

You alone became a fool by your own trick.

Be a strange that only few will know

than to be a rumor from the fame you had only imitated.


Days gets old

Days gets old

in line with the words some were untold.

Some wanted to make it slow and slower,

tryin’ to pull back the sand of second

tryin’ to get the wasted time

but here I am,

learning to love the silence of nights embrace

feelin’ the sweet kiss of every oldish music list

carrying the weight of a timid hopes

never gets fast

never gets slow

it stays calm and quiet

it stay with the idea of real time.

Days gets old

and I’m ready for some hand to hold.

A time

There was always a time when I don’t want to talk. I just wanted to stay at one place, staring on the same thing the whole time. I refused to open social media for it added my frustrations. I was thinking of a place to travel, an art to stare at, people to have peace with, that would be very nice.

There was always a time when I just want to be empty. I want to feel like floating. I wanted to closed these eyes full of imaginations, eyes with consistent fragment.

photo by: Unsplash


Have a tattoo and expect to get along with the stigma. Oh well, I couldn’t crack that kind of shell with little marshmallow melting inside just to draw and paint what this ink appeal.

Leave behind

Take some time to find space
that it may bring you again to what makes sense
not wondering about the others
leave those that makes you weary
calm your fire
let it rest for a while.

Fill your body with air to breathe
then release it with all those rhythm of blue
leave it thousand miles
spare no trace, so it wouldn’t get a mark to come back
either it walks slowsly or fly with eyes closed
do not allow that it will knock behind you again
then start with the same chaos
do not allow
end it within those place, release, leave then start new.

Living proof

Capture my saddest smile
when im on the edge thinking deep
feelin’ low, when it should be high.

Sit beside me
hear my silence
until only the beat of my breathing will become the noise
hopin’ that you still enjoy
the sound of an empty words.

Follow my stroke
when im doin my art
or teach me how,
’til we tie together
’til my colors mixed with yours
’til it produced another one
’til it filled us, ’til it shapes us
’til it understands

Be there when my anger strikes
wrap me with your warmth
and remind me with our memories
hold me till I taste your lips
until it brings my mood
just be there
show me different stories, break a joke
even the poetry of yours
I would love to hear your voice echoing.

Stare at me ’til I fall asleep
you’ll see the abstract hidden in me
and dont be confused
day by day you’ll get to know every single detail of me.

When the day becomes sunny,
or even gloomy and rainy,
I want you to be there and be my living proof of my everything.


People are becoming too busy,

seconds to minutes

until minutes turn to hours.


unaware that they already killed their time.

I wasn’t sure if they killed their time,

or they make their time more lively.

Busy checking their phones, posting on social medias, indulging to different sites,

contributing different opinions, issues, others just want attention.

Wanting fame?

Go add your lipsticks, straighten your hair, or curl either.

Go to gym and gain muscles, give your best pose and take a pic.


Then share,

Want more? then make more daring, more eye captivating.

Count your heart and woooww, then tadaaaaaa…

Congratulations you’re famous now.

And then what?

What will happen the next day?

Another shot? another try? another pose with different angle?

Then go make it…


I bet I was also killing my time by these.

Giving sense to some nonsense.

But atleast the time I killed was spent to write about you, about these, and about to others.

The lucky and unlucky

Every afternoon, a group of dove awaits in the roof of the neighbor.

The man didn’t wonder why they kept on coming back.

Same time, same number, same intention.

The man fed his chicken, and now the dove will ready for their attack.

One by one, they smoothly dive down on the ground, checking if the man was on guard.

And if not,

they can now share with the innocent chicken.

They would be called lucky if the man didn’t notice their coming and caught them.

But alas!

They had full their small tummy and gave thanks to unlucky chicken.

They can now leave and fly.

Same time, same number, same intention.

From music to word

Repeatedly banging into my ears
the words I made into music
and the music talks about you
for you leaves a melody

Melody with a company of chill
I cannot stop
I couldn’t get out
but I get tired
and the day changes

These music turned only to be a word
for it couldn’t take me to as where you are now
it leaves me space, gap
hearing it, I get bruised

You were once my music
but you flashed to be a word now
words I refused to speak
words I ask to be thrown
words now I couldn’t hear it’s sounds.

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